Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales Novelization

by Elizabeth Rudnick

  “Bring the basket!”

  It was too late. As Jack protested, he was shoved down on the block. His head hung over the basket while his hands were strapped down. “Here’s an idea,” Jack said, his words a bit muffled due to his head’s position on the chopping block. “Why don’t we try a good old-fashioned stoning? Gets the crowd involved.”

  Across from where Jack was facing his fate, Carina Smyth was facing hers, as well. A noose had been placed around her neck and she had been led to the gallows. She stood on the tall wooden platform, looking out at the crowd. “Good sirs,” she said, trying even then to make the people of Saint Martin see reason, “I’m not a witch. But I forgive your common dim-wittedness and feeble brains. In short, most of you have the mind of a goat—”

  “Is it not common practice for those being executed to be offered a last meal?”

  Jack’s shout interrupted Carina mid-protest. She glared across the square at the pirate. “I believe I was making a point. If you could just be patient…” She had not been acquainted with this Jack Sparrow character for long, but it had been long enough for her to know that it seemed always to be about him—a trait he was proving with every passing moment.

  “My head is about to be lopped off—hence the emergency,” he called.

  “And my neck is to be broken,” Carina pointed out.

  “On occasion the neck doesn’t break,” Jack retorted. “I’ve seen men swing for hours, the life slowly choking out of them. The point is it’s entirely possible you still have hours left to whisper your last words, whereas my head will soon be in this basket, staring up at my lifeless body—which happens to be famished!”

  “Kill the filthy pirate. I’ll wait,” Carina announced dryly.

  From his spot on the block, Jack lifted his hands and tried to shake his head. “I wouldn’t hear of it,” he said, feigning gallantry. Then he smirked. “Witches first.”

  Carina let out a scream of frustration. “I am not a witch! Were you not listening?”

  “Hard to listen with the mind of a goat!” Jack shot back.

  “Enough!”

  Lieutenant Scarfield’s voice echoed over the square, silencing the bickering pair. “Kill them both!” he ordered.

  Raising his eyes as far as he could, Jack saw the executioner step forward. He wore the black mask that was required of his job. Jack watched the man’s thick black gloves reach out, ready to hit the switch that would bring down the blade.

  Jack closed his eyes and waited for the sound of the blade dropping.

  But that sound never came. Instead, there was a whoosh and then a shout. Opening one eye, Jack saw young Henry Turner standing in the middle of the square. He was hopelessly surrounded by soldiers but still had his fists raised. A rope—presumably what Henry had used to swing in on—hung off his wrist. Clearly the boy had attempted a rescue maneuver—and failed.

  “Get another noose!” Scarfield ordered from the stands. “He will die with the others.” He turned and shouted at Henry with a snarl, “Did you think you could defeat us, boy?”

  Henry shook his head. “No, sir,” he replied, letting a smile creep across his face. “I’m just the diversion.” He turned and shouted over his shoulder, “Fire!”

  Instantly, an explosion rocked the square. Rock and debris flew through the air and chaos erupted as people began screaming and running. The guillotine toppled over, spinning around and around as though on an axle before finally settling upside down, leaving Jack dangling helplessly from the contraption.

  Scarfield’s face grew red as he watched Jack’s old crew lead a cannon farther into the square. He turned and saw that Henry had broken free from the soldiers holding him in the chaos. Scarfield had been tricked—by a mere child! Turning back to his men, he gave them the order to attack. But it was no use. As he watched, the pirates continued to swarm the square.

  The cannon fired again, sending a group of horses scattering. They raced forward, running right at the guillotine. Seeing them moving toward him, Jack struggled to get out of the way, but there was nowhere for him to go. Once again, he closed his eyes, waiting for his inevitable death, this time at the hands—or rather, hooves—of the horses. And once again, the moment never came. Instead, the horses slammed into the side of the guillotine, sending it crashing to its other side. With a groan, the wood broke, setting Jack free. He sat up and rubbed his wrists. That had been close.

  Just then the blade fell—landing right between Jack’s legs.

  Yikes. That had been even closer.

  Getting to his feet, Jack brushed off his jacket and wiped off his newly reacquired pants. “Gibbs!” he said, spotting his first mate. “I knew you’d come crawling back.”

  The bearded man shrugged. “The Turner boy paid us ten pieces of silver to save your neck,” he explained.

  Jack shrugged. Fair enough. Turning, he looked across the square. His freedom, while most important, was only part of the plan. He hated to admit it, and he wouldn’t—not out loud, at least—but he wasn’t the person they truly needed to find the Trident. They needed Henry’s witch.

  The only problem was she was still attached to the gallows.

  As soldiers tried to fight their way through the surging crowd all around her, Carina stood helpless. She saw Henry in the middle of a group of men, punching and kicking his way toward her. A soldier suddenly appeared on the platform next to her. Carina was straining against the ropes around her wrists when a scruffy pirate with a glass eye rushed up and started fighting the soldier, sending him right off the platform.

  “Thank you,” Carina said, surprised.

  “M’lady.” The pirate extended his arms and bowed. Unfortunately, he hit the gallows switch with his hand, and Carina’s stomach—and body—dropped straight down. The floor beneath her feet had opened, and the rope around her neck pulled tauter and tauter.

  Her scream died in her throat as her descent came to a sudden stop. Looking down, she saw that Henry was standing underneath the platform. His arms were wrapped around her, his face buried in her stomach. She could see him struggling to keep her from falling any farther.

  “From this moment on,” he said, his voice muffled, “we are to be allies.”

  “Considering where your left hand is, I’d say we are more than that,” she shot back, trying to hold her body steady.

  “We find the Trident together,” Henry said, not addressing Carina’s ill-timed teasing. “Do I have your word?”

  She nodded. Then, realizing that he couldn’t see her response from his rather scandalous position, she added, “You’re holding everything but my word. Now cut me down!”

  There was a pause. “I don’t have a sword at the moment.”

  Carina’s eyebrows shot up. He didn’t have a sword? What kind of soldier arrived at a rescue with nothing but his two fists? She was dangling at the end of a hangman’s noose with a young man she barely knew cradling her in some overly familiar places while pirates and soldiers fought all around her. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  “Well, look at this.”

  Carina grimaced. Apparently it could get worse. Looking up, she watched Lieutenant Scarfield stalk toward Henry beneath her.

  “If I kill the coward, the witch hangs,” he observed. “Two for the price of one.”

  “Don’t let go,” Carina told Henry.

  Henry gulped. “It’ll be difficult once he kills me.” With Carina in his arms, Henry was defenseless. His midsection was completely exposed. It would take nothing but a well-placed stabbing to end his life and then Carina’s. He tried to think of a plan as Scarfield drew back his sword. The man’s face filled with murderous glee, and then Scarfield dropped to the ground.

  Behind his prone body stood Jack Sparrow. In his hand he held the dull end of the guillotine blade. “Gentlemen,” he said over his shoulder to his gathered crew, “these two prisoners will lead us to the Trident.”

  “Prisoners?” Henry said as he was grabbed roughly by a pirate. “I c
onvinced your men to save you! Paid them with my own silver! We had a deal!”

  “There’s been a slight modification.” Jack shrugged as he turned and began to walk out of the square. Henry really was like his father—naive and silly. But while he was both those things, he was also a key to getting away from Salazar and finding the Trident. So like it or not, Jack was taking him—and his witchy little friend—along for his adventure.

  The seas were angry. Heavy waves pounded the side of the Queen Anne’s Revenge as it sailed under a dark gray sky. On the horizon, massive storm clouds had formed, turning everything dark.

  Everything including the Silent Mary.

  Captain Salazar’s ghost ship sailed through the stormy seas, untouched by the heavy waves. The storm seemed to follow the ship as though somehow controlled by it.

  Aboard the Revenge, Barbossa stood at the wheel, his eyes—clouded over like the seas themselves—determined and cold, fixed on the ship ahead. He knew his crew thought he had lost his mind. No one sailed toward the Silent Mary. It was a death sentence to do so, yet Barbossa had made his orders clear. They were not to stop until they were nigh on top of the other ship.

  The distance between the two ships became smaller and smaller. Across from each other, the captains locked eyes, each daring the other to back down. Neither took the dare. As the Revenge got closer to the Mary, the ghost ship seemed to rise out of the water. Its skeletal hull appeared to open like the mouth of a giant beast, the wooden ribs of its bottom like teeth eager to snap the Revenge in half.

  Calmly, Barbossa walked to the railing of his ship. “Captain Salazar,” he called out across the water, “I hear you’re looking for Jack Sparrow.”

  The ship stopped, inches from the Queen Anne’s Revenge. There was a long, tense moment as the crew of the Revenge waited. And then Captain Salazar and his ghostly crew jumped down onto the Revenge, pulling weapons as they landed silently on the decks. Landing in front of his men, Captain Salazar stalked over to Barbossa, who couldn’t help staring at the gaping hole in Salazar’s skull. Barbossa swallowed hard.

  “It’s impolite to stare,” Captain Salazar said in greeting. “Have you never seen a fatal wound before?”

  Barbossa averted his eyes from the hole. “My name is Captain Barbossa,” he began. “And I stand before you with cordial intent.”

  Pulling out his sword, Salazar began to walk around the other captain. “Cordial intent?” he repeated. He turned to his crew. “Do you hear that, men?” The ghosts laughed, the sound sending shivers down the spines of the living pirates. Looking back at Barbossa, he went on. “I am going to show you what cordial means. Every time I tap my sword, one of your men will die. So I suggest you speak quickly.” To prove his point, Salazar brought his sword down on the wood. Before the sound of the tap could fade, there was a scream from the back of the deck. “Tell me where Jack is—I’m waiting.” He tapped his sword on the deck menacingly.

  “He’s going for the Trident…” Barbossa said in a rush.

  “The sea belongs to the dead,” Salazar replied.

  Barbossa inclined his head, acquiescing to the other captain. “But the Trident controls the sea….”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Salazar’s sword rose and he closed in on Barbossa. “There is no treasure that can save him!” he shouted. “He will die! As will you!”

  Barbossa raised his hands. “I be the only one who can lead you to him,” he said quickly. “I declare, you’ll have Jack’s life before sunrise on the morrow—or you can take mine. Do we have an accord?”

  For one long moment, Salazar said nothing, weighing the offer. Finally, he nodded. “Take me to him, and you will live to tell the tale.”

  “You have my word. I thank you on behalf of my crew.”

  Salazar smiled. Then, very slowly, he tapped his sword. There was a scream and Barbossa flinched. Then Salazar tapped the sword again. And again. And two more times after that. With each tap, there was a horrible cry and Barbossa’s crew became one man smaller. “You can take what’s left of them,” Salazar said cruelly. Then he turned and gave his orders. “The living come aboard.”

  As a plank was dropped between the two ships, Barbossa turned and signaled to his men. He had made his deal and had to see it through, even if it meant stepping onto a ghost ship and putting his life—and the lives of his crew—in the hands of a mad pirate-hating ghost. Not for the first time, he uttered a silent curse against Jack Sparrow. Somehow, the wily pirate always seemed to be getting him into trouble. This time, though, it would be he, Captain Hector Barbossa, getting Jack into hot water.

  Henry Turner had done his fair share of daydreaming about being caught up in an adventure with a beautiful girl. He had not, however, dreamed that the adventure would include being tied to the mast of a dingy ship belonging to a rather crazy captain and manned by his delinquent crew. Yet that was exactly where this adventure had landed him. He now found himself tied, rather too tightly in his opinion, to the mast of the Dying Gull. On the other side of the mast, Carina Smyth struggled against her restraints, muttering under her breath.

  “Carina,” Henry said as he stared nervously out at the sea. On the horizon, he could see the coming storm and knew what it meant. “There’s something you need to know. The dead are sailing straight for us.”

  On her side of the mast, Carina raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” she asked, smirking.

  “Yes,” Henry replied sincerely. “I’ve spoken to them.”

  “Have you spoken to krakens and mermaids as well?” she teased.

  Henry, unaware the girl was mocking him, replied in earnest. “Krakens don’t speak. Everyone knows that.”

  Carina sighed at the foolish boy and his foolish beliefs. It was clear he was not right in the head. Plus, it was he who had led her straight into that mess of being tied up on a pirate ship in the first place. “I never should have saved you.”

  Realizing it would do no good to retort, Henry decided to start talking about the task at hand, attempting to turn his head toward her. “Last night there was a blood moon, just as you described. Tell me what it revealed.”

  “And why should I trust you?” she asked.

  “You trusted me to hold your port, remember,” Henry said, surprised by his own boldness. The flirty words had left his mouth before he could stop them. He heard Carina’s shocked intake of breath and her protest. He smiled. Since meeting Carina, he had always felt at a loss for words. But now she was the one struggling to find the right thing to say. “Tell me what you found,” Henry went on. “And I promise to help you.”

  He felt the ropes tighten around his chest as Carina adjusted herself on the other side of the mast. For a long moment, she did not speak. Henry wished he could see her face to try to glean some idea of what she was thinking. Had he pushed it too far with his teasing? Was she just not going to speak again…ever? Finally, he heard her mumble something under her breath.

  “I’ve been alone my entire life,” she said. “I don’t need any help.”

  Henry shook his head. He didn’t believe that. At least not all of it. “Then why did you come to me, Carina?” he asked, pushing her. “Why are we tied together in the middle of the sea chasing the same treasure? Maybe you can’t see it—but our destiny is undeniable.”

  “I don’t believe in destiny,” Carina replied bluntly.

  “Then believe in me,” Henry said, the teasing tone completely gone from his voice. He was serious as he added, “As I believe in you.”

  There was another long pause, and once again, Henry feared he had gone too far. But finally, she sighed. “The moon revealed a clue, Henry,” she said. “‘To release the power of the sea, all must divide.’”

  “What does it mean?” Henry asked, confused.

  To his surprise, Carina did not have an answer at the ready. In fact, she admitted, albeit grudgingly, that she didn’t know what the convoluted clue meant.

  “Then we’ll just have to find out,” Henry said, not wil
ling to give up on his dream of finding the Trident.

  “There is no map in this map.” Jack’s voice instantly reminded Henry that, unfortunately, he and Carina weren’t the only ones on that journey. Nor were they in a particularly good spot to do any finding of any sort. Looking up, he saw the captain swaying over. Jack was holding the diary of Galileo in his hand. He held it up in front of Carina, who tried in vain to reach for it. “Give me the Map No Man Can Read.”

  “If you could read it,” Carina said testily, “then it wouldn’t be called the Map No Man Can Read.”

  Jack shrugged. “Most of the men on this ship can’t read. So…that makes all maps the Map No Man Can Read.”

  Henry groaned. Jack was a fool to try to argue with Carina. Henry didn’t know her well—or at all, really—but he knew she would not just give in. Not without a well-orated debate, at least. He was right.

  “If no one can read it,” Carina pointed out, “then you have no use for it or me.”

  Jack raised a hand to his goatee and twirled the knotty hair in his fingers. Then he held out his other hand and began moving the fingers as though doing some sort of intense calculation. Coming to a conclusion, he shrugged. “Let me start again. Show. Me. The. Map!”

  “I. Can’t.”

  Carina’s snippy response made Henry cringe.

  “It does not yet exist,” she went on.

  There were murmurs from the crew, who had gathered around the mast. “She’s a witch!” Marty said, voicing aloud what everyone was saying quietly.

  “No,” Carina said, shooting the small pirate a huge glare, “I’m an astronomer.”

  Henry rolled his eyes. There was no way those pirates were going to know what an astronomer was. So it was no shock to him when Scrum asked if that meant Carina bred donkeys.