Disclaimer: Hector Barbossa may not be my invention, but in the movies the story of his life is left mysterious enough that it could belong to anyone who seeks it out. Here, then, is my take on the tale.

An Account of Hector Barbossa

written by a lady

who wishes to remain anonymous

1

To begin my story, I wish to state that Hector Barbossa is not dead. As I write these words, he sits across from me in front of the fire in my humble quarters. An open bottle of wine along with two glasses sits on a small table between us, along with some aged cheese. As the captain watches me write, he slices an apple into thin wedges and slowly eats them. His companion, the monkey named Jack, sits perched on the edge of Barbossa's chair, examining the shiny buttons on his master's cuffs.

Whatever else he may do or be, Hector Barbossa does not hold with lies. He does not tell them nor will he tolerate them from others. Which is what brought him here. He has decided the time has come to set things right. Six months ago, stories of his death began reaching our small island. Vicious stories they were, tales of children being murdered and nuns disrespected, and the tellers swore Barbossa had done it all and been tortured, poisoned, shot, hanged, and killed. I never believed any of it. I had known the man long enough and, I thought, well enough not to put faith in stories. The stories had reached Barbossa's ears, too, and he did not like them at all. He decided it was time to have his own say.

And why, might you wonder, has he come here? It was the Aztec gold. I own a tavern on an island which he will not allow me to name - for my own protection, he says. I've known Barbossa for many years, so many, in fact, that I cannot say the exact number. Many of my patrons may be pirates. As long as they behave themselves, I don't ask questions. I don't keep records. Life isn't easy for a widow with neither chick nor child to look after her, and money is money. Hector Barbossa has visited my humble establishment numerous times, first as a member of other men's crews, later as captain of his own. When he started bringing the monkey with him, I began to recognize him from the other men. There's not many as has monkeys, and none were so smart as Jack. Barbossa trained him well. But Barbossa always made sure his men behaved themselves, too, and he always paid what he owed.

My tavern must have been one of the first places Barbossa's crew visited after lifting the treasure of Cortes. How well I remember the beautifully crafted coins he put in my hand that night. I'd never seen such workmanship before. After he and his crew shoved off, I put the coins safely away to help see me through the hard times that would always come again.

It wasn't long before they were back. I'd not even heard the Black Pearl was in port; I just looked up one afternoon to see Hector Barbossa striding in the door with three or four crewmen close on his heels, all of them armed to the teeth. Barbossa left me no time to offer them food and drink. Instead, he took me by the arm and pulled me into the back room, oblivious to the fact that I was up to my elbows in flour from kneading bread.

"I need the gold back," he told me, simple and direct.

It wasn't often I'd seen a man with such a black look in his eyes, and never before had I seen Barbossa anything less than composed. If it was that important to him, he could have it.

"I still have the gold," I said. "Just let me get it."

Sending him back into the tavern, I did my best to dust the loose flour from my hands and then retrieved the gold from its hiding place. The captain and crewmen waited right outside the door. With both hands, Barbossa caught my hand and all the flour and gold it contained and held tight for a moment.

"I owe you." He scooped the gold up and left. The crewmen filed out after him, as silent as they'd come in, and I did not see Hector Barbossa again for quite a long while. Later I heard stories, of course, of the settlements and ships destroyed by his crew in their search for the gold, but I never knew what to believe. The look on his face that day gave me cause to think he might be capable, but then again, it wasn't my place to decide what a man can or cannot do. I only knew what I saw.

---

It took a while, but Barbossa proved to be a man of his word. Again he showed up with no warning, this time without crewmen, to make his offer. His story would be the means of settling his debt to me. He wanted to set right the lies and he chose me to do it because he'd heard me many times reading a newspaper to the sailors hungry for what they couldn't get themselves. Knowing I could read, he figured I could write, too. I would write his words, sell the story, and keep the money for myself. In addition, he would pay me a few bob for the days I worked. The captain plied me with fine wine from his own stock and the impeccable manners he could display when he chose. He also pointed out that time wasn't slowing down any, and this would help support me when I could no longer do for myself. I might have taken it as an insult if he hadn't pointed out his own years.

But a question plagued me right away. "Why do you not write the story yourself?"

He gave me a wicked grin. "I can't read."

"Ah, so you're not going to tell me, then."

"What would I do with a book? I could never get it printed nor collect the money for it if I did. But you know a lot of people, you could get it done. Besides, it would square my debt with you."

"And what's got you so all the sudden worried about unpaid debts?"

Barbossa kept his eyes on mine but the mischievous look faded the tiniest bit. "Well, that has nothin' to do with this, missus. Do ye want the offer, or not?"

I considered. With the money he promised I could hire another girl to help with the cooking, and it might be pleasant to sit and write for a while. My bones weren't as spry as they once were and could do with a rest. Not to mention that the possibility of learning Hector Barbossa's secrets did hold a certain appeal. So the deal was set. Together we would craft the life story of a man named Hector Barbossa.