On the Island: Ceremony and Escape

[bringmethatnpc]

The sound of thunder rumbles through the air, heralding an approaching storm--

--no, wait.

That's not thunder; that's the beating of drums.

It's a beautiful clear day on the island, just perfect for a ceremony and celebration, as the tribe prepares to send their chief to the gods.

Comments

[pirate_jack]

The occasional impersonation of a member of the clergy aside, he's never been all that much for regular observation of religious services.

Of course, Jack muses, it's strangely fitting that his habit -- so to speak -- should have landed him here in this role. The question is how to get out of it.

Meanwhile, the natives continue building up their fire and their energy together. Two of them bring over the ceremonial necklace, placing it around Jack's throat with the gravity due the situation.

As they withdraw, he lifts one of the toes and eyes it thoughtfully.

"Maybe it won't be so bad," Jack mutters, and with a shrug, bites off a piece of the nail.

A second later he's spat it out.

"Not to my taste."

[turned_captain]

Will's lucky not to have been eaten, all things considered. He just doesn'[t feel that lucky. His captors carried him off to a deep ravine between two almost sheer cliffs, and forced him into a large round cage - one of two suspended by an elaborate arrangement of ropes at the half-way point between the cliffs. For fifty or so feet in all directions is nothig but empty air.

And pirates. His immediate vicinity is very much piratey, as he's sharing his cage with members of the Black Pearl's crew. The second cage is similarly packed.

"Why would he do this to us?" He complains to Gibbs. "If Jack is the chief..."

[bringmethatnpc]

This isn't the time to wonder what on Earth Will Turner is doing here. So Gibbs stops himself from asking. For now.

"Aye, the Pelegostas made Jack their chief, but he only remains chief as long as he acts like a chief."

[turned_captain]

"So he had no choice," Will reflects, eager to see the best in Jack.

"He is a captive then, as much as the rest of us."

[bringmethatnpc]

"Worse, as it turns out." Gibbs pauses to heighten dramatic tension, without realizing he's doing so.

"See, the Pelegostas believe that Jack is a god in human form, and they intend to do him the honor of releasing him from his fleshly prison." Oddly this doesn't seem to freak Gibbs out.

[bringmethatnpc]

In the pause, Cotton illustrates helpfully by miming biting and chewing on Gibbs' finger. Possibly a little more sharply then is strictly necessary, but everyone's under a lot of stress just now.

Marty nods matter-of-factly.

[bringmethatnpc]

Parrots are supposed to be good luck. But maybe Gibbs needs to rethink that opinion. If they survive.

He shakes off the pain and looks again at Will.

"They’ll roast him and eat him." Maybe now he's a bit more unnerved by the concept.

[bringmethatnpc]

The drums beat a steady, hypnotic cadence, under the chanting of the natives preparing for the day's ritual. Most of the men are at work laying wood for the fire. It's piled high, as befits this day of celebration; the fire will be more than large enough for the purpose.

As the last sticks are laid in place, the group turns to face their chief.

[pirate_jack]

"No no! Wait! Oy! No no!"

Jack leaps to his feet from his seat upon the throne, waving his hands in violent protest.

"More wood! Big fire! Big fire!" He suits his gestures to his words, indicating the height of the blaze that he prefers as he demands, "I am chief-- want big fire!"

He turns, gesturing imperatively for the honor guard behind his throne to go and help.

"A-boogie snickle-snickle. Tout suite, come on! More wood!"

[bringmethatnpc]

The warriors exchange eloquent looks. The chief is weird.

However, he's also the chief, and divine, and it is his ceremony to return to the home of the gods. Shrugging, they turn back to the fire, tossing on more armfuls of wood.

[turned_captain]

Will is a little unnerved by it, truth be told. He looks around at the pirates sharing his cage, then over at the half dozen or so in the second of the pair.

"Where's the rest of the crew?"

[bringmethatnpc]

"These cages we’re in? Weren’t built until after we got here." Gibbs' face is now positively grim. These were good men, for the most part, if lousy pirates. They didn't deserve this. HE doesn't deserve this.

He pauses, hearing the echo of the drums across the island.

"The feast is about to begin. Jack’s life will end when the drums stop."

[turned_captain]

Will studies the cage now. He'd been trying not to look at it too closely, but now he notices that they're contstructed of human bones.

He removes his hand from where it's been holding on to a long bone- maybe a thigh? He's not exactly a doctor.

"Well," he says, suddenly practical to avoid thinking about it, "we can’t just sit here and wait then, can we?"

[bringmethatnpc]

Clearly, they can't.

It doesn't take too long for a plan to form, likely at Will's direction -- and before long, the prison-balls made of bone are being swung back and forth, taking advantage of body weight.

Eventually, the yelling group of pirates make it up against the cliff wall, grab onto the vines and slowly attempt to climb.

[bringmethatnpc]

"Put your legs through! Start to climb!"

Why in heaven's name does it take a lad with not an opunce of pirate in him to think of this? Gibbs doesn't care.

[turned_captain]

Because it involves lateral thinking and a fresh approach? Or maybe the urgent determinism that comes of being a young man with a bride to rescue. Certainly, Will is still thinking more about Elizabeth hanging than his own potential cannibalisation.

Regardless, he sticks his legs through the cage like all the others, grabs a vine and starts the hand-over-hand proceedure to get to the top.

"Come on, men!" he shouts to the other ball to lend encouragement. "It’ll take all of us to crew the Black Pearl!"

[pirate_jack]

One sideways step, then a second, and a third.

When they turn around, they'll find that Jack is gone.

The wooden slat bridge shakes under his feet as he runs across it, arms gyrating wildly for balance-- and even more wildly as he skids to a stop at the edge of a cliff.

"Not good..."

Jack looks around and spots a nearby cottage. Hurrying inside, he paws through odds and ends salvaged from previous "guests" and shipwrecks, finally snatching up a large coil of rope.

As he heads for the door, his eye is caught by a shining silver gleam. He pauses long enough to pick up a paprika tin with the stamp of the East India Company upon it.

"Now that's interesting."

Still carrying the paprika, Jack hurries out the cottage door, where he comes abruptly to a halt.

"Oh bugger."

[bringmethatnpc]

Cold feet are understandable, on the eve of a ceremony this life-changing.

Understandable, however, does not mean honorable, and it does not mean excusable. When the chief is a god, he will remember them with gratitude, and favor their hunts and their voyages -- and, with the white men's huge ships coming ever more frequently, the blessings of a new god are greatly to be desired.

Right now, however, he doesn't have the powers or the perspective of the god. Until the ritual is done, he's still only the chief. And when the chief forgets his duty, it's up to the shaman and the warriors of the tribe to remind him of it.

This is why very nearly the entire tribe is now clustered around this cottage.

With spears.

[pirate_jack]

He shrugs the rope off his shoulder to the ground and smiles winningly as he takes the lid from the paprika.

Jack dusts lightly under both arms as he explains,

"A little seasoning, aye?"

A wave of his hand invites them to smell the delectable scent of spiced Jack, which floats strongly on the air given the amount of paprika he's used.

Among other things.

[bringmethatnpc]

...Right.

Well, it's not as if they're going to disagree with the impulse.

Three warriors step forward -- the bravest and most worthy of this honor, and incidentally the biggest -- to respectfully (but firmly) escort the newly spiced chief back to his glorious pyre.

[bringmethatnpc]

"Actually," Leech pipes up from the other cage, "you wouldn't need everyone. About six would do."

Pause.

Everybody's looking at Leech, now.

And Leech follows this train of thought to the end, about three seconds after everyone else. "...Oh dear."

[pirate_jack]

They're very efficient about it all, binding him securely to the spit with many turns of an extremely heavy rope.

"If only my crew were always this dedicated," Jack mutters to himself, darkly amused.

As the strongest warriors carry their chief to the fire, the ceremony resumes, the cadence of the drums setting a loud counterpoint to the shrieks of celebration.

As the spit is placed over the now-very-large pile of wood, Jack looks down at it and says dryly,

"Well done."

[turned_captain]

Will and Gibbs exchange looks.

"Hurry!" Will says unneccessarily, beause everyone is hurrying. As much as Will doesn't intend to leave anyone behind, there's the unspoken fear that the first people out would leave them.

Those pirates.

The race continues, until something catches Will's eye...

[bringmethatnpc]

This particular guard is bored.

He wants to be at the chief's godhood feast. That's where everyone else is. They're probably lighting the fire by now. But no, he had to step on a branch and startle the parrot they were hunting last week, so it flew away and now he's in disgrace, and now he has to guard the stupid prisoners to make sure they won't escape.

They're not going to escape. So he's missing the feast for no good reason.

Sullenly, he tramps across the rope bridge above the prisoner's cage-globes.

[bringmethatnpc]

One young lad overhears this, and beams. He doesn't really understand the English. But the chief's tone allows for interpretation, and the boy is eager enough that pretty much anything would be interpreted as praise. It's his first feast of this magnitude, and he has a fork and a knife all for his very own. Scraping them against each other, he licks his lips.

And then the steady beat of the drums speeds up, faster and faster, and the chanting underneath matches it, and even those who were silent before join in now as the chanting crescendoes, rising to a hypnotic fever pitch in the hot jungle air, lifting them all like heartbeats, faster and faster until it

stops.

Into the dead silence, the firebearer intones, "Fi-fi," and lifts his burning torch high.

The clearing erupts in ululations.