With a glance about then Will steered her over to the railing and leaned upon it, feeling the salt-scented wind on his face with a sensation of vague relief. "He needs something forged. A cup."

He was well aware of the strange and utter lack of information here, and went on in an undertone, obviously quoting and imitating in a more subdued manner Jack's affectations of tone and movement - "'All the gold in the Caribbean, mate.' Elizabeth..." he trailed off, knowing an explanation of his lack of funds would meet with what it had met with countless times before - passionate declaration of love at any cost. And Will loved her for it, but she couldn't understand how fiercely he yearned to give her what her father wanted for his daughter. He was silent, looking out across the dark water.

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"A cup," Elizabeth repeated dubiously, leaning forward against the railing as well. She stared out at the dark waves and sighed softly. "I suppose he offered an elaborate and well-thought-out explanation for exactly why it could not simply be forged in Port Royal, in your own smithy?"

Will glanced sideways at her, and there was another moment of silence. "No," he admitted at length. "No. Just something about...well, all the gold in the Caribbean. The 'key to my destiny'. Freedom." He said nothing of the 'dolly belle'. "You know Jack, Elizabeth. Any request now for an explanation would mean -" and here Will again imitated the infamous captain's semi-drunk manner, "- 'an explanatorial venture upon that subject is the paramount object of which - ah, Mr Gibbs!' and...you know."

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Conveniently for all the unlucky individuals aboard, Joshamee Gibbs [Ellie feel free to come back and claim him] knew well the general you-know-what direction. He'd only sailed that heading a dozen times before. The Pearl skimmed silently over the black waters, a shadow among shadows. The crew moved about their menial tasks with little complaint and little productivity. The dead of the night was not anyone's savvy time of the day - which really made no sense at all, since night was the very opposite of day...

"Tortuga, aye, capt'n?" Mr. Gibbs's inquiring voice jolted Jack from his silent ponderings.

Slightly annoyed, Sparrow flipped open his compass and consulted it for no apparent reason. Unless psychological security counted as a reason. The compass had been wavering of late, but now the more or less functioning arrow pointed to the one dissolute pighole he loved most. He glanced at Gibbs as though reading something unruly. "Aye?"

With no earthly idea of where this conversation was plummeting, Gibbs nodded sagely. "Aye."

Long, drawn out silence.

The first mate shifted uncomfortably. "I've got a... funny feeling... docking so close to Port Royal."

Jack contemplated an unknown and utterly unnecessary thought. At length he nodded. "Aye."

"A - " Gibbs began replying, before hastily catching himself. He coughed. "Ye see, capt'n. The royal navy - "

"Aye."

" - would start suspecting - " And here he jerked his head emphatically at Elizabeth.

Jack gave him the look. "Yer powers of empirical observation are... stunning." He held his hands out before him and grinned. "But ye seem to 'ave forgotten one important thing, mate. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. And try as they may, the bloody scoundrels of the royal navy - "

"Ship sighted on starboard!" came a shout from the crow's nest.

Alarmed, Gibbs raised his spyglass and peered into the predawn darkness. The sun's first intrepid rays were just stretching over the eastern skies, faintly illuminating sails on the horizon. "She flies her colors," he reported. Then, with a valiant effort to disguise his smugness, "Royal navy."

"What!" yelped Jack, seizing the spyglass and nearly poking his eye out. The brig bobbed on the horizon, just out of cannon range. He made a derisive sound and tucked the spyglass away. "Ye seem to 'ave forgotten a second important thing, mate. The Pearl is the fastest - "

"Ship sighted on port!"

And the resigned Jack had only one response: "B.ugger that."

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((*slips in silently* Apologies...today's the first day I've been well enough to really even think about making a decent post ))

Elizabeth's grip on the rail tightened as the shouts rang out and everyone aboard the ship sprang into action. She'd anticipated that they would run into some sort of trouble eventually, but before they had even left the bay? They could not have already discovered her absense, could they? Placing a hand briefly on Will's arm, she strode off to find the pirate responsible for this whole mess.

"Jack," she called out sharply, coming up on the captain in question. "You can get us out of here, can't you?"

"The Pearl's the fastest ship in the Caribbean." Will followed. His words amounted to more of a statement than a query. He had no doubts that Jack would find his way out of this one, be it easy or hard. If forging this chalice was as important to him as he indeed made it seem, he would make a way. That at least could be said for Jack - when his own plans were threatened he could be of astounding ingenuity.

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As if incited by the veiled sunrise - a daunting shade of crimson - the wind accelerated, bloating the Pearl's sails and sending the deck tilting in one direction. Catching the rail with one hand, Gibbs raised the spyglass to his eye again and squinted through the infinitesimal lens. "Mary, mother of God," he breathed. "An entire fleet, it is." He lowered the spyglass and turned a wide-eyed look on his captain. "They're after Elizabeth."

"Jolly good, that solves all our problems then," Sparrow proclaimed without a glance at Ms. Swann. "Throw what's-her-face overboard."

Taken aback, Gibbs narrowed one eye in his classic inquiry of Jack's sanity. He glanced from Elizabeth, to Will, to Jack, then back to Elizabeth.

Not perturbed in the least, Jack raised his voice. "Set sail forty degrees port! Hustle, hustle, I want movement!"

All of them froze. The entire crew, that is. From Pintel to Mr. Cotton's parrot, they all turned their stares to the direction indicated. Then, in flawless concert, they all turned back to stare incredulously at their captain. "Jack. Are ye daft?" Gibbs demanded after a stifled gasp. "That's where that ship is!"

Jack screwed his face. "What ship?"

Gibbs flung his arm towards the royal navy closing in on port. "That ship!"

"Oy! That ship!" Jack grinned his comprehension and nodded sagely. A frozen pause. "Yes, it's a wonderful shade of maroon. What about it?" Vexed, he glanced from one pirate to the next. Quite suddenly, in a voice loud enough to scare the birds in Singapore, he roared, "Why am I not gettin' movement?!"

The crew couldn't have reacted more explosively if they'd been struck by lightning - which many of them had. In their lives. Before. Stumbling and scrambling, they tripped over themselves to take the helm and prepare the cannons.

Satisfied, Jack turned and ran full into Elizabeth. He assumed an expression of utmost surprise. "Why are ye still 'ere, darling? I thought I told ye t'take a swim." He worked his index finger and middle finger in what vaguely resembled two running legs. "Off ye go."

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"It's not Elizabeth, it's the Pearl," interjected Will, turning from where he leaned over the railing. "They won't know she's gone yet - Jack, the Pearl is faster than any of the Royal Navy's ships, it doesn't matter. Whether they catch us because of Elizabeth or because of you, the fact remains to be seen that we're caught." He paused to look rather inscrutably at the captain before him, and added pointedly, "but we won't be."

Not only would that put a black mark on Will's career unlikely to be soon scoured away, but Elizabeth in the company of known outlaws and pirates would seem heartily incompatible to her slightly overprotective father. If Jack wanted this chalice forged, he (and they) would escape this unscathed, Will had every confidence. Confidence perhaps not so much in Jack's concern for their well-being, but for his own.

He refrained from adding something aggressive along the lines of, "If she goes over the side, I follow." Jack might retain the appearance of a simpleton but the fact was inescapable - he was very intelligent.

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"Yer gettin' the hang of it, mate," Jack observed, flattered by Will's utter faith in him. Patting the blacksmith on the back, he bounced on past him to borrow the helm from the slightly incompetent Mr. Gibbs. In full aplomb he spun the wheel, turning the Pearl fully around straight towards the enemy ships on port.

That was when the Royal Navy flanking on starboard decided to fire. Two cannonballs boomed in rapid succession. The first exploded twenty feet short, sending water geysering into the air. The second struck even closer. Water sprayed onto deck, and the Pearl dangerously tilted.

"Broadside, broadside!" Captain Jack bellowed. "We 'ave cannons for a reason, ye know!"

"Aye, cap'n!" responded Gibbs in good order, considering the wheel had been stolen under his very hands. He moved forward, cupping his hands to his mouth. "Ye heard the cap'n! To the gun deck, ye slimy mongrels!" He narrowly avoided tripping down the stairs from the poop deck. He shielded his eyes, squinting into the horizon. The Royal Navy was closing the distance. Fast. "I'm thinkin' ye might be needin' this, Ms. Swann," he said almost absently, thrusting a musket into Elizabeth's hands.

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Elizabeth glanced up just in time to catch the musket being flung in her direction. She gazed down at the firearm, her expression something akin to disbelief. Did he honestly expect her to fire this weapon if the battle came to that? It was not a question of skill, but rather of willingness. It had been one thing when the targets she had been shooting at were decidedly evil pirates who would have done far worse to her without hesitation. But to train a gun on young men from her home town -some of whom she knew personally- who would sooner fall on their own swords than bring harm to the governor's daughter...that was something entirely different. Yet it was quite clear that yes, he did expect for her to fight as one of the crew, and that Jack's expectation would likely be the same. They honestly believed she was capable of choosing to kill someone she knew in order to ensure her own escape.

And what truly disturbed her was...so did she.

Shivering mentally, Elizabeth discarded both the musket and the thought. If -if- fighting were to occur, she would do it with her sword. At least with a sword, killing would be only a means of self-defence, rather than cold-blooded murder. Somehow, though, that thought wasn't nearly as comforting as she'd meant it to be.

Will strode past her with a twosome of pistols jammed firmly in his belt and his sword - a slender saber with every appearance of being both swift and deadly, which he had no doubt crafted himself - already drawn. He paused only momentarily to glance over the railing at the fast-approaching Navy ships, before taking the stairs belowdecks in two long strides.

Powder monkeys, lads who fit their names very well in sheer gangly boyishness, were already scampering among the cannons and almost between the legs of the men who flooded down to prime the guns.

The ship lurched as Jack spun the wheel and Will held up a hand to still those that went to light the fuses. He squinted upwards momentarily, judging their angle, and -

"Fire!"

As men jumped out of the way the cannons slid back and while splashes told of the resting places of more than one cannonball, the splinter of hardwood under balls of shot rewarded their efforts at least once. But Will far preferred to meet in actual combat only sparingly. "Jack, let's be off before we've got more Navy after us than we can handle!" he shouted, racing up the stairs again.

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Jack skillfully stood his ground, not so much as swaying when the cannons almost below his feet exploded. All right, mayhap a little. An infinitesimal little. Blame it on the rum. He squinted his eyes and spun the wheel again as water sprayed. He followed the path of the cannons, straight to...

His eyes widened. The helm lay forgotten as the infamous Jack Sparrow stumbled down the stairs, arms flailing, such horror plastered on his face that one had to wonder if he forgot his rum in Port Royal. "No! No!" he bellowed, tripping over the stairs onto the gun deck.

He swore he heard crickets chirping as his men, every one of them, gawked at him.

"No! Fire on starboard! Starboard! I already owe 'em money!" He stood there for a moment to make utterly certain they got his point, then scrambled back up the stairs. As he passed Will, he made a face and stuck both thumbs in his chest. "No firing 'n port. Me is captain. Me. Savvy?" A short pause. "Oy! What the bloody are ye doin' with m'steering device?"

Joshamee Gibbs guiltily released the wheel and stepped back from the helm. "Sorry, cap'n! Was savin' our ship, I was."

An enemy cannonball exploded terrifyingly close, sending the Pearl rocking. Water splashed across the deck. Jack seized the wheel and quickly spun it. The ship veered. They were nearing the Royal Navy on portside. And, as they neared, one could discern that the "enemy" strangely wasn't firing back despite their perfect target. The closest brig had a smoking hole in its foremast sail. Even as Jack watched, the brig's captain shook a fist at him. The fist didn't look very happy.

Sparrow winced and whispered in Gibbs's ear, "Get the money. Oh and... hide the rum."

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Will looked bewildered for a split second before a second glance at the ship to port told him all he needed to know. He muttered something under his breath about unknown allies before diving belowdeck again, this time safely to starboard, and casting a glance out the cannon port to make quite sure that this was not an unexpected friendly presence as well. Decidedly not. That was Royal Navy if he'd ever seen it.

"Elizabeth!" he barely noticed the stairs this time, taking them in two bounds. "Give the call when we're in range!"

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