Pirates of the Caribbean: How Many Miles to Babylon?

You Know Nothing of Hell

You Know Nothing of Hell

Barbossa stood on the quarterdeck, making plans for Miss Turner. One thing was certain: this little wench wouldn't get away. Her inability to escape was fundamental to all his reckoning. The drowned girl had been able to free herself and jump ship (albeit to her doom) before he returned to force his attentions on her. As he saw it, therein lay the problem. You could never be sure of wenches who could escape: they might suddenly overthrow your control and upset your plans.

On the other hand, he reasoned, he could take his time with Miss Turner. There was no need to worry over wenches who were well and truly trapped; you could force them to do what you wanted whenever you liked. Barbossa smiled to himself as he thought about the next two days. He could take Miss Turner at any time of his choosing, but he had decided to wait until he was free of the curse, and could fully enjoy his dainty prize, with or without her consent. However, there was something he wished to do with her immediately, something she had to do voluntarily.

He wanted to see her eat.

It was for this reason that he had kept Miss Turner hungry all day. Then he had ordered Turnspittle, who had not cooked in ten years, to prepare a magnificent, tempting supper. It amused Barbossa to think of the luxurious setting and poor, hungry little Miss Turner in her pretty gown, watching the food being piled high upon her plate. And once the table was laid, oh, what pleasures awaited him!

He closed his eyes and imagined watching her. She would hungrily devour all sorts of food, her mouth watering. She would close her eyes and swallow, lick her fingers, sighing and perhaps even moaning with satisfaction at the delicious tastes and aromas. And then? Then he would offer her an apple, as fresh as the maid herself, and watch as she...

"Beg pardon, Cap'n---Turnspittle's ready," announced Ragetti, close at hand. Barbossa's eyes flew open and he made his way down from the quarterdeck.

Once in the galley, he inspected each dish Turnspittle had prepared, which made the cook's hands shake so that he almost dropped a carving knife on his foot. Although forced to judge the food solely by its appearance, Barbossa felt sure that Miss Turner would be impressed and her appetite stimulated to a high degree. At last, to Turnspittle's relief, his captain assembled several crew members, and the dishes were carried away to the great cabin.

As the pirates crossed the main deck, the moonlight's reflection imparted a blue lustre to the eerie procession of the five skeletal ghouls carrying large dishes of rich food to the doors of the main cabin.

Barbossa reached the doors first, and stepped into the shadows, regaining his enfleshed appearance. Carefully, so that she would not glimpse their true nature, he led the pirates into Miss Turner's presence. As they began lighting the fine wax candles and laying out the supper, he took pains overseeing the exact placement of each dish.

Then he looked up at Miss Turner, who was standing some distance away. She was wearing the red gown, which looked magnificent on her. 

By the powers, even a lady's maid in London wouldn't have so rich a gown unless she stole it from her mistress, he thought, and he half expected her to thank him.

But Miss Turner's mien was stiff and formal, and her eyes distant as she gazed back at him. "Suits ye," he grunted, eyeing her from head to toe.

She did not reply, but maintained a dignified silence.

After a slight hesitation as he weighed the question of which arm to offer, he extended his right elbow and steered her to a seat. He took the chair to her right, moved it closer to her, and smiled as he saw the way she looked at the heaping plates of food.