Voyage One : Everything has to start somewhere

The players

Jack Sparrow – a pirate captain and a smart man, with a taste for rum, long hair, long words and even longer plans

Elanor – a ship’s captain and a smart woman, with similar tastes - except that she’d rather have brandy

Ariadne – a ship’s ghost – well maybe – very smart but with no tastes at all

Calypso – a sea goddess with a weakness for pirates, a wicked sense of humour and no sense of fair play

The Lady – herself

Barbossa – a pirate captain and a hard man with a liking for big hats, and a fear of inescapable curses and impending doom

Various crew – all of whom who had been loved by their mothers but possibly no one since

A monkey

A parrot

Chapter 8 – Why is it gone?

She had gone to the console expecting to find an indication of where her guest had come from, but instead had found a series of new questions, all of them with unpleasant implications. The scan had shown no sign of a suitable origin point for him, which was not of itself that surprising given that there was always the possibility that he had been abandoned by a ship; but there had been a small addendum to the scan findings that sent her anxiety levels up another notch. Ariadne had told her that their position could not be fixed to any large settlement as requested as there was none to fix to within the stated parameters. When she had asked for an explanation for that statement the reply had been totally unexpected.

“The scans do not support our theoretical position with any acceptable degree of freedom. Coastal outlines suggest that we are well outside the race zone.”
“So where do the scans say we are?”
“Your earlier comments about the stars seem to be borne out to some degree. Extrapolating from the scan data it seems likely that our current position is some two hundred nautical miles south west of Cuba.”
“What!”
“The lack of sat link and radio contact makes precision problematic,” was Aridane’s only response and the closest Elanor would ever get to an apology for failure.
“But that puts us in the Caribbean, I think that we might have noticed that level of course deviation, even with the adverse weather conditions.”
“Agreed, however the scans do not support any other conclusion.”
“Well try and fix our exact position will you, use Havana and Port Au Prince as the reference points.”

The sudden and drastic change of position had been alarming, but not as stupefying as Ariadne’s next little bombshell.

"There is no doubt about that?" She could hear the horror in her own voice and felt the bile rise in her throat as a stomach churned, "Havana isn’t there? But it has to be! A city that size doesn’t just disappear."
"Confirmed, however there is no settlement of sufficient size to be the target at the appropriate grid references."
Eleanor thought for a moment then took a deep breath, while her heart told her that could not be true, must not be true, her head told her that Ariadne rarely made mistakes and there was no sign of any problem with Ariadne. Problems with the world perhaps, but not Ariadne, and there was plenty of other evidence that the world had gone mad.

How mad could only be certain with a little more investigation.
"Ariadne scan all nearest landmass, confirm their identity and compare population density of scan finding with historical data. When that is complete check scan data against known points of interest, power installations, industrial complexes that sort of thing."
"Scan initiated, estimated time to completion 40 minutes GMT."
"Very well, contact me when scan and data analysis is complete."

Not surprising that after that exchange that his possession of a compass that didn’t point north suddenly seemed more important than where her visitor had come from. Even so she would have been happier had she got some answers out of him, at least some that she was even half inclined to believe.

Sleep had come on him too quickly though, much faster than she had expected. Even with the sedative he had remained alert enough to cross verbal blades quite effectively until he was almost asleep, and the verbal wrangling had meant that sleep hit him before she had got what she wanted. She raised her estimation of him another notch and wished that she could rid herself of the idea that his arrival was linked to whatever it was that gone wrong with the world.

Now, as she drank her only brandy of the day, or rather night, she stared at the stars and cursed her own curiosity, that and her weakness for verbal game playing. She would have to wait several hours now before she could try and wring more information from him.

In the meantime she wasn’t going anywhere, not when she didn’t know where she was or how she got there. The silent radio and the loss of sat communications warned that what ever had happened was serious and that it was unlikely that she was the only one affected. Caution was the sensible option and so she had dropped anchor until Ariadne had succeeded in fixing their position. However the wind had weakened noticeably in the last hour, making it less irksome that she was stopped.

She swallowed the last of her brandy at a gulp and headed back below, once she had had one last conversation with Ariadne she was for her bed, lost or not.

***

Barbossa had remained on the ship, leaving Marty to lead the shore party. Cotton had been left at the helm while the captain spent the time studying charts and debating headings. The few of the crew who had not come ashore slept or played dice below decks, everyone had heard Barbossa’s night time rambling and to a man the crew were resolved to stay out of his way.

But when he appeared, just before the boats were lowered, he had seemed subdued and had said little more than to make it there and back as quickly as they could. Then he had stomped to the helm, the monkey on his shoulder, and stared silently out to sea, paying no apparent attention as the boats pulled away towards the shore.

Looking back towards the Pearl Marty felt a stab of fear wondering what was going on behind Barbossa’s angry eyes. Jack Sparrow at his worst had never unnerved him as much as his current captain did, and not for the first time he cursed himself for allowing Barbossa to persuade him to abandon captain Jack. Pintel and Raggetti were warning enough of the captain’s past, and he should have heeded it.

It seemed certain now that Barbossa was mad and getting madder, and angry and bitter to boot, a worse combination Marty could not think of. Just how mad he hadn’t fully understood until last night.

He had been watching the two new crew members as they sat huddled together out side the cabin doors, heads together in some private conversation. There was something about the looks they kept shooting at those doors that made him more than interested in what they might be saying; though he avoided Pintel when he could he had to admit that the man’s suspicions about these two were catching. Marty had known all kinds of pirates and buccaneers in his time at sea but they were something new. He’d edged towards them, rum bottle in hand, keeping to the shadows.

But as he got closer Barbossa’s cries were audible through the cabin doors and they sent chills down his spine, if it had been Captain Jack in there he would have taken the bottle of rum in to him to chase away the nightmares; had done so often enough. These cries were different though, less of pain and grief and more a mix of anger and bewildered anguish, and their impact on the two newcomers was clear.
“Maybe he is mad. Driven mad by the haunting of his death and the spectral voice of Calypso,” one had said to the other in a low and frightened voice.
“You said that about Captain Jack.”
“No, they said that about Captain Jack.”
“Yes. “ the other nodded, “They did.”
“Are you saying, then, that they were confused and that they meant to say it was this captain that was mad and not the other one?”
“Yes. No. Well yes and no. They said that Captain Jack was mad and now they are saying that Captain Barbossa is mad.” He cast a worried look towards the door, “sounds as if they are right.”
“So you are saying that we should have left Captain Barbossa behind and kept Captain Jack?”
“Yes. No.” The other frowned, “ They say he’s mad too. “ he paused, “But Captain Jack didn’t seem mad when he was Mr Sparrow. Even though Admiral Norrington didn’t trust him.”
“Yes, the thing with the canons.”
The other had nodded sagely,
“Tis true that if we had done what he had said to do then fewer people would have died.”

Marty had pricked his ears up at that, but the dozy pair seemed unaware that they might be overheard. Then again the sounds from within the cabin were enough to drive everything else from a man’s mind; he had shuddered as the sound of cursing got louder, only to be followed by something close to a wail of despair and then a sudden silence. Not wanting to think what it might mean he had turned his attention back to the pair outside the cabin doors.
“He was right about the Flying Dutchman too.” The second one said.
“So you are saying we were wrong to leave Captain Jack behind, that he isn’t mad, though his crew say that he is?”
“Well, yes. No.”
It was then that the noise from the cabin began again and Marty had jumped, almost dropping the rum bottle, and drawn their attention to himself. He had sauntered out to join them as if he had just arrived,
“Both mad. Just in different ways.”
He sat down beside them.
“Captain Barbossa, he’s mad because of the curse and coming back from the dead. Captain Jack he’s mad because he’s Captain Jack Sparrow and everyone knows he’s strange.”

“Is that why the captain wanted captain Jack left behind?” the fairer of the two asked.
Marty had stared at the cabin door for a while, the shouts were slowly being replaced by muttered curses, and then shrugged,
“Barbossa hates Jack Sparrow, always has, since the day he set eyes on him and the Black Pearl. Captain Jack had what Barbossa thought he didn’t deserve, thought he wasn’t a true pirate. Barbossa always had big ideas, ambitions, but he’d never come close. Always been a mate, until the Pearl. Thought the Pearl should be his, saw his chance. At least so Gibbs said.”
He took a swig from the bottle and frowned a little,
“Still thinks it should be, mad or not.”

“What does Captain Barbossa think a true pirate is like?”
That was the fair one again,
Marty stared at him for a moment then shrugged again,
“Himself. Maybe Sao Feng and Gentleman Jocard too.”
The two faces before him looked back blankly and Marty’s frown deepened remembering their mention of Admiral Norrington and what Pintel had said about their oddity and their listening habits. The dark one seemed to see that and cleared his throat, leaning forward in an ingratiating manner,
“But not Captain Jack?” he invited Marty to explain.

He’d had another swig of run while he thought about it, didn’t seem much doubt really,
“No. Not enough taste for killing to Barbossa’s mind. No denying that Captain Jack will do other ways if he can.” He took a further swig and grinned as he looked at the pair beside him, “Tends to keep his crew alive, but it doesn’t get you rich quick.”
Both of the new comers shot a nervous glance at the cabin door, it was clear which option they preferred. Marty was only slightly surprised that he found himself in agreement, it seemed that war gave a man a whole new outlook on life.

“But why is Captain Barbossa mad?” That was the fair one again,
“I told you, the curse. Barbossa thought that when the curse was broken it would all be as it was, but Captain Jack shot him. When Calypso brought him back he found that it wasn’t any different. She promised it would be when she was released, but either she lied or she changed her mind when he locked her up. She warned him but he didn’t believe her,” he shrugged, “She brought him back, her power decided what it was she brought him back to.”
He shot a look at the cabin door,
“He alive, but he’s not. Death walks alongside him all the time and the shadow of it is breaking his mind. He wants to be the man he was but he can’t be because he can’t unknow death and what is waiting for him on the other side, and the memory won’t let him rest.”
He looked at them and shrugged once again,
“At least that’s what Captain Jack told Mr Gibbs. If anyone would know what’s going on in his head,” he indicated the cabin doors, “it would be a man brought back from the locker.”

“So is Captain Jack mad or isn’t he?”
Marty seemed to consider that for a moment then he took another swig of rum,
“No more than usual now Mr Gibbs said. Was, for a while, but not now.”
“Why do you say that?” they asked in unison.
Marty gave a savage grin,
“Because that’s what’s making Barbossa so angry.”

As the two nodded at each other he shot them a sly look and passed the bottle around, only when they had both had several swigs did he ask,
“How did you know Admiral Norrington?”

Now as the sun strengthened in the sky he watched the two of them as they loaded barrels into the boats, and smiled as he remembered their convoluted and unconvincing stories. Each had contradicted the other of course and in their squabbling had managed to betray more than they had concealed. But what did it matter? They had burned their bridges in their desire to stay alive and now they would have to live with the consequences, just as Norrington had and Gibbs before him. They were a daft pair but they couldn’t be worse than Pintel and Raggetti. No, if he could sail with a couple of men who’d spent ten years as living skeletons then he could manage to sail with a couple of failed marines.

He looked back to where Barbossa stood brooding at the rail and reflected that he might yet be shown to be sailing with something far worse than that.

***

“ Let me get this straight Ariadne, you are telling me that everything is gone. No industry, no power generation, no cities.”
“No cities of the expected size and population.” Ariadne corrected calmly. “There are settlements, some quite large as far as can be judged from the heat readings, but none of the size that would be expected in this part of the Caribbean as we know it.”

Elanor rubbed her eyes,
“A natural catastrophe?” she asked, not sure what answer she was hoping for.
“Data does not indicate that. No debris, no fires, no pollution or other indicators can be identified.”
“So what? What has happened Ariadne?”
“There is insufficient data to form an accurate hypothesis. However there is one finding that might be indicative,”
“So tell me.”
“Several ships have been identified within scanner range and to the east of our position. The scans suggest these ships are not of a recent design, and, though it cannot be conformed at this range, the telltales strongly suggest that they are made of unmodified woods and have no means of powered sail. Moreover their heat signature also suggests that they have large crews.”
Elanor sat back in her chair and thought about that,
“So, not part of a race?”
“No.”
“Ships that might use tar and oil?” she asked slowly.
“Yes. It seems likely that they would.”

She let the words hang in the air for a moment then sighed, there was no point in avoiding the issue,
“Ariadne, taking the information we have available and adopting unrestricted theorising, tell me what options are there for explaining our current situation?”
There was a short pause before Aridane replied,
“There is only one that is possible on the basis of current scientific thinking. That is that none of what we are experiencing is real at all. At some point you have become ill or injured and this is a hallucination. This cannot be tested ofcourse, since I am a part of your hallucination and will therefore reinforce whatever it wishes you to believe.”
Another slight pause followed before Aridane continued,
“Alternatively there is a related possibility, though less orthodox, that this is an illusion that some party, for reasons that cannot be deduced, has manufactured, with or without intent. This also not amenable to testing for similar reasons.”
Elanor could only stare at that,
“On great! Any other possibilities?”

Aridane didn’t need to think about that,
“None that would be accepted by current scientific views of the universe.”
“OK, well what about those not in line with current scientific views of the universe?”
“There are several.”
“Such as?”
“We have passed through some form of dimensional rift and that this is not the world we set sail in.”
“It gets better! Any more?”
“We have passed through some form of warp in the fabric of space time, and we are in the same world but not the same time. Or that we have been transported to another physical world beyond Earth.”
Elanor gave that due consideration, after all Ariadne was serious about this,
“Can’t say that I like any of them,” she sighed, “So either I’m mad or science has got it wrong?”
“No. Either you are hallucinating or some part of current scientific thought is flawed.”Elanor smiled at that remembering her father’s favourite hobbyhorse,
“Well it wouldn’t be the first time for the latter would it? From astronomy to disease control we’ve got most things wrong at one time or another."

She frowned and nibbled the corner of her lip in thought,
"Not much of a choice though is it?. Is there any possibility that the scans are wrong? Any sign of equipment malfunction at all?”
“No, all systems are functioning correctly and cross referencing scans has shown no inconsistencies nor anomalies of any kind. Whatever the reality of it the information available is consistent within itself.”
“Which makes our visitor far more important than is comfortable.”
“Agreed. The probability is that, if what is being experienced is a reflection of an objective reality, then he is a part of it, rather than ours.”
“And if this is all hallucination my mind has manufactured him for some reason.” She thought back to the man she had recently sent to sleep and smiled wryly, “Not sure that I like that as an idea, what would it say about me?”
“I could not speculate,” Aridane replied almost primly.
“Hmmm. Don’t think that I want to either. But if he’s so important to us I’d better go and make sure he is OK before I get some sleep myself.

***

But he wasn’t OK. Or at least he might be but she couldn’t be sure because he wasn’t in the cabin, and the tangled sheet on the floor told that he had either left in a hurry or in some form of panic or both.

Elanor swore, she must be really tired to forget to order the doors locked again. The drugs she had given him should not have produced disturbed sleep but it was obvious that for some reason they had. All she could hope was that he wasn’t anywhere near something Aridane would feel it necessary to defend, God alone knew what a stun charge would do to him on top of a blow to the head and the dope, and that he hadn’t made it to the deck and fallen overboard. With a pounding heart she picked up the fallen sheet and threw it onto the bunk then hurried from the cabin. If she had to take a guess about what he would do it would be that he’d go up.

He obviously had been on deck but was coming back down again when she met him, and quickly. His face was pale in the standby lighting and as he turned she saw the sheen of sweat on his brow. As she moved towards him he backed up until he was against the bulkhead, his hand raised as if to ward something off,
“The ship is haunted! You've got a ghost,” he shuddered in some emotion she couldn’t be sure of, “I’ve had enough of the supernatural for a while luv, and I’m not sure I want to be on a ship that’s got a ghost.”
She raised her brows
“A ghost?” she said mildly reaching for the light switch and turning the light up.
His eyes widened as the light increased, they seemed black in the strained face and she realised that the drugs had affected him more powerfully than she had anticipated.

For a moment he stared at her, then he seemed to decide that offence was the best method of defence in the situation and started towards her. She swore under her breath and reached for the tasar, she didn’t want to risk it but she couldn’t allow him to attack her; she was nearly sure she could hold him but Ariadne might decide to intervene anyway and with more serious consequences. But he saw the movement and stopped, he seemed to understand the implication of it very well. With a silent snarl he spun around in a swirl of hair and bolted for the door diving back up the stairs and towards the deck with surprising agility for a man in his physical condition. She followed at a run.

He ran out into the moonlight and stopped as if taken by surprise; as she emerged out on the deck he turned towards her, one hand extended in entreaty,
“The Pearl. It’s not the Pearl.” He looked around him in dismay. “Where’s the Pearl? Where has she gone,” he looked back towards her again, “Why is she gone?”
His voice was thickened with some emotion that sounded like grief.
Elanor sighed and leant back against the hatch,
“The Pearl is your ship?”
He smiled a bright wide smile at the question, gold teeth glittering in the growing light.
‘It’s nearly morning' she thought,' it’s been a hell of a night.’ She looked at him wearily as he replied to her question, his tone suddenly jaunty and confident,
“Yes of course luv. I’m Captain Jack Sparrow of course the Pearl is my ship.”
The smile died as he looked around him again, and the swagger that had appeared so quickly disappeared,
“But this is not the Pearl. Where is she? Why is she gone?”
The last words echoed a despair Elanor could not understand.

“Captain Sparrow,” she addressed him with careful formality, “This is my ship, The Dawn Chaser, I picked you up out of the sea a day ago. You were in a dingy, there was no other ship.”
He stood and stared at her for a moment, chest was rising and falling quickly but otherwise calm.
“Gone. The Pearl’s gone,” the gold teeth flashed, “But she’ll be back,” the smile faded into something close to a snarl, he raised his fist and his voice took on a hard and harsh note, “and this time… this time.”
The words faded away and his hand fell, with a lost look he stared around him in silence.

High above them Aridane adjusted something and the movement, slight though it was, caught his eye, it seemed to remind him where he was and he turned to face her again, and in apparent panic.
“You've got a ghost,”
He seemed genuinely distressed by the idea, the flamboyantly flailing hands and swirling braids as he looked around him saying more than his words.
“A ghost?” she asked again, he seemed to be quite serious about the idea.
“That's what I said,” he hissed the words out from clenched teeth as if restating it only worried him more, “I heard it her, it's her, she was talking to herself,… at least I hope she was. Or is this ship crewed entirely by ghosts?”

Ah, now she thought she understood.
“A woman's voice you said, that would be Ariadne I expect.”
He frowned at her impatiently,
“I didn't ask her bloody name, hearing it was enough. I tell you I've had supernatural creatures enough to last me a lifetime recently, a very long life at that.”
She raised her brows at the comment, obviously he had been having some very odd dreams.
“What did this ghost want?” was all she said.
“I don’t think I want to know darlin', I just want it to stop.”
He saw her raised eyebrows and drew a deep breath,
“Didn’t listen I told you, I just wanted it to stop. “ His frown deepened, “But she seemed a bloodthirsty creature, going on about keelhauling servants or some such thing. Not that I’ve seen any servants.”
He looked around him as if suddenly remembering that he hadn’t seen a lot of other things too. Like sailors.

Elanor nodded, obviously he had overheard Ariadne making a verbal log entry, but which one?
“Sounds somewhat unlikely, are you sure that was what she said?”
“No I’m not sure, I just told you, I didn’t want to listen,” he sounded as if his patience was wearing thin,“but it was something about keelhauling servants, and time, she said a time, at least I think it was a time.”
Elanor thought hard about that,
“Servo overhaul completed?” she hazarded
He stared at her with narrowed eyes, suddenly as alert as he was worried.
“Maybe.” he gave a shake that set the ornaments in his hair swinging, “At least….something like that, didn't make much sense to me given the obvious lack of servants aboard this vessel.”
She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, though the truth was that he was beginning to disturb her,
“Then it was Ariadne that you heard, and it is nothing for you to be concerned about.”
He gave very dubious look,
“Her again. Not only a ghost but a named ghost,” he muttered, “is there something I should know about this ghost?”
She met his eyes with a bland look, and a hope that she hadn’t done him any further injury in her attempts to keep him contained,
“Only that it's probably better not to upset her, but she will do you no harm,”

His mood switched as fast as anyone she had ever seen. The smile returned and the distress disappeared from his voice, he pulled himself up and tilted his head at her, brows raised, and the look in the drug widened eyes was suddenly as cold and measuring as any she had seen from him so far. The change jolted her; harmed or not the man in front of her was not safe by any stretch of the imagination, and she had better file her guilt and concern for a later time. She matched his smile with one as chilly,
“Just as long as you don't try and harm me that is.”
His smile widened,
“Ah, and if I were to…… contemplate, attempt some harm against your person?” he purred,
She matched his tone.
“Then she would kill you, and believe me when I tell you would not see her coming.”
He watched her for a long second before dipping his head towards her as if something had just been agreed, then he bowed slightly, lowering his eyes in apparent submission,
“Then it is fortunate that I have no intention of offering you harm of any kind
isn't it?”

Elanor didn’t believe the play acting for a moment, doped or not, but she could play the game too and so she inclined her head in acceptance of his assurances,
“So it is, after all blood is so hard, and time consuming, to get out of the deck.”
He looked at her again and opened his eyes wide in mock confusion,
“I wouldn't know luv, I always try to avoid spilling it,” his smile was charm itself but the look was measuring again as if he were assessing her against some long-held standard.
She met the look with its equal,
“A point of view I would tend to agree with. In most cases,” she said.
“But you would make an exception, in the right circumstances,” his voice was light and that gravely purr was back, but his eyes remained watchful.
She nodded calmly,
“In the right circumstances.”
He just nodded.

For a moment they stared at each other in silence, the only sound the restless hiss of the swell against the hull. He blinked first, turning away in a swirl of hair and fluttering hands to look across the decks.
“She’s a fine ship. Any captain would be proud of her.”
“This captain is proud of her.”
He looked back and smiled at her again, but this time the smile was real and almost warm.
“I knew a woman captain once before,” he said for no apparent reason, “she didn’t really know her prow from her stern, but she was a rare lass with a sword. You, I think, do know the difference.”
“Oh I do that. But does that mean you think I’d be no use with a sword?”
The words were out before she really thought about it, but hearing them she suddenly wondered what the hell did he mean about swords?
His smile widened in that flash of gold she was coming to know and he looked at her appraisingly, and perhaps with something close to appreciation,
“I think you’d be a rare lass at whatever was necessary at the time.”
Elanor narrowed her eyes at him and nodded,
“Be sure of it.”

As if some business between them was finished he suddenly seemed to sag, his hand going to his head as if in pain.
“Don’t know what it is I’ve been drinking, but whatever it was the rats had got to it. My head feels like a badly loaded canon.”
Elanor stared at him in confusion, first swords now canons, he really had been having some strange dreams. Unless… no she really wasn’t going there not while she was so tired. Instead she crossed and put her hand on his arm,
“You need to sleep.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” He looked at her hand and then smiled wearily at her,
“Truce?”
She smiled back,
“Do we need one?”
He just nodded, eyes now half closed with either pain or sleep.
“Then truce.” She replied and led him, unresisting, towards the hatch.

chapter 9: Finally