Ambrosia of the Sea
Chapter Five
"Wake up, lass!"
North opened her eyes slowly, her head pounding. There was no damp cloth, no soothing words as she awoke this time. She wasn't even placed under covers. The musty smell of the bed drifted in front of her nostrils. Inhaling deeply, Elinor focused her vision on the man standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed and brow furrowed.
"You won't be getting away that easily, Missy," Barbossa stated as she sat herself up.
North bit her tongue as she remembered her dream. She knew hating him wouldn't get her anywhere. The captain walked around the room, staring at her out of the corner of his eye.
"This is the last time I be taking care of yeh," he explained. "You've cost me one too many treasures." His eyes gleamed of gold for an instant, then turned bitter. "And my best rum!" Elinor jumped as he yelled.
"Oh piss on your rum," she said softly, looking down. Barbossa rushed to the bed, ready to teach her a lesson. She stared hard into his eyes, daring him to hit her again. North was accustomed to his violence now. A smile crossed the captain's face, and his eyes softened.
"Your defiance reminds me of your father's."
Elinor felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise like a rabid dog about to attack.
"How dare you," she said through gritted teeth. She reached for her pistol, but found it missing.
Barbossa's laugh chilled her to the bones. He pulled out his own pistol and handed it to her. North took it without persuasion and aimed it at his chest.
"Go on!" he coaxed. "Tear me black heart out and throw me to Davy Jones!" His eyes were crazed, the veins by his temples pulsating. He pulled back his jacket and waited.
"You're mad," Elinor said without lowering the weapon.
"Not as mad as yer dear father would be if he knew what yeh done with me in that same bed—"
A shot rang out over the sea. Followed by a shrill laugh.
Smoke rose from the barrel of Barbossa's pistol and a bullet lodged into his chest, yet he did not fall. Elinor sat frozen, unblinking, before she started to tremble. Barbossa laughed again as his body healed itself. North sank back against the headboard, letting the pistol fall onto the bed in front of her.
"That bloody curse," she said to herself, holding her hand to her heart.
"Indeed!" Barbossa agreed, replacing his weapon. He looked both satisfied and disappointed. "It took everything from us," he started, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Our senses, our dignity, our freedom." He looked out at the ocean, black as the sky it lay beneath.
"You're immortal," Elinor said as her memory caught up with her.
"No, lass," Barbossa said. He turned toward her. "We be but poor souls trapped in purgatory."
North bit her lip, trying to understand.
"You cannot die, but you're unable to enjoy life?" The captain nodded. "No feeling, what-so-ever?"
"No."
Elinor leaned closer.
"No apples?" Barbossa's pained look was all the response she needed. North got up on her hands and knees and proceeded to crawl toward him.
"No rum?" she asked, moving closer.
"Aye, no rum," he repeated, watching her with caution and curiosity. She moved till she could whisper in his ear.
"That is unfortunate."
"You've no idea," he said, wishing he could feel her breath on him. He imagined its warmth, just as he imagined her scent—strong with musk and salty like the ocean. But Barbossa inhaled deeply and smelled nothing. Not even feeling the air rush into his nose.
"Nothing," she said softly, taking his earlobe between her lips. Barbossa called upon all his old memories, imaging what this would feel like. He closed his eyes and shuddered.
Elinor made a face at the taste of his skin—halfway between a dead, rotting fish and her cook's three-day-old porridge. She bit down hard when she couldn't stand it anymore, drawing blood.
As it dripped, Barbossa reached his hand around and caught it.
Blood.
His blood. Just a liquid now, without life. He rubbed a drop between his fingers, watching as it smeared across his skin and faded. He had sensed the pressure of North's teeth, but no pain.
Elinor watched in amazement as his ear heeled itself before her. She couldn't help wiping the rest of the blood from his ear and neck, as a mother would. Barbossa's gaze was firmly set in a land she dared not enter. His hands hung limp in his lap, open as if waiting for something—a gift, or death.
"How're you to stop it?" she asked, wondering if he knew what Bootstrap had told her years ago. The captain sighed, blinking slowly.
"We must return all the cursed treasure from whence it came," he replied. He stood. "And repay the blood of all those responsible for its capture." This was news to Elinor.
"Mine as well?" she asked with a lump in her throat. Barbossa leaned over her, hands on the bed. He smiled wickedly.
"Shall we shoot you and find out?" Elinor looked at him helplessly, before quickly reminding him that she had not taken any coins from the chest or anywhere else.
"Aye," Barbossa responded, rising again and heading toward the door. "And that's why you'll make such a fine prize after the curse has been lifted," he said, straightening his hat. "Yer so…full of life." He left swiftly, slamming the door behind him.
Elinor looked at her hands and bit her lip. She knew she had no chance of escape, but after her previous experience with Barbossa she refused to be a captive ever again. It got her into far too much trouble.
When she finally exited the cabin, she was drunk beyond recognition. She stumbled out with rum bottle in hand, eyes glazed and nose bright red. Barbossa stood at the helm with Jack. The monkey hissed at her as she approached.
"I've decided something, Captain," she said. Her lips hardly moved with her slurred speech. Barbossa rolled his eyes. Elinor tapped him on the shoulder when he wouldn't look at her. "I've decided…I've deci…ded…" She stopped, bringing her hand to her chin.
Barbossa tore the bottle from her and tossed it over the railing. Elinor protested until the captain gave her a swift push.
"You've caused me far too much trouble as of late," he said. His voice was low and stern. Elinor pointed a finger at him.
"I've decided I want you to shoot me," she said. Barbossa's booming laugh reached the ears of his crewmen, who came closer for a better view.
"Why would you want that, lass?" he asked, still laughing. Elinor squinted at his dark form.
"I'd rather die than be in your company." She was suddenly very sober. Barbossa stopped laughing and walked quickly toward her, trapping her between himself and the rail. He brought his gun up to her temple and grasped her neck with his free hand.
"You tempt me, North," Barbossa said. Elinor smiled at him. It was a lazy, intoxicated smile.
"It's what I do best." Her voice was barely a whisper. Barbossa was crushing her windpipe. She tried to lean forward, but he only pressed his body harder against hers. "Do it," she asked. "Please." A single tear escaped her eye. Barbossa released his grip on her and wiped her cheek. He titled her chin up to look in her eyes.
"If death is what you wish for," he said, "then death is what you shall receive."
Elinor watched as he replaced his gun and retrieved his cutlass. She felt a searing pain as he sliced her upper arm. Blood poured from the wound.
"Fare thee well, Captain North," he said. Then Barbossa pushed her over the rail and into the ocean.
North fell into the sea, flailing wildly. Her left arm was useless from the loss of blood, her head heavy from the liquor. She was swallowing massive amounts of water as horrifying visions of death and decay crept into her mind.
As she sank, Elinor saw a massive shape rise from the depths. Her first thought was sharks. She prayed silently for her soul, as something above pulled her from her watery grave.