2. Davy Jones

One misty evening in August of 1600, The Rosibella came under attack. The night watch had been shot and fell down from his crows nest. The sickening thump from the body's contact hitting the main deck alerted the crew. Captain Harold Corby grabbed his spyglass and looked at the horizon. His silence and sudden paleness of of his skin revealed that the Rosibella would be allowed no quarter. Her death warrant was signed. The ship's attempt to run was quickly diffused when the enemy closed in with almost supernatural speed. Cannon fire, gun fire and the clashing of swords dominated the night air and ended as quickly as it had started. Marcel, 22 at the time, was a tall pale man whose black hair only made him look even more pale. He was mischievous as well as a skilled swordsman and managed to take on more pirates than his fellow crew members. Only 5 mates of the crew were left. They, along with Marcel, were hauled onto the main deck of the other ship and held there to be greeted by the captain. The tell-tale claw and barnacled clothes of the captain revealed his identity. Davy Jones. The first prisoner promptly died on the spot from fright after the first look. The second began laughing so maniacally that one would have thought he was merely a hyena under the guise of a man. It was an unbearable laugh dotted with notes of terror and insanity. He died soon after his prolonged tittering. Two prisoners broke free from the grips of their captors and jumped over board. The remaining two stayed silent. Davy Jones calmly walked closer and examined Marcel and his doomed comrade with sunken black eyes.

"Be ye deaf, blind or both?"

"His tongue has been cut out."

Davy Jones turned to Marcel. "Indeed? He can hear?"

"He can."

"He can see?"

"Yes. Any fool can see that."

Jones glared at Marcel. "Your friend will serve on the Flying Dutchman for 10,000 years, and you will die." Even though he could not speak, the man's eyes expressed a strong answer of decline at the idea of serving under this creature. He spat at Jones's feet. Marcel held his breath. Jones picked up the man by the throat and sighed. "Unfortunate you've chosen death, lad." The man began to age rapidly. His skin became the color of a decaying corpse and his eyes went white. Jones dropped the skeleton on the floor and turned to Marcel. He glared at his prisoner. Marcel's skin became the color of a decaying corpse. His eyes went white. His face became gaunt and thin. "Why are you doing this?" He managed to croak. Davy Jones replied, "Your time was overdue and I must collect the soul of Daniel Fogg." Marcel raised his head with what little strength he had left. "I...I am not...Daniel. Fogg" Suddenly, he felt his strength return.

"What?"

Jones grabbed him by the collar and stared at him for a time. "I do not know you. You are not Daniel Fogg!"

"Don't you think I know that?" Marcel coughed. "I am Marcel Giguere of the Rosibella. You've mistaken me for someone else." Jones blinked in disbelief. He was not known for making mistakes. "So you are, lad. My apologies." He turned to his crew. "What are you standing around for?? Get ready to set sail!" Marcel was dropped by the men as they rushed to their posts. He pulled himself up and leaned on the side of the ship. "Wait, what about me?" Jones didn't turn around. "You are free to go back to your ship."

"But what about my-"

"If you know where the Fountain of Youth is, I suggest you go there. You are no longer of interest to me. Good day sir."