Chest of the Damned

Chapter 1

"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest," Gibbs was singing around a bottle that was slowly being pulled from his mouth as he shuddered from a sharp gust of wind that cast itself across the ship.

"A storm is brewing," Victoria muttered, paying him no mind, though it was more to herself, and she studied the dark sea around the Black Pearl, her knuckles white as she gripped onto the steering wheel, having had been given a chance--as she didn't get too many--to take the position for a moment.

Gibbs, who has been about to take another swig of his rum, lowered it briefly, his brows furrowed with confusion. "So you've said." He stared at her hard until she only shrugged at him, then completed the swig before continuing with his song. "Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum." Pushing himself from his spot beside her, he started trudging across the ship, and Victoria raised a brow his way as he stumbled every so often. "Drink and the devil had done for the rest. Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum." When she peered over at him, he was cackling before taking another drink from the bottle in his hand, though the drink was short-lived, sloshing around his chin when he yanked the brim from his lips just as he had started pouring it, the sound of a bell tolling carrying itself across their surroundings.

"And so, we've arrived," Victoria said in a hushed voice before giving a couple of the other crew members a swift nod of her head.

"The anchor!" one of them hissed, everyone having had been instructed to remain quiet as can be. It wasn't long until the ship was completely still in the water.

The young woman's eyes watched silently as a pack of crows flew overhead, brow indenting as she narrowed those eyes. "Now...we wait."

* * *

Jack never liked being condemned into confined spaces. But then, he always had a habit of doing things he didn't care for. It was heaven to his ears when the rowdy noises of the prison he had escaped distanced; and, after waiting quite some time to be sure that he was--after all--a good distance from the wretched place, he worked on pulling out his pistol.

Suddenly, an obnoxious knocking started at the very center of the coffin he lay within; no doubt, a bird, which he then shot at through the wood of his death bed. Knowing that the noise was sure to draw attention, should there have been anyone around, he was quick to stick the pistol through the hole he had blown through the paneling, swiveling it around as he listened with a keen ear. When not a noise was made, he pulled his hand back before using his elbow to bash the rest of the way through the lid. Surely, there was no way he had gotten away that easy, he was thinking to himself as he peered around at his surroundings, noting the other coffins floating about in the water.

But then, he was Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.

After reshaping his hat and putting it back on, he glanced around, a frown planted on his face, trying to determine how he could get moving without simply diving into the water; then, an idea struck. "Sorry mate," he muttered as he reached down beside his thigh, fingers locking around the brittle bone of the poor lad that had been stuck with him, and he yanked it away from the rest of its body. "Mind if we make a little side trip?" He could only imagine Swann's reaction if she were there with him.

In fact, Victoria had wanted to be with him step by step. Though he liked to flatter himself by telling himself that it was because she couldn't get enough of him, he knew that the reason was more likely that she didn't want him to fail whatever his intentions might've been. In fact, she was nearly as clueless as the rest of the crew. But, even so, that didn't stop her from asking him many questions before he had went through with his plan. It seemed that she still wouldn't follow him completely blind like the rest of them.