bringmethatnpc | (no subject)

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Everything in Panama City had gone mostly according to plan, a rare happenstance for the pirates in this motley crew, and the more superstitious among them spent the first few days on board their new vessel debating whether this meant good luck or bad, fair wind or foul.

The Spanish ship they'd stolen isn't large or particularly pleasing to the eye, being in need of some new paint and wood maintenance, but it's seaworthy and swift before the wind, and most importantly, well-stocked for a long voyage.

And a long journey to Singapore it will be.

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(( OOC: Good question. I'll go with "no", since I don't think anyone would provide a man like Barbossa with more information than needed, right? ))

He looks up with mild curiosity at the mention of Bootstrap. Odd, how the presence of his mutt has brought the old pirate to Barbossa's mind more than a couple times lately.

"Is there anything to know, since last I saw him?"

"Aye, there's much. Especially since I'm supposing you thought that when you cast him overboard, weighted down by the cannon, that he was never to return. But did you ever ask yourself what happens to a man when he's stuck at the bottom of the ocean, cursed never to die, and there are forces in that selfsame ocean greater than even the Aztec mages?" No, Gibbs really doesn't think that he can either scare Barbossa or make him feel guilty. But just the telling of the tale to the traitor will make Gibbs feel better.

Actually... Barbossa chuckles. Undead or no undead, he is one mean bastard and has always been.

"I never thought about that when I shouted 'To the Locker with ye!' as we threw him overboard." A thoughtful pause, then "So old Bootstrap is one of our enemies now?"

Well, of course, being a part of Jones's crew -makes- Bootstrap one of the bad guys in Barbossa's book. And it explains a lot. Oh, yes, it does. So young Mister Turner isn't just tagging along his lass. There's more to the mutt than seems at first.

"He's one of the damned, no thanks to you and your crew." Gibbs has never actually met Bootstrap, so far as he knows, but he feels a kinship with the man, as a loyalist to Jack. So his sneer is not a shock. "A good man, doomed to serve that monster.

"Just thought you ought to know of that."

"You don't know much about Davy Jones, do you, mister Gibbs? I understand you feel the need to blame me for every evil since the Great Flood, but you don't get press-ganged into the Dutchman's Crew. It doesn't work like that. If he's serving aboard Jones's ship, then that's because he accepted the captain's offer."

Barbossa still looks up from his seat on the rolled-up coil of rope, arms crossed on his chest, his lips set on a very much not amused frown.

"And besides, many a good man ends up where no good man should, and more than one bad man escapes his well-deserved fate through luck... And sometimes misplaced loyalty."

"I don't feel the need to blame you for every misdeed. Only the ones you had a hand in. And even if he accepted Jones' offer, it's not as though I can see him lettin' Jones thorugh him back over like a fish." No one has told Gibbs the tale of Davey Jones in one sitting, but the facts have woven themselves together enough. "The point remains, his only crime was the one that you will never be guilty of...loyalty to anyone besides yourself.

"Though in the grand scheme of things, there are worse crimes, and I won't deny that - as Jack might put it - you can always trust a untrustworthy man to be untrustworthy." He smiles just a bit.

"Which only goes to assert that ultimately, he had a choice"

Barbossa shrugs, waving the point away.

"Don't blame me for something that a man who died at Isla de Muerta did, Mister Gibbs. Death puts a big damper on vengeance, usually."

He smiles, an amused, very much sinister slice of a grin.

"And, to continue quoting Jack himself, it's the trustworthy ones you have to watch out for. Never know when one of them will go and do something stupid."

Which is a not-so-nice way of saying 'I'll be keeping an eye on you, mister Gibbs'.

Gibbs wouldn't have it any other way. He might not respect Barbossa much, but that respect comes from a sense that Barbossa is, above all else, true his own code, twisted it might be.

"No, you never do. Which begs the question of how we make sure young Mister Turner doesn't make a mess of things." Whatever confrontation was in Gibbs' bones has passed for now.

"First thing, by having him know what he needs to, strictly. Knowledge in the wrong hands can be more dangerous than steel or gunpowder."

He stands, limping back towards the wheel.

"And keeping an eye on him at all times. Which reminds me, where is our young blacksmith-turned-pirate wannabe...?"

Gibbs nods in total agreement. Will might be more dangerous than Barbossa and not realize it.

"I think he's been keeping to himself. Sometimes below deck, sometimes above. There's much for a smith to do, and I think he's been keeping to it when he can."

"Yes, but blacksmithing of the kind a ship needs won't be keeping his mind busy, only his hands. We need to find something for him to do. Something that'll keep him occupied."

He takes the wheel once again, consults the compass at the helm and adjusts the course.

"Let me ponder it. I've worked with men his age enough to perhaps have a few ideas." Not that any come to him immediately.

"You do that, Bosun Gibbs. And, just so you are ready, we will be needing four or five men for a... Delicate work at Singapore. I may have my reasons to be sure Sao Feng will help us, but I'll be damned if I trust a pirate."

He says that last part with a half-grin.

"I would like you to be the leader of a small... Emergency support party. I'm telling you in advance so you can start picking your men."

With this, Barbossa turns his gaze towards the prow once more, partly expecting the conversation to be over.

And as Gibbs now has two things to think on, he first goes silent and then goes away.

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