Title: A Change in the Wind
Characters: Jack, Bootstrap, Barbossa
Summary: Take what you can, give nothing back. A take on how the mutiny occurred.
The wind howled like a ravenous pack of wild dogs as it whipped over his being and led his ship onward. The battering, torrential downpour of rain soaked him wholly through, and the incessant assault it gave made it seem as if he were in the middle of warfare. Thunder triggered through the clouds like constant gunfire. And the lightening cut the sky like a sharp blade and lit up the angry, tempestuous ocean about his ship. It flashed in his amber eyes as he surveyed his deck and hard working crew.
"Had to have it your way, did ya now?" his first mate shouted amongst the whirlwind of noise. "We should've stayed in port like I told you. Four have almost been lost to the sea already. We should turn back while we're still ahead of the worst of it."
"Almost, mate. Apparently we have luck on our side, so I intend to see this storm through - she can hold - because if we can't make it through this, then we can't make it to where we need to go, which is what lies ahead after this minor setback, savvy?"
"And you've still left the crew in the dark as to where exactly we are headed. If everything's in equal share, that should mean the location of the treasure as well."
Jack Sparrow averted his gaze for the first time to look at his ominous first mate, but he was interrupted before he could say more.
"Captain! We've just lost three for good to Davy Jones' Locker!" the man yelled as he ventured up the steps to where the two authority figures were standing near the helm. "Jack," he voiced exasperated, "We're getting beat and tossed around like a rag doll. Two sails have been ripped through there, and she's taking on too much water."
"The luck's run out, Jack." The first mate's cold blue orbs fixed onto his captain's face, waiting impatiently for a reply.
Jack, however, did not provide the answer hoped for. He studied the drenched sailor's wearied and worried face in front of him and ordered gently, "Bootstrap, return to your duties. She'll pull through; just a bit longer."
The firmness in Sparrow's eyes proved for no argument. William Turner nodded and with a small "Aye" in response, he descended the stairs back to the deck.
"This is madness. You're putting the entire crew in jeopardy!"
"I have full confidence in my crew, Master Barbossa, now I-"
Two lines suddenly snapped, causing fragments of wood to splinter and project in many directions. A piece strayed and struck Jack's kneecap with incredible force.
He all at once blacked out and fell to the ground.
A groan escaped his barely parted lips before he opened his eyes. A few hours had passed since he had been rendered unconscious. He woke to find himself within his quarters lying on the ramshackle bed. Another sound of discomfort came from him, and he shivered at the chilling wetness of his clothes plastered to his body.
"You finally awake, I see."
Jack looked groggily at the visitor entering the room. William knelt beside his friend and smiled.
"You went down like a rock."
"It's good to know you can joke about my pain as I lie here indisposed."
"Perhaps knowing that the worst of the squall is behind us will make you feel better. It's just a few sputters of rainfall here and there now. It's safe to say I underestimated the Pearl."
"And her captain," Jack mumbled grumpily. "What of the crew?"
"Aye, we're fine. Just those three I told ya already we couldn't get back."
"A bad, yet acceptable loss, I suppose."
"How's your leg feelin'?"
"A tad numb, mate. I'm alright. No worries. Now then, where's some rum?"
William presented a bottle from behind him and offered it to the injured male. No time was wasted before Sparrow sat up just enough to be able to swallow a hefty amount of the liquid. He handed it back to the other man, who drank from it as well.
"Yes, that's much more better."
"Listen Jack, I think you should know this."
Jack's expression remained its same, indifferent way even though William had become suddenly serious.
"After we brought you in here, Barbossa was goin' round and speaking of how you were showin' that you're a poor, unfit captain. He was doin' a terribly good job of convincing the crew that we should've never sailed through such a thing."
"He's just ranting because it ended up I was right. We're that much closer to the destination."
"That's another thing. He says we should know where we're headed if everyone's in equal share. I believe he's planning somethin', Jack."
The captain remained silent as if processing the words. After a minute, he got up with assistance from his crewmember and limped into the main part of his quarters. He stumbled to the large table where scrolls, maps, and bottles adorned it and simply said, "Send him in here now. I'll handle it, mate."
The tall, formidable man in question entered looking not at all pleased. He crossed to stand by the table on the opposite side from where Sparrow was. The younger man's back was to him, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance. If there was a specific reason he had been summoned, Jack had better speak up before he was completely fed up with his captain. Of course, Sparrow did not.
"What is it that you want?"
Jack's lips quirked upward in a smile from the agitated tone Barbossa had. His fingers fiddled with his braided beard as he continued to look out one of the windows, and at last he replied, "What is it that you want?"
"Is this a game?"
"Are you losing?"
"Then no, it's not." He turned around and met the wicked stare of the other man. In one swift movement, he tossed a small leather pouch on the table in front of Barbossa. Barbossa seemed uninterested in the bag's contents, forcing Jack to elaborate a smidge more as to what exactly it was. "The location."
"Location of what?"
Jack's eyes gleamed with greed and gold teeth glinted when he responded, "Our treasure."
"What kind of gold be it?"
Barbossa's strict expression changed immediately. He took up the bag and removed the piece of parchment within. He read what was on it before glancing at Jack in what could somewhat be described as amazement. "The Isla de Muerta."
The kohl rimmed eyes squinted for a second as Jack nodded. "Now everyone's in equal share, eh?"
Still befuddled, Barbossa croaked, "How did ye come by the whereabouts of it?"
"I have me ways……Now kindly put it away and leave it, show yourself out, and no more talk of me being incapable, savvy? I should've had you strung up for puttin' negative ideas in the crew's heads. Don't let it happen anymore."
Barbossa's eye twitched slightly as he answered with a reassuring, "Aye, Captain."
It did not matter if he left the bearings behind in Jack's keeping. He had made sure to memorize the site of the island in that short amount of time. And if he did not quite remember, the parchment would be left behind for him to study again.
There would be no more use for Jack Sparrow. The crew needed to be convinced of this.
The sky grumbled and flashed sporadic light, forewarning instability all around him. A mild curtain of rain began to bleed from the clouds. The ocean signaled its unrest as it started to rise and fall more rapidly. The wind changed its course ever so slightly, and he flipped open his compass to see if the need was necessary to turn the wheel at all in response.
Jack's keen eyes failed to spot the gathering crowd on the deck below.
By the brightness of a lightening strike, Jack abruptly found himself being dragged down the steps in a flash and surrounded by a mob formerly known as his crew. His mind was one step behind; he could not think, could not fathom, what was about to happen and what was occurring at that very moment. Amidst the yelling and enraged shouts that were partially drained by the approaching storm's hungry presence, Jack discerned a common word: Mutiny.
Swords had been drawn. Pistols had been cocked. With the roles reversed seeing the crew in power over their previous superior, most of the men felt compelled to leave a mark upon him. He was trapped within the gang and knew there was no chance of escaping. Fists brutally found their way to his body as they crashed into him from every which way. A hard boot would sometimes join the rough hands. Blades nicked his skin. He let out a constricted wail as something he could not see burned his forearm painfully and would later show as vein-like scars.
The wind gained speed, and an intensely loud crack of thunder sounded above the rebels. In the distance, a decent sized island could be seen when a bolt of lightening torched the clouds.
At last, Jack was able to drop to the wet wood of the deck in a rumpled heap when a gun was fired to the sky. Nature answered it with her own roar. The crew backed away as their new captain stepped in front of him. The already standing male nodded, and two of the crowd hoisted the beaten pirate to his feet.
"You look terrible, Jack," Barbossa voiced mockingly with a devilish grin as he looked over the man's battered figure.
For the moment, Jack could only clearly see out of his right eye. The other was mostly swollen and it hurt him badly to open it more than half way. Black and dark violet bruises were starting to appear on his tanned skin, his face was cut and bleeding along with his nose, and his lip was busted open. Blocking the pain as intense rage filled him, he attempted to break free from the two men's grip on him, but failed. Barbossa smirked, causing more anger within him. He spat in the betrayer's face and hissed. Barbossa snarled and struck him violently with his hand.
"Bloody mutinying bastard!" Jack bellowed after he recovered from the impact. "All of you!"
Barbossa simply smiled cruelly and strode toward the plank. Jack was hauled to it and forced out on it. He looked upon his crew and his gaze landed on William Turner. William stood at the back of the group and found it extremely difficult to hold Jack's stare. He saw his friend's eyes search his frantically for an explanation; for aid; for him to be the one to step up and put a stop to it all. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Jack's expression suddenly changed to loathing. In that second William knew Jack would never forgive him, and he regretted ever having agreed to revolt against his captain in the first place. He was not strong, nor brave, enough to face the consequences of refusing to join the rest of the men.
Barbossa held up a pistol and said coldly, "One shot. There be an island right over there. I suggest you start swimmin'. The storm's comin' quick."
He tossed the pistol at Jack, who caught it before falling backward into the tumultuous sea.
Long after becoming tired and much weaker than when he left the Pearl, he continued to fight the rough waves to the island. He at last washed onto the shore, coughing up small quantities of salt water, utterly exhausted and his body horribly sore. He crawled to the nearest palm tree for the tiniest bit of shelter from the oncoming storm and watched his ship sail away in the night; his heart filling with grief as he did so.
Just as the rain started to come in huge increments, Jack Sparrow, former captain of the Black Pearl, passed out completely.