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[bringmethatnpc]

Today the Pacific honors its name. It's one of those days the sea is dark blue and the sky is a lighter blue, and the line of the horizon between them is a perfect circle, and both are like twin tin plates reflecting the merciless heat of the sun. The wind is barely enough to push the stolen Spanish ship forwards towards Singapore, but not little enough to excuse the crew from work.

The scaffold rises in the middle of the fort's yard like the sun-bleached skeleton of a shipwreck. A monotone voice numbers the list of new crimes punishable by death under the East India Trading Company rule as the line of chained figures marches forwards.

So while below deck some people conspire to jump ship early and head for a certain temple, above deck sailors work in a dull silence under the stifling sun. The only sounds are the splash of the waves as the prow cuts through them and the creaking of the wood and the rigging.

Funny thing, how these little sounds can combine in a way that almost, almost sounds like they had a rhythm of their own, isn't it?

A thin, trembling voice rises from the gallows. The boy slowly turns the coin in his hands, eyes low.

" The king and his men
stole the queen from her bed
and bound her in her Bones."

How the wind and the voice of the ship itself seems to insinuate a melody into the crew's minds as they go about their duties.

"The seas be ours
and by the powers
where we will we’ll roam."

And through the rattling of chains, and the cry of the seagulls, hidden in the splash of the waves ashore and the howl of the Atlantic winds. In the crashing of glass and the roar of the cannon,  the song travels. And those for whom its sung, even those who don't know yet, hear it.

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[try_corsets]

In the prow, Elizabeth stands with her head held high and her eyes fixed on the horizon. There is only the creak of the ship and the soft lapping of water on its hull to disturb her thoughts or break her focus, and she pays them no mind until the wind picks up and the sea splashes higher, as the ship gains a modicum of speed. Absently, she drums her fingers from right to left on the salt crusted railing.

And again.

Three times in total. It sounds like a distant beat of military drums, and carries farther than it should. The wind plays with the ends of her hair, whipping sun-lightened strands across her face, and again her fingertips connect with wood in a rhythm she's not heard before.

"Yo Ho..."

Her voice lifts in song -- obviously untutored, and yet clear and pleasant -- and seems to hover in the air for an emotionally charged second before fading. The words are the same as those to a song she once sang on another voyage, in what feels like another lifetime, but they are sung in a very different manner: Slow and mournful, with a note of reverence.

And the meaning? That remains to be seen.

[pirate-gibbs.livejournal.com]

Gibbs hears Miss Swann sing two words. It's hard to her them over the sea and the wind. And yet he can. Something inside marks that with fear. But some other grab onto the words and the rhythm.

"Haul together..."

The words seem to burst forth. And Gibbs knows that something is happening.

[turned_captain]

Will can't hear Elizabeth or Gibbs, right now. He's in the stern of the ship, securing one of the lines from the mizzenmast, working as a distraction from dark thoughts.

He hardly even notices as he sings.

"Hoist the colours high."

[bringmethatnpc]

And in the breeze, a change. The wind picks up, as if eager for the Spanish trading ship to complete its journey to Singapore, almost like the last breath of the dying was blowing straight into the sails.

And in that wind, a voice. A voice made of many faint voices, a chorus that hovers on the edge of hearing, but nonetheless creeps up into the head as a not-quite whisper and down the spine as a faint shiver.

[parley-pirate.livejournal.com]

The song's as pulsing as the waves that batter the ship's side, and as rhythmic as Ragetti's tugs on the salt-soaked ropes of the rigging. It gets into your head before you realise it, and carries you along as sure as the tide would carry a boat.

His voice is almost lost on the wind, but not quite.

"Heave-ho..."

[bringmethatnpc]

There's a rustle and a loud flapping sound as Cotton's parrot takes off from its temporary perch in the rigging and sails down the length of the ship, a splash of bright color against the blues of sky and sea.

"Thieves and beggars!" it squawks as it races over the heads of the crew at work on the main deck, before it glides up and settles with a heavy flutter of wings onto the rail of the quarterdeck.

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

Up at the quarterdeck, hands on the wheel, Barbossa stares ahead at the rising sun. The song has been sung, and he watches it catch up with the crew and spread along the ship towards him. He feels it in his bones, and in the gentle hum of the silver piece of eight he keeps in a vest pocket next to his ribs. A dangerous if vital piece falling neatly into place.

His voice doesn't raise, nor for once do his lips curl into a smirk, but it's filled with a purpose that the others, not being aware of what or why they're singing, can't muster. And he stares up along the ship's length as he brings the chorus to an end.

"Never shall we die."

[try_corsets]

The chorus travels the length of the deck, and Elizabeth, astonishment lending her speed, is hot on its metaphorical heels.

Winding around the crew and deftly avoiding coils of rope and other hazards, Elizabeth arrives on the quarterdeck breathless and eager for answers.

"What just happened?"

[turned_captain]

Will's head rose just as Elizabeth passed, and he follows her, an eye always on her more than anything else.

But he doesn't go to her, waiting at the top of the steps and waiting to see what Barbossa has to say.

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

From his place at the helm, Barbossa watches Elizabeth weave her way towards him, with Will not-quite-swept up in her trail, and now his lips -do- curl in a little smirk. He studies her as she climbs the steps up to the quarterdeck, pondering.

Are you really looking for answers, miss Swann? Do you really want to know? Or is this just a tantrum, an outburst that a little prodding will derail this easily? Go ahead, prove yourself. Is that change I noticed real, or are you still a liability?

"Ah, miss Swann" He looks around "I take it you mean the impromptu little sing-along the crew just had? Truly, music is a wonderful thing, don't you think?"

He steps back slightly, his hands still on the wheel and his gaze calm and unwavering on her eyes. The words and the smirk are lighthearted and amused, but those yellow-rimmed eyes are dead serious.

[turned_captain]

Will chin jerks forward, now studying the captain intently to gauge what he isn't saying.

"It means something," he says, and it's not a question, except that he's not sure how he knows it as fact. "What?"

[try_corsets]

After a quick glance at Will, Elizabeth regards Barbossa steadily.

"I do," she replies, startled to hear herself make the admission. But it's that song, and the way it seemed to flow through her and everyone else on board. "I-"

Demand answers.

Deserve to know the truth!

Know you're keeping secrets. Tell us!

Her forehead wrinkles and she finishes, "I'd like to know. It does mean something, doesn't it?"

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

He smirks, leaning back a bit and looking past Elizabeth and Will, straight at Gibbs. If anyone else on board knows about this, it must be him.

"Tell me, miss Swann, those Brethren of the Coast you were once so fond of quoting... How much do you know about them? Or are they just a name attached to a series of... Guidelines?"

[try_corsets]

"I know quite a bit," Elizabeth insists, bristling with pride.

And then she frowns, doing some quick reconsidering.

"I know what I could find in books."

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

Barbossa actually chuckles in response, shaking his head slightly.

"Ah, books. But there are many things, Miss Swann, many secrets what aren't found in books. That's what helps keeping them secret, you see. Hasn't ever stroke you as odd that two pirates alone could force the others to abide by a set of rules..." A brief pause "Guidelines, call them what you will? Never thought there might be something else behind the name 'Brethren of the Coast'?"

Oh, he's enjoying himself greatly. Never underestimate the attraction of the spotlight for a vain man.

[try_corsets]

"Yes, I know...," Elizabeth starts before falling silent and letting him continue.

It's possible, under the annoyance that is inherent in any conversation with Barbossa, to spot a glimmer of interest and excitement in her eyes.

She nods.

"Yes, I have." Hence the question. "The books give little detail," and she tilts her head as if remembering something, "unless you are concerned with how booty should be properly divided, and how many pieces of eight a pirate is entitled for the loss of a limb."

And parlay, of course.

Truth of the matter is, Elizabeth is aware that much of her knowledge is little more than popularized fiction.

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

"And what could the Brethren of the Coast be, miss Swann? What indeed? Who...?" He looks around, gaze sliding over the motley crew that they have assembled. "Who but us?" And here he makes an expansive gesture, a sweep of his arm which doesn't seem to include Will or Elizabeth, nor Tonks. Mal is given the benefit of doubt. He seems stubborn and brash enough to be a pirate, after all, and to have just he adequate bit of jadedness.

"We, the children of the Sea, the heirs to her lanes. We, who claim no holdings but the coasts we plunder and the havens where we make port." He looks around, then back to Elizabeth. "We the Brothers are one people, notwithstanding the language that we speak or the color of our skin. We are one nation, though we sail under a thousand flags, rather than one. We claim no land, have no borders, and still we are one and all, brothers under the sea's wing. And like any school of fish, like any brotherhood, like any nation, we come together against the threat." His arm sweeps out again, only to draw in, fist closed, his eyes alight with the fire of conviction. Either he's an even better liar than they all thought or he -does- believe in all this.

"But who can hold sway over the actions of such a rag-tag nation? Whose council will the pirates heed, you ask?" Beware, Barbossa is caught up in rhetoric swing "Why none but our own. And thus was the Brethren Court born. The wisest, most powerful of the Pirate Lords assembled, to ponder and discuss..." And here not even he can help but roll his eyes slightly "and argue over the problem and find a solution."

His gaze once again sweeps over the crew, only to land once more on Elizabeth.

"You asked what this song means, miss Swann." He smirks, faintly and unamusedly. "Remember when I said that our enemies could give us the best argument we could use to convince Sao Feng? Well, they have. For this song, miss Swann, this ditty, is the summons for the Brethren Court. The summons of the Brethren for their chiefs to gather and come to the aid of the whole Brotherhood of pirates. And Sao Feng, being one of the Pirate Lords, will heed the call. And our quest being linked to the Court as well, he shall lend us his help."

[try_corsets]

Swept away by the cadence of his voice and the information he's finally chosen to impart, Elizabeth can do nothing but stare. These are answers she's desired for far longer than she originally thought.

"A summons for the Brethren Court," she breathes. "Of course."

The pieces are all falling into place. Elizabeth gives the old pirate a small, awed smile.

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

Still smirking, Barbossa spreads his arms and makes a slightly mocking bow, his eyes remaining trained on Elizabeth. Ah, at least the girl can acknowledge good workmanship.

"Now, anybody else has any questions they think they're entitled to...?"

[turned_captain]

Will doesn't even wait for Barbossa to look over at him. He turns away quietly and unobtrusively, thinking to himself.

Now he understands at least some of Barboss'a motivations, and the relationship between himself and Sao Feng. He might be able to use that. but for now, let them all think him the naive blacksmith, and forget whose son he is.

[bushel-o-apples.livejournal.com]

Satisfied that no one else seems to be in a mood to go -demanding- things, he turns to the crew with a scowl.

"Fine then, little misses, I've told you a bedside story, want me to tuck you in now? Man those stations before I tear yer guts out and flog you with them, you gaggle of spineless slugs! Singapore lies ahead, and the East India Trading Company behind, so I want this ship to swallow miles like the Leviathan itself...!"

And so, with the musical sounds of a Captain's voice, the ship sails on towards Singapore.

[pirate-gibbs.livejournal.com]

The song...for years he'd heard the legends of the song. Of a song that was both the anthem of the Brethren Court and its call to battle. He had also heard that never since the first time the Court met had it actually been sung. True, there were two other meetings of the Court, but arrangements were made through more earthly methods. To invoke the song was to invoke fate, and destiny, and the sea. And to decree that the pirates needed to be brethren when such a thing was rarely possible.

Thus for the first time did Gibbs begun to understand just why Barbossa was brought back, why Tia Dalma would do such a thing. Barbossa, the stories went, had a connection to the Court, one he took with him to the grave. And so, if Gibbs understood things correctly, did Jack.

What he didn't understand yet was why Barbossa and Tia saw that such a call to action again was needed. What was going on on the other side of the Americas that the song would be sung?

Lacking an answer - lacking the desire for an answer - Gibbs sought refuge in the bottle and the hammock. But sleep didn't overcome him for some time. And the song echoed in his skull.