Marty never thought burying a treasure was so much work.
After leading the crew through a maze of trees and brush, Juan de la Vega had suddenly stopped in a small clearing and proceeded to explain exactly what he wanted done--namely, a hole to be dug that was four feet wide and seventy feet deep. The soil had given well at first, but after only five feet of grainy, loose stones, it turned nasty. The pick-axes had to be used constantly to loosen the tough soil enough for the shovels to be brought in. Then the dirt and stones taken from the hole had to be pulled up in buckets to the surface and dumped.
With ten crew members working there on the island, there was plenty of work to be spread around--yet Juan seemed to take a sadistic pleasure in working Marty for hours in the dig without reprieve. He dug for five hours straight and was near collapse when Juan grudgingly allowed him a brief break for dinner--then it was back to work in the hole, swinging the pick-axe and loading up buckets of dirt to be pulled to the surface.
By the time he was dismissed for the night, Marty felt like one of the walking dead. Every inch of his body ached and throbbed. He dragged himself to the beach, where a few fires were still burning, and fell back in the sand next to Jules and Verne.
"Are you done for the night?" Jules asked when Marty didn't say anything after his arrival.
"Uh huh," Marty muttered, too exhausted to say much more. He managed to turn his head enough to look at the boys. "How's Jen?"
Verne shrugged. "Dunno. We've been on the island as long as you have, working too."
Jules snorted softly, poking the fire with a long stick. "I wouldn't call what you were doing work, Verne."
"Was too work," Verne shot back immediately, scowling.
"No, Verne. What Martin was doing was work. What I was doing was work. What you were doing...was not work. You were enjoying yourself; we were not."
"I am also the one who wanted to come here more than you," Verne pointed out. "And I can't help it that I think this stuff's fun!"
"Verne, you assisted the captain in running messages to people! I'm certain if you were toiling in the digging of the treasure hole, you would not find the work as fun."
"I think digging holes is fun, too. Just because you don't, Jules Brown, doesn't mean it is not a fun activity!"
"Why don't you ask for Martin's opinion on the work, then."
"I can't," Verne said after a moment's pause. "He's sleeping."
No I'm not, Marty thought. But his lips refused to utter the words and, somehow, he had closed his eyes without even knowing it. He wasn't asleep yet, granted, but he might as well have been. Marty got the feeling he couldn't move if he tried--even if his life was at stake.
"That's not terribly surprising," Jules said. "Juan has pushed him the hardest, not to mention the hangover that he has also had to battle today."
Verne didn't say anything to that. After a moment of silence, Jules spoke again on a new subject. "I hope you have asked the captain about our impending departure."
"I will," Verne said, a defensive note in his voice. "Quit naggin', Jules!"
"I will not," Jules said. "This is far too important for me to drop, Verne. We must get back to Port Royal by Thursday! The time machine cannot be allowed to sit in plain view--on a sandbar no less. Even barring discovery by locals, there is the risk that the DeLorean could have disastrous consequences by merging with the seawater. Likely, we arrived during low tide and--"
"I get the idea, Jules!" Verne finally interrupted--and none too soon from Marty's semi-awake perspective. Disquiet began to seep into his exhaustion-numbed mind as Jules spoke. The worries were enough to postpone sleep--at least for a few more minutes.
"No, I don't think you do, Verne," Jules said softly. "This entire trip to you has been one big, exciting vacation. But to the rest of us it has been nothing short of a disaster. What's worse, we don't even know of the historic repercussions that our presence in these events is having." Jules dropped his voice even more as he uttered the next words. "We could return home to an alternate reality!"
There was a certain awe in Jules' tone that Marty wasn't sure he liked the sound of. He wasn't quite sure why it disturbed him so. The possible reasons tugged at the back of his mind, but Marty couldn't bring them into focus all the way.
"An alternate reality?" Verne repeated. "What's that?"
Jules sighed deeply. "You know, Verne, for someone who lives with time travel, you can be painfully naive at times."
"I'm not stupid, Jules! You're just always talking like Dad, saying things only grown-ups or nerds can understand. Maybe if you actually talked like a normal human being for once, I'd know what you're saying!"
Marty heard another sigh from Jules, a hiss between clenched teeth. "How I phrase my thoughts verbally is perfectly understood by anyone with a little intelligence."
"Yeah, well, you keep believing that," Verne muttered. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question--what's an alternate reality?"
"Father has told you before," Jules said. "But seeing as how you obviously do not remember, I will attempt to refresh your shoddy memory. An alternate reality is created when a time traveler does something in the past to change the future significantly in some way. Then, when the time traveler returns to their present, they find themselves in a different version of the world than they remember. But, to everyone else, this version of the world is perfectly normal and has always been that way."
If Marty's eyes had been open, he was sure he would see Verne looking frustrated by his brother's complicated explanation. Hell, Marty was confused by it--and he had a pretty good idea on what alternate realities were, having lived through a few of them.
"I can see you don't understand," Jules said after a moment of silence. "Do you remember last summer, when the other version of Father kidnapped us?"
"Yes," Verne said. "I wish I didn't, though."
"Well, he--the other Father--was from an alternate reality. That was why he was so different from our Father."
"I don't get it, Jules," Verne said finally. "Just give me a real simple explanation on what the heck an alternate reality is!"
"I am attempting, Verne! It is not my fault your mind is not mature enough for the reasoning capability!"
"Stop insulting me!"
"I am not insulting you; I am merely stating facts! I cannot help it that you take insult from the truth!"
As the boys continued to bicker back and forth, a slight smile turned the corners of Marty's mouth. It all sounded so normal, so blissfully normal. In fact, if he concentrated a little, he could almost pretend he was back home, out of the past, away from vengeful pirates and the Caribbean....
With that mindset, Marty promptly fell asleep.
Verne glared at his brother, seated on the other side of the fire. "Jules, quit hassin' me! Why don't you find someone else to pick on!"
Jules gestured around them. "Do you see anyone else around us right now?" he asked with faint sarcasm.
The beach was nearly deserted. Of the few people who were scattered about, most were sleeping. A small portion of the crew had returned to the ship for the night, and others were still working on Juan de la Vega's dig. Verne continued to scowl at his brother.
"I don't have to listen to this!" he finally declared, standing up. "I'll go where I'm wanted--on the ship."
"Suit yourself," Jules called as Verne walked away, towards the beached rowboats. "But you are setting yourself up for a hard fall, Verne. You are being used by these pirates. You are nothing more than a pawn in their plans!"
Verne ignored his brother--he was getting pretty good at it, too. He walked quickly to the half-dozen rowboats, pulled up on the sand, and started pushing one towards the water. Verne groaned softly--the thing weighed a ton! It hardly moved an inch, even as Verne threw his entire body against the stern. This isn't fair! he thought, frustrated as he paused to catch his breath.
Verne never saw the dark figure approach him from the ocean side as he stared back at the beach. He didn't hear anything, either, or even know there was anyone near him until something touched his arm. Verne jumped with a yelp and whirled around to see what looked to him as nothing less than the Grim Reaper himself; someone wearing a long, black hooded robe. Verne opened his mouth, drawing in breath for a scream. A hand shot out, covering his mouth before he could make a sound.
"Hush, child," the figure whispered. "It is I, Kaylie."
Verne staggered back, away from the Grim Reaper. He tripped right over his own two feet, falling down smack on his bottom. He quickly scooted back, wanting to put some distance between himself and the still-unidentified person in the robe. "Who--who are you?" he gasped out, having not heard anyone by that name on the ship.
"I am a friend of someone you know--Jennifer," the dark figure explained in a whisper, pushing her hood back for a moment to allow Verne a glimpse of her face. "My name is Kaylie. Fear not, as I wish you no harm."
Verne narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Then how come you're dressed like that?"
"The better to help me blend in with the darkness," Kaylie answered. "No more questions, boy," she added as Verne opened his mouth to ask more. "We've precious little time. I come bringing a message from your friend, Jennifer."
"Jennifer?" Verne repeated, curious. "How do you know her?"
"Tis naught of importance now," Kaylie said. "Where be Jules and Marty?"
Verne pointed to the campfire he had just walked away from. "Over there. Why?"
Kaylie began to walk towards the site. "I must speak with them now--and you, as well, must come," she added.
Verne frowned at that. "No way!" he said. "Jules'll just rip into me again."
Kaylie paused at Verne's statement. "Pardon?"
Verne decided to dive straight to the point. "I'm not goin' over there!" he said, crossing his arms and standing his ground.
Kaylie reached out and grabbed his arm. She had a tight grip. "I've no time to argue with you, boy. Tis most important that I speak with the three of you now."
Verne was too surprised by her actions and words to put up a fight. He allowed himself to be dragged back to the campfire where Marty and Jules were. Jules looked up at their approach, puzzlement crossing his features. He stood before they reached the fire.
"Can I...help you?" he asked slowly, staring at Kaylie. The young woman pushed back her hood again, allowing Jules to see her face for a moment.
"I must have you three follow me, now, quickly," Kaylie said softly. "That is, if you be wantin' out o' here."
Verne looked at the newcomer, frowning again. "Do you mean off the island or off the pirate ship?"
"Both," the Irish teen said. "But we must be cautious about it. Tell me, is anyone needin' any o' you right now?"
"No," Jules answered quickly. "Martin was the last one who was needed and he has since been dismissed for the night."
Kaylie stepped forward, peering past Jules at Marty, sprawled back on the sand. "Has he been in the drink again?"
Jules glanced at Marty for a moment, then turned back to Kaylie with a shake of his head. "Oh, no. He is merely exhausted."
"Well, he must be wakened. I shan't be carryin' him again."
Jules nodded, sighing. "I understand. But I'm sure he won't be happy about it."
"If'n he wants out o' this life, then he must act now," Kaylie said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Now hurry. We mustn't dawdle."
Waking Marty, however, was not as simple as Kaylie made it sound. Jules knelt beside him and gently shook him by the shoulder as Verne circled the fire for a closer perspective. "Nothing," Jules said after a moment of shaking. Marty didn't even stir.
"Lemme try," Verne said, kneeling down as well. "You dunno how to do it." He felt a twinge of smug satisfaction at Jules' frown.
"Boys, this be no time to play games," Kaylie warned.
"We're not playing," Verne insisted. "Marty's always hard to wake. I mean, Jules an' I were talking earlier right here and he didn't notice at all."
Kaylie frowned faintly, appearing a tad irritated. Verne looked away from the stranger in the black robe and turned his attention back to the task at hand. He drew his hand back, balling it into a fist, then slammed it into Marty's left shoulder as hard as he could. Last summer, Marty had been shot there and--even now, some 8 months later--Verne knew it could still give him some pain if it was hit in just the right way....
"Verne!" Jules admonished, looking horrified at his brother's actions. At the same moment, Marty suddenly opened his eyes with a wince.
"What happened?" he mumbled, blinking fuzzily at the three surrounding him. Marty reached over and gently rubbed Verne's point of impact.
"We have to go now," Verne said simply, leaning back on his knees. "Some friend of Jennifer's wants to help us escape."
At the sound of his girlfriend's name, Marty sat up, looking marginally more awake. "What about Jennifer?" he murmured, sounding dazed.
Jules pointed to Kaylie. Marty seemed to notice her for the first time, his eyes widening. "Whoa!" he gasped, scooting back in the sand a few feet as Verne had. "Who's that?"
"Kaylie," Jules said. "She assisted Jennifer in carrying you in your intoxicated state to the room last night."
Marty looked at the dark figure with a touch of skepticism on his face. "Why does she look like that?"
"It be safest for me to be seen little as possible," Kaylie answered. "Now that you be wakened, Marty, we must hurry and leave the island. Tis best to not be seen by no one."
Marty got to his feet slowly. "Where are we going? Does Jennifer know anything about this? I'm not leaving this place without her!" he added firmly.
Kaylie held up a hand, warding off the questions. "Hush. All will become clear soon, Now follow me and tread lightly and with care. A false step could mean the death of us all."
Yeah, right, Verne thought, finding it hard to believe Juan de la Vega would kill them--or, at least, Verne. And since the pirate captain liked Verne, he found it just as hard to imagine the captain killing Marty and Jules if Verne asked him not to. But since he had no idea who Kaylie was or what she was doing there, Verne had no idea how Juan would react to her.
Kaylie led them to the shore, past the rowboats where Verne had been only moments before, and to another rowboat much closer to the sea that Verne had not noticed earlier. "Push this to the sea's edge," she instructed the three time travelers. "We must return to the ship."
"I thought we were escaping from this life," Jules said as he joined Verne and Marty already positioning themselves behind the boat, readying to shove it into the ocean.
"We shall," Kaylie said. "But there be supplies we need on the ship as well as the miss, Jennifer."
Verne noticed that this boat was much easier to push than the one he'd been struggling against, with Marty and Jules helping out. In only a few minutes, they'd gotten it to the waves rolling in. The tide was rising.
"Boys, get in the boat," Kaylie instructed, climbing in herself. "Marty, you must push it in the water. You'll be gettin' a trifle wet, but tis naught be helped."
Marty nodded. "If this gets use the hell outta here, that's fine with me," he said softly. Jules and Verne climbed in with Kaylie. Verne scrambled to sit in the very front of the boat.
"I'm the captain of this ship!" he announced loudly.
"Shhhhhhh!" Jules hissed. "Shut up, Verne!"
"Aye," Kaylie agreed. "Hush, boy. A word spoken loudly could be the death of us all."
Verne shrugged, a little embarrassed by the reprimands. A part of him, he had to admit, still thought of this whole thing as one grand game, a true virtual reality world of pirate adventure. While Verne still clung to that notion a great deal, he had to remember that not everyone shared his views. And he dare not share his perspective of this trip to Jules or Marty; the last thing he wanted was a lecture about his immaturity!
Marty grunted softly as he shoved the boat into the water, until it was afloat. Then, soaked from the knees down, the teen joined the rest of them in the small craft. "Now what?" he murmured.
Kaylie picked up one of the six ores in the bottom of the boat. "We row."
Verne gamely picked up an ore, while Marty and Jules moved with considerably less enthusiasm. "This isn't so hard," he said as they started a fight against the incoming waves to the ship a half mile away.
Jules snorted softly. "See how you feel in five minutes," he muttered. "And you did not have to do this earlier as we did."
Verne ignored Jules, concentrating instead on dragging the ore through the water. It took a lot of hard rowing on all their parts to make any headway--a task not made any easier by the fact they had to stay quiet. After only a few minutes, Verne's arms started to ache and he paused to catch his breath from the work. Jules noticed immediately.
"What's wrong, Verne, can't take hard labor?" he taunted in a whisper.
Verne gritted his teeth and turned his head to glare silently at Jules. Kaylie noticed the disruption immediately.
"No time for dawdling," she hissed. "Row!"
After a few more minutes of work, the boat managed to clear the incoming breakers and progress became easier. The ocean was strangely still on this night, nearly as flat as glass. Verne had the oddest sensation about that. The calm before the storm, he thought, remembering that old cliché. Would there be a storm? Verne had no idea.
Time began to drag it's heels. Verne hated to admit how right his brother was--rowing was hard work! The ache in his arms quickly spread to his shoulders, then slipped to his neck and down his back. Determined not to show any weakness around Jules, however, Verne plodded on without rest. When they finally reached the ship, nearly half an hour after starting the trip, Verne could have cared less if they were caught; as long as they didn't have to row any more boats, he was perfectly content!
"Now what?" Marty whispered to Kaylie, still panting slightly from the rowing exercise.
Kaylie put another finger to her lips as a reminder for silence. "We climb," she murmured, pointing up. A rope dangled from one of the masts above.
"Do we have to?" Verne muttered. "My arms are killing me!"
Three chilly glares put a halt to his complaints. "There be no other way," Kaylie said in a ghost of a whisper. She stood cautiously in the boat, grabbed the rope, and hoisted herself up. The Irish teen made the climb to the ship's railing in a minute. Kaylie peered down at the others from the railing, saying nothing but gesturing urgently. Verne took it to mean for them to hurry.
Wanting to show his brother, he stood up, rocking the boat a fair amount and causing a hiss from Marty about being more careful. Ignoring it, Verne grabbed hold of the rope and started to climb, careful not to look down and keep his eyes locked on the top. Verne wasn't squeamish of heights, but after taking a frightening fall out of a tree when visiting dinosaurs, he wasn't anxious to repeat the experience--or even think of repeating the experience!
Despite the ache in his arms, Verne made it to the top quickly, and in one piece. He looked down at Marty and Jules still in the boat, a slight breeze stirring his hair. They looked so small down there, almost invisible in the dark sea and the night. Verne was glad he hadn't looked down on the way up; it would've been almost like looking into an abyss.
"C'mon!" he hissed, as loudly as he dared, when a minute had passed and neither Marty nor Jules had started a climb. "We're gonna run outta time!"
But neither figure moved.
Down in the rowboat, Marty stared at Jules incredulously at what the boy had just murmured. "You can't climb a rope?"
Jules lowered his head, as if ashamed. "No."
Marty couldn't believe it. "Why the hell didn't you say something earlier?" he blurted out loudly, without thinking about it.
Jules shrugged, saying nothing. The gesture infuriated Marty. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and hold onto his temper, which was shorter than usual between his exhaustion and physical aches. It's not Jules' fault, he reminded himself. "Didn't you ever take the rope climb in P.E.?" Marty finally asked, unable to help himself.
"I made several attempts, but failed at each one," Jules said softly. "The instructor finally agreed to allow me an different activity so my grade would not suffer."
Marty still couldn't believe it. "But I've seen you climb ropes before!"
Jules raised his head and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh really? When would that be?"
"When we were back with the dinosaurs!" Marty whispered, being extra careful to speak quietly now, not wanting Kaylie to catch any of the conversation.
"I didn't climb a rope," Jules said. "Father landed the train briefly and I climbed aboard the typical way."
Marty was still a little confused. "But didn't you climb a tree then...?"
Jules nodded. "That is quite different, however. It is like climbing a ladder." Marty sighed. "Perfect," he muttered.
Verne hissed at them from up above. "Hurry up you guys!"
Marty sighed again, rubbing his forehead at the problem facing them. "All right, you wait here. I'm gonna go up and tell them our problem."
Jules winced slightly at the word "problem," but nodded in understanding. "Go."
Marty stood carefully, the boat rocking slightly, and wrapped his hands around the rope, starting the climb. It was pure agony for him; after all the digging and work Juan had made him do that day, his arms and shoulders were nearly numb with pain. Rowing out to the ship had merely made the ache even worse, but using his arms to pull the entire weight of his sore and exhausted body up the rope took the cake.
Marty had no problem not looking down; he clenched his eyes shut tight against the pain, grimacing and struggling not to groan. Noise was not a luxury he couldn't afford right now. Beads of sweat popped out across his forehead. Not much further now, he thought. I'm probably almost there, and then I'll never have to climb another Goddamn rope again tonight!
Well, he hoped.
Marty opened his eyes after a few minutes, pausing to gasp for breath, and realized he was now eye-level with the ship's railing. Sucking in a deep breath, he let go of the rope with his right hand and made a grab for the railing. Bad mistake. The moment he let go of the rope, his left arm decided it was too much trouble to hang on any longer and suddenly, involuntarily, also let go of the rope.
No! Marty thought, his eyes wide in panic, a split second before he felt himself start to fall--and was abruptly stopped as Kaylie grabbed his right hand, the one stretched towards the railing.
"I've got you," Kaylie whispered. "But I may only hold on a c'ple moments. You must be helpin' me with this!"
Marty managed a barely perceptible nod, summoning all his concentration on moving his reluctant left arm towards the railing. After a moment, it responded and Marty managed to wrap his fingers around the damp wood. "I got it," he gasped.
Kaylie nodded once. "Good." She started pulling him up. Verne got into the act as well, grabbing hold of Marty's shirt and tugging on that to get him on board the ship. After a few heart pounding seconds of hanging, literally, in the balance, Marty suddenly got over the railing and fell, ungracefully, to the deck, taking Kaylie and Verne with him. The resounding thud of all three hitting the floor was enough to rattle the entire deck.
"Are you all right?" Kaylie murmured to Marty, as she struggled to get back to her feet.
Marty pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing at his poor arms and shoulders. "I will be if we're done with climbing."
"Mayhap," Kaylie said. Her eyes darted around nervously. "Hush now! Did you hear that noise?"
Marty strained his ears, hearing nothing but the sound of the waves and the faint creaking of the ship and seeing nobody around but Verne and Kaylie. Verne climbed back to his feet, cocking his head to one side to listen as well. After a minute of hearing nothing unusual, Marty spoke.
"What did you think you heard?" he whispered.
"Footsteps," Kaylie whispered back. "But mayhap it was me jumpin' at shadows."
Verne walked back over to the railing and peered over the side. "How come Jules is still down there?" he asked in a low voice.
Marty got back on his feet, stifling a groan against his bodily pains. I am getting way too old for this! he decided. "Jules can't climb ropes," Marty explained after a moment.
Verne looked at Marty, surprise clearly on his face. "He can't?" he burst out. "Boy, that suddenly explains a lot!"
"Hush!" Kaylie hissed at Verne. The boy abruptly snapped his mouth shut, looking startled at the harsh rebuttal. She turned to Marty. "Are you to be tellin' me that your friend ain't able to climb ropes?"
Marty nodded. Kaylie closed her eyes for a moment and muttered something Marty couldn't catch under her breath. "There's gotta be a way to get him up here, though....right?" Marty asked after a moment, a little hesitantly.
"Aye, there be a way," Kaylie agreed. "But it be taken much effort on our parts. We pull 'im up."
The mere mention of pulling anything made Marty groan softly. "I don't think my poor arms can take that...."
"Well, they best be able to cope," Kaylie said in a no-nonsense tone. "We've no other choice."
Marty sighed, wishing once again he was back home at the current events of his life were all part of some nightmare. He joined Kaylie and Verne at the railing as Kaylie leaned over to let Jules know what was going on. She didn't speak, merely gestured that the boy should hold onto the rope. Jules was pretty sharp and almost immediately got the message about what was to happen. He grabbed hold of the rope tightly, looking up at them. Kaylie took hold of the rope, Verne and Marty doing the same without a word.
Pulling Jules up wasn't the nightmare Marty had thought it would be, but he still prayed that the rest of the night would be a little easier on his arms and shoulders. Once Jules was on the ship, Kaylie picked up a few swords lying on deck and passed them out.
"Wow!" Verne whispered, his eyes as wide as saucers as Kaylie held a sword out to him. "How awesome!"
"They're weapons, Verne, not toys," Jules said, watching as his brother was nearly pulled over from the weight of the sword as Kaylie let it go. Verne gritted his teeth, held his chin up, and appeared to get a feel for the sword, managing to hold it up off the ground after a moment. Marty accepted his sword from Kaylie with more than a little reluctance.
"Why are you giving us these?" he asked Kaylie. "We're not going to have to use them, are we?"
"Tis more prudent to be prepared than to not," Kaylie answered, giving Jules a sword. "I believe that most the ship's crew be on the island, and those left behind now be sleepin' or drunken. But if I be wrong, then it best that we have some means of defense."
Marty swallowed hard, realizing again the serious risk they were taking in doing this. But it has to be done, he thought. We can't spend the rest of our lives on a pirate ship in the past! And then there was the rather large matter of his trapped girlfriend. "Where is Jennifer?" Marty asked Kaylie, remembering the reason they were on board this ship again in the first place.
"I'll be showin' you," Kaylie promised, picking up a lantern and fishing around in her pockets for a match. After a moment, one was found and the lantern was quickly lit. Marty followed Kaylie down through the hatch door, with Verne coming next and Jules bringing up the rear. They were in one of those narrow, tight "hallways" under the deck of the ship. Marty always felt like some mouse in a maze down here.
Kaylie stopped when they reached the third door on the left, setting the lantern down at her feet. She tapped softly on the door. "Jennifer?" she whispered, her lips nearly pressed to the wood.
A minute passed before there was a reply. "Yes?" Marty heard his girlfriend murmur, her voice nearly inaudible through the door.
"I brought your friends. They be with me now and we'll be trying to free you."
"They're with you right now?" Jennifer asked, her voice considerably more alert than earlier. "Marty? Can you hear me?"
Marty grinned. "Yeah!" he said, earning himself a sharp look from Kaylie at his normal speaking voice. He quickly quieted his tone. "I'm standing right here," he added softly, leaning close to the door and resting a hand against the wood. "Just inches away, right through this wood."
"Well, then, hurry and get the wood removed so I can see you!" Jennifer answered.
Kaylie looked at Marty, Jules, and Verne, standing close. "You best stand back now," she warned, raising her sword. "This may turn messy if'n you're close."
Marty backed up, pushing Jules and Verne with him. Verne ducked under Marty's arm, trying to get past the human blockade. Marty stopped him with his leg. "Verne, stay back. This is a little dangerous."
"I just wanna see," Verne whispered, continuing to kneel down.
Kaylie favored the youngest member of their party with an impatient look. "You don't be wanting to be hurt, now, d'you?"
Verne leaned back a little more, but didn't move from his position. Kaylie wedged the blade of her sword between the door and the doorway, shifting the blade from side to side. Marty watched her, puzzled, wondering what she was doing.
"Might be easier to pick the lock," Verne put in after a moment.
"I've tried that already," Kaylie replied. "Juan put a new lock on the door, and I not be able to pick it yet."
"So you think this will actually open the door?" Verne asked, his tone indicating that he thought Kaylie was crazy. "There's no way you'll be able to saw through the door with that," he added, pointing to the sword.
Kaylie glared at him. "Hush your mouth, boy. Did not your mother teach you manners?"
Verne shrugged, not looking put out at all. Kaylie turned her attention back to getting the door open. After a couple minutes of messing with the sword, she seemed to reach the same conclusion that Verne had mentioned earlier--the door was not going to give in that way. Kaylie set the weapon aside with a sigh, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a couple wires. "I s'pose it be back to the pickin' for me," she said. She looked at Verne. "You, boy--"
"Verne," Verne interrupted, sounding irritated. "My name is Verne, not boy!"
Kaylie nodded. "Aye. Verne, hold the lamp up for me so I can see what my fingers be doin'."
Marty moved his leg to allow Verne passage. The boy picked up the lantern and held it close to the door as Kaylie began to twist the wires around in the padlock.
"Don't suppose Doc ever invented anything to pick locks," Marty murmured to Jules.
Jules shrugged. "I don't know. And if he did create such a device, we do not have it with us now."
Marty sighed, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes. He suddenly realized how exhausted he was; if much more time passed here, Marty was almost sure he'd fall asleep on his feet. However long he had been asleep earlier--and Marty was fairly sure it hadn't been long at all--had not been long enough to recover from the grueling day he'd had the day before.
If it even was the day before, Marty thought. For all he knew, it was still Saturday.
"I do believe I've got it!" Kaylie said a couple minutes later. Marty opened his eyes in time to see the padlock click open. The Irish teen slipped the look out of the metal ring and set it in her pocket, then set to work on another lock in the door. The next lock opened in only a few seconds, then Kaylie was pushing open the door. Jennifer appeared in the doorway before anyone could enter the room.
"Marty!" she cried softly, stepping forward to give him a hug. "Are you feeling any better now?"
Marty had almost forgotten the state he'd been in the last time Jennifer had seen him. "Yes and no," he said honestly. He looked at her face, smiling now that they were together again. But his smile faded when he saw her swollen lip. "What happened?" he demanded immediately.
"What are you talking about?" Jennifer asked, innocently.
"Your lip," Marty said, not fooled at all. "What the hell happened to it?"
Jennifer reached up and gently touched the swelling at the corner of her mouth. "Nothing," she said, lowering her eyes as she spoke.
Marty could tell immediately that she was hiding something. He took her firmly by the shoulders. "Did Juan hurt you?" he asked in a low voice, leaning close to her face.
"This be no time for talk," Kaylie interrupted, tugging on the back of Marty's shirt. "We best be goin' now, 'fore the crew notices us 'ere."
Jules managed to stick his head between Jennifer and Marty. "Jennifer, do you have the backpack?"
Jennifer stepped out of Marty's grasp, nodded and retreating back into the room. "I put it under the bed," she said softly, stooping over and pulling it out. "Here you go," she added, passing it to Jules.
Marty stared at his girlfriend, at her injured mouth. Jennifer avoided his eyes as she slipped past him, out to the narrow, stuffy hallway. Juan did something to her, Marty thought, his face beginning to burn with anger towards the pirate.
Unfortunately, Marty didn't have the chance to talk to Jennifer about it right then. Taking hold of the sword and lantern again, Kaylie led them back to the deck of the ship, towards the rope to the rowboat. "Wait here," she whispered. "Keep quiet, and if you be seein' someone, take care to hide!"
Before anyone could say anything else, Kaylie scurried away into the shadows. "Where are we going from here?" Verne couldn't resist whispering.
"I don't know--and don't talk!" Jules answered back. "Do you want us to be killed?"
Marty leaned towards Jennifer, until his mouth was an inch away from her ear. "Did Juan hit you?" he hissed. "Tell me that, at least!"
Jennifer turned her face to him, whispering--a little sharply--in his ear, "This is not the time to talk about it. We will later, when we can!"
Marty was fighting an internal battle against a sharp comment of his own when he suddenly heard voices--ones that did not belong to any of them.
"The cap'n wants the treasure laid to rest on the morrow night'."
"Yes, I know that. We're to depart the island with the tide after that, then Cap'n will have his weddin'."
It was the first and second mate, Poncho and Marco. And it sounded like they were heading this way! Marty looked around for a place to hide, frozen in panic, when the problem was taken care of for him.
"Down here!" Jules hissed, yanking Marty and Jennifer's arms to a small space between a few barrels and the railing. Verne was already crouched down there. The two older time travelers scrambled into place just as Marco and Poncho passed by. The pirates continued their conversation, seemingly oblivious to the fact there were four intruders on the ship only a few feet away.
"His bride is certainly a prize, though a bit too spirited for me," Poncho remarked. "De la Vega will have his fun breakin' her to his likin'."
"Confuses me why the man has married so much when he never sees his brides more than a few weeks outta the year."
Poncho laughed heartily. "I'd do the same if'n I were 'im. What man wouldn't!"
"How many wives has he takin' so far?" Marco asked.
"Three. The captive'll be the forth. But seein' as she seems to have no home, I'm to wonderin' if he'll be keepin' her on the ship for company on the voyages."
"Ain't likely," was Marco's opinion. "Ev'ry sailor knows that women on ships bring nothin' but ill tidin's. The cap'n won't be wantin' that risk."
"Well, he's riskin' it now. If'n you want my opinion, I don't see why he's doin' it on such an important trip...."
The two voices grew softer, as the pirates walked further away from the ropes. Neither Jules, Verne, Marty, or Jennifer moved until silence had reigned for a full minute. Finally, because his presence would be questioned less than any of the other three if spotted, Verne stood up.
"All clear," he reported in a whisper a moment later. "Deck is deserted again. We should probably get outta here, though--we're too visible."
Marty couldn't have agreed more. "Where the hell did Kaylie go?" he muttered, seeing no sign of their unusual new friend.
"I don't know," Jennifer murmured. "And she said to wait here! I don't know if we should go wandering around here without her...."
"We won't be wandering, we will merely be looking for a better place to conceal ourselves while we wait," Jules said. He looked at his brother and Marty realized with a start how well he could see--the stars and moon were incredibly bright. The realization brought him more uneasiness than anything else; if they could see so well, so could the pirates.
"Verne, you know this ship rather well," Jules said civilly. "Where would be a good place to conceal ourselves?"
To his credit, Verne did not gloat from the fact his older brother was turning to him for advice after days of badmouthing his closeness with the pirates. Doc Brown's youngest son looked around the deck, his eyes coming to rest at the hatch door in the deck floor, where they had just left. "The hold would be best. We could go where the cargo is stored--there're lots of places to hide!"
"What about Kaylie?" Jennifer asked. "What will she think if she comes back here and we aren't where she left us?"
"I'm certain Kaylie would rather we hide than get caught by the pirates," Jules said. "Verne's suggestion sounds prudent. If nothing else, we might be able to get some rest down there."
At the mention of "rest," Marty suddenly decided that he was very much for the idea--even if the cargo hold would likely be cramped, smelly, and very very dark. "But we were supposed to escape...." he murmured, remembering Kaylie's words on the island.
"How?" Jules asked. "We certainly cannot row back to Port Royal! It is too great of a risk that we would get lost. I don't believe I have any navigational tools in the backpack."
Marty was stumped on that question. His girlfriend spoke instead. "If nothing else, we can have some time to come up with that while hiding," Jennifer said.
"Only problem is that everyone will be looking for you in a few hours," Verne said to Jennifer. "How much do they check on you?"
"Too much, if you want my opinion," Jennifer said darkly. "I think you better show us to the cargo hold, Verne. If any of us are caught now, we'll probably be killed."
Verne nodded. "We need a light, though, so we can see where we're going down there."
Jules located one a moment later on deck, lit it, then the three of them followed Verne as he led them deep into the ship. There were three "floors" under the top deck of the ship, and the cargo was stored on the second floor, at the back. As Marty suspected, the air in the room was stale and smelled rather unpleasant. The ceiling was so low, both Jennifer and Marty had to stoop to walk. Things--rats and roaches, likely--could plainly be heard crawling around. Marty even saw several of them dart across the floor as they entered. Jennifer grimaced as they walked deep into the room.
"I don't know which is worse," she whispered. "Being locked up in that room upstairs, or this."
"It could be worse than either of those," Verne murmured, stopping when he reached several large boxes and kegs, stacked and tied down, at the very back. The space behind the cargo was two feet wide and five feet long--big enough for the four of them to be together. "The floor below this is real nasty. That's where the jail is and all the rotten water and stuff. It's like a rat's resort, too."
"Great," Jennifer said. Verne entered the space first, with Jennifer following, then Marty, then Jules.
"I have to turn off the light now," Verne said, once everyone had settled in. "We don't want the pirates to see it if they come by. Even if the door to this room is shut, they might need something in it."
Marty inwardly shuddered at the idea of utter darkness down here, but he knew the wisdom in that. "All right," he said, putting an arm around Jennifer and pulling her close.
Verne blew out the flame and it grew dark--very dark. The only sound, save for the crawling of creatures in the room, was the faint creaking of this ship as it rode the small waves. No one spoke for a minute. But when the silence was broken, it was by everyone at once.
"How are we going to get back to the DeLorean?"
"How long do you think we'll have to wait here?"
"Do you think Kaylie will understand why we had to leave?"
"What the hell did Juan do to you, Jennifer?"
Marty had voiced the last question. He could feel his girlfriend stiffen in his arms. But before she could answer, Jules and Verne had gone to a completely different subject--getting back to Port Royal.
"I don't know know how we'll get back to the DeLorean," Jules said, answering the question voiced by Verne. "Not unless we could somehow convince the captain to sail back there. I don't suppose you know where this ship went after the treasure was buried."
"Ah, no," Verne said, reluctantly. "I don't think the article said."
"De la Vega's ship was in Kingston by 1679," Marty remembered. "That's where Doc B got on the ship last summer, during that whole mess."
"Hmmmm," Jules murmured. "I believe Kingston is near Port Royal. Verne, are you to tell me that the captain has said nothing to you about where we are to go after this?"
There was a silence as Verne thought. "No, I don't think so," he said finally. "I guess I always assumed we weren't goin' back to Port Royal, but maybe we are."
"Even if we are, we still need to be back by Thursday at midnight to meet the DeLorean," Marty reminded them all.
"Maybe we should take the captain hostage," Verne said. "I'll bet then he would sail back! We could do a mutiny!"
Jules snorted softly. "Think realistically, Verne. How would we possibly be able to pull that off?"
"Maybe Verne has a point," Jennifer said. "With Kaylie's help, I'm sure we could do that."
"Are you both insane?" Jules asked, his voice incredulous. "There is no way that five people could take over a pirate ship of this size!"
"Not five, no," Marty agreed, getting into the spirit of the idea. "But I know for a fact that much of the crew hates de la Vega. A couple years from now, they'll revolt against him."
"That may be true in a couple of years--but it may not be true now," Jules said. "Right now, the crew may still like him. And you people are forgetting something very important--we cannot alter this history into something it was not originally. Especially since you and Father have an encounter with this pirate in his future and your past. If we alter something so that encounter is never possible--"
"Jules, if we don't do something soon, it won't matter," Jennifer said softly. "We won't have a future if we don't get back to the time machine. The captain is forcing me to marry him on Tuesday. And I just know that Juan would love for something to happen to Marty in the meantime."
"Not to mention the risk with the time machine itself," Marty put in. He shook his head. "Can you imagine what would happen if we just left it there, for anyone to see and play with? Talk about your paradoxes."
Jules sighed heavily. "So what is your plan?"
Silence greeted that question. "Well, we've got plenty of time to think it over right now," Marty said softly.
The sounds were driving Jennifer crazy.
All around her, she could hear things crawling and scurrying across the floor and around the cargo boxes. More than once, Jennifer had to clench her teeth together against a scream as she felt something craw across her ankle or hand. Finally, after hours of this slow torture, she couldn't take it anymore.
"Turn the light on!" she hissed to Verne beside her. "I swear to God, if you don't light the lamp I'll scream bloody murder!"
Jennifer heard the boy shift around. "I don't have any matches," he said softly.
"I do," Jules said, from Jennifer's right. "I can do better than matches, however--I have a Bic lighter."
"Then please, pass it over," Jennifer pleaded. "If one more roach or rat touches me, I'm seriously going to lose it!" She never considered herself a very squeamish person--and, in fact, had always hated women who shrieked at the mere sight of a spider--but this was not just a daddy longlegs. These creatures carried disease. Only hearing them was much worse than being able to see them as well. Her imagination was filling her head with horrifying images of rats the size of guinea pigs.
Jennifer heard the backpack unzip, Jules rustle around, and a moment later heard the click as he flicked the lighter on. The light was faint and not much, but even that small flame caused Jennifer to wince and shield her eyes. After several hours of being closed in a room with positively no light, even the tiniest bit of luminance was somewhat of a shock to the eyes.
"Here," Jules said, passing the lighter to Jennifer, who passed it over to Verne. Verne carefully opened the glass that protected the lamp's wick and put the flame to it. The wick caught immediately and Verne shut the glass, turned the light as low as it would go, then tossed the lighter back to his brother.
"I hope you know that this is risky," he said softly.
"We'll probably be able to hear anyone as they're coming," Jennifer said. "They'll have to open the door. And, frankly, I don't care if it's risky. Us being on this damned ship right now is incredibly risky."
Verne shrugged. He leaned forward to look at his brother. "What time is it? It seems like we've been down here forever!"
Jules looked at his wrist watch, which gave Jennifer somewhat of a start--it was definitely not from their current time! "It's a little after four AM. We've only been down here since shortly after one AM--hardly forever."
"Might as well have been," Verne muttered, grumpy. None of them were in the best of moods. Only Marty had managed, somehow, to fall asleep--almost immediately after they had arrived in this hiding place, in fact. He was leaning back against the wall, head bowed, snoring softly. Jennifer couldn't imagine being able to sleep in such an uncomfortable way--especially for a few hours--but Jules had explained earlier about all the work Juan had put Marty though earlier. Jennifer supposed if she had gone through the same, she would be as dead to the world as Marty was now, even on a bed of nails.
"I wonder if anyone knows I'm missing yet?" Jennifer mused.
"Very doubtful," Jules said, rubbing his eyes. "Surely if they had, people would be crawling through this ship in search of you."
Jennifer swallowed hard. "Then we have to get off this ship."
"That would be foolish," Jules said. "The only place to go, other than the ocean, would be the island. And if, by chance, we were not able to get back on the ship, we would be stranded on there."
"I thought we were gonna do a mutiny!" Verne whined, the sound causing Jennifer to grit her teeth. "That's a lot more fun than some stupid escape. Then we can get the gold, too! I mean, that's why we even came here, right?"
"Correction--that's the why you came here," Jules said sharply. "I couldn't care less if we get any of the pirates' riches. In fact," he went on, his voice beginning to rise in volume, "if it wasn't for your greed, none of us would be here right now!"
"Stop it right now!" Jennifer snapped. "This is stupid. We can't get into a fight here--we shouldn't even be talking this loudly!"
"He started it!" Verne sulked.
"I did nothing of the sort--" Jules began. Jennifer interrupted before a fight about the fight could set in.
"Both of you started it!" she exclaimed. "Now don't talk if you can't say anything civil! Try and get some sleep or something."
"Easier said that done," Verne muttered. "You can't lie down! You can't even stick your feet out all the way. This is even more uncomfortable than airplane seats!"
"And the vermin are rather unnerving as well," Jules added, making a face.
Jennifer certainly agreed with that point! The very idea of waking up with rats or roaches crawling around on her was enough to keep her wide awake. "Well, I understand," she said to both boys. "But if you can't sleep, can you at least be civil to each other? You shouldn't waste your energy on something so trivial--we've got to find a way out of this mess!"
Both boys nodded, though Verne made a face as he did so and Jules was rolling his eyes, as if he had heard similar lectures before. Jennifer stifled the urge to say more how their actions weren't the most mature, reminding herself that these were a couple of boys, after all. Eleven and nine-year-olds were still more children than adult, never mind Doc Brown's genes and influence.
The group lapsed into silence again. Jennifer closed her eyes, trying to brainstorm how they could pull something off like taking the captain of the ship hostage. Realizing how difficult the task would be, she bit her lower lip without thinking about it, the sharp pain it invoked causing her to open her eyes. She had nearly forgotten about what Juan had done to her earlier.
Jennifer glanced a bit uneasily over at Marty, still sound asleep. By some miracle, she had managed to postpone telling him what the pirate captain had done to her. Jennifer would prefer to postpone that news until they were back in the future, hundreds of years away from Juan de la Vega and this insane trip. But Jennifer knew it was only a matter of time--likely hours--before Marty would pry the information from her about Juan slapping her in the face. Jennifer groaned inwardly at what she knew his reaction would be. She could only hope Juan would be out of physical reach when Marty found out.
"You know," she murmured minutes later to the boys, "I think the best thing to do is this--we wait until the pirates are burying their treasure on the island, then we hide around the ship, maybe one of us in Juan's cabin, and take him hostage that way."
Jules raised an eyebrow at Jennifer, then looked at Verne. Verne shrugged. "Sounds good to me." A grin slowly spread across his face as he spoke, his voice filled with boyish awe and enthusiasm. "We could hide up in the rigging, up near the sails, with swords and knives! And maybe we can figure out how to work the cannons and--"
"Hardly likely, or safe, Verne," Jules muttered. "Jennifer does have a good idea, however. We would be able to move around the ship better with most of the crew on the island. Do you know if the captain leaves his cabin often?"
Verne shrugged. "I guess so. I mean, I never noticed?"
"You never noticed?" Jules asked in disbelief. "And you were always near him?"
Verne shrugged again, looking irritated. "Hey, he sent me on errands a lot, okay? I dunno where he went when I was out doing stuff for him!"
Jennifer sighed, closing her eyes for a second and rubbing her forehead. She was getting a nice headache. "Stop arguing!"
The boys shut their mouths, though they glared at each other. Jennifer decided if anything was going to get done, it was up to her. "All right," she said. "Let's figure this thing out."
Jules and Verne stared at her, waiting. "Go on," Jules finally said. "What is your proposal?"
"Verne, you go and try to find Kaylie."
"Me?" Verne said, his voice coming out in a squeak. "Why me?"
"Because if someone spots you, it won't be questioned as much," Jennifer explained. "You're still a friend of Juan's, remember?"
Verne still looked uneasy. "I guess," he said slowly. "But where's Kaylie? I'd never seen her before until tonight!"
"I'm sure if you don't find her, she'll find you," Jennifer said. "Just look around the ship, maybe you guys will run into each other."
"Okay," Verne said. "But what if I can't find her?"
"Come back here and I'll explain what we should do."
Verne nodded, standing up and stepping carefully over the others to get out of the small space where he had been sitting. He left the lantern, thankfully.
"Do you mind telling me any of your ideas, in the meantime?" Jules asked. "Verne might take a while, and I could be helpful with input."
Jennifer thought about it a moment and thought it sounded logical. "All right," she said. "But let me wake Marty first--I don't want to have to repeat myself too much tonight."
The sun was shining, the sky a flawless blue over a sandy white beach. Marty sat with Jennifer in the shade of palm trees, facing the ocean with his girlfriend.
"This is the life," he remarked, linking his fingers with Jennifer's next to him. "And you thought this trip wouldn't work!"
Jennifer smiled at him, apologetic. "Yeah, I guess you were right this time."
"This time?" Marty asked, smiling back. "You mean I'm never right?"
Jennifer's face grew inexplicably serious. "Not all the time." She pointed towards the ocean. "Look! Someone's coming!"
Marty pulled his eyes away from his girlfriend to see a dark shadow heading their way from the water. It was a sharp contrast against the color and brightness of their surroundings. Immediately, a sense of dread fell over Marty. It was as if a dark cloud suddenly passed over the sun. He shielded his eyes, trying to see who it was that was approaching.
"It's Juan," Jennifer said, standing up and brushing the sand off the shorts and t-shirt she wore. Marty was confused for a moment, having a nagging sensation that something wasn't quite right about the clothes she wore, but before he could reflect more on it he realized he had more pressing worries--Jennifer was actually running towards Juan de la Vega!
"What the hell...?" he murmured. "Jennifer! What are you doing?"
Jennifer didn't answer him or look back. Marty took off after her. He reached the pirate captain the same time as his girlfriend.
Juan stopped walking, tilting back his wide-brimmed hat to look at the both of them. No, not the both of them--his eyes were definitely directed towards Jennifer more. Marty looked away from the pirate for a moment to scan the ocean's horizon. He saw no sign of any boat and wondered how the hell Juan had gotten to shore without one; the young captain was not the least bit wet.
"My dear Jennifer," de la Vega drawled, taking Jennifer's hand and kissing it lightly. "Are you ready to leave?"
Jennifer nodded. "You bet." She looked at her old boyfriend. "Sorry, Marty, but it's over."
Marty gaped at her. "What?! What the hell are you talking about?!"
Jennifer shrugged, stepping closer to Juan. It took all of the self control Marty possessed not to pull her back, away from the pirate. "Well, we got married. I'm his wife now, so I obviously can't be your girlfriend. Sorry," she added, almost as an afterthought.
Marty tried to speak and found he couldn't, he was so stunned. Juan grabbed Jennifer's arm and pulled her to the ocean. Marty tried--wanted--to follow, but his feet would not obey the urge. It was as if he was stuck in cement, unable to move. "How could you do this to me?" he shouted to Jennifer.
Jennifer turned to look at him, a wind whipping her hair across her face. "Wrong--how could you do this to me?" she asked, staring at him accusingly. "You're the one who brought us here!"
Marty watched her go, feeling the wind pick up. Jennifer got into a small rowboat with the pirate, a boat that seemed to appear virtually out of nowhere. Marty hardly gave it a thought. The wind seemed to be mocking him in Jennifer's voice, calling his name over and over....
His surroundings fragmented, then broke up. Feeling like he was being yanked back, quite against his will, Marty managed to open his eyes. Jennifer's face hovered before his own, pale, strained, and illuminated in a dim, flickering light. "Marty," she whispered, "Marty, wake up. Wake up, now."
"I am awake," he mumbled thickly, reality beginning to creep back into his head. They were on a pirate ship still, hiding...weren't they? Already, the strange dream he had been having began to slip away and fade from memory. Marty rubbed his eyes, wishing he was still asleep; his entire body ached and throbbed, even the tiniest movement setting off pain somewhere.
"Are you?" Jennifer asked. "You don't really look like it much to me."
"What do you expect?" Marty asked, irritated. "I was just asleep!"
Jennifer looked a little irritated herself, which just made Marty feel even more crabby. He leaned his head back against the wall, wincing at the kinks and pains in his neck and shoulders. He reached up and gently massaged the back of his neck. "What time is it?" he murmured.
"It's a bit after 4:30AM," Jules answered, causing Marty to jump. He looked at the boy seated next to him, then slowly turned his head to peer past Jennifer, where he had last seen Verne. There was no one there.
"Where's Verne?"
"He went to find Kaylie," Jennifer said. "I've got an idea how to get us back to Port Royal."
"Do you?" Marty asked, yawning.
"She appears to think so," Jules said. "But she hasn't told any to us anything yet." "Which is why I woke you," Jennifer explained.
"So what's this plan of yours?" Marty wanted to know.
But Jennifer shook her head. "Actually, I changed my mind--I think we should wait until Verne is back now, with or without Kaylie. I only want to explain this once," she added.
Marty blinked at her. "You woke me up just to tell me that? For Godsakes, Jennifer, do you know what your little pirate fiancé made me do yesterday?"
Jennifer jumped, as if she had been hit. "Marty, that is a low blow," she hissed. "You know as well as I do how I feel about him!"
"Do I?" Marty asked. "Then tell me, Jennifer, what the hell did he do to you yesterday? Did he hit you? Throw you around? Try to--"
"Stop this arguing!" Jules interrupted, his face a mixture of fear and anger. "Do you want our location here to be discovered?"
Marty let the rest of his tirade die in his throat. Jennifer scooted away from him as far as she could, until she was seated in the same place Verne had been, next to a wall. Her face was even more pale than it had been earlier, though her eyes glowed with a strange light as she looked away from Marty. It didn't take much intelligence to read that look--she was angry, more angry than Marty thought he had ever seen her.
But he was angry at her too, oh yes. Why won't she tell me what Juan did to her? he fumed, balling his hand into a fist. Why is she being so unreasonable? Why is she mad at me for no reason? Why--why--why--
The thought wasn't completed, was forgotten as Marty felt the floor under him tilt sharply, pushing him back against the wall he was sitting against. After a couple deep breaths to control his temper and keep his voice low and even, he asked, "Are we sailing again?"
Jules shook his head. Perhaps it was a trick of the low, flickering lantern light, but he looked older than his years then to Marty. "No, I don't think we are. The sea has probably just gotten a bit more rough."
Marty rolled his eyes. "Perfect," he muttered. That was just what he needed now--to start feeling seasick trapped down in the ship's cargo hold.
Those were the last words spoken for a while. Jennifer stared at the wall in the corner, her back to the rest of them. Marty focused his eyes on the cargo boxes just a couple feet away from his face. Jules looked between Marty and Jennifer, opening his mouth several times as if to say something, then changing his mind and closing it again.
Marty was just starting to nod off again when he heard a noise from the other end of the room that brought him sharply back to earth. It was a creaking sort of noise, but different from the normal sounds the ship made as it rode the waves. This sound was more like a door opening. Jennifer snuffed the light out without being told. A second after the room was plunged back into darkness, footsteps headed there way. All three of the time travelers held still, no one saying a word. Marty held his breath, his eyes wide open, more in a reaction of fear than trying to see. His heart thudded against his ribs as he expected Juan de la Vega to burst into their hiding place any moment.
But it wasn't Juan who spoke up from the solid darkness. "Guys, it's me," Marty heard Verne whisper. "I found Kaylie, too."
The latter struck a match then and put it to a candle. Marty saw Verne standing next to Jules, Kaylie directly behind him. "Mayhap we slip in as well?" she asked.
Marty scooted over, closer to Jennifer, though he didn't like the prospect as much as she. Jules edged close to Marty as Verne and Kaylie crowded in the narrow space. Jennifer finally turned towards the others, her eyes carefully avoiding Marty next to her.
"Did anyone see you?" she asked the newcomers softly.
"Not really," Verne said. Kaylie shook her head.
"I found young Verne quite by accidental means--as I was snitching some food from the galley, he passed by the doorway."
"Good thing, too, 'cause I don't think I would've found you otherwise," Verne added.
Perhaps because the pitch and roll of the ship was steadily growing worse, Jules asked, "Has the weather above changed at all?"
"Aye," Kaylie answered. "There be clouds in the sky now, and the waves are growin' bigger."
"Great," Marty muttered, envisioning a storm hitting the ship while they were on it. Jennifer changed the subject.
"I've come up with a plan to perhaps get Juan to sail back to Port Royal," Jennifer explained.
"Wait," Jules said, holding up his hand. "Before your proceed, I demand that you and Martin make up with one another."
Marty snorted softly as Jennifer narrowed her eyes. "And why would that be?" she muttered. "Since when are our problems any of your business?"
"Since you discussed them before us and since your plan likely includes teamwork," Jules said. "It will be impossible to work together otherwise. Am I correct?"
Jennifer pursed her lips together, obviously reluctant to admit that Jules was right. Marty felt the same, but he wanted to get away from this damned ship a lot more than he wanted to be the one who held out the longest in the fight. "All right," Marty said, a bit stiffly. "Jennifer, I'm sorry."
Jennifer shrugged, her eyes staring straight ahead, past Marty. Jules took it on himself to act as the mediator. "Jennifer, you should accept his apology," he said.
Jennifer shot the boy a cold look. "Excuse me, Jules Brown?"
Jules didn't back down from the suggestion. "You and Martin must be civil to each other, at the very least," he said. "If he has made a move to apologize, then the very least you should do is accept it."
Jennifer's mouth worked, though no words came out. The room was silent. Finally, she managed to utter, "I accept your apology, Marty." No apology of her own was forthcoming, however.
"Good," Jules said, though it was obvious the air between Marty and Jennifer was far from clear. "Now let's hear your plan."
Jennifer began to speak, softly and hesitantly at first, then finally getting caught up in her own words and ideas. Marty had to admit, it wasn't bad--it sounded almost like something out of a pirate movie, which, he had to admit, appealed to him in a strange way. But that was also the downfall of the plan--it seemed very very risky, relying heavily on many "what ifs" and other tentative theories.
"You really think this will work?" Jules asked doubtfully when Jennifer had finished.
"It could very well," Kaylie said, before Jennifer could answer.
Verne's eyes shone in the near darkness. "I think it sounds awesome!" he exclaimed, causing Kaylie, Jennifer, and Jules to all shush him.
Marty still had his doubts--plenty of them, in fact. "What if we're caught?"
Jennifer sighed. "I think you know the answer to that."
"Our fate would probably be the same if we did nothing," Jules added. "I believe it's time we took action or we'll never know if this will work. Sometimes it's better to try and fail then never try at all."
It sounded like something Doc would say, which just reminded Marty again how much he wanted to be back home. "Okay," he agreed. "I'm in."
"Me too!" Verne said happily.
"I will do what I can," Kaylie promised.
Jules looked at Jennifer. She nodded. "All right, then--let's get ready to get this show on the road!"
Jennifer squinted from the shift in light as she slipped onto the deck of the ship. The sun was just below the horizon now, only a faint orange glow through the clouds that were concealing most of the sky. But though the light was dusky, it was the first natural light she had seen all day and it took her eyes a moment to adjust.
You better be able to see fast, Parker, she thought as she shielded her eyes with her hand, looking cautiously around. By now, she was certain that her disappearance had been discovered. Earlier in the day, mid-morning, she had heard footsteps running outside their hiding place in the cargo hold and voices shouting. While she had no actual proof this was related to her escape, the evidence strongly suggested it.
Then there was the time someone had actually come into the hold, humming tunelessly and moving things around. Jennifer had never been so terrified in her entire life as she was during those long, long moments. Finally, the trespasser had left and all of their group had released deep sighs of relief.
Jennifer pressed herself up against the wall of the captain's cabin, willing herself to be invisible in the shadows. It wasn't that easy of a task--all day the sea had grown rougher and rougher until even she had started feeling a little sick and very grateful that she had not had anything to eat that day. Jules and Kaylie didn't seemed terribly disturbed by the turbulence, though Verne was feeling about as good as Jennifer was. But it was Marty who was getting the worst of it--when she had left their hiding place to start her plan into motion, he was curled up on the floor, holding his stomach and moaning softly.
He'd better not bail out of this! Jennifer thought, her face grim. But even feeling as miffed as she was at her boyfriend, she had to admit that Marty would practically have to be dying before running away from a challenge. And this was certainly a challenge.
Jennifer sucked in a sharp breath as she heard footsteps coming her way. There was a knock at the door of Juan de la Vega's cabin.
"Yes?" a voice called from inside.
"Cap'n, Santo needs you to help 'em with the navigation," Jennifer heard André say.
"Why would he need that?" the captain growled through the door, sounding most unhappy.
"He's sayin' that there's a storm comin', a big one shapin' up, and needs to talk to you about maybe delayin' our departure."
Jennifer heard footsteps from inside the cabin, then the door flung open. "Our departure on the morrow tide will not be delayed," Juan said sharply.
"Then speak to Santo, not I," André said.
Jennifer heard Juan made a low, unhappy sound in the back of his throat, then the door was closed again and two sets of footsteps moved away from the cabin, and Jennifer. It was time.
Jennifer crept to the corner of the cabin and peered around it. No one was nearby. She made a dash to the door of the cabin. The knob turned easily in her hand and she slipped inside, shutting it behind her.
The cabin was empty, which she was eternally thankful for. Now that she thought about it, Jennifer supposed that another crewman could have easily been in here, talking with the captain before the interruption.
Quickly, before Juan could return, Jennifer scrambled onto the narrow bed, nearly falling to the ground from the lurching of the ship on her first attempt. Once she was on the bed, she had to hold tightly onto the sides of it so not to be spilled onto the floor.
All right, Jennifer told herself, smoothing out the long skirt of her dress. The first step is completed. She wondered how well the others were getting along now, getting into their own positions.
Now that she was where she was supposed to be, Jennifer could only wait for Juan's return. She hoped it was soon--the quicker this was over with, the better she would feel.
Jennifer was not kept waiting long. Less than ten minutes later, she heard footsteps right outside the door, even over the din of the rough sea and the creaking ship. Jennifer tensed up, her palms sweaty. She swallowed hard, willing herself to stay cool.
Get ready for the performance of your life, she thought.
The door opened and Juan de la Vega stepped in the room. He was scowling, a look that merely made Jennifer even more nervous than she already was. Juan shut the door, not even noticing Jennifer until she spoke.
"Hello, Juan."
The pirate captain spun around, his eyes narrowing. "Jennifer," he said slowly. "My, this is a surprise."
Jennifer sat up, widening her eyes in what she hoped was an expression of innocence. "Is it?" she murmured.
Juan drew his lips together in a tight smile. "What are you doing in my cabin, my dear? Why are you not in your own cabin? As a matter of fact," he went on, slowly approaching Jennifer, "how is it that you got out of your cabin? Where have you been hiding yourself, dear chica ?"
Jennifer swung her legs over the side of the bed, forcing herself to move her feet towards Juan. "Let's not worry about that now," she said softly, continuing to look Juan in the eyes. "What matter is that we're together now."
Juan's eyebrows raised in an expression of surprise at the words, though he was quick to hide it. "Have you changed your mind, then, about the marriage?"
Jennifer made herself nod. "Yes," she said. "I realized how right you were, and how good a husband you'll make for me. After all," she continued, stepping closer to Juan and putting her arms around his shoulders, "anyone who does what you do is a very good catch indeed."
Juan smiled, some of the coldness falling from his face as he put his arms around Jennifer's waist, pulling her even closer. "That's right," the pirate said immodestly.
Jennifer stroked Juan's hair, resisting a shudder of revulsion at the touch of those oily locks. "You're dangerous, Juan de la Vega," she breathed, a slight sarcastic note to her voice. "I love dangerous men!"
Juan's smile widened even more, not hearing her sarcasm. "Yes," he agreed. "You do not know how fortunate you will be, my dear, to have myself as a husband."
Jennifer managed a smile. "Oh, I think I do," she murmured, then kissed him on the lips. It took every bit of Jennifer's control not to gag from the experience. Juan kissed her back, hard enough to fuse their lips together.
While Jennifer forced herself to make little sighs of pleasure at what they were doing, she took one hand and reached around to the back of her dress, where she had earlier tied a dagger that Kaylie had found for her during a raid on weapons that day. Jennifer pulled it free and whipped her arm around to put the dagger to Juan's side. He gave a startled gasp as the blade poked him, yanking his head back to look at Jennifer. She smiled now, a real smile.
"I want you to turn this ship around," she said in a low voice. "Then I want you to sail back to Port Royal."
Juan blinked at her, obviously stunned at the change of events. Then he smiled, regaining his composure again. "Dear Jennifer, that would be a very foolish thing to do."
Jennifer grabbed his arm, holding him so he couldn't step away from the dagger pressed to his side. The hand holding the blade shook slightly, from nerves Jennifer was willing to bet. She willed it to stay steady, not wanting to betray her feelings now. "Why would it be foolish?" she asked, taking no pains to hide sarcasm from her voice now. "Would it be because you couldn't bury your precious treasure?"
Juan shrugged. "Oh, that would be a loss, certainly. But, no, my pretty chica , t'would be foolish to sail into stormy seas, as these ones will be on the morrow."
Jennifer was sure he was bluffing. "We don't care," she said flatly. She added more pressure to his side with the dagger, enough to cause him some discomfort but not yet draw blood. "Order us back!"
Juan smirked. "I have no intention of doing so, my dear."
Jennifer started to feel a little flustered. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go, not at all! She took a deep breath. "If you don't, I'll slit your throat, right now!"
Juan chuckled. "I doubt you would do such a thing." Without warning, the pirate's hand shot out and gripped Jennifer's right wrist--the one with the dagger--hard enough to leave bruises. Jennifer gasped, the blade slipping from her fingers and clattering onto the floor. Juan yanked her hard, spinning her around until he had hold of both her wrists behind her back. "Now what were you going to do?" he asked, giving her a hard shake.
Jennifer struggled to free her wrists from the pirate captain's iron grip. "Let go of me you creep!" she shouted. She jerked back one of her feet, managing a somewhat feeble backwards kick to the pirate's legs. Juan tightened his hands even more, causing Jennifer to nearly moan in pain.
"Ah, you are quite the spitfire," he laughed. "I like spitfires."
"Leave--me--alone!" Jennifer grunted, still trying to free her arms from behind her back.
"Ah, no, not now," Juan said in a low voice. "Not when you just got here. It would be....improper of me to treat my future wife poorly."
Jennifer did not like the sound of that. Juan let one of her wrists go and pulled her around to face him. He wasn't smiling anymore. His eyes were narrowed, a cold, hostile look shining in them. He pulled Jennifer close, until her face was a half inch away from his own. "You will like what I will do now," he hissed. "As a good wife should."
Jennifer swallowed hard, too scared to say anything now.
A flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye, in the space behind Juan, distracted her. Before she could focus on it, Jennifer heard a muffled crack from behind the captain. The pirate's eyes slipped out of focus and he started falling towards her. Jennifer let out a barely stifled shriek, jumping back in time to avoid being knocked over as Juan fell face down to the ground. Marty stood behind the fallen pirate, an old-fashioned pistol clenched in one hand by the barrel. His face was filled with a grim sort of satisfaction.
"You all right, Jen?" he asked.
Jennifer nodded. "You're late," she said accusingly. "Another minute and I would definitely not be all right!"
Marty shrugged. "Sorry." He grimaced, holding a hand to his stomach as the floor titled sharply beneath them. His already green face turned another shade greener. Marty swallowed hard, then gestured to Juan. "Let's tie him up."
Jennifer nodded. "Shut the door," she said, hearing the cabin door bang sharply from the sea's turbulence. Marty quickly took care of that, then helped Jennifer transport Juan from the floor to a chair.
"Are the others ready?" Jennifer asked as Marty took a length of rope from his pocket and started wrapping it around Juan's limp wrists, behind the back of the chair.
"Yeah," Marty said. "They're ready." He grimaced again, pausing in his work to wipe at his damp forehead. "I wish the sea was calmer. This feels like the theme park ride from hell."
"I know," Jennifer sympathized. "Even I'm feeling a little sick, and usually this stuff never bothers me."
"I just hope it passes soon," Marty said. "If it's this bad while we're anchored, I'd hate to see what if feels like in the middle of the ocean!"
While Jennifer and Marty were busy tying the captain up, Verne and Jules were on the deck, occupied with their own tasks. It was Verne's job to jam shut the hatch door to assure no interruption from crew members below, a task he found difficult at best in the darkness and busily titling deck.
Verne made a face as he jammed the small pieces of wood that he and Jules had whittled while waiting away the day in hiding in the narrow crack between the hatch door and the frame. He felt so sick!
If this is what it's like having motion sickness, no thanks, Verne thought as he concentrated on getting the wood pieces in just right. Suddenly, he understood quite well how Marty had felt earlier in the trip, when they had first gotten on the ship.
Verne looked over at Jules, helping Kaylie with a big net that they had found somewhere in cargo. "Is that ready yet?" he asked as loudly as he dared.
"Almost," Kaylie said. She tossed her wide-brimmed hat aside for the first time, letting it fall to the deck. "Jules, be you certain that heights do not bother you?"
Jules nodded, though a little uncertainly to Verne's eyes. "Not if I don't look down."
"Well, you'll have t'be doin' a fair amount of that," Kaylie said bluntly. "We'll be needin' to know when tis time to drop the net."
Jules nodded again. "Don't worry about me, I'll take care of my part," he promised.
"Remember that it'll be rough up there in the riggin'," Kaylie said. "Hold on tightly or you may fall in the sea an' be lost."
"I understand," Jules said softly. He held up the net, now stretching out over most of the deck outside the captain's cabin. "Is it ready to go up now?"
Kaylie nodded. "Aye." She looped her arm through one of the corners of the net, starting to climb up the mast to the rigging above. Verne couldn't watch her for long before a terrible feeling of dizziness hit him. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall in his hands. After a couple deep breaths, trying to steady his body, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Verne looked up to see Jules standing next to him.
"Are you all right?" his brother asked.
Verne let out a shuddery breath. "I don't know. I feel like I might puke. Don't you?"
Jules shrugged. "Not particularly. I must be one of those rare, fortunate individuals who has no susceptibility to turbulence of any type at all."
Verne frowned. "Not fair," he muttered.
Jules shrugged again. "It's not," he agreed. "But if you're going to be sick, let it happen and move on. We need to do this tonight--we have already come too far to turn back now."
"Do you think Marty and Jennifer were able to pull it off with the captain?" Verne asked, his eyes sliding over to Juan de la Vega's cabin. All he could tell, through the two porthole windows, that the lights were still on inside. That was it.
"I imagine so," Jules said. "I think we'd know if they failed--trust me on that one."
A shrill whistle from above caught the ears of both boys. They looked up. Kaylie was perhaps ten feet above deck, perched on the rope ladders that led up the masts-- ratlines, Verne remembered. They're called ratlines.
Kaylie didn't speak or gesture, but her message was clear--she wanted Jules to get up there with her. Jules hurried over to the other end of the net, grabbing hold of it and starting his own climb into the ship's rigging. Because the ropes in the rigging were set up more like ladders than anything else, Jules had no trouble with the climb. Slowly, the net was hoisted into the air. Verne watched him only a minute before he started feeling really sick again, so he turned his attention back to his job.
He reached into a burlap sack that Kaylie had found somewhere and pulled out a couple nails and a hammer--also courtesy of Kaylie's prowling the ship earlier in the day. After the plan had been explained, Jennifer had set the Irish teen off to find all the supplies they might need. She'd turned up more than enough for what they were going to do, Verne had to admit. Now that the sea was so rough and the wind was picking up something strong, he could use the nails without attracting too much attention. The noise would easily be muffled by the sounds of nature.
Verne quickly found that the job wasn't all it was cracked up to be. With the constant motion of the ship now, he kept missing the nail and hitting the fingers holding it instead. Which, in turn, caused his eyes to tear up in pain--which made it harder to see and caused him to hit his fingers even more often with the hammer! Finally, Verne gave up and pounded the wood chips deep into the crack instead--it would jam the hatch just as well as hammering the door shut with nails.
Once his job was done, Verne gathered up his supplies in the bag and headed over to the anchor at the bow of the ship. He pulled a large metal file from the bag and started in on filing through one of the rusty chain links that kept the anchor tied to the ship. It proved to be a very boring experience and Verne reflected how strange life could be sometimes--only the night before, he'd been helping the captain out. Now, he was helping a plot against him!
Marty finished knotting the final rope, this one around Juan de la Vega's left ankle to bind it to the chair leg, and slowly stood up. He looked at Jennifer hovering nearby. "That's it."
"Are you sure he's tied up enough?" Jennifer asked, frowning as she looked the unconscious pirate over.
Marty nodded. "I even checked his pockets and everything to make sure he doesn't have any knives or weapons on him." He leaned forward on the pirate's desk, closing his eyes against the dizzying light of the hanging lanterns and wishing that some force would stop the ship from moving in all these strange, unnatural angles.
"Are you okay, Marty?" Jennifer asked. "Do you want to lie down or something?"
Marty shook his head, opening his eyes to look at her. "No, I can't. We have a job to do, right?" He tried to smile at her but didn't quite get there. Jennifer stared at him, concerned, her own face a touch peaked as well. After a moment, she let her eyes drop to the desk top, tracing over the lines in the wood with one hand.
"Marty?" she began, her voice soft. "I'm...I'm sorry for what happened earlier."
Marty sighed at her words. "Jen, it's me who should be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I shouldn't have said what I did. I know you don't like that jerk as much as I do," he added, tilting his head towards the bound pirate.
Jennifer nodded, her lip curling in distaste as she glanced at Juan. She looked quickly back to Marty. "Does this mean we're together again?" she asked softly.
"We were never apart," Marty murmured, leaning over for a kiss. Two things ruined the moment--the ship gave a particularly harsh lurch, and Juan let out a moan. The former caused Marty to double over with a groan, and the latter caused a flighty Jennifer to hurriedly back away from the pirate as far as she could go.
"Marty," she said worriedly.
Marty managed to draw himself up, wishing desperately he actually had something left in his stomach to throw up--at least then he'd feel a little better. "What, Jen?" he managed to gasp out.
Jennifer pointed to the pirate, definitely coming around now. Marty picked up the gun he'd used to club the captain, lying on the desk, and aimed it at Juan. The pirate opened his eyes, blinked, and shook his head a couple times. He noticed Marty a moment later, standing in front of him with the gun drawn. Juan's eyes widened a moment in surprise, especially at the gun pointed in his face. He looked up at the face above the gun a moment later, his movements a little sluggish.
"What is this?" he demanded, still managing to radiate a cold authority, even from the vulnerable position he was in.
"Take us back to Port Royal," Marty said flatly, glaring at the pirate. He kept his voice low, though Marty would have been just as happy yelling at him. It was important they didn't draw any attention to this cabin until they were ready--though from the feel of the ship, Marty doubted anyone would be able to hear anything outside from the crash of the waves.
Juan merely stared at Marty with the request. "Are you mad, you foolish seńor ? There be a big storm coming this way. Would be the death of us all to sail into it."
Marty snorted, though Juan probably spoke the truth--he'd never felt a sea this rough before! "So what?" he asked, stepping close to the helpless pirate. "We want to go home, and if you aren't gonna give the order, we will."
Juan chuckled. "Oh, you be filled with foolishness tonight." He turned his head to look at Jennifer, across the room near the door. "My dear chica , surely you can talk some sense into this young man."
Jennifer stared at the pirate coldly. "I'm with him," she said. "You're the foolish one in this room, Juan. Not to mention a sleazy jerk."
Juan looked back at Marty. "I refuse to order my crew to do such a thing. And they will refuse the same if you ask them the same question."
"Why is that?" Marty asked sarcastically. He allowed some of his anger at the pirate to spill over and poked him--none to softly--in the ribs with the muzzle of the gun. "Is it because you aren't giving the order, oh great pirate?" he asked, leaning forward to put his face in Juan's. "Is it because they honor your word so much? Well, let me tell you something, they talk about you a bunch behind your back, about how much they'd like to take over this ship and throw you to the sharks. How do you like that?"
Juan didn't appear affected by the words. "Those are fibs," he said simply. "Lies. Now I demand that you untie me from this chair and set me free, or I will not hesitate to throw the both of you into the ocean."
"Like you wouldn't do that anyway," Jennifer said. She looked at Marty and her expression plainly said: what do we do next?
Marty didn't know. They couldn't kill Captain de la Vega--if he died now, before Doc and Marty ran into him while pursuing Doc B through time, there was no telling what strange things could happen. And it looked like the pirate wasn't going to back down from his stance.
Marty gave the guy one more chance. He applied more pressure to the gun, pushing it deeper into Juan's side. The pirate didn't even grimace. "Order your crew to turn us around!"
Juan turned away from Marty, staring at one of the walls instead. "No," he said. "Go ahead and kill me, then--at least I will have the honor of history remembering me as a great buccaneer . You, foolish seńor , are nothing more than a coward to kill me in such cold blood, in a means unable to defend myself."
Marty gritted his teeth at that last part, determined not to let Juan get under his skin. Chill out, McFly, he told himself. The last think you need is to have him trick you into defending yourself in some stupid fight with guns or swords!
Marty looked at Jennifer as he waited for his temper to mellow out. She stared back at him with wide eyes, plainly having no input on what to do next. "You aren't worth the bullet in this gun," Marty finally hissed, pulling the weapon away. "Come on, Jennifer, let's leave this asshole in here to rot!"
He hurried to the door, his step a little unsteady from the tilting floor, Jennifer rushing to follow. "Marty," she said as soon as they'd stepped outside and shut the door behind them, "are you sure that's safe to leave Juan alone like that?"
"He's tied up to a chair," Marty said. "I doubt he'll be able to escape." He looked around, a little stunned and disoriented by the shift in weather. When he'd gone into the cabin, only about twenty minutes before, the sky had still been a little clear at the horizon, though clouds were thickening up overhead. Now those clouds fully blotted out the night sky. The waves were growing rougher by the minute, and rain was starting to fall.
"I think he wasn't bluffing on the storm," Marty added weakly. He stumbled over to the railing of the ship and leaned over the angry sea, gagging, but nothing came up. Marty hadn't had anything to eat since the day before, on the island. Jennifer stroked his back until the worst of the dry heaves passed.
"Maybe you should eat something," she suggested softly. Marty shuddered at the mere idea of eating.
"I don't think I could even swallow it now," he muttered. Marty wiped the rain and sea spray off his face, looking at Jennifer. "Why aren't you puking yet?"
She shrugged, though she did look greener than she had in the cabin, even in the barely there light. "I feel like it," Jennifer whispered. "I know it sounds silly, but I don't really know how--I don't think I've thrown up in over ten years...at all!"
Marty chuckled once, without humor. "Trust me, when you have to, you do it."
Jennifer stared at him. "Is that so?" she asked, sounding very doubtful.
Marty realized his girlfriend was quite serious about the matter. But they couldn't pursue the conversation further--there was no time. Marty stepped away from the railing on rubbery knees, pulling Jennifer with him. "We have to keep with the plan," he reminded her. "What's next?"
Jules watched from twenty feet up in the rigging as Marty and Jennifer walked away from Juan de la Vega's cabin, to the other end of the ship where their next jobs were. Jules closed his eyes for a second, trying to steady his head. He felt like he was on an out-of-control theme park ride. The higher one went on this ship, the more movement they experience. Only twenty feet up and Jules was making arcs with the mast in crazy, insane angles. It took nearly all of his energy to keep hold and not fall off, and the rest to keep his stomach where it belonged. Maybe being down on deck wouldn't bother his intestinal process much, but up here he felt as ill as Verne had looked earlier.
Jules turned his attention back to below. He saw a rowboat now, coming from the island. The occupants of that craft are surely insane, Jules thought with a mixture of horror and astonishment. To make such a journey in a sea this turbulent surely spoke of either extreme bravery or extreme stupidity. Knowing what he did about these pirates, Jules was willing to go with the latter option.
The rowboat reached the ship without capsizing, and two men promptly scrambled up the rope ladder to the ship's deck. When they stepped on deck, Jules recognized them as a very wet Marco and Poncho. The second and first mate hurried towards the captain's cabin. Jules looked at Kaylie, perched in the rigging across from him. She nodded slightly.
As the two crew members stepped under Kaylie and Jules, both let their sides of the net go. The ropes fell on Marco and Poncho, knocking them to the ground more out of sheer surprise than weight, Jules was certain. Jules grabbed one of the ropes before him and took a dizzying swing to the deck. Kaylie did the same. Marco and Poncho were struggling to get to their feet and get out from under the net. Kaylie and Jules each scooped up two corners of the net and, in synch, yanked them hard towards the starboard side of the ship. The first and second mate were literally yanked off their feet as part of the net swung under them. Now, they were completely enclosed in the net and Kaylie hurriedly knotted it closed as Jules held the ropes together.
"What in the devil is going on here?!" Poncho demanded, struggling to push aside a clump of his soaking wet hair out of his eyes.
"Who is that doin' this?" Marco asked, still fighting to get free of the net. "Tell us this!"
"Only if you take us back to Port Royal," Jules said, wishing he had a deeper voice so he could sound more threatening. Poncho and Marco both laughed at the words.
"Why, it's a boy doin' this!" Marco exclaimed.
"You'd best to be settin' us free, nińo," Poncho warned, managing to finally brush the wet hair aside. " El capitan will be havin' you hung f'sure."
"I would not be countin' on that," Kaylie said. The two pirates reacted with surprise at the sound of her voice.
"Be that a seńorita !? Is that Cap'n's bride, Jennifer?"
"No, tis not," Kaylie said, tying the last knot on the rope prison that held the first and second mate. "But she be havin' a bone to pick with you as well."
The pirates seemed genuinely confused on the identity of Kaylie. "Give us you're name, then," Marco demanded.
"Tis Katherine McClain--I am the sister of Charity, whom your captain had taken improper liberties with. He's left her in a state and it is I who plan to right this wrong for m'family."
Poncho and Marco didn't recognize Kaylie's name. "How is it you came to be on this 'ere ship?" Poncho wanted to know.
"Tis naught of importance," Kaylie said. "You must be takin' us back to Port Royal, now. That tis important."
"It ain't gonna happen," Marco declared flatly. "The cap'n will have no intention of doing such a foolish--"
"The captain isn't here right now to listen to you, or you to him," Jules broke in sharply. He was sick of all this--all he wanted to do was go home. "You're the crew, you know the ship, turn us around."
"If'n we wanted to, t'would be suicide," Poncho said. "This storm is shapin up t'be a hurricane."
"A hurricane?" Jules repeated doubtfully. He didn't recall reading about any hurricanes in the area during this time--but, then again, he hadn't exactly gone out of his way to check.
"Tis a dangerous storm, t'be sure," Kaylie said. "But we're not carin' about storms. We must return to Port Royal startin' tonight."
"An' I'm tellin' you, it's suicide," Poncho repeated. "Marco an' I couldn't even move the treasure chest to the island t'night."
Kaylie looked at Jules. "We'll not be needin' them to sail back, will we?"
Jules stared back at her. "Will we?" he echoed.
Kaylie grabbed hold of a rope dangling nearby and yanked hard on it. The net around Marco and Poncho stretched, struggling to pull the two pirates up into the air. The pirates began to panic as Kaylie worked to pull them up.
"What the devil be you doin'?"
"Are you touched in the head, seńorita?!"
"Help me, Jules," Kaylie grunted, struggling with the weight of the net. Jules rushed to her side and took a hold of the rope, helping the Irish teen to get the first and second mate suspended ten feet over the deck. Once that height was reached, Kaylie and Jules tied the rope on the railing, keeping the net up in the air. The net swung heavily from the shifting of the ship. If Marco or Poncho made any noise, it was lost in the roar of the increasing storm.
"Do you think that will hold them?" Jules asked Kaylie. She looked up at the human cargo in the air, her lips twisted in a thoughtful frown.
"Perhaps. Long enough for us t'be gettin' our job done, I s'pose."
That didn't sound very encouraging to Jules. "Great...." he said doubtfully.
Kaylie turned to him and made a shooing motion with her hands. "Be gone now--you've got a new task, 'member."
Jules did remember. He turned and rushed away from the hanging pirates.
Verne winced as he struggled to cut through the thick, rusted chain link. His hands ached, flecks of the metal cutting into his skin and making it bleed. But the sea and rainwater would wash it away almost as soon as the blood came to the skin--not a good thing in Verne's opinion. The seawater stung like crazy, even worse than those antiseptics Verne's mother would put on his cuts and scrapes whenever he'd fall off his bike or something.
"Stupid pirate ship, stupid chains," Verne muttered under his breath as he continued to file away. The sea was growing rougher by the minute, and Verne had to hold onto the chain hard to stay seated where he was, and not tossed into the railing or--worse--overboard. And we're not gonna even get any treasure outta this, Verne realized with a deeper scowl.
He paused to check his work just as Jules reached him. Verne realized with a tad bit of satisfaction that his brother looked pretty green now, too. Looks like he isn't safe from seasickness after all!
"How is that coming along?" Jules asked, having to yell to be heard over the weather-induced chaos around them. "Did you break through the chain yet?"
"Does it look like I did?" Verne asked. "Are we sailing yet? Nooooo."
"Sarcasm is not necessary, Verne," Jules said. "Kaylie and I have completed our first task with Marco and Poncho. It worked, as they say, like a charm."
"Good for you," Verne grumbled, wishing Jules had his job right now. "I wish we had some lasers here."
"I don't know if the would be able to cut through the links very well," Jules said thoughtfully. "Anyhow, that technology is out of our grasp at this present time, so keep filing."
Verne plodded away with gritted teeth. "Aren't you supposed to be doing something now?"
"Yes," Jules said. "I was supposed to help you with cutting the anchor free."
Verne stopped again. "Then pick up a file and help me, you moron!"
Jules shook his head. "Why? I can't work on the same chain as you are. Seems rather pointless to me to start on a new one."
Verne held up his cut hands for his brother to see, then realized it was a moot point--all he could see was the dark outline of Jules' shadow. Surely his brother could only see the same of his. "We could take turns," he said instead. "My hands need a rest."
"No," Jules said. "You keep at that--I'll find something else useful to do."
"That's goin' against the plan!" Verne objected.
"No it isn't--it is merely tipping the odds of our success more in our favor," Jules corrected, moving away from his brother. "Hurry with the chain, Verne. The sooner we cut ourselves free of the anchor, the sooner we may reach Port Royal!"
Marty and Jennifer's next task was fairly easy. Earlier in the day, Kaylie had gone through the ship and collected every single weapon she could find--pistols, swords, knives....even a couple cannon balls for the ship's cannons! She had found enough to fill three large sacks. Now, standing at the very rocky stern, the two time travelers were dumping them overboard.
"Think this will work any?" Jennifer shouted to Marty as the last sack made a heavy splash, then promptly sunk in the churning sea.
Marty shrugged. "I don't know. It probably can't hurt that we're the only ones armed now."
"But there are probably some weapons Kaylie missed," Jennifer said nervously. "So we aren't the only ones armed!"
"We are up here," Marty pointed out. "If things went as they should, Verne should've nailed shut the main hatch door. Kaylie told us how to get down there, but she said that no one else on this ship should know."
Marty's words didn't sooth Jennifer much. She had a terrible feeling they were overlooking something. Her plan, which had sounded so good earlier, now sounded like a tremendously fantastic long shot. The idea that five people can handle a crew so well that they'll turn back a ship...that's just nearly impossible.
"Marty," she said. "I think we're forgetting something."
Marty looked at her, only a dark shadow in a landscape of other shadows. "What's that?" "I don't know!"
"We did everything you talked about earlier," Marty said. "We got the captain out of commission, the crew under the deck trapped--and I haven't seen anyone on deck. We have the weapons all overboard, Verne's probably about to separate us from the anchor. What are we forgetting?"
"This storm," Jennifer said. Her voice rose, half in an attempt to be heard over the wind and waves and rain, half in pure panic. "I never knew this would happen! It could throw us off course, shipwreck us, capsize us--"
"It's too late to turn back now," Marty said, his voice gentle. "You know that. We can't. Even with this happening, we have to press on."
"I know," Jennifer said in a low voice. Marty stepped closer to her and slipped his arms around her.
"Don't worry, things will be fine," he murmured in her ear. "We'll get back to Port Royal in one piece, get back to the future, and forget this ever happened."
"Oh, I'm not going to forget this," Jennifer said, managing a half smile. "Now you're the one who owes me a favor--a big one."
Jules found what he was looking for after a few minutes of searching the deck. There it was, a large box with a huge padlock on it, wedged between the railing and one of the rowboats that was still on deck. Jules stared at the box for a moment, feeling a delicious shiver of anticipation up his spine.
In that box is enough wealth for my family to retire very comfortably, Jules thought, awed. He imagined himself being able to have anything he wanted--the latest computer equipment, a bigger house with his own room and his own lab, a chance to have an unlimited access to supplies at the electronics store....
Jules knelt down before the chest, giving the lock a couple tugs. It was on there good. He leaned close, his nose an inch from the chest, examining the wood. It was soaked wet, as was the whole ship's deck now.
If I could wedge something in there....
Jules took the knapsack off his back, where he had been carrying it during the entire execution of the plan. He rummaged around inside it, finally finding a pocket knife at the bottom. He took out the largest blade and slipped it between the wood and the metal catch that held the ring, which the padlock was hooked around to secure the chest. Jules slowly pulled the knife back, trying to pop the metal catch off...only to have the blade snap and fly over the railing into the ocean.
"I wish I had a crowbar...." he muttered under his breath. All that separated him from riches were a few lousy inches of wood and a padlock. Jules flipped through the other things in the pocket knife, wondering if there was a saw blade in the set. What caught his eye, however, was the spiraled cork opener. Jules plugged it into the keyhole in the padlock and twisted it around, hard. There was an ugly grinding sound from inside the mechanism, then the lock popped open.
"Yes!" Jules whispered, his heart pounding in a burst of excitement. He pulled the lock out and slowly pushed open the heavy wooden lid. Even in the dark of the night and storm, Jules could catch the glitter of gold coins, gold bars, jewels, jewellery, silver, all filled to nearly the brim of the chest. The sight took his breath away.
The treasure was never found in our time, Jules thought, so it won't matter if I take anything from it. At least then the trip won't be a complete waste.
Jules scooped a couple handful of gold coins, some of the jewels, a gold bar, and a couple necklaces and rings as well--for Mother, of course, he thought. Knowing that what he had in his hands would keep the Brown family comfortable for a very long time, Jules slipped the loot into the knapsack, closed the chest, then tied his knapsack shut as well before putting it back on.
The chain snapped off an hour after Verne had started working on it.
By the time the file had cut through the thick link, Verne's hands were a mess of scratches, cuts, and pain. The latter was numbed somewhat by the seawater splashing on them and the hard, hard wind that was whipping through. Verne couldn't hear anything else but the crashing of the waves and that wind. The sound was deafening.
The ship was bobbing up and down fiercely, stretching the chain that held the anchor as far as it could be stretched. Therefore, as soon as Verne had cut through the metal, the link instantly stretched out and the ship's portion of the chain separated from the anchor's half.
As soon as it became free, the ship took a sudden and hard lurch upward. Verne lost his grip on the remainder of the chain and was thrown back to the deck, where he slid another ten feet across the drenched boards before coming to a hard rest against the base of one of the masts. Verne's eyes were wide, his heart pounding as he struggled to find something nearby to hang on to so he wouldn't be washed overboard. He ended up hugging the mast as hard as he ever held onto anything in his life. He heard the sound of water splashing over the railing, then felt it soak him as the ship underneath him shuddered. The nausea he'd been battling from the storm was all but forgotten now.
Oh jeez! he thought, finding it hard to swallow around the lump of terror in his throat. What did I do?
When the anchor chain broke, Captain Juan de la Vega was nearly done untying the knotted rope around his wrists. Sweat ran down his face as he strained his arms, wrists, and fingers to patiently work at the rope. The job was made even more difficult by the increasing movement of the ship. Though Juan was quite distracted by the aching lump at the back of his head, his blinding rage towards Marty and Jennifer, and the task of freeing himself from the binding, he still worried over the incredibly turbulence and the creaking and groaning his ship was emitting. It sounded to the captain as if the vessel any moment would split in two.
Then, suddenly, just as he felt the tight bindings loosening up around his wrists, the ship gave a sudden and tremendous lurch upwards. The movement was so strong that Juan was actually knocked over from it. The chair hit the ground hard, then slid across the cabin to slam into the wall. As his chair came into contact with the wall, the dazed captain heard a faint crack over the roar of the storm outside, then his feet fell from the chair legs. De la Vega lifted his head off the floor and noticed that the chair had split--right in two!
His arms still pinned behind him, Juan used the next large swell to his advantage, rolling over on his side with the momentum of the ship. With his feet now freed from the ropes that had tied him to the chair legs, the captain didn't hesitate to kick his legs around hard, moving his body around in quick, hard spasms. With each movement, more and more of the chair snapped off. Juan felt something fly past his face, stinging his cheek, but ignored it all as he struggled to regain his freedom and dignity.
Finally, the back of the chair slipped out from behind him, broken in several pointed pieces. With wrists still bound, the captain managed sit up, scan the ground with his eyes, and proceed to guide his wrists and himself to a particularly sharp piece of wood sticking up from the ground. Juan stretched the rope taut, rubbing it against the needle-sharp splinters that protruded from one of the chair's remains. It took a few minutes of persistence, but finally the rope gave and, suddenly, Juan de la Vega was freed.
Juan took a moment to rub his tender, rope-burned wrists, then the pirate captain wasted no time in getting to his feet and heading for the door. There was a matter of revenge to be settled now.
When the anchor chain broke, Marty and Jennifer were in the hold under deck, rounding up all of the crew members still on the ship. It was a somewhat risky task, even if the time traveling couple both held pistols and carried knives on them. Some of the crew was armed as well, but with nothing more threatening than daggers. The bigger weapons--which had been stored elsewhere in the ship during the voyage--were now at the bottom of the sea.
Marty had gathered up the crew while Jennifer kept watch on the ones already collected in the galley. He was just pushing the last two over the threshold of the room when the ship's rocking suddenly got a whole lot more violent.
For Marty, the moment was a blur. One second he was shoving a pistol threateningly at the two scruffy crew members, telling them to get in the galley while simultaneously fighting the terrible queasiness twisting his gut--the next minute there was no floor under his feet and he was slamming hard into the wall opposite the galley entrance.
Marty's surroundings tilted and whirled as he lay against the wall, stunned, not helping out the way he felt already. He sat up and blinked, realizing that it wasn't just him--the entire ship was tilting something terrible. Dishware crashed from inside the galley, and Marty heard heavy thuds slamming into the galley wall as what sounded to him like furniture was moved around.
"Jennifer," he whispered, wondering if his girlfriend was all right. Marty got to his feet as fast as the tilting floor would allow. It was much harder than he would've thought; when he leaned one way, the ship went the opposite. Marty finally gave up and crawled back into the galley. He paused on the threshold again, grabbing the pistol from the ground where he had dropped it and shoving it in the waistband of his breeches before entering the room.
Jennifer--who had been standing near the door, making sure that the seven crew members that had been assembled couldn't escape--was struggling to get up from against the wall beside the door, where she had been tossed in the hard turbulence. As Marty came deeper in the room and made his way to Jennifer's side, he noticed a couple of the crew members had been actually knocked unconscious from either a blow to the wall or a piece of furniture. They lay in heavy heaps on the floor. The vast majority of the rooms occupants, however, appeared dazed and nothing more.
"What the devil is goin' on up there," a stout, balding man demanded, getting to his feet and glaring at Marty and Jennifer, as if they had caused the suddenly lurch in the ship.
"A storm," Marty said--the only thing he could think of to say. He turned to Jennifer, still on the floor. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I think so," she said. "It's just this stupid skirt. It makes it hard to get back up!"
Marty used the wall to pull himself back up on his feet, then took Jennifer's hand and hauled her up. Once she was on her feet again, Marty turned and rushed to cover the door before any crew member could escape. He took a quick count of all in the room, excluding himself and Jennifer. Nine people. Could a ship of this size be run by only nine people? Marty hadn't the faintest, but decided that he had most--if not all--of the crew in this room.
"All right," he said, trying his best to sound threatening--not an easy task when the ship was making such horrible groanings and one felt so weak-kneed that one could hardly stand up. "We've hijacked this ship from your captain and want you sail us back to Port Royal--now. Once we reach Port Royal, we'll be leaving and you can do whatever you want with the ship and it's contents--just don't kill the captain," he added quickly, thinking of the problems that would cause in his past.
Seven pairs of the crew's eyes stared at him; the other two were still unconscious on the ground. "You be jestin' with us," one of the larger, crew members said. Marty recognized him from the treasure dig--Paco was his name. His claim to fame was a list of names tattooed on his back of people he had killed--yet, strangely, he had struck Marty as one of the nicer crew members. During the dig, he had spoken fondly of a sweetheart back in Kingston and how he wished to be set free of the pirateering life to settle down with her.
Jennifer answered the comment, her face utterly humorless. "We are not," she said. "As we speak, the captain is tied up in his cabin. We've cut the ship free and are now drifting where the waves pull us."
This comment was met with wide-eyed disbelief. "You've gone an' done what now?!" exclaimed the first crew member who had spoken.
"Just as she said," Marty said. "We're not anchored anymore." I think, he added to himself, wondering if that big jolt was what had happened when the ship had been set free.
"You be touched in the 'ead!" Paco exclaimed for the room. "We're lost f'sure. That's a hurricane out 'here, one of the fiercest storms to ever cross seafairin' men!"
"A hurricane?" Jennifer and Marty repeated simultaneously. Jennifer whirled around to stare at Marty, her eyes wide and scared. Marty swallowed hard, feeling considerably sicker from this announcement than he had been before.
"Well, surely a fine crew like you guys can ride it out," he said after a moment of stunned silence. The crew members in the room treated him with looks of skepticism.
"I once be on a crew t'was in a hurricane," spoke up a bearded crew member. "The ship broke 'part in the squall. I was one of three survivors."
"That's just...great," Marty said, his confidence level beginning to plummet. He fought it off, though, determined not to show that fear before Jennifer. Then he remembered something very important--Juan de la Vega had survived this, as he had been alive in 1679 when Doc and Marty had first met him! That small fact was like a bucket of cold water to Marty, enabling his brain to move onto other matters instead of focusing on what a drowning death would feel like.
"If we all want to survive this, then we have to work together," Marty said firmly. "We have to get to Port Royal, but if we have to detour somewhere else to ride the storm out...then I guess we have to. Do you guys know what to do in storms?"
Again, Marty's words were greeted with another strange look from the crew. "Aye, I believe we do know that," spoke up a young, dark-haired man, the sarcasm plain in his voice. "I've been navigator f'this ship close t' two years now."
"Well, then, do what you gotta," Marty said, stepping aside to allow the crew passage through the door.
"You're forgettin' that you've got the hatch blocked," André, the cabin boy, said, frowning at Marty.
Marty rolled his eyes at that oversight. He looked to Jennifer. "Jen, can you tell Jules or Verne to get it open?"
Jennifer nodded, hurrying for the exit. "Sure."
When the anchor chain broke, Jules was helping Kaylie with the ship's wheel at the stern of the ship. The nasty weather was causing the wheel to whirl in all sorts of wild directions and-- even anchored--Kaylie believed that she and Jules would need to keep an eye on it. When the anchor chain would break and they would be set free into the ocean, a wildly spinning wheel could spell death and disaster for the ship and everyone aboard.
Jules was holding onto one half of the wheel, Kaylie on the other, when the ship suddenly, wildly, careened upward, as if some huge hand from below had pushed them towards the sky. If he hadn't been holding onto the wheel so tightly, Jules was sure he would have been throw against the railing nearby.
Kaylie groaned softly as she gripped her portion of the wheel. Jules could feel the object straining under his grip, wanting to spin. He held onto the handles of the wheel as tight as he could, his shoulders and arms aching from the effort. Neither he nor Kaylie spoke, finding that holding the wheel still was difficult enough. The ship rose and fell in awesome (and terrifying) waves, the wind blowing so hard that Jules was glad the sails had been rolled up. Had those been down, he was sure they would have been capsized in the sea.
After what felt like aeons had passed, Kaylie seemed to gain control over the wheel and nodded her head at Jules. "You best check on how your brother be!" she shouted over the wild wind.
"You sure?" Jules yelled back.
"Aye!" Kaylie answered. "I'll be able t'handle the wheel."
Jules let go, slowly and carefully, ready to grab the wheel again if Kaylie did lose her grip. But it remained still, in her control. Jules turned and ran to the other end of the ship, slipping several times on the soaked deck and bruising up his knees.
He found his brother clutching the mast near the front of the ship, noticing the now-limp remains of the anchor chain as well. The ship was indeed separated from the anchor.
"Verne, are you all right?" Jules shouted to his brother, heading towards him.
"I think so," Verne managed to say, his teeth chattering slightly. He was soaked to the bone from seawater.
Jules reached for his brother's arm. "Come on, we have to get off the deck! It's too dangerous up here!"
"Not so fast, nińos," a familiar, heavily accented voice growled from nearby. Jules and Verne looked up to see Juan de la Vega standing not more than five feet away, his hands on his hips and a deadly scowl on his face. At the sight of him, so entirely unexpected, both boys froze in place.
Juan stepped forward, slowly, then--with a speed that took both boys by surprise-- reached out and grabbed Verne by the arm, yanking him off the mast. Verne let out a gasp of surprise at the move, but before he could react in any way, de la Vega pulled the blond-haired boy close, holding one arm behind Verne's back and using his other arm to clench him hard around the neck.
"I could break his neck!" the pirate captain hissed, sounding much like a snake.
Jules swallowed hard, holding his hands out to show de la Vega that he had no weapons on him. "Please don't," he pleaded, the words sounding weak even to his ears.
"Give me one reason not to," Juan snapped. "This boy's betrayed me! I trusted 'im. I do not stand for betrayal!"
Jules couldn't think of anything to say in response for that. His eyes darted around the dark deck of the ship, almost wishing for another big wave to happen--large enough to throw Juan off balance but not himself.
Verne stared at his brother with huge eyes, filled with fear. Jules bit his lip, seeing no way out of this, nothing coming to mind that he could voice to get them out of the confrontation. Oh Kaylie, he thought, I wish you'd let that wheel go now!
Jennifer found the world on the deck of the ship a nightmare of wind, water, and disorientation. With the ship groaning and heaving under her feet, she couldn't at first figure out where she was. She knew, intellectually, that she was somewhere near the middle of the ship, near one of the stored rowboats, because that was where the secret entrance to the hold that Kaylie had created was located. But she could hardly see three feet before her, and the ship's movement combined with the darkness was dizzying.
Where on earth is the real hatch? she wondered, her eyes as wide open as she could get them, straining to see through the night. Jennifer considered crawling around on the deck but worried that would only get her soaking wet and more vulnerable to a wave that would wash on the ship's deck--and if she fell overboard, it would be an almost certain death for her, what with the way the sea was and her heavy skirts.
Jennifer was moving more towards the middle of the ship, fairly certain that was the location of the hatch Verne had jammed, when she heard what she thought was faint human voices. The very fact she heard them at all told Jennifer that the conversation was being shouted with as much volume as one could muster; the sound of the storm was effective in blocking out all noise. She paused, tilting her head towards the sound in an attempt to hear better. But the harder she tried to listen, the fainter the voices seemed to be.
With more than a touch of uneasiness, Jennifer proceeded to do what she had come up to do--get the hatch unjammed. After a few minutes of cautiously running her feet over the boards of the deck, searching for the protrusion of the hatch, she found her goal, knelt down, took a dagger from where she had stored it in her skirt, and popped the door open with a little effort.
Jennifer leaned forward cautiously, not wanting to fall into the hold of the ship, and shouted, "The door is open!" in the hopes that Marty or one of the crew members would hear. Then, without waiting for a shouted reply, she stood and hurried towards the front of the ship, where Jennifer was certain she had heard the voices.
Lighting flashed, startling her and giving her a brief glimpse of her surroundings before she was once again lost in the dark. What Jennifer saw in those split seconds was of no comfort to her--waves that looked as tall as the ship, crashing over the railings and spilling across the deck making it as slippery as an ice rink. Thunder--loud, crackling, and overall ominous--sounded a moment later, trembling the deck on which Jennifer stood.
I don't think we could be in a worse place for lightning, she fretted, what with the tall masts and all this water! You can't escape it! Jennifer quickened her pace despite the slickness of the ship's deck boards, wanting to solve this mystery of the faintly heard voices as soon as possible so she could go back under deck!
It took her a long time to reach the front of the ship. The waves continued to crash over the railing of the ship to the point of knocking Jennifer over a couple times. Her dress grew heavier and heavier from the water weighing it down. The wind was another matter entirely, too, blowing so hard it was difficult to stand up against it. Gritting her teeth against all the challenges, Jennifer stubbornly made her way to the front of the ship. What she saw when she reached her goal, illuminated by a flash of lightning, made her gasp with horror.
Juan de la Vega stood near the mast that was closest to the front of the ship. That sight alone would be enough to shock her--but she also noticed he was clutching Verne in a tight headlock.
"What are you doing?!" Jennifer yelled, rushing onto the scene without a moment's hesitation or thought to the consequences. Juan turned at the sound of her voice, his lips twisted in a mean scowl. His eyes nearly glowed with hatred when he saw Jennifer. She stopped her approach so abruptly that she slipped and fell to the ground.
"Well, if it ain't la seńorita ," Juan drawled as well he could over the storm's noise. "Come closer, my dear, and tell your farewells to your young friend."
Another flash of lightning gave Jennifer a good view of Verne's pale and terrified face. "Don't you hurt him!" she shouted, struggling back to her feet. "He's just a kid!"
"Ah, perhaps, but this child has been traitorous to me," Juan said. "And I stand not for such behavior!"
Jules stood on the other side of Juan, his face a mask of despair and desperation as he stared at Jennifer. A sound from nearby broke into her racing thoughts. She turned and saw Marty a couple feet away, his face white as he saw the scene. Juan grinned in pleasure at the arrival of Jennifer's boyfriend.
"Ah, I am pleased you could make it as well, seńor," Juan said. He tightened his grip on Verne. "Have you any final words to speak to your friend before I relieve him of his life?"
Marty did an odd thing, then--he turned his head and made a gesture with one of his hands. Jennifer could hardly make it out, and she doubted Juan--being further away from him than she was--even noticed it at all. Then Marty turned back to face the pirate.
"Look," he said slowly and carefully, holding his hands out in a gesture of peace, "don't hurt him. He's just a kid. If you want a hostage, then take me instead."
"No!" Jennifer cried, horrified with the idea. "Marty, don't do it!"
Marty looked at her for a moment, his face serious. Then, so quick that Jennifer nearly missed it, he winked. Jennifer blinked back at him, words failing her for a moment. What on earth does he have in mind? she wondered.
Juan, meanwhile, was seriously considering Marty's proposal. "Interesting," he mused. "The boy for you...."
Marty nodded, coming closer to Juan. "Yeah," he said. He pulled the pistol out of his waistband and made a show of throwing it over the side of the ship. "See, I'm unarmed. Set Verne free and you can have me instead."
Juan's eyes narrowed. "Tis a trick."
Marty shook his head. "No trick," he said sincerely. "Just let Verne go and I'll let you take me instead."
Juan's mouth tightened as he obviously scanned the proposal from various angles, searching for a catch. After a moment he nodded. "I accept your offer." He let go of Verne's arm, still keeping his other hand around the boy's neck, and reached towards Marty. "Give me your hand and I'll let the boy go."
"How do I know that you will?" Marty asked, instantly skeptical.
"You've my word, and the obvious that I cannot hold both you and the boy at the same time."
Marty considered that, then nodded and took another step forward, reaching his hand towards Juan's. "Okay."
Juan's hand grabbed Marty's wrist, hard. At the same time, he suddenly let go of Verne and pushed him away. That was all Jennifer could tell when all hell suddenly broke loose!
The ship suddenly took a hard, hard left, while simultaneously plowing upward, like an elevator falling towards the sky. The movement was so strong and unexpected that Jennifer was literally thrown a good ten feet, to the deck, with enough force to cause her to somersault backwards as well. In a lightning-flashed blur, she also saw Jules and Verne lose their footing--as well as Juan with Marty. The pirate was thrown against the railing, as was Marty. Marty's reflexes were fast and he managed to wrap a firm grip on the railing, halting his movement--but, unlike Marty, the pirate could not stop his momentum and was thrown overboard.
"Marty!" Jennifer shouted when she again found her voice, nearly ripping her drenched dress as she got to her feet--a little bruised and shaken, but so far none the worse for wear.
Marty favored her with a glance as he stood up, looking overboard. "I see him!" he shouted, pointing as another flash of lightning gave them a quick look at their surroundings. Sure enough, Jennifer could see the pirate captain as he struggled to remain afloat--with little luck. A huge wave was poised to wash over him as the lighting faded away and angry thunder rumbled.
"We have to get him!" Marty shouted, poised as if to jump overboard. Jennifer grabbed his arm, pulling him back with all her might.
"Are you insane!" she yelled. "You'll be killed! You're not jumping in there, I refuse to let you do that!"
The potential argument was settled for them a moment later, when a huge wave washed over them, soaking both to the bone with cold seawater and conveniently dumping Juan de la Vega on the deck. Marty broke away from Jennifer's grip and went to the pirate captain's side. Juan's eyes were closed, his body limp, and he wasn't breathing.
"He can't die!" Marty said, his eyes wide as he looked up at Jennifer, joining his side.
"Why not?" Jennifer asked dryly, feeling no sympathy for the soggy figure at her feet. "He was going to kill us, Marty."
"He can't die because Doc and I meet him in a future date!" Marty cried. "It'd cause a paradox!" He grabbed the pirate's wrist, checking for a pulse. "He's still alive! There's a heartbeat!"
"All right," Jennifer said, realizing what she had to do. She pushed her boyfriend back. "Move aside." She bent over the captain, resisting a shudder of revulsion at her future actions. Jennifer tilted the captain's head back, quickly checked his mouth for obstructions--there were none--then pinched his nose shut and put her own mouth on his, breathing air into his lungs. The captain's chest arched up at the breath, but he did not yet breathe on his own or regain consciousness. Jennifer waited a few seconds, then tried again. And again.
Finally, after her fourth attempt, Juan de la Vega coughed, spat out a mouth full of seawater, and began to breathe on his own. A moment later he opened his eyes and saw Jennifer leaning above him. "Don't talk yet," she advised him. "Just breathe now."
Juan stared at her, blinking, not saying a word. Jennifer looked up to see Marty grinning at her.
"I didn't know you knew CPR," he said, reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze.
"I had to learn it last summer, when I was a counselor at the summer camp," Jennifer said, leaning back with a sigh. She wiped at her mouth, trying not to think of all the weird diseases Juan might be carrying. "Never had to use it until now, though."
"It's a good thing you knew it," Marty said seriously. "The last time I took one of those classes was in high school health class, and I think I've forgotten most all of it now."
Jennifer shrugged at the praise, looking back down at the pirate captain. He was trying to speak now. Jennifer had to lean forward to hear the words, spoken in no more than a whisper. "You saved my life, did you not?"
Jennifer nodded. "Yeah."
Juan's lips twitched, as if he was trying to summon a smile and not succeeding too well. "I...I owe you something, then."
"Yeah, you do," Jennifer said, seeing no point in turning that down. "But I don't want any gold or jewels. I just want you to let me and my friends go at Port Royal. I want you to sail us back there now and let us go free."
Juan tried to sit up, but Jennifer pushed him back to the deck. She decided it was time for hardball now. "If you don't grant us that, then we'll toss you back overboard. You couldn't possibly fight us off now."
"All....all right. We will return back to Port Royal," Juan managed to say. "But this storm....I cannot promise will will survive."
"If we do, we're heading straight back to Port Royal," Marty said firmly. "No weaseling outta that!"
"You've my word," Juan swore. "Now please....let me to my cabin."
Jennifer leaned back, allowing the pirate to sit up and crawl across the deck to where his cabin was. She looked at Marty, across from her, and couldn't resist smiling. "We're going home!" she cried, leaning over and planting a somewhat sloppy kiss on his mouth. "Isn't this great!"
"If we don't get killed in this storm first," Marty said, a bit soberly. He opened his mouth, about to say something else, when Jules' voice interrupted them, filled with an odd sort of tension.
"Martin, Jennifer--I think something's wrong with Verne."
Marty and Jennifer wasted no time in getting to Verne's side. The boy was slumped against the base of the mast, his eyes open, awake--but he was hugging his left arm to his chest and tears poured out of his eyes, soaking a face pinched in pain.
"I found him like this," Jules explained, kneeling next to his brother and looking up at the older time travelers with obvious worry. "Is he all right?"
Marty looked at Jennifer, who seemed to be the one with all the first-aid knowledge in their group. Jennifer crouched next to Verne, touching his tear-stained cheek softly. "Can you talk, Verne?" she asked gently. "Can you tell us where it hurts?"
"My arm," the boy said with a sob. "My arm hurts bad!"
"Where does it hurt, exactly?" Jennifer pressed on. "Does it hurt above or below your elbow?"
"Below," Verne managed to say, his voice almost unrecognizable under a layer of shaking. "When that big wave came...I got thrown into the mast and my arm was behind me and I landed on it hard."
Jennifer looked at Marty, now kneeling beside her, her face deeply concerned. "I think he might've broken his arm."
Marty let out a deep breath at the not-so-surprising news. "Okay...." he said slowly. "Can you do anything for him now?"
"First of all, we should move him off the deck," Jennifer said. "It's too dangerous for any of us to be up here. We can go to my old room--I think the door is unlocked now."
Jules looked at his brother and sighed. "I suppose this means Mother and Father will hear about this trip, then."
"Hey, it could be worse," Marty said, determined to be optimistic despite the dark cards that continued to be tossed their way. "What if he hit his head? Or fell overboard? A broken arm ain't all that bad, and he'll get to wear a cast and have people sign it."
Marty expected Verne to at least smile at that news, but the boy's face remained twisted in pain, his mouth trembling as he held back sobs. Jennifer, too, did not smile.
"Perhaps it could have been worse, but this isn't that great either," she said. "Shock is going to be a huge danger to Verne now."
Marty nodded at that reminder, recalling the year before when he'd broken his ankle on another trip where they were away from immediate medical attention. Luckily, he'd ended up okay...but he was older, too, then Verne. The same injury to a kid could be a whole lot worse. "Let's move him, then."
Jennifer looked at Jules. "Jules, find Kaylie and tell her what's happened and where we'll be. All right?"
Jules nodded, getting to his feet and hurrying to the opposite end of the ship. Marty managed a slight smile as he stood up and prepared to lift Verne up. "It's a good thing we have someone like Kaylie on our side."
"Oh? Why is that?" Jennifer asked.
"Because I had one of the crew members go and take over the wheel from her when I agreed to do that switch with Juan. I knew that she would understand that in that situation, it would be good to let the wheel go--and her timing couldn't've been better, either!"
"So that was what happened that knocked him overboard?" Jennifer asked as Marty carefully lifted a whimpering Verne into his arms.
"Uh huh," Marty grunted as he tried to adjust to the weight of the kid in his arms. "Worked better than I thought, too!"
"It was risky," Jennifer admonished, her voice carrying a trace of scolding in it. "What would have happened if one of us had fallen overboard?"
"But we didn't," Marty pointed out, allowing Jennifer to lead him to the hatch door. The wind, oddly enough, was starting to subside, as were the waves. Was this storm receding now?
"Verne was hurt, though," Jennifer reminded him. "And now Doc Brown will discover where we've gone and we'll all be in trouble--not just the boys, Marty."
Marty sighed softly at that, already anticipating one hell of a lecture upon their return.
Kaylie and Jules met them at the hatch door. "How is the boy?" she asked, pushing her water-logged hair from her eyes.
"He's got a broken arm, I think," Jennifer answered. "We're going to put him in my old room now."
Kaylie nodded. "I'll be visitin' down there soon, but tis most prudent for me to assist up 'ere with ridin' the storm out."
"Isn't that unnecessary?" Marty asked as Jennifer went down the stairs to the hold. "Feels to me like the storm is almost over."
Kaylie shook her head firmly, pushing her water spatted glasses up her nose. "Oh no. This be merely the eye o' the hurricane. When the reprieve be o'er, then the sea and wind will be worse 'n ever."
Perfect, Marty thought. He followed Jennifer down the hatch, Jules behind him, then ran into a wall of total darkness. "Jennifer?"
"Down here," he heard his girlfriend call from up ahead. Marty followed the sound of her voice, hearing the creaking of hinges as she opened up a door. "I'll find a light. You can set Verne on the bed--it's in the left hand corner of the room."
Marty had to rely on Jules to locate the bed, then carefully made his way over there and eased Verne down on the covers. The boy was being unusually quiet and Marty was a bit uneasy with that. With no light, he couldn't tell if Verne was awake or asleep, or what his arm even looked like.
Jennifer returned with a lantern a moment later, as promised, and hung the one light on a hook in the ceiling above the bed. "I snitched it from the galley," she explained as Marty shut the door at her back. "The room is empty now. I think all able-bodied men are up on deck trying to ride out the storm."
Marty nodded, picking up a chair that had been overturned in the first portion of the hurricane and setting it upright. He stepped over to the bedside with Jennifer, looking down at Verne. The boy was still awake, but his eyelids drooped and his face was ashen in color. He didn't say a word, merely watched Jennifer with a detached sort of interest as she gently rolled the sleeve up on his left arm for a better look at it.
"Marty, can you place something under Verne's feet to elevate them?" she asked, not looking up from her job.
"Sure," Marty agreed, scanning the room for something to do the job. He found a blanket on the floor at the foot of the bed, rolled that up tightly, then slipped it under Verne's feet so that they were a couple inches higher than his head.
Jennifer, examining Verne's injured arm, apparently did not like what she saw; Marty heard her suck a sharp breath through her teeth. "Jules, do you have that first aid kit with you now?"
"Yes," Jules said, slipping the knapsack off his shoulders. "It may be a bit wet, however."
Marty took the pack from Jules and opened it, reaching inside for the kit. "It probably won't matter much--" He stopped talking abruptly as he felt some strange, smooth, metallic objects under his fingers. Marty latched onto one and pulled it out. His eyes bugged out at the slight of a small bar of gold in his hand. "Holy shit, Jules!" he breathed, astonished. "Where'd you get this?"
Jules' eyes widened, his cheeks flushing as he suddenly looked at the ground. "Ah, nowhere," he muttered.
Marty didn't buy that for a second. Every inch of Jules' body was screaming "guilty!" "Yeah, I'll bet," he said. "Did you swipe this from the captain?"
"I don't think this is the correct time to have this discussion," Jules said without looking up from the floor. "We have to concentrate on Verne right now."
It was an obvious out, but Marty knew that he was right. "Sure," he said, reaching back in the bag to pull out the first-aid kit. "But you're gonna talk about this later." Marty set the bag on the floor and opened up the tin medical kit. "What do you need, Jen?"
"An ace bandage, some of those tongue depressors, a cold compress, and some nice, hard painkillers," Jennifer said. "I'm going to have to set Verne's arm up to be immobile, and I don't want him to feet it."
Aware enough of his surroundings to understand what Jennifer was saying, Verne moaned. "Don't touch it!" he whimpered.
Jennifer brushed Verne's damp hair off his forehead in a motherly fashion, speaking softly. "I have to," she explained, though not without sympathy. "We'll give you something that will put you to sleep, and then when you wake up we'll have your arm all bandaged with a sling and when we get back to the future you'll get to go to a doctor and get a cast. Won't that be exciting?"
"No," Verne moaned. "I want Mom and Dad here! They'd know what to do!"
"You know as well as I do that's impossible right now," Marty said quietly. "And you're in good hands--Jen knows the most about first-aid than anyone else here. She probably knows even more than the doctors of this time."
Verne's pale, damp face did not look any happier from the news. He sniffed, wiping away at the last tears on his face with his right hand. Marty rummaged through the first-aid kit for Jennifer's requests, stunned at some of the contents. "Jeez, Doc is kinda paranoid--I can't believe some of the stuff in here! Hypodermic needles, antibiotic pills, Penicillin, Chloroform....looks more like a doctor's medicine chest than a car's first-aid kit."
"You should know first hand about some of the medical risks of time travel," Jules said, giving Marty a meaningful look as he moved to the foot of the bed for a closer view at the proceedings.
Marty nodded, recalling all of his close calls. "Yeah, you got that right!" He turned to his girlfriend. "What do you want in terms of painkillers? You've got your pick of the litter with this."
Jennifer turned away from their patient to examine the kit's contents herself. She frowned at the vast selection. "I don't know that much about drugs," she admitted. "And with Verne already in a little shock, I don't know if we should use anything that I've never heard of."
Marty shuddered at the very idea of inadvertently killing the boy by giving him an accidental overdose. "Let's stick with the Children's Tylenol," he suggested, reaching for the bottle.
"If you want to put him to sleep," Jules began, "you should just give him a dose of the anti-motion sickness medication. It would likely make him feel better as well, especially if the second portion of the hurricane will be much rougher than the first."
Marty didn't like the idea of mixing all these medications up in a boy, especially one with a newly broken arm. "I don't know if that's a good idea...." he said, passing the Tylenol to Jennifer. "We don't want to have him never wake up."
"I don't want to be awake!" Verne said, raising his head up. Jennifer immediately pushed him back down to the pillow.
"Don't sit up," she advised. "The painkiller shouldn't let you feel anything while I fix your arm, Verne."
Verne looked at her skeptically. "Are you sure about that?"
"As reasonably sure as we can be," Jennifer replied, not sounding entirely convincing to Marty's ears. She examined the label on the Tylenol bottle, opened up the medication bottle, and shook out a couple pills. "Here," she said, putting them in Verne's mouth. "They're chewable. I'll wait until they kick in before doing anything else."
Verne chewed up the pills and swallowed them, saying nothing. Marty took out the ace bandage, a disposable cold compress, and several of the wooden tongue depressors, setting them on the bed beside Verne before closing the kit again and slipping it back in the bag. He heard the distinct noise of metallic things clinking against each other as the kit went in and favored Jules with another look. The elder boy seemed to be fascinated with the blanket on the bed and did not raise his eyes up from it.
While Jennifer started the cold compress, then set it on Verne's arm, Marty made it his job to straighten the room up a bit. Not that he was bothered by messes--his bedroom at home was testament to that--but all the overturned furniture and broken pieces from the toppled pitcher and basin was a bit much. Marty set up the couple pieces of furniture the room held and did his best to collect all the sharp pieces of ceramic up so that no one would be cut if they fell to the ground.
"All right, Jules," he said a few minutes later, dragging over a couple chairs for himself and Jennifer to sit in beside the bed. "What's the deal with that gold in the backpack?"
"Gold in the backpack?" Verne repeated, his attention suddenly diverted from his injury. "What're you talkin' about?"
"This," Marty said, reaching into the backpack now at his feet and scooping out a handful of gold coins and jewels. Even he gasped at the sight, having not seen this particular part of the stash before. "Christ," he muttered, holding it out for the others to see. "Jules, where did you get all this?"
Jules sighed deeply. "From the pirate's treasure chest," he admitted slowly.
"You got into Juan's treasure?" Verne asked, his eyes wide as he gazed at his sibling with an expression of astonishment on his pale face. "I thought you said it wasn't worth it," he added with a slight smirk on his face.
Jules shrugged a bit sheepishly. "Well, an opportunity presented itself to me, and I thought...well, I decided...oh, heck, I want to be rich as much as the next person!"
Marty could completely understand where Jules was coming from with that. But he also had learned why no good could come of such feelings. "You can't take this with you," he said firmly. "It could have bad effects on the future."
"Not really," Jules said, his voice rising as he spoke now in obvious excitement. "The treasure was never found. It said that in the article Verne located which started this entire trip. So why would it matter if I took something from something that was never found in our present?"
It was one hell of a good answer, one that left Marty momentarily speechless. "Well, uh, you just...can't!" he said, dropping the valuables back in the bag. "It could fall into the wrong hands, you'd have a bitch of a time explaining it to people in the future--they'll think you stole it from a museum or something."
"I still think that we should be able to take it back with us," Jules said stubbornly. "If nothing else comes out of this sorry mess of a trip, at least that will."
"I agree," Verne chimed in from the bed. "In fact, just hearing about that treasure is making me feel better!"
"It's probably the ice pack and the Tylenol," Jennifer said, adjusting the former on Verne's arm. "I think it's time to immobilize your arm now--before the storm socks us again."
That won't be too far off, Marty thought, noticing that the sea's turbulence was increasing once again, causing the lanturn to swing in dizzying circles. He sighed, considering popping one of those motion sickness pills now before he started feeling that so-sick-death-would-be-pleasant sensation that had subsided a bit with the passage of the first half of the storm.
At Jennifer's announcement Verne sighed, too--but for vastly different reasons. "All right," he murmured, clenching his eyes shut and turning his head to face the wall. Marty watched as Jennifer set the cold compress aside and straightened Verne's arm out as gently as possible. The boy still moaned, grabbing a handful of the bedclothes with his right hand and squeezing it hard.
"Marty, hold it here, please," Jennifer said, gesturing to Verne's injured arm with one free hand. Marty did as she asked, allowing Jennifer to take her hands away to unwrap a couple of the tongue depressors and set them on his arm. Then, while Marty held those into place as well, Jennifer took the ace bandage and wrapped it tightly over the wooden depressors. Verne managed to hold as still as he could in a constantly rocking ship. Finally, Jennifer secured the end of the bandage, slipped the pillowcase off the pillow, and made that into a sling which she slipped over Verne's head and set his bandaged left arm into.
"Are you left handed or right handed?" she asked as she made her last adjustments on the temporary bandage and sling.
"Right," Verne said, now watching Jennifer as she set the cold compress back on his left arm.
"Good--then you shouldn't have any trouble eating or writing while your arm heals," Jennifer said, nodding. "But I don't think you should move it any more than you have to, so don't run around here and play pirate, okay?"
At Verne's nod, she turned to Marty. "There isn't any way we can bring the time machine back earlier, is there?"
Marty shook his head. "Not that I know of." He looked to Jules, raising an eyebrow. But Jules, too, shook his head.
"It's not possible--yet. Father is more interested in building a holographic device for the time machines for concealing them than he is interested in allowing one to instantly access a time machine while the machine has yet to catch up with us." Jules paused, thoughtful. "I don't even know if such a thing is possible, from what I understand with the entire preprogramming set up."
"I didn't think it was, but I had to ask," Jennifer said, a little wistful. "I guess it was a pretty stupid question--you guys would've brought the DeLorean back days ago if you could!"
"We'll be okay," Marty said, sounding a lot more confident than he felt right then. "Once this storm passes, we'll get back to Port Royal just in time to meet the DeLorean and go home."
"And face our mother and father," Jules added, his face darkening. He glanced at Verne. "I hope that you realize we probably won't be time traveling for years to come now."
"Aw, they'll let their guard slip up again one of these days," Verne predicted with a little wince as he fixed the cold compress on his arm. "We'll just have to make sure we're not caught next time."
Worrying about the problems of the future quickly paled in comparison to the problems of the present. As Kaylie had warned them earlier, the second leg of the storm was much, much worse than the first half. Not five minutes after Jennifer had bandaged Verne up, the winds picked up again, as did the waves. Marty helped his girlfriend get Verne off the bed--only three feet off the ground, but that was three feet too high if he fell--and onto the floor. Then Jennifer decided that snuffing out the light would be best, on the chance the lamp was tossed off the hook and shattered, catching the ship on fire.
While listening to the sounds of the ship groaning around them, almost louder than the wind itself, Marty, Jennifer, Jules, and Verne all huddled on the floor, bracing themselves in various ways to prevent them from being knocked around like the other untethered objects in the room.
For Marty, this was almost worse than running around deck during the first half of the storm. They may have been relatively safe from the waves down here, but new challenges of keeping in one place and avoiding the heavy furniture moving around were just as bad. Then there was the furious movement of the ship.
Marty quickly forgot about how terrible and sick the storm was making him feel as his mind--revved up by being in a nearly pitch black room, save for occasional flashes of lighting through the small porthole window--imagined the ship turning over, like the one in The Poseidon Adventure. Vivid mental pictures of the ship capsizing replayed in his head with every hard movement the vessel took, until Marty felt like he couldn't breathe.
"How long do you think this storm'll last?" Jennifer asked, breaking through the noise of the hurricane.
"It depends on the strength of the storm," Jules said. "Having never gone through a hurricane, especially while at sea, I couldn't say what level of destruction this storm would be rated at. But if the first half was any temporal indication, then probably an hour or so."
An hour or so, Marty thought, groaning. "Jennifer?" he muttered.
"Yes?"
"If we get outta this alive, never ever let me talk you into another time travel trip!"
Verne had no idea when the waves finally subsided and the wind stopped sounding like a freight train--but when things calmed down, the stressful and exciting events of the last several hours caught up with him and he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
When he woke up, from the deep throbbing of his broken arm, Verne noticed that he could actually see. Early morning light was leaking through the one porthole window, giving a grey sort of illumination--but it was a definite improvement over the solid darkness of earlier. With the light, Verne could see the mess the small cabin was in--the few pieces of furniture the room held that were not nailed down were on the floor, chipped and dented.
Verne sat up, slowly and cautiously. The movement aggravated the pain in his left arm and he hissed through his teeth. Other than that physical complaint, he felt a little lightheaded, but wasn't sure if that was from his broken arm, the recent storm, or just plain hunger. With the passage of the huge waves, his seasickness, too, had abated, and now he was starving!
In the weak morning light, Verne saw his brother, Marty, and Jennifer sacked out on the floor, sound asleep as well. With a space only about four by six feet to spread out in--the room itself, not counting the space the bed took up, was only six by six, hardly more than a walk-in closet--they looked to Verne to be in mighty cramped positions. Jules was curled up on his side in one of the far corners of the room, while Jennifer and Marty were sprawled next to each other in the middle of the floor, Marty laying on his stomach with one arm thrown across Jennifer, sleeping on her back.
Verne, feeling a little bad for having the pillow and the blankets from the bed (though Jennifer had insisted) while the others only had the hard floor, leaned over and, with his good hand, tossed the blanket over Marty and Jennifer, and the pillow at Jules.
Unfortunately, in the case of Jules, the pillow bounced right off his face. Verne's brother immediately woke, lifting his head up and blinking in confusion as his eyes roamed the room for the source of his disturbance. They, inevitably, came to rest on Verne, still sitting up.
"What'd you do that for?" Jules muttered, having noticed the pillow beside him and quickly putting two and two together.
"I was just trying to be nice," Verne said, shrugging. He winced as the unconscious gesture made his arm ache worse. "Sorry," he finished in a whisper.
Jules rubbed his eyes, sitting up and taking in the entire scene for the first time, as Verne had done. He got to his feet and stepped carefully over Marty and Jennifer, both still asleep, to join Verne next to the bed. Jules paused to take a look through the room's porthole window, set over the bed.
"What do you see?" Verne asked, looking up at his sibling.
"Sea," Jules said. "Lots of sea. The waves look smaller, though, and the sky is mostly clear." He turned around and sat down across from Verne. "How is your arm feeling today?"
"It hurts," Verne said honestly. "But it's kinda numb now, though."
"I'm certain it's broken, then," Jules said seriously. "It's a good thing you didn't injure yourself worse."
"Yeah," Verne said, though he preferred to keep the darker thoughts of what-could-have-happened away. "What do you think will happen to us now, Jules?"
"Didn't you hear what the captain said, after Jennifer saved his life?" Jules asked him.
"Not really," Verne said. The moments after he'd gotten thrown into the mast were a haze of pain and terror. The next thing he could really remember now, after he'd hit the mast, was Marty carrying him into this room. "What happened?"
"Juan was tossed into the ocean when the ship took that sudden shift and another wave brought him on deck," Jules explained softly. "He wasn't breathing, so Jennifer gave him CPR and saved his life. Then the captain asked for a way to repay her for his life, and Jennifer told him that if he sailed us back to Port Royal and let us go, she would be happy." Jules paused. "I think that's what we're doing, then."
Verne frowned, the action seeming a bit out of character for the guy who'd come within inches of breaking his neck. "Really?" he said. "Wow, he must've been scared good."
"Well," Jules corrected automatically. "Scared well."
Verne shrugged again before he could stop himself. "Whatever," he muttered, picking up the cold compress from the floor and trying to squeeze out a bit more chilliness from the object. Just looking at his poor arm reminded Verne of other questions he had. "What happened to Kaylie?"
Jules glanced at the ceiling above them. "She was helping up on the deck when we came down here last night." Jules looked a little concerned as he lowered his eyes back to Verne. "I hope nothing happened to her--she was supposed to visit us when she had a chance to slip away."
"Maybe she just hasn't, yet," Verne said optimistically. "What about this treasure, Jules? I thought you said it was a stupid effort, not worth our time?"
"I didn't say that, exactly," Jules murmured. "I just was presented with an opportunity to help myself to the riches. You, of all people, Verne, should know what I am talking about."
"I never said I didn't," Verne reminded him. "Actually, I think it's kinda cool you wised up, for once."
"Speaking of acquired wisdom, I hope you now see why we've loathed Captain de la Vega during this time," Jules said, raising an eyebrow at his brother. "You thought he was just a nice ol' pirate captain--that was pure wishful thinking, Verne. Pirate captains are anything but."
Verne squirmed under his brother's gaze, knowing he was right. "Yeah, I see now," he muttered. "But can you blame me? He was nice to me and, I mean, look at all those pirate movies!"
Jules chuckled, once. "Hollywood has always taken historic liberties where it sees fit-- you should also know that better than anyone else."
Verne grunted in reply, altering the subject to one more his liking. "So the treasure chest is on the ship now?" he asked for clarification.
"Yes--or at least it was last night. Why? Do you want to snitch more loot from it, because I think we've already enough. And Martin might very well force us to leave it here."
Verne shook his head at his brother's question, hardly hearing it as he thought. He grinned after a moment, something finally clicking in his head. "We've solved part of that mystery, then!" he exclaimed.
Jules shushed him with a finger to his lips and hard look. Verne had nearly forgotten that they weren't alone in the room. He glanced over at Marty and Jennifer, saw they were still sleeping, and continued in a lower voice.
"Remember that article I got that brought us here?"
Jules nodded.
"Well," Verne said, "the treasure was never found--an' if they never buried it in the hole, we know why now!"
Jules considered the words. "Perhaps," he allowed. "I could easily conceive of the storm filling the treasure hole in and creating the illusion that something was buried there. But why wouldn't the pirates return to this island and bury it as scheduled?"
"Well, if Jennifer freaked out Juan as much as you say she did, then they probably clean forgot," Verne said.
"No--even if that did happen, why wouldn't they return after they dropped us off at Port Royal?"
"Maybe they couldn't remember where it was," Verne suggested.
Jules shook his head. "Not if they made a map. No, I think we're missing something here."
Before they could figure out what that might be, there was a soft knock at the door. Both boys froze, staring at each other.
"Maybe it's Juan, ready to give us revenge," Verne whispered.
"Maybe," Jules murmured.
Neither of them moved or called out for the visitor to enter. The person rapped on the door again, this time a little louder. The sound caused Jennifer to stir, then open her eyes. She looked at Jules and Verne, sitting next to her.
"What's going on?" she murmured, lifting her head up.
"Someone's at the door," Verne whispered, even though it was obvious. "And we're a little reluctant to see who it is," Jules added.
Jennifer frowned, sitting up slowly. The knock came again. "This is ridiculous," she said after a moment, gently brushing aside Marty's arm as she stood up. "If the person out there wanted to harm us, they'd have done so by now--the door isn't locked."
It was a good point, but Verne was still uneasy. "Fine, you open it then," he muttered as Jennifer stepped over him to access the door. She did exactly what Verne had halfheartedly suggested--Jennifer opened the door a crack and peered out into the hall.
"Who's there?" she asked.
"It is I, André the cabin boy," came the reply. "I'm 'ere with a message."
Jennifer opened the door a few more inches, though she carefully blocked entry into the room with her body. "What is it, then?" she asked curtly.
Verne saw the cabin boy, perhaps a couple years younger than Jennifer herself, shift uncomfortably in the space outside the door. "Cap'n wants a word with the four 'o you."
Jennifer glanced at the boys for a moment, obviously uncomfortable with the request. "Why does he want to see us?"
André shrugged his skinny shoulders. "I know not. He told me to fetch the lot of you to his cabin now."
Jennifer sighed. "All right, we'll be there in a few minutes," she said, shutting the door.
"Are you crazy?" Verne hissed when the door had clicked shut. "He probably wants to kill us all!"
Verne didn't notice Jules' smirk of amusement at the words lambasting the pirate that he had thought so highly of only two days before. His attention was fully on Jennifer, who sighed again as she stepped over to sit on the end of the bed.
"Verne, I think if he wanted to kill us, he'd have had the perfect opportunity to do so, earlier, when we were all asleep."
"Not unless he was asleep as well," Jules pointed out.
Jennifer looked distinctly nervous at that idea, but didn't even try to rebuke Jules. "We should go up there, still," she insisted. "And, I don't know about you, but I'm starving! Maybe we could get some food as well."
The mention of food perked Verne up a bit, but it was still with reluctance that he trudged up the steps to the deck a few minutes later, following Jules. Jennifer came last, after prodding a groggy Marty awake.
Stepping on the early dawn-lit deck gave Verne his first real look at what the brutal storm had done. Two of the three masts had been damaged, one having lost half of its height, the other only a forth. The sails, having been rolled up and tied before the storm had broke, all appeared to be intact and were being used on the portions of the masts that were not terribly damaged to lead the ship along at a good clip. The deck was still wet from the huge waves and driving rains, and there were a few dangerous gaps in the railing where something heavy--perhaps a piece of equipment or a person--had broken through and fallen into sea. The groans as the ship moved through the dark Carribean water sounded louder than Verne remembered, but aside from the damage he could see from where he stood, the ship seemed to be okay.
Once the four time travelers had climbed out of the hatch, Verne noticed that they hadn't quite escaped the wrath of the storm, either. Jennifer's once-new dress was tattered and torn, her hair falling around her face in still-damp tangles. Her lip was a tad bit swollen as well, but Verne remembered it had been like that before they'd decided to take over the ship. Jules and Marty both exhibited similar torn garments, and a few faint bruises or scrapes from their activities of the night before. And Verne had the most obvious and serious ailment of them all--the broken arm. He tried not to think of the strange numbness below the elbow of his left arm, forcing his mind on other aspects of concern--like the meeting with Juan de la Vega.
"I don't like this one bit, Jen," Marty muttered as the four of them approached the pirate captain's door. "It's too weird and unlike him--he's probably setting a trap for us, then we'll be back at square one...or worse!"
"I agree," Jules whispered. "I've a bad feeling about this."
"Well, we can't exactly avoid it," Jennifer murmured. "This is his pirate ship. What're we supposed to do, hide out onboard until he pulls into Port Royal? He might not do that if he thinks we're not on board anymore, you know."
They reached the cabin, then, so further conversation was silenced before it could begun. Jennifer knocked on the door for their group. A moment passed before a hoarse voice answered. "Come in."
Jennifer looked at the three of them, nerves plain on her face, then reached for the doorknob, turned the device, and pushed the door open. The four of them moved slowly into the room, huddled close together like one big blob. Verne grimaced as someone accidentally brushed his left arm, stepping back a bit from the group once they had cleared the doorway.
Captain Juan de la Vega sat at his desk--at least, Verne thought it was the captain! It looked like him, yeah, but there was something about this person that he'd never seen before on Juan. The young pirate seated at the desk was pale, dark shadows under his eyes, his black hair mussed and uncombed. The pristine clothing which Juan always presented himself in was now soggy and wrinkled. The pirate's normally straight posture was slumped and he looked at the four strangers on the ship with an air that one could best describe as defeat.
Juan said nothing when they entered, merely gestured for them to sit. But with the floor as the only option, all continued to stand. Marty reached for Jennifer's hand, giving it a squeeze before he spoke for them all. "Why did you want to see us?"
Juan cleared his throat before speaking, a brief, pained expression crossing his face as he did so. "I believe we must have a discussion," he said in a low, scratchy voice. "I'm not able to speak more'n this from my near drownin' of earlier."
Four heads nodded. "What do you want to talk to us about?" Jennifer asked, a trace of suspicion in her voice.
Juan cleared his throat again. "I know of your...powers," he said. "And that is why I am offerin' my services to what you wish most. We're headin' towards Port Royal as we speak, and I'm thinkin' if this wind keeps up we'll arrive there on Wednesday eve. But if there is something else I may offer you, you need not worry to ask."
Verne was completely baffled. "Powers?" he said under his breath, looking at Jules. But Jules shrugged, looking just as puzzled as his brother. Marty and Jennifer, too, seemed a little confused. But they didn't argue with the pirate captain when he was offering them a ticket back home and their freedom.
"You'll not put us to work anymore on this ship," Jennifer said at length, after a couple minutes of silent communication with Marty in a series of shrugs, raised eyebrows, and other facial contortions. "And my friends and I will have free access to the ship--no locking us in rooms like we're the relatives you're ashamed of."
The pirate captain nodded. "Tis done."
"And we'd like some food--good food," Jennifer added.
Juan nodded again. "Anything more?"
Jules spoke up, then. "How about some of your treasure, too?" he said casually.
Juan smiled wanly at the boy. "Ah, tis a pity, but the chest which held the riches was tossed overboard in the storm and sunk."
The final piece to the puzzle that was the mystery of Juan de la Vega's treasure snapped into place for Verne, then. "Ah," he murmured under his breath. It explains why no one found the treasure! They're not looking in the right spot, and no one knows where the right spot is now! A tantalizing image of his father creating a strong metal detector and bringing it to this area in 1987 sprung to Verne's mind, but he quickly banished it. There was no way Doc Brown would ever do that!
Jules looked disappointed at the news of the lost treasure, but Verne caught a gleam of satisfaction in his eye--satisfaction, perhaps, that they had discovered the answer to this mystery. Or perhaps satisfaction that he held the only remains of this treasure now in his knapsack.
Juan de la Vega did indeed keep his promises--when Jules, Verne, Marty, and Jennifer walked from his cabin ten minutes later, they were free to do and be wherever they wished on the ship. Marty seized the time to be alone with Jennifer at the prow of the ship.
"I don't get it, Jen," he said a few minutes later, watching the sky shift from purple to pink to bright orange as the sun rose higher over the horizon. "Why'd Juan think you have 'powers'? What the hell did he mean by that? I don't think anything we did last night was unusual for the times."
Jennifer shrugged, brushing a stray lock of her hair from her face. "I don't know," she said, resting her head on Marty's shoulder as she stared out at the flat ocean before them. "Maybe he's not used to women fighting back."
Marty frowned, rewinding the past several hours over in his head and searching for something, a behavior or a verbal expression, that Jennifer had used that made the captain think she had special powers. Suddenly, he was very certain he knew what it was.
"Jennifer!"
His exclamation made Jennifer lift her head up and stare at him. "What's wrong?"
Marty was grinning. "I'll bet you anything I know what you did to de la Vega that made him think you had powers!"
"And what would that be?"
"CPR! It doesn't exist now! In fact," Marty went on, as Jennifer's face began to glow with understanding, "it must've really creeped him out. You brought him back from the dead, as he probably sees it, by using the air in your lungs! He probably thinks it's magic or something, that you have the power to bring people back from the dead! That's--that's really awesome!"
Jennifer smiled at his excitement. "I never even thought about it when it happened," she admitted. "I just went ahead and did it. Boy, I never thought something like that would be considered strange and magical!"
"Welcome to the world of time traveling," Marty quipped, "where even the simplest things we're used to can seem like magic to others!" He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. "Man, I can't believe we never thought about that angle before!"
"I don't know if doing something like that would've worked if it had been planned," Jennifer said, smiling as she returned the embrace. "Oh, I'm so glad we're on our way home now!"
Marty suddenly remembered something, and the thought was enough to put a halt to his elation. "Jen," he said softly. "Have you seen Kaylie yet?"
Jennifer was silent for a minute, resting in her boyfriend's arms. After a moment she leaned back to look at him. "No, not yet," she said softly. "I've been trying not to worry, but...." She shrugged.
Marty pulled her close to him again and stroked her hair. "I'll bet she's okay," he murmured.
"Let's not think about that now," Jennifer murmured. "I'm sick of thinking."
And so they stood in silence, listening to the waves crash against the hull of the ship and feeling the wind ripple past them.
Kaylie McClain kept her time traveler friends in suspense for all of Monday. The day passed slowly for Jennifer, though more pleasantly than the other days she had spent on the ship. She and the others had enjoyed reasonably good cuisine, a large ship to wander around on, and Juan had even given them a nicer, bigger cabin. But even as she struggled to keep herself busy and entertained, her mind kept returning to the young woman who had helped them out so much the past few days.
It wasn't until the four of them were in their cabin, settling in for the night, that there came a soft knock at the door. Jules, being closest to the door, answered it. "Yes?"
The visitor did not answer the query, pushing Jules aside as they darted into the room and slammed the door at their back. Verne, stretched out on the room's one bed; Marty, adjusting one of the three hammocks he had gotten from the crew's quarters; and Jennifer, helping him with the job--all looked up at the interruption.
The light of two lanterns revealed a figure in a dark, hooded cloak. Jennifer raised a hand to her mouth, startled, when the figure swept back the hood and Kaylie's face was revealed. The young Irish woman's features were pale and haggard, her hair a mess of storm-knotted tangles--but there she stood, wholly alive and breathing.
And that was good enough for Jennifer. "Kaylie!" she exclaimed, stepping towards the newcomer. "Oh my God, I thought you'd gone overboard!"
Kaylie smiled wanly. "Not that the storm was at loss for tryin'," she said. "I've been hearin' of the cap'n's change o' heart. I s'pose you people are gettin' what you wanted, then."
"Due to a great deal of help from you!" Jennifer said firmly, wanting the young woman to understand that.
Kaylie shrugged modestly. "Tis not nothin' I'd hope that good people such as yourselves would do for me."
Marty, gingerly testing one of the hammocks with his weight, looked up suddenly. "Are you still hiding on this ship?"
Kaylie nodded. "I s'pose I am, aye. Though the crew saw me in the storm, they've all but forgotten now."
Jules frowned. "What about Marco and Poncho?"
Kaylie's face darkened a bit at the sound of the names--not with anger, but with a sadness of sorts. "The first and second mate were tossed into the sea when the line holdin' them in the riggin' snapped."
Jules gasped, his eyes wide. Marty's face paled a bit, too. "Did you and Jules put them up there?" he asked.
Kaylie nodded. "Tis as planned."
Marty let out a deep breath, his color still looking a bit off. Jules looked at him and managed a meek sort of shrug. Jennifer looked between the two, not understanding their reactions at all. But she hadn't much of a chance to ask before Kaylie spoke again.
"I'll be leavin' the ship in Port Royal, as well," she said. "From what I've seen and heard about the cap'n, I believe what you"--she looked at Jennifer--"did to 'im in the storm tis revenge 'nough for me." Kaylie smiled again, amused. "Juan be jumpin' at e'ery shadow now, thinkin' you mean to bewitch 'im." The smile faded a bit as she once again focused her gaze in Jennifer's eyes. "I know not if you be blessed with powers of another world, but surely I am greatful for what you've done to Juan."
Jennifer frowned faintly for a moment, digesting what Kaylie had just said to her, then realized it was more compliment than insult. "Well, thanks," she said. "Just think of it as my gratitude for getting me out of that horrible cabin prison!"
Kaylie nodded. "I will, then." She turned to look at Verne, lying silent but watching attentively from the bunk. "Is your arm feelin' better?"
Verne shook his head. "Not really. But it'll be fine once we get back home."
"I'm glad to 'ear that." Kaylie stepped back towards the door. "Mayhap I'll be seein' you before we reach Jamaica again, mayhap not. But if tis naught to be, then the best of luck to you all on a safe passage to your homeland."
Marty frowned a bit at that. "What do you mean? Don't you think we're from Port Royal?"
Kaylie laughed softly, her hand on the doorknob. "Oh, tis obvious you are not. I've not heard such accents as your voices are. And tis plain to see that you come from a very different place--your choice o' words an' the way you speak is most unusual."
Oh God, Jennifer thought, feeling slightly ill with worry. Have we blown our cover?
As if he could read her mind, Marty stepped next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a comforting squeeze. "Well, you're right," he admitted with honestly. "We're not from around here."
Kaylie nodded at the confirmation of her beliefs. "Then the best o' luck on your voyage home."
"Thanks," Jennifer said softly for them. "I hope things are all right back at your home and your sister is all right."
Kaylie nodded again. "Aye, I pray that, too." And without another word, she pulled the hood back over her head, opened the door, and slipped out to blend in with the dark shadows in the corridor outside the cabin.
As soon as the door shut at her back, Jennifer looked worriedly at Marty. "Are we in trouble because she knows we're from the future?" she whispered.
Marty chuckled softly at the question as he returned to work on the hammocks. "She doesn't know we're from the future, Jen. Just because she knows we're not from around here doesn't mean she thinks we're not from this time."
"That's correct," Jules added. "There are many, many unexplored lands in the world right now, and if Kaylie is not familiar with all of them--and I doubt that she would be--then what would stop her from thinking we're from one of those places?"
"Besides," Marty said, "we have other things to worry about."
"What's that?" Jennifer wanted to know.
Jules answered the question. "My involvement in the deaths of Marco and Poncho. We've no idea if those occurred with the storm originally, or if both those men lived longer. If they lived longer, then they would have touched more lives in some way and that may have an affect on the future."
"Maybe not a big one," Marty added. "Maybe not even enough so that we notice--but you don't know until you go back home."
Jennifer shivered suddenly, remembering the altered home she had witnessed first hand about eight months before, after she had inadvertently changed something in the past on a trip to Woodstock in 1969. "Oh, no," she murmured.
"Don't worry about it," Jules said. "We can't do anything about it right now, and maybe we'll be lucky."
"But what if something did change?" Jennifer asked, her voice rising.
Marty sighed. "Then we have to go back and fix it. But don't jump to conclusions, Jen. We'll probably come back to things exactly the way we left them."
Maybe Marty and the others were convinced about that--but Jennifer, the most inexperienced time traveler of them all, couldn't help worrying about coming back to a twisted world. The thoughts circled around and around in her head, keeping her awake hours after the others had fallen to sleep.
After a couple rather uneventful days at sea (uneventful, at least, when compared with the first few days spent on the ship), Juan de la Vega's storm-battered ship, El Mar Tiburón, pulled into the harbor at Port Royal shortly before sunset on Wednesday evening. Marty, Jennifer, Jules, and Verne were among the first people off the ship. Remembering what had happened almost a week earlier near the harbor, Marty immediately led them away from the water's edge. The last thing they needed now was to be kidnapped again and put on another ship!
"You know," Jules remarked as they walked through the dusky, humid streets, "Port Royal was known as the capital of piracy right now. Who knows what would have become of this place if it hadn't been destroyed by an earthquake, not long from now."
"Hopefully that quake can wait until after we've left," Marty muttered, wishing Jules hadn't mentioned either historic fact. He was already strung out enough between watching his back for potential pirates sneaking up on them, worrying about returning to a twisted future, and Verne's health. That morning on the ship, the younger boy had been unusually quiet and reserved. Jennifer looked him over and discovered he was running a low grade fever. Maybe it was only a touch of the flu, maybe it was something worse, or maybe it was a reaction to not having his broken arm set immediately--none of them knew enough to venture a guess. All the stress, frankly, was giving Marty one nasty headache and making him mighty irritable.
Jennifer, trailing a few feet behind Jules and Marty as she walked with a sluggish Verne, stopped suddenly. "Jules, do you still have those...riches you got from the treasure?"
Jules paused in the hike, nodding. "Yes. Why?"
Jennifer pointed to a shop they were currently standing next to. The sign was in Spanish, so Marty had absolutely no idea what it said. El Taller de Carros. He looked at Jennifer blankly. "What's that place?"
"Loosely translated, it says, 'the workshop of wagons'," Jennifer explained. "I think we should buy a wagon and a couple horses to get back to the DeLorean."
Marty didn't like the idea of potentially altering history by doing that. He already felt bad enough for all they'd done already. "Why can't we walk? It's only a mile or so."
"A mile too long," Jennifer said, looking at Verne. The boy was leaning heavily against Jennifer, his face a waxy pale. "Verne can't walk all that way, not in the shape he's in."
Marty rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, frustrated not with Verne but the situation itself. He looked at Jules. "What do you think?"
Jules fidgeted, uncomfortable. "I guess we could use some of the coins for this. But do places just up and sell right away?"
They found that answer quickly enough. After knocking on the door and raising the owner of the business, they quickly discovered that the man--a tattooed, middle-aged, bearded fellow by the name of Santiago Gomez--was happy to trade one of his small wagons for a couple pieces of the gold, and even threw in a horse for the price. Marty--completely in the dark about how much the gold coins were worth in this time, let alone how much it would cost to purchase a wagon and horse--was a tad suspicious about that. He was almost certain that the merchant was shortchanging them. But with little time left in this time, Marty didn't waste much energy worrying about it. Jules would almost certainly have to give up the wealth when they got back to the future anyway.
Santiago assisted them in attaching the horse to the wagon, then the four time travelers were off, heading back to the DeLorean. At least, that was the idea. Marty quickly found, however, that once they cleared the more populated center of Port Royal, he quickly became very disoriented. It was true that they had entered Port Royal after midnight, on foot, a week before-- but it was easy to find the Caribbean seaport, since the buildings were easy to see and head for. Looking for a place, in the dark of night, that was only a spot on a shoreline proved to be much, much harder.
Then, they came upon the problem of the road ending. The four of them quickly found that the wagon wasn't going to go in the sand, so they cut the horse loose of the equipment, then had Verne ride the horse as the rest of them moved by foot on the beach. Marty had no idea where they had sent the time machine off a week before--the shoreline really had no distinctive features to it, and the darkness of night further confused him. He stopped after they'd been traveling for about half an hour, looking up at the spectacularly star-studded sky as if the answer to his question could be found there.
"Where are we?" he finally asked, admitting to the others that he had no idea.
"You don't know?" Jennifer cried, horrified.
"Um, not really," Marty said, scratching his head. He gestured at the monotonous surroundings. "C'mon, it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack here! I wish I would've sent the time machine off from a place other than a beach," he said wistfully, almost as an afterthought.
"Too late now," Jules pointed out. He looked around for a moment, then sighed deeply. "I'm not certain where we are, either."
"Wonderful," Verne mumbled from the horse, leaning forward to rest his head on the animal's neck.
"What time is it now?" Marty asked.
Jules checked his watch. "It's about ten thirty."
"Ten thirty," Marty muttered to himself. "The DeLorean isn't supposed to come until midnight."
"So what do we do until then?" Jennifer asked. "Stand here and do nothing?"
Marty shrugged. "Wait, I guess. I'll bet we'll be able to see the DeLorean when it arrives from here, since it'll be in the air."
The wait was one of the most boring experiences of Marty's life. He and Jennifer killed a little time by taking a walk, but they didn't dare stray too far down the beach from Jules and Verne, staying put. With little moonlight to illuminate the surroundings, it was quite easy to lose track of the surroundings. Jennifer worried about that so much that they cut their walk short earlier to join up with the boys again and stay where they were as well.
"Jennifer?" Marty asked as he and Jennifer sat together, a few feet away from Jules, who was entertaining himself by sorting through the treasures in the backpack, and Verne, who had fallen asleep on the sand.
His girlfriend looked away from the dark ocean at the sound of her name. "Yes?"
Marty scooted closer to her. "Did Juan hit you in the face? Is that why your lip was swollen?"
Jennifer was silent for a long moment. "Yes," she finally admitted softly. "He slapped me hard in the face after I pushed him away and refused his marriage proposal."
Marty had been expecting the answer. Nonetheless, he felt another wave of anger towards the pirate captain and took a deep breath to fight it off. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he wanted to know, a little hurt.
Jennifer shrugged, staring down at the sand. "I was afraid you'd do something stupid and hurt the pirate captain, who'd hurt you worse in return," she murmured.
Marty sighed. "You should've told me. I could've handled it. It hurt me worse that you didn't tell me, Jen."
Jennifer nodded. "I'm sorry about that, then. Next time something like this happens--although God forbid that it does!--I'll let you know right away." She paused, changing the subject. "Why did you have to set the DeLorean's return for so late?"
It was Marty's turn to shrug. "I dunno. Seemed like the right thing to do, I guess. This late, not many people are out and can see the DeLorean."
Jennifer's frown was visible even in the dim, celestial light. "I suppose those are valid reasons." She lowered her voice more, glancing at the boys. "What is going to happen when we go back home?"
"What do you mean?" Marty asked, staring out at the dark, almost invisible ocean.
"I'm talking about Verne. How do you think Doc Brown and Clara will react to that?"
Marty shrugged again. "They'll be upset, yeah. But after the lecture, I don't know what'll happen. Doc isn't really the type to hold grudges."
Jennifer's fingers nervously traced a circle in the sand. "Do you think he'll still let me use one of those language translators? I'm afraid my Spanish isn't much better than it was when we left!"
Marty smiled, remembering suddenly why they'd gotten into this trip in the first place. "If you keep it in your ear, I'd doubt he'd even know."
Jennifer nodded, though she still continued to play with the sand. "I hope the Browns aren't too mad at us."
Marty put an arm around her. "Don't worry--they'll probably be so distracted by Verne, they'll hardly notice us."
"Oh my goodness, Verne! What happened ?! Oh, your poor arm!"
The exclamations from Clara Brown, as she got her first look at her younger son's injury, were enough to impound a heavy sense of guilt into Marty. He'd decided to arrive back home near dawn, figuring that would be better for Verne to have quicker medical treatment, even though it had seriously skewed all their internal clocks. After they had arrived safely back at the Brown household, Marty and Jennifer accompanied Jules and Verne into their house, where the former boy woke their mother to tell her Verne had had an accident. Clara had come running downstairs immediately, a robe thrown hastily over her nightgown, her dark eyes wide and scared. She hardly seemed to notice either Marty or Jennifer as her eyes zeroed in on Verne, reclined on the family room couch.
"It's broken, Mom," Verne mumbled in reply, still quiet and feverish. "Broke when we were on the pirate ship."
At the sound of that sentence, Clara seemed to notice that her son--and the three others in the room--were dressed in clothes over 300 years out of style. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, filled with a dazed but perhaps...angry look, then she abruptly snapped her attention back to Verne, bending over the couch for a better look at the arm--which was still wrapped up from Jennifer's first-aid.
"What happened?" she asked again, looking up from Verne to the others. Marty, standing next to the TV, decided that he'd better answer that question.
"The four of us--me, Jen, Jules, and Verne--went back in time for a week in Port Royal, Jamaica tonight," he said. "Anyway, we got on this pirate ship for most of the trip and during a storm, Verne got thrown into one of the masts and broke his arm."
Clara gasped at the news. "Oh God," she whispered, her face paling. A moment later she turned, heading for the doorway. "I'm going to call an ambulance."
"For a broken arm?" Jules asked his mother incredulously. "Mother, it's not a life-threatening illness or injury--Verne has lived with his arm like that for the past three days."
Clara stopped and whirled around, her dark eyes wide and scared. "And you did not seek any medical help for him?"
"There wasn't any to seek," Marty explained calmly, doing his best not to flinch under the gaze of Doc's wife. "We were in a ship in the middle of the ocean. Jennifer patched Verne up as best she could, which was probably a lot better than the doctors of that time, anyway."
Clara closed her eyes, reaching up to rub her forehead. "I can't drive," she moaned. "How am I supposed to get Verne to the hospital?"
"I'll drive," Marty offered immediately. "I don't know if all of us can fit in my truck, though...."
Not all of them could, and it was quickly decided for both Clara and Verne to go with Marty to the hospital while Jennifer stayed at the house with Jules. Because of the early hour and the fact it was a Saturday, the hospital was reached in only ten minutes. It wasn't until they were getting out of the car that Marty realized what an odd sight they'd make--both himself and Verne dressed like actors in a bad pirate film, and Clara still in her bathrobe and pajamas.
Before they reached the automatic doors to the emergency room, Marty grabbed Clara's sleeve and stopped her. "Clara," he said softly.
She turned, her expression a little cool. "Yes?"
Marty swallowed hard, sensing the anger she had towards him then, and plunged on. "We need to figure out what to tell the doctors on how Verne broke his arm. We can't tell them the truth."
"I am quite aware of that, Marty," Clara said, continuing her journey to the building. "I've already decided on an appropriate story."
Marty sighed, worried that he was in hotter water than he'd first thought, then followed the two Browns into the emergency room. Clara filed out a form for her son at the receptionist desk as Verne and Marty sat in the waiting room. Verne looked at Marty with concern, despite the haze of pain over his eyes.
"I think Mom is mad at you."
Marty winced. "I think so, too."
"She shouldn't be," Verne said softly. "This whole trip was my idea. She should be mad at me, not you."
"That's not always the way things work," Marty said, sighing again. "Sometimes, in a situation where there really isn't anyone to blame, the person who gets everything dumped on them happens to be the one closest when the bomb drops." He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. "Man, I wish Doc was here."
Clara returned a couple minutes later, sitting on the other side of Verne and all but ignoring Marty as she fussed over her son as they waited for his name to be called. That moment took a good twenty minutes, even though the emergency room appeared to be rather quiet at this early hour of the day.
Marty stayed behind in the almost-empty waiting room while Clara went back with Verne. He leafed through a few magazines as the time dragged by, then finally settled back in one of the chairs and closed his eyes, in hopes of easing his increasing headache. Since to him--and the rest of their recent time traveling group--it was sometime in the middle of the night, not early in the morning, he wound up falling asleep.
Marty woke to someone gently shaking him. Opening his eyes, he was nearly blinded by the glare of sunlight reflecting against the hospital's polished tiles. Blinking, trying to both wake up and adjust to the bright light, he looked up and saw Doc Brown leaning over him. "Doc!" Marty gasped in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Doc smiled tautly, sitting down in a chair across from Marty. "Things wrapped up sooner than I thought at the convention, so I was able to get home this morning." He paused. "Imagine my surprise when I get home and find only Jules there with Jennifer. She told me that you, Clara, and Verne were here at the hospital and gave me the gist of the story."
Marty tried to smile but failed miserably under his friend's serious gaze. "Yeah...." he murmured. "How is Verne, anyway?"
"He's fine. They're setting his broken arm now."
"But he was running a fever...."
Doc waved his hand, brushing that concern aside. "The doctors believe it's a reaction to the break not being set properly immediately after the accident. Verne should be feeling better by the end of the day." Doc changed the subject to one Marty knew was inevitably going to come up. "Why did the four of you go back there?"
Marty squirmed, not liking the taste of the truth at the back of his mouth. "Well, Jen and I stopped by your lab last night and found Jules and Verne about to leave. I was dying for a break of some kind and dragged Jennifer along for the ride--under her protest," he added honestly, not wanting the inventor to be mad at his girlfriend.
Doc sighed, not looking terribly surprised with the answer. "Marty, you've done the most time traveling out of all of us, next to myself," he said in a low voice, well aware of the public location they were in. "You should know better than to take the time machines without my concent or permission! You've promised me before that you would not do such a thing anymore, after last December's trip to my past."
Guilt dropped down heavily on Marty's shoulders again. He lowered his head. "I know," he admitted. "I'm sorry, Doc."
Doc sighed again. "I realize that," he muttered. "I guess I'm just gonna have to take some better security precautions with the time machines. They're too tempting for all of you to resist."
Well, no kidding, Marty thought. Like there were really any time machines available anywhere else! And taking vacations to the past--or future, though he hadn't really tried that...yet--gave him a wonderful break from all the monotony and stress of his daily life. Marty knew the risks, sure, and had even seen how deeply little mistakes could go in changing history. But he knew--and Doc knew--there was no way in hell he could promise to not take one of the time machines out without permission again.
"Clara's mad at me, isn't she?" Marty asked, wanting to get all this over with at once now.
"She is a little upset, yes," Doc confirmed slowly. "But she is still a little confused over what exactly has gone on with this spontaneous trip of yours. Once I talk to her, I'm certain she'll understand and you'll be out of the doghouse."
Marty nodded, hoping Doc was right. It would be terrible if Clara held a grudge against him for the events out of his control, over 300 years ago!
"I telephoned both your parents and Jennifer's and explained that there had been an emergency late last night and that both of you were safe and sound with me," Doc explained, changing the subject again. "Jules mentioned how you originally departed around midnight."
"What time is it now?" Marty asked, completely in the dark about that.
"It was eight AM when I arrived here, so I imagine it's around eight thirty now." Doc paused a moment. "Jules also told me about what he had recovered from the pirate ship."
"The jewels, you mean?" Marty asked, having nearly forgotten about that.
Doc nodded. "Yes. I've already given him a lecture he'll never forget about that matter, though I do understand the temptation he was under."
"So what are you gonna do with the stuff?"
Doc frowned. "I'm not quite sure yet. Perhaps donate it to a museum."
"Donate it?" Marty repeated, stunned. "Why don't you guys sell it and make a mint off it or invest it?"
"Marty, taking advantage of time traveling for financial gain is one thing I refuse to do," Doc said firmly. "Granted, the treasure was originally lost, but if I allow us to profit from this, it will send the wrong message to the boys and I refuse to let that happen. The last thing we need is for them to see time traveling as a way to get rich."
Marty understood what Doc was saying, sort of. He could just see Jules and Verne getting it in their heads to go back and collect all these other treasures from the past to bring back to the future. It could create tremendous problems, and paradoxes. "I get it," he said. "But still, seems like you guys are passing off a great opportunity...."
Doc waved his hand again. "Money is not really a concern of ours right now--I've made plenty of investments with the cash I made off the land of my old place and they're doing all right. And I'm working on several inventions right now that could be potentially revealed without danger--unlike the time machines. Clara has also been considering going back to school to recertify herself as a teacher, as her skills are over a hundred years outdated now. Being obnoxiously wealthy isn't that important to us."
"Sure," Marty said, a bit wistfully. He wouldn't mind being obnoxiously wealthy, not at all!
Doc eyed his clothing, looking a bit uneasy. "I suggest you go home now and change before people begin to ask questions. I can give Clara and Verne a ride back to the house."
Marty decided it was a great suggestion--he was starting to feel rather embarrassed from the strange looks he was attracting by the way he was dressed. He stood up. "What about Jennifer? Is she still at your place?"
Doc nodded. "I decided that Jules couldn't be trusted alone, not after what just happened. She was going to take a shower and changed back into her present day attire when I stopped by. Why don't you swing over there after you change and wait for us to arrive? I don't think it'll be much longer."
Marty nodded, starting for the exit. He paused halfway to look back at his old friend. "Doc," he said softly. "I really am sorry for what happened." The words, "I promise it won't happen again" were at the back of his throat, but Marty couldn't bring himself to utter them, knowing that he couldn't really promise that.
Doc seemed to sense that, standing up from the chair as he looked at Marty, his face serious. "It shouldn't be much more a temptation for much longer," he said, the words sounding almost like a threat. "In a few weeks the barn'll be locked up tighter than a submarine is against water. And then I'd like to see you all try to get in."
A hint of a smile played around Marty's lips as he nodded again and turned to continue out to his truck. Now that's a challenge I might have to accept, he thought, slightly amused, walking out of the hospital and into the parking lot. Doc couldn't possibly secure the lab that much--and it's probably just talk, anyway.
Marty soon forgot all about the scientist's words as he got in his truck and started it up, heading for home to forget all about pirates of the Carribean and start thinking about what he and Jennifer were going to do for Valentines Day that night.