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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.

[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?"

[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.