Sword of Death

Chapter Twelve: A Sip of Rum

My arms and my waist was tied to something when I woke up. I pulled forward. Nothing. I pulled sideways and bumped into something, or more like someone.

“Ain’t no use, Isabelle.” Anamaria said, and I noticed that I was tied to a mast. Tied to the mast in the Black Pearl.

“Any of you as much as thinks the word “parley,” I’ll have your guts for garters.” a man said. He was almost bald and had completely yellow eyes.

“Hey, want to guess what I’m thinking?” I asked him smirking.

“This ‘ere a dangerous game to place, poppet. Don’t try.” he spat back.

Elizabeth. I looked around to find her going under the ropes and she ran to the railing, or tried to.

A loud boom cried through the sea air, and I saw that the Interceptor had blown up. Wait, wasn’t Will in the. . .

“WILL!” I yelled as tears rolled up in my eyes. Elizabeth did just the same, yet she also tried to tackle Barbossa.

“You godless savage! Stop it!” she yelled at him.

“Welcome back, Miss. You took advantage of our hospitality last time, it holds fair now you return the favor.” he said in return, and merely pushed her to a couple of the crew members, which took hold of the screaming Elizabeth.

I pushed myself under the ropes, and walked up to Barbossa, striking him. After the first slap, he grabbed my hand, and looked at me.

Even though I was terribly scared of him, especially his eyes, I glared him.

“Don’t you ever touch my sister.” I hissed, nostrils flaring. He looked at me deeper, and his fierce face disappeared.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“What does it matter to you?” I asked him.

“Isabelle?” Barbossa said. I stared at him confused. How did he know my name? Did Elizabeth ever talk about me?

“Ho-” I started, but got interrupted by somebody’s voice.

“Barbossa.” that voice happened to be William Turners. I sighed from relief, and Elizabeth was bouncing.

“She goes free. They both do.” Will said, and pointed a pistol at Barbossa, who was still holding my wrist. Doesn’t Will know that these people can’t be killed.

“What’s in your head, boy?” Barbossa asked. I was wondering the same thing.

“She goes free.” Will repeated

“You’ve only got one shot, and we can’t die.” Barbossa said. Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Will really did need that.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Jack pleaded to Will quietly.

“You can’t. . .” Will said, and pointed the pistol towards his own neck. Bloody hell, what is he doing?

“But I can.”

“Like that.” Jack said.

“Will, what? Why? Don’t!” I yelled, trying to pull free from Barbossa’s grip, but I was unsuccessful.

“Who are you?” Barbossa asked, obviously amused by all of this.

“No one. He’s no one. A distant cousin of my aunt’s nephew twice removed. Lovely singing voice, though – eunuch.” Jack said, running up to Barbossa and me.

“My name is Will Turner. My father was Bootstrap Bill Turner. His blood runs in my veins.” Will said, and Jack walked back, disappointed.

“He’s the spitting image of ol’ Bootstrap Bill come back to haunt us.” said a skinny and fragile looking pirate who’s left eye looked as it wasn’t made for him.