A/N: Gee! It has been more than a month since I have posted anything on this story. Sorry about that, folks. Things are getting back to some semblance of normality. The painters are gone (Yay!), The fish are no longer sick (Nor high!) (. . . don't ask questions you don't the answers to!), and my sinuses have finally drained out for the season. I have gotten a promotion at work, and I am now the supreme leader of the night (Shake with fear!) That means I am night leader. The bad thing is that I don't have two days off in a row, but with everything else calmed down and loads of ideas floating about in my crazy head, hopefully, I will be more consistent again.

Thanks to my wonderful reviewers, and I do appreciate that you all liked that bit about the crucifx in the last chapter. That was my favorite bit, too.

And a special note for you. This is the anniversity of my first original story called "Fall of Sagamore". So, a big yay for that one. I ain't telling you how old that one is, but it is over on the Fictionpress site.

And without further ado . . .

Chapter 25: Crimes and Punishments

Ragetti sat in and amongst an ever-growing pile of potato peels, that nearly hid the man, as he sat with his long legs sprawled out on the floor of the ship's galley. The two once traitorous, once cursed, and still quite miscreants had survived their first month back aboard the fine vessel known as the terror of the Caribbean . . . the Black Pearl . . . just nearly, that is, despite many and various mishaps. Jack found that Ragetti was better at doing the cooking than Mr. Cotton, but that wasn't saying much. This conclusion came to the illustrious captain even after that rather tasty stew, that the one eyed pirate was able to whip up. Nevermind that that rather colorful parrot had a rather nasty opinion in said stew. Oh well, it wasn't the first time the bird had something to say about what was being cooked, and since the bird wasn't plucked, stuffed, and served up as a Christmas roast bird, it was likely that there would be forth coming equally nasty statements to be had. At least Sparrow had yet to find any feathers in the stew, which would be a dead giveaway that not all was right with the dish before him, and he knew he was better off not knowing what Ragetti or Cotton or any of his other cooks had used as those secrets ingredients for the crew's meals.

Now, most sailors, legal or otherwise, would have found this peeling of potatoes a most tedious job indeed and quite a horrible punishment. At least, that was what Captain Sparrow figured on. Of course, most sailors are smarter than the average potato, but the infamous pirate captain forgot that Tony Ragetti did not fall into the category of most sailors or pirates . . . or men for that matter. Although Sparrow threatened to do unseemly things to the tall blonde man, that would guarantee that there would be no little Tony Ragettis running about in the future, then feed what remained to the ravenous sharks if he cooked up something inedible, Captain Jack Sparrow was, unfortunately, not known for his brutality and was rather good of heart, and his bark was far greater than his bite. So, Ragetti found himself peeling potatoes for serving up that famous Cayenne Pepper Pie for dessert the previous night instead of being served up himself. Jack was still trying to get the sting out of his mouth. Shock was all his when Gibbs and Marty asked for seconds! That was the last time he was ever going to eat with the crew! Of course, given how Ragetti felt about the chore at hand, as he happily whistled a cheery little barroom tune and basked in the memory of that time he caught a private performance of Marita's bathing ritual (Of course, it was unbeknownst to the bakery mistress, since he was still in possession of all his body parts, that he had on the day he met her.), this was no punishment at all. He smiled brightly as he shaved the spud and gave it a pleasant, but an equally, lecherous face as his own to go with its new look. Somehow, the punishment just wasn't get the point across that it was intended to do.

Ragetti had done many jobs worse than this one. Chopping the onions didn't do much for him. His eyes teared up so much, that the wooden one finally did its thing and popped out into the stew pot and wasn't found again until Anamaria nearly choked on it. The tall blonde's backside was still hurting from that incident, and his voice finally lowered to its proper pitch.

Pintel didn't fare quite as well. The older man, unlike his counterpart, was not fond of his job, but then again, Jack just could not assign him to getting drunk and womanizing. That was the captain's job, and Anamaria was not a good woman to womanize and get away without being hunched over and not walking properly for at least a week. Since no matter how much he threatened to do not so nice things to Ragetti, he could not get the one eyed man to climb to the crow's nest. Oh well, Jack wasn't exactly too sure the man had the appropriate sight for the job anyway. Being just a bit prejudice against the pirate being half blind (as well as having only half a brain, if that much), Captain Sparrow figured that there was nothing lost in his refusal, and besides, Ragetti did better below decks. Nevermind the fact that the one eyed man could see better than his smaller older partner with both of his eyes intact.

Jack was not too sure about appointing the position of lookout to Pintel. The man's sense of direction had not improved in his absence from the black ship, but Jack was well aware of this. Having had the Pintel experience before, he was able to make the appropriate adjustments. Besides, he wanted to give the two wayward pirates the jobs that no one else wanted. Unfortunately for Jack, after a couple of nights at his post, Pintel found he enjoyed the job. After all, he could get in his luggie practice on the crew below, and he got a spyglass to go with the job. Of course, using it to spy certain curves on the only female member of the crew was not the reason he was given it. Oh well, she usually left for below decks and off duty about an hour into his shift, so he had to return to business of good expectorating. Gibbs' often full flask helped in this chore, as Pintel patted it on his hip. The once cursed pirate would be sure to plant the flask back on the ex-navy man during his shift, then he would lift again in the night, when he came down for the call of nature. Gibbs had gotten just enough rum so that he would not recall whether he had emptied the flask himself or not.

As far as his performance of the job that was all worked out. If there was something to report, his garbled excited misreports would get translated down the line in a many and confused (and a very sorted) way until it got to a certain new member that Jack had recently picked up in Cancun named Zambrano. Somehow, this man was able to figure out what was coming at them from the lookout's interesting exclamations, cries, and strange noises along with tangled body motions.

This whole translation bit puzzled and somewhat frightened Jack. The captain was good at many and different languages and special codes whether spoken, written, or otherwise signaled, but this new bond between Zambrano and Pintel was more than he really wanted to know. Pintel, when he spotted something (that is to say, when he wasn't busy drinking Gibbs' ill gotten rum, doing luggie practice, or looking at dark skinned mermaids on board), he would hoot and holler and wave his arms around in a most dramatic way, nearly dislodging him from his lofty post high above. The crew would fetch the captain. After several unsuccessful attempts at translation, Jack would just throw up his hands and turn to Zambrano, who would smile and casually translate.

"Captain, he says there's a ship off the port bow flying Spanish colors. The rest of what he said, I don't feel you'd really be interested in hearing, especially with Anamaria right there."

Jack, knowing Pintel all too well, just narrowed his eyes at the messenger and then shrugged it off. He gave the orders to prepare for the encounter. This time, the ship's profits turned out worth his while. He left the feisty Spaniards in their underwear only and enough supplies to return to port. He would have been more generous to the senoritas on board, if one had not smacked him so hard, that his golden incisor came loose, and the other Spanish lady just hit gold, that said that the subsequent trip to Tortuga would be a dull and lonely one for him.

Wilson, one of the less grimy crewmembers of the Pearl was shot in the leg, but not by the enemy. Pintel, remembering that he and his partner had to participate in the raid to get paid, took his pistol, which still had Lieutenant Gillette's initials on it, and took aim at one of the Spaniards in battle. It would have been a difficult shot from a prime marksman, and the older pirate was a far cry from any kind of marksman. It would have been an interesting tale to tell of how Wilson got between Pintel's pistol shot and the targeted Spaniard, who was on a completely different side of the ship (not to mention a different ship than the young man). The buccaneer to his vast chagrin was left behind in Tortuga under the care of five willing strumpets, who were not averse to serving up to his every need.

Pintel, on the other hand, had to spend a week in the brig, and he received no pay from the swag taken. So, he missed out on the trip to Tortuga, not that he had money to spend there, but he had ways of fattening his purse, and he missed out on the brightest nights of the full moon. Not that he was complaining about the latter, but Ragetti got stuck with his tour of duty. Zambrano ended up in the crow's nest, and the tall blonde was to walk the deck over night.

Of course, being the good hearted soul that he was, Sparrow gave Ragetti some of the swag because his meals were mostly edible, and the one eyed pirate was allowed the trip to Tortuga. Now, the tall once mutinous pirate had much business to take care of in this fair city, and such business not only made one of Jack's eyebrows raise, but both of them. Not trusting the once traitorous pirate, Jack followed the scarecrow of a man, when he split off from the main part of the pirate crew and went down a side street. Not seeing anything truly wrong with his actions not being the suspicious type, Ragetti made no effort to hide where he was going or did he look behind his back. So, Jack was totally undetected. The captain stopped dead, when his unwanted crewmember ducked into a dress shop. What was even odder was his return to the said dress shop five days later. He exited the place with a rather large decorative box. Then Jack remembered the man and his partner, when they were under that curse and they were ordered to put on dresses to distract the navy. Jack turned pale. He had been in the occasional dress, but it was nothing he wished to make a habit of, much less buy a new one for himself.

Jack followed Ragetti back to the ship, then to the Faithful Bride, the crew of the Black Pearl's favorite tavern in town. The one eyed man spent several minutes counting his gold pieces, scratching his head, and then counting again. He looked totally confused, but what else was new. Then he purchased two bottles of rum and went back to the ship. Since Jack had other business to attend to in Tortuga, namely Scarlett, Giselle, . . . (He wasn't about to let injuries of battle get in his way, and they could attend to his battle scars. He mustn't disappoint the ladies.), he left his espionage at that.

Now back with Ragetti . . . The tall pirate felt bad for his partner. So, he bought him a bottle of rum, and they drank one down each together in the brig. Since the older man missed out on the five days of entertainment available in a fine town as Tortuga, Ragetti danced the Flamenco Dance for Pintel. Jack could not have thought up a better punishment.

That was five days ago. Ragetti survived his tour of duty on the ship through the night in the dull moonlight. At first he enjoyed the breeze blowing in his face and whipping his hair around, that he had missed out on during his 10 year curse. Then the bright full moon crept out from behind the clouds to shine fully on his frightened form. The once cursed pirate was vastly relieved to look down at his hands illuminated in the bright blue light to see two long flesh covered hands instead of bone claws with clinging rotted flesh and vermin. He let out a long sigh of relief until he heard Jack behind him remark, "Moonlight becomes ya." The tall man jumped three feet in the air, nearly messed his pants, broke two spokes on the stairwell banister and somehow tore one of the sails his startlement. Although it was Jack's fault for scaring his crewmember, the pirate captain had to punish him for hurting his precious Pearl. So, Ragetti ended up pulling a double shift, where the early morning hours entailed him mending the black sail. The one eyed pirate took this all in his usual good natured strive, and Jack got his just punishment when Cotton took over kitchen duty once again, because Ragetti was otherwise occupied.

The mute pirate happily cooked up a special dish for the occasion. He silently and proudly brought forth a great silver platter. He set it down before his captain and tugged at his suspenders. Who needed that one eyed misfit! Jack looked up at the silent man with vast suspicion in his dark eyes, and then he looked back at his platter.

"Dead men tell no tales!" squawked the parrot.

Captain Sparrow felt ice creep up his spine. The rumble of his stomach forced him to pull the lid off the platter to reveal the horror. He quickly put the cover over the finely trimmed with potatoes, carrots, and lettuce roast iguana with an equally roasted rat stuffed in its mouth. He calmly excused himself, walked to the deck, and hurled over the side of the ship.

So, when Ragetti got to return to his normal duties, Jack had learned his lesson, and the punishment for deviation of duty was best left within the galley's confines, and Cotton was best left with the cleaning of the pots and pans. Well, at least the Cayenne Pepper Pie looked appetizing on the surface, and it went down initially well.

So, Ragetti ended up peeling potatoes, and when Pintel came to pay him back in kind for his visitation, the older pirate found a basket of happily peeled smiling potatoes and a huge pile of potato peelings with a pair of bare feet and wiggling toes. The older man frowned, but he couldn't resist. He went over to the perch, where Cotton's parrot happily groomed himself. With frying pan in one hand, the pirate yanked one of the tail feathers free with the other. The bird uttered a line not suitable for mixed company. That was all right, as far as Pintel knew, there was none. Then the bird moved to take a good size chunk from the rather chunky pirate. Pintel smacked the bird with the frying pan. When Cotton returned to the galley with an armful of other vegetables, he puzzled momentarily over the unconscious bird, shrugged and went back to his duty.

Now being appropriately equipped for the task at hand, Pintel took the feather and stroked it lightly across his friend's feet, that moved with the rhythm of the dirty ditty he was humming. The feet stopped and curled up. The pile of potato skins began to giggle, then the feet returned to normal and the humming returned. Pintel blew out an exasperated breath. This would take a bit more effort. He took the feather and twinkled it between the toes and on the tender uncallused arch of the foot. Ragetti only laughed harder. So, Pintel just smacked the top of the pile hard with the heel of his hand. The wooden eye popped out and rolled across the floor to stop at his feet.

The other stopped what he was doing and cried out, "Me Eye!"

The rotund pirate grimaced and deposited the wooden orb in his friend's hand. "Thank ye, 'Enry. Ye be a real pal!"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, "Ye be a real pal, too, mate." Ragetti continued to smile blankly, as he replaced his wayward eye. "What brings ye 'ere? Want a potato skin? They ain't bad," he exclaimed brightly, as he offered up one of the skins from the floor. When Pintel shook his head in disgust, Ragetti offered him a potato that was carved with the proper curves, that resembled what he had on his mind, and it wasn't hash browns.

Pintel raised an eyebrow, then he held up a hand to deny. "No thank ye, friend. I came by 'cause I were wonderin' if ye be 'avin' any pay left from that swag of last week."

"Yeah, a bit. I be tryin' to save back a bit fer something real special," he answered happily.

"Yeah, yeah. Can I borrow it?"

"Uh . . ."

"There be a big poker game 'night, and ye know 'ow I be at poker."

"Can I play, too?" he asked excitedly.

"Now, Tony, me boy, 'ow good be ye at poker?"

"Well . . . uh . . . "

"Exactly! 'Stella beat ye last time, 'member."
Ragetti's brow furrowed as he concentrated. He was going to have a major headache from all this thinking! "She beat ya, too."

"Oh, that's drawin' threads, boy. Just suck it in, and fork it o'er!"

The tall pirate sighed and shrugged. He dug in and amongst the piles of peelings to find his bag of coins. With a longing look, he handed over the little bag to his friend. The older pirate poured the contents of the bag into his opened hand. He made some mental calculations and gave himself a headache.

"Is this all ye got left?"

Ragetti shrugged and smiled. "I 'ad things to get . . ."

"Like Tandy, eh. Ye be learnin' well me boy. 'Ope she gave ye yer money's worth!" the other remarked with a wink. The younger man blushed deeply. "Thank ye, mate. Ye won't be regretin' this! Gibbsy be playin' 'night." Then he hopped up the steps to the main decks.

Ragetti sighed and began his clean up of the peels. He felt that was the last he would see of his gold.