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[He'd be damned if he started speaking to a bloody book at this rate. He was already feeling crazy enough as it was. Instead, he;d managed to procure a quill and ink and was now scribbling in the page of the journal, not far from the fountain where he'd woken up not all that long ago. His rum was long gone, leaving him querulous and with a furious headache that blackened his mood even further.]

I'm having a hard time believing that I am once more trapped in Davy Jones' Locker again. The last time I was there, it was by far less hospitable and populated than this place is. I doubt Will Turner has done much in such a short time to turn it around either.

[He trails off writing for a moment, and a small blotch of ink shows evidence of his thinking before he starts up again.]

I haven't seen the Pearl nor heard tell of her being here, so I can only assume she did not end up here again and I don't see myself getting out of this mess without Jack.

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[Well, it's not Jack, since Jack is mentioned, otherwise that little gripe about the Locker would be a dead tip-off. And it's not Mister Turner (thank the stars and skies). Nor Miss Swann. He doubts Marty and Cotton can read, and he knows Pintel and Ragetti can't, so that narrows it down quite a bit, doesn't it.

But he doesn't say anything at first. After all, there's a lot in the entirety of the Gibbs's rambling little statement that doesn't make much sense, but there's time to chew that over and see where it goes.]

The Pearl's not here, Master Gibbs. Nor be Jack.

[ooc; ignore my misfire whoops]

Edited (OMG my fingers are not cooperating sfjdsldf) 2013-10-09 17:02 (UTC)

[He recognizes that voice, having sailed for some months now with Captain Barbossa. At first he just stares at the journal, wondering if it had become possessed. A quick furtive glance around, shows at least that he is alone with no one near to be speaking with him. Squinting, he fumbles with the button that allows for speaking.

He is rather diheartened to hear that neither the Pearl nor Jack are here, but given the number of times that ship has slipped away, it's not all too surprising. Plus Jack being Jack, he'd turn up soon enough, one way or another.]

And it's true then, this be the Locker?

[And lo and behold, he is not remotely surprised he's right. Not that it took a great amount of deductive reasoning, of course, but all the same.

But then, of course, that leaves how to answer. After all, only a bit of time in this place will reveal that no, it's very much not the Locker at all, so the value of that bit of knowledge is actually...Fairly low.

And he has been, after all, lamenting the state of his current crew, and no one knows sea lore better than Gibbs.

Conundrum, that.

Of course, there's also the fact that anyone can listen, and he's loathe to impart much.]

Nay, Gibbs, not the Locker.

[He continues to squint at the book, still feeling rather silly to be talking to thin air. At least it's with Barbossa, a man he can at least part ways respect.]

If not the Locker, then where? [There is a very long silence, almost long enough to indicate that he was done talking, but then, softly, his voice pipes up once more, sounding cautious and hesitant.]

I've traveled far and wide and can say now this is the first time I've ever heard o' this place.

[Admitting he doesn't know something is like pulling a tooth. It hurts to actually admit it, but then admitting to not knowing something is by far the fastest way to gaining information.]

Isla Empieza. [And he'll admit, privately, he'd never heard of it before ended up there himself. But he's fairly certain it won't take Gibbs long to figure out the tides, nor the stars, are the same, so he glosses right over that part entirely, moving on to more important things.]

At least, I'm assuming as such, as that's where we first turned up. And consider it your very good luck, Master Gibbs, that we've put into port there once more.

[That's a fact. As soon as he stops being rather disoriented, he will find out all there is to know and then some.]

Aye, I have heard it called as such by some of the locals. What ship are you sailing then if it isn't the Pearl?

[It's hard for him to imagine Barbossa aboard anything other than the Pearl or a at least a ship very much like her, though he's seen the man sail other ships.

Although he has sailed with Barbossa in the past, he was not quite certain if he was ready to throw his lot in with the man again, but given that Jack wasn't here, it was better the devil you knew than the one you didn't.]

I don't suppose you'd be needing an extra hand before the mast?

A caravel. [He's not handing out the name, as it hasn't been branded a pirate vessel as of yet, and he's kept things fairly quiet; something he's been patting himself on the back for.] That's part of the deal here, of course. The locals get a bit nasty with our kind hanging about the docks, so to sea you must go.

[Their kind, and then the idiots that took a sailing class at the ship yard. It's been the most ridiculous thing, and that exasperation is evident in his voice.]

If by extra you mean one fit to stand before it, aye. You'll learn, of course, that there be not but a handful of those capable, and of those, only p'raps a third with any sense at all.

[A caravel was by far not the grandest of ships. In fact it was rather... tiny compared to the Pearl And it was by his reckoning at least comparable to the junk they'd sailed out of Singapore.]

Mmm... I was wondering why I've been getting some long stares from what I assume are the locals.

[Gibbs has figured as much listening to some of the people talk to him, that a great deal know little in the difference from stern to bow. The common lingo of their time appears to be an alien thing to many of the young ones currently struggling to find a berth.

Thankfully though, Gibbs is not one of them, even when drunk he could at the very least hold his own at sea.]

Well you know my worth if you're needing another hand to sail with you. I rather not be hung for lingering where I am not wanted.

[It is, indeed, much smaller than Hector's used to, but with a crew on the level of the one he was able to scrape up...

Well.

Smaller ship means smaller mistakes. Of course it also meant he was trapped even closer with them, but that's what his cabin is for, isn't.]

Where be you, Gibbs. I should think this be a conversation we should have...In person.

[And away from whatever ears may be listening that ought not to. God only knows this place is full of nosy folk, and really, while he knows Gibbs is...Well, a decent enough pirate, there's no sense in taking the chance he might say something he need keep between just the two of them.

For now, at any rate.]

Edited 2013-10-11 00:34 (UTC)

I'm by the dried up fountain. After I woke up here and not on the Pearl I thought I'd hang about and get my bearings before moving on. Plus I had a mind to write down this message in case it bears recollecting.

[And there's the mention of the Pearl again, as though she's been retrieved from the Locker, when Hector very well knows that's not the case.

But he says nothing to that effect, instead slipping the journal into the pocket inside his coat before starting off the fountain. In all actuality, he should have made Gibbs come to him, but given the circumstances...Well. Better that he search him out, anyway, given the nature of this place.

And it doesn't take him long, really, to spot the mutton-chopped fool, and before he approaches, he gives a little sigh. Gibbs isn't the worst that could have shown up, not by a long shot, but it would have been better for everyone to turn up at the same time.]

Master Gibbs. I see you haven't tumbled into the nearest tavern yet, so I'll take that as a good omen.

[Don't be too happy to see him. He cuts a fearless figure, with a teddy bear sitting next to him. He finishes the last line of the poem, but doesn't shut his book yet, allowing for the ink to dry and leaves it resting on one knee as he squints up to Barbossa.]

Its a hard thing not having coin enough to slake a man's thirst. But as I seemed to have arrived with few posessions, there is little I can do but wait on the kindness of another.

[In other words, won't you buy him a drink Barbossa? Surely a Captain of your caliber has some coin tucked away somewhere.

There is a hopeful look attached to that thought as well as Gibbs continues to look up at the only other pirate captain that he'd grudgingly follow.]

[So fearless, with his fuzzy little companion.

Hector doesn't say anything, but he does raise an eyebrow at the stuffed bear. Well, Gibbs is loyal to Jack, and him being loyal to Jack explains a lot.

And really, he should have known Gibbs would make such a proposal, and at first he opens his mouth to shut that thought down right then, as Gibbs is like a stray puppy that doesn't understand once means only once.

But at the same time, he won't deny it's good to see someone who even marginally understands the truth to being a pirate. So he shuts his mouth once more, flattening it into a straight line, before waving a hand in defeat.]

Come along, then, Master Gibbs. All the better to get you up to speed. [And then he pauses, holding up one long nailed finger.] Just the one, mind.

[Gibbs puts on the most honest face he can, given the fact that the sunlight is still making him squint.] I'd never infringe on the hospitality of another, one drink it is.

[Though he does look sad as he agrees to only one drink. Already he is thinking that he had better get a big tankard then. closing the journal, he tucks it away into a pocket within his vest and without a word scoops up the teddy bear under one arm, trying his best to look nonchalant as he does so.]

I've a feeling we have a lot to discuss, given our present circumstances. I'm already getting the feeling that htis place doesn't take too kindly to our kind.

[And he isn't just referring to being a pirate, but also the fact that they are more or less unwelcome strangers. He is not so daft as to openly admit to being a pirate, not with the memory of Lord Beckett fresh in his mind.]

[Hector's eyes linger a moment on said teddy bear, and the thought crosses his mind to say how very piratey it is, that Gibbs is toting it around, but in the end he just shakes his head to clear that thought away. No, he doesn't care what Gibbs's reasoning for it is, he doesn't really wish to know, and if he's being honest, he's seen plenty of Gibbs anyway before coming here, since he and the rest of the crew were sobbing like babies going over that waterfall.

He doesn't understand that: After all, that was part of the fun of getting to the Locker.]

Oh, Master Gibbs, you truly have no idea, mate. [And he doesn't. There's so much to actually share without sharing the really important bits, and it's absolutely wonderful to have someone who knows what they're about to share them with that...

Well.

With that, he turns on his heel, headed for the other side of the square. There's a tavern nearby that he grew a bit fond of his first time on the island, as it was very much in line with the Faithful Bride.]

[Given that he had fallen asleep on the Pearl and therefore woken up with only the possessions on him, the teddy bear had come along to whatever new hell this place was supposed to be. If he'd had the option there would have been a sword and pistol included as well as a generous supply of rum as well.]

Well I'll be glad to learn more. Truth be told, I don't like it much when I'm in uncertain waters as it is...

[The fact that he knows nothing of this place, is already wearing on him. The fact that Barbossa knows more is also a sore point, one he wishes to rectify immediately.

Even if he did wish to drink more, than the one drink offered to him, he would for a change deny himself more as he needed his wits about him this time around.

He takes to following Barbossa quickly enough, but keeps glancing around, making sure he keeps his bearings in this new place.]

Not like Tortuga at all. [He mutters under his breath, missing the fighting and the wenches both and not quite settling with the sometimes indifferent or hostile looks the locals seem to be giving them both.]

[As though, of course, Hector remotely plans on telling him everything. That would just be stupid. But he has enough that's easy enough to freely share, ungarbled from the likes of those that have no idea what they're speaking of. And there are plenty of those types around.

But he snorts about the comment on Tortuga, glancing over his shoulder as he pushes open a door overhung by a sign depicting a pig in a dress.]

Not nearly as welcoming, I'll say that much.

[And then he ducks inside, leaving Gibbs to follow.]

[And follow he does, barely giving the sign a glance. One tavern was after all like any other as far as he was concerned. Currently his one goal was to get that promised drink, even if he had to slit his own throat to do it.]

It seems that aside from the local color, there are a great many about who haven't a clue of wind or tide. This could make things problematic.

[Whatever isn't told to him by Barbossa, he will no doubt soon pick up on his own. Already he has learned a fair bit by just keeping an ear open to those talking around him.]

So it does, Gibbs. But then, you're also in for the treat of watching these greenhorns attempt to get themselves out of port without knowing what like pulls what and what that white thing on the stick is for.

[And if Gibbs thinks he's exaggerating, Hector glances of his shoulder with just a look, that says he is very well not.

And how much it deeply pains him to say those things, having been a man of the sea for...Well. Longer than really bears mention at the moment.

But there's a table in the back, away from prying ears, though this is far quieter than most taverns he's been known to frequent, and he waves a hand at it, to let Gibbs pass.]

Sit, Master Gibbs, and I'll return with that drink momentarily. As it stands, you're going to want it.

Well it's refreshing to know that for once those of us in the know will have the upper hand. Might make things easier down the line. [Given the quietness of the tavern upon entering, Gibbs knows he has wandered far ashore from the likes of the Faithful Bride. He glances to Barbossa, one eyebrow raised.

The idea that people have very little knowledge in the way of sailing is an uncomfortable idea, but one he has already pondered while talking to a few of the strangers over the journal.

Thinking of the book, he rubs a hand over his handmade vest as he takes a seat. While his mind is greatly occupied on the rum to come, he is nevertheless keenly aware that he had best start learning all he can of this place, and fast.]

[And when Hector returns, he says nothing for a moment, hesitating before putting a tankard down roughly in front of Gibbs, before sliding into a chair on the other side. Really, while this is one way to get him up to speed, it's also begging to have his generous and merciful nature played upon.

So it's a very good thing he's not Jack Sparrow.]

Well, I'm certain it didn't take ye long to figure out we're not in the Spanish Main anymore. And I'm sure if you'll take the time to watch the stars tonight, you'll nary find a one that knows your name.

[He leans back in the chair, tapping a finger on the tabletop. And his voice holds that kind of amusement that's more incredulous than finding anything truly funny.]

Nay, Master Gibbs. When I arrived here near a month ago, some walking sack of bones claiming to be Davy Jones were there to greet us all. Apparently we're supposed to hunt down a jewel for him.

[He takes up the tankard immediately, taking a long pull at it before setting it down with a satisfied sigh. However, he remains focused on Barbossa, knowing full well this is important.

He frowns a bit, taking in the nature of the stars changing, but lets that go. After all it was the nature of the stars to change, and while he knew his fair share of them, he was no navigator.]

I find myself perplexed, sir. [He'd decided he better use some title of respect for Barbossa, given that the man was a captain after all and a Pirate Lord.]

Y'see, when I last saw you it was not but a day ago. To hear you've been here a month, runs counter to my reckoning. I'll abide by it, but it is a puzzle to be sure.

[Figuring he'd waited long enough, he took a slower, sip, savoring the rum with a self satisfied sigh. Though he cocked his head slightly at the mentioning of Davy Jones.]

I knew it couldn't be him, on the account that he is dead. So what is he then? An impostor, or a different incarnation?

[That they were after a jewel of some kind, didn't phase Gibbs at all.]

An' I assume this bit of shiny has some value to it?

[And while Hector's gathered time is a bit screwy here (He's hoped so, anyway), that confirms it. But the good side of that, it's only been a day since Gibbs has seen him, at least...In their where and when.

But at Gibbs comment on Davy Jones being dead, well. Clearly that's not right at all. They were going over the waterfall, the last he remembered, while the entire crew - borrowed and his own - sobbed like babies for their mums as the Hei Peng tipped over.

So he simply points at the tankard in front of Gibbs.]

I'm beginning to think you be entirely too sober, Gibbs. Drink that. You very well know Jones be in the hands of Beckett. And last I heard he were alive and well and...Tentacly. Besides, when we get back, you do realize, o'course, we'll still have to be getting the Pearl out of the Locker. She still sits there.

[And Jack, too. He's not sure how he feels about that, to be honest. Knowing Jack Sparrow is dead. There should be a sense of satisfaction knowing that and yet...

Well, it holds no bearing here.]

[Gibbs still has yet to wrap his mind around issues of time, but already he is beginning to think this place is to blame. And rightly so it seems as he frowns from tankard to captain and back again.

There is a look of defiance upon his face as he purposely ignores the tankard for the moment. Given that Barbossa has been here a month, though for Gibbs it was but a day since he last saw him... and now this...

Suddenly what Norrington said in the Faithful Bride seems to apply for here as well.]

It seems you're one chapter behind.

[With that, he takes a big gulp from the tankard, forgetting for a moment that he is supposed to be savoring the drink. Just how was he going to explain this mess?]

[And that's enough to make him go still, his expression freezing for a moment, before he tilts his head, eyes narrowing in an amusement he doesn't really feel.]

Gibbs. What are ye blabbering about, I'll not be played for another.

[Even if he's fairly sure Gibbs isn't, and that there's quite a bit more to that simple statement than Gibbs has thus far shared.

Which is why his expression and demeanor snap to serious, quick as a wink.]

Explain it, then. One chapter behind.

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superstitiouspirate - 2013-10-27 03:19 (UTC) - Expand

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One | Written

[voice] Haven't you learned not to write in books that write back? Bad business, that.

[voice] But talking to books is just as bad!

[voice] Better than writing out personal thoughts for all to see.

Re: [voice] At least it's only a few careful thoughts this time!

[voice] THIS time.

[voice] grumble I'll be more cautious in the future then!

[voice] See that you DO.

[voice] I still think more trouble comes from talking than writing!

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One | Written

[voice] Haven't you learned not to write in books that write back? Bad business, that.

[voice] But talking to books is just as bad!

[voice] Better than writing out personal thoughts for all to see.

Re: [voice] At least it's only a few careful thoughts this time!

[voice] THIS time.

[voice] *grumble* I'll be more cautious in the future then!

[voice] See that you DO.

[voice] I still think more trouble comes from talking than writing!

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[voice] grumble I'll be more cautious in the future then!