作者：美国迪士尼公司
出版社：华东理工大学出版社
格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT
迪士尼英文原版.加勒比海盗5：死无对证 Pirates of the Caribbean 5 Dead Men Tell No Lies试读：
Prologue
“LET ME TELL YOU A STORY—A TALEOF THE GREATEST TREASURE ANYMAN CAN HOLD ...”
As the full moon poured through his window, twelve-year-old Henry Turner looked up, a surge of excitement running through him. It was time to go. There was no question about it. For years, he had been poring over his books, delving deep into the legends of the sea, and now he’d finally found what he needed.
With a heart squeezed tight in hope, Henry glanced around his dimly lit room. Well-worn nautical charts and marked-up maps were spread across his desk, their curling edges held down by shells and rocks plucked from the beach, and scattered on the bed were books, sea creatures roaring from their open pages. A figure so distorted by barnacles that he was hardly recognizable as a man lurched upward, as though to seize the reader in his arms.
Amid the clutter of myths and legends, a roguish face stared out from a poster, the bold letters under his disarming smile spelling out WANTED: Jack Sparrow. As Henry cinched his belt, getting ready to leave, he glanced at another picture—one of his father, Will Turner.
It had been years since Henry had seen him, but every day he studied the handsome face, looking for echoes of it in his own, and he often confided his secret dreams and fears to it, as though his father could hear him.
“I’m coming, Father,” he whispered, his voice determined.
Henry blew out the candle and grabbed a drawing from his wall. In it, the fearsome sea god Poseidon reared above the waves, brandishing his Trident and commanding everything before him.
After one last glance at his father’s image, the boy crawled out the window into the inky-black night. As he scrambled along the tile roof, the moonlight glinted off his goal: the ocean covering the far horizon.
A short while later, a tiny boat bobbed over the waves, with Henry alone at the oars. Beneath him lay the unfathomable depths of the sea, a mystery to even the most learned scholars. Below the surface, mountains loomed and canyons plunged deep into darkness. In this expanse were creatures yet to be discovered—alive or dead—and a priceless treasure that could change his life forever.
Though he was young, Henry was wise for his years—he thought so, anyway. While other kids had pretended to be soldiers, waging battle among the marshes of the island, he had hung around the docks, learning all he could about sailing, and soaking up stories of the sea. He’d collected anec-dotes and rumors as though they were jewels, and carefully filed them all away.
However, none of the tales could match his mother’s stories of his father. As far as Henry was concerned, no man, living or dead, was as courageous as Will Turner, who had sacrificed everything to save those he loved.
Henry hummed softly as he rowed, the music keeping time for his strokes. “Yo-ho, yo-ho ...”
Once he was satisfied he was out far enough—his island home nothing but a blur on the horizon—Henry paused and pulled his oars into the boat, locking them in place. He made his way to a large burlap sack and hefted it over the bow, the heavy rocks inside knocking together with a series of dull thunks.
Sploosh! As the sack dropped overboard, the rope attached to it unwound frantically like a mad dog, the coils whirling closer and closer to the other end—which was fastened to Henry’s right leg.
Now he couldn’t undo what was about to happen even if he wanted to.
With complete confidence—and a fearless optimism he had inherited from his mother, Elizabeth Swann, who had commanded pirates, escaped from monsters, and sailed into and out of the afterlife—Henry took a deep breath and jumped into the murky depths.
Then it was all darkness. As he fell deeper and deeper, the weight of the sack tugging him down, Henry stayed calm, despite his bursting lungs.
Just as his eyes began to close from the lack of air, his feet struck something solid. Rising from the depths, the wooden deck of a ship had intercepted his fall.
Even though he had expected it, Henry was flooded with relief as the ship sped to the surface. The faster, the better, he thought, almost out cold from the loss of oxygen.
An earsplitting charge of spray leapt from the surface as the ship burst into the night sky. Gallons of water were displaced, cascading over the edge of the massive ship and tracing the name etched on its side: The Flying Dutchman. Hundreds of wooden planks screamed as they adjusted to the difference in pressure.
Henry lay on the deck, drawing in great gasps, as the figure of a man approached from the shadows.
“Dad ...” Henry’s voice cracked.
Will Turner stared in disbelief, his face filling with agony as he recognized his son on his dreadful vessel.
“Henry, what have you done?” Will asked. Henry had grown so much since the last time they’d met. Will thought longingly of all the moments he had missed—Henry’s first words, first steps—and of all the future moments he would never witness. The only thing Will’s future held was death, just like the past ten years had held.
“I said I’d find you,” Henry piped up cheerfully, moving toward his father.
But Will immediately recoiled. “Stay away from me!” At the hurt expression on Henry’s face, his voice softened. “Look at me, Son.”
Will stepped into a beam of moonlight. His once handsome features were now encrusted with ten years of barnacles, algae, and small squirming creatures. His gaze was dull from a decade of despair.
Henry didn’t flinch. “I don’t care,” he declared.
Will wanted more than anything to embrace his son. But he knew Henry needed to leave, fast—before, like him, his boy was stuck there forever. “There is no place for you on the Dutchman. Go home to your mother—”
“No,” Henry interrupted.
Shuffle, shuffle, creak. Rustling reached them from below the deck. The crew of the Dutchman were stirring, sensing the life force of Henry.
“They know you’re here,” Will said, his voice tight. He unsheathed his sword and, with one swipe, cut the rope binding Henry to the sack. “Leave before it’s too late.”
“I won’t. And if you throw me over, I’ll come straight back.” Henry lifted his chin, ignoring the slight queasiness in his stomach at the thought of the others on board.
Will threw his arms up in frustration. Why couldn’t his son understand? “Don’t you see I’m cursed? Condemned to this ship!”
“That’s why I’m here,” Henry said excitedly. “I think I know a way to break your curse—to free you from the Dutchman!”
“Henry, no.” Will shook his head, but his son kept right on talking.
“I’ve read about a treasure—a treasure that holds all the power of the sea. The Trident of Poseidon can break your curse!”
As Will saw the desperation in Henry’s face, his instincts took over. He pulled his boy into his arms and held him tight.
“Henry, the Trident can never be found,” he said gently. His son needed to abandon his foolish quest before he wound up dead—or worse. “It’s not possible. It’s just a tale.”
“Like the tales of you and Captain Jack Sparrow? He’ll help me find the Trident.” Henry’s voice was defiant.
Will raised his eyebrows at the name. While he had an inexplicable fondness for the pirate captain, the last thing he wanted was for his son to get tangled up with a man who had a knack for getting into never-ending trouble.
“Stay away from Jack,” Will warned. “Leave the sea forever, and stop acting like—”
“A pirate?” Henry asked. He couldn’t understand why his father wasn’t leaping at the chance to be free. Did he not think Henry was up to the task? “I won’t stop. You’re my father.”
No matter what it took, Henry would track down Jack and the Trident. He’d prove to his father that he was brave and clever.
“I’m sorry, Son,” Will whispered, wishing he could be the father Henry needed. The best he could do was try to keep Henry safe and far away from the sea. “My curse will never be broken—this is my fate. You have to let me go.”
Will glanced over his shoulder, to the door belowdecks. He and Henry were out of time. He took the amulet from around his neck, pressed it into Henry’s hands, and guided him to the rail.
“I will always be in your heart. I love you, Son.” Will helped Henry up and over the edge.
Henry took a moment to imprint his father’s face—barnacles and all—on his mind. Then he let go of the rail and dove into the water.
Will watched Henry’s thin, wiry frame as he reluctantly climbed back onto his rowboat. The boy still believed in the folly of happy endings. Will hoped his son didn’t have to learn the truth as painfully as he had.
The Flying Dutchman disappeared back into the sea. As Henry settled into his rowboat, the glassy ocean surface left no trace of the massive craft. He was alone again.
But he was more determined than ever to free his father from his wretched fate. So instead of humming as he rowed to shore, Henry passed the time by repeating the name of the one he was sure would help him reach his goal:“Captain Jack Sparrow ...”Chapter1
SEVEN YEARS LATER
The mighty British warship the Monarch sliced through the waves, its bow cannons booming, as it chased down a much smaller pirate ship. On the outside, the Monarch was a man-made wonder to behold. Inside, things weren’t quite as impressive. A troop of young soldiers tromped through filthy black bilgewater on the bottom deck, clearing the sludge as fast as they could. The stench was as foul as the labor was brutal.
“Faster, you pathetic bilge rats!” Officer Maddox bellowed from his spot above the soldiers. He strutted along, peering down at the line of men, spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed at them. “You’ll pump the bilge and fill the scuppers! We’re chasing down pirates!”
Few ships were as well equipped as the Monarch. With one hundred cannons aboard, no pirate ship stood a chance in a fight. The Ruddy Rose had chosen to flee, but the Monarch was in hot pursuit.
Henry Turner, now nineteen, was among the soldiers straining every muscle manning the bilge and scuppers to lend speed to the vessel. He had become used to hard work—and to difficult men like Maddox. As the officer turned his back to scold a new recruit, Henry ducked out of line and peered out a window, raising a spyglass to his eye.
“Psst! Henry!” a fellow soldier whispered. “Get back here. You don’t want to be kicked off another ship!”
“It’s a Dutch barque,” Henry said, ignoring the warning. “Probably stolen by the pirate Bonnet.”
“When are you going to give up, Henry?” his friend asked. “You’ll never find Jack Sparrow!”
“I’ll never give up.” Henry’s voice was emphatic. Over the years, he’d followed many false leads. Everyone had a story about the notorious pirate, but no one seemed to know where to find him. Henry had joined the British navy—whose main mission seemed to be pirate hunting—in hopes that they would help him track down Sparrow.
As the British ship pivoted in the water, Henry spotted a strange rock formation ahead. It was an odd sight—a huge archway in the middle of the wide expanse of the sea. Henry knew enough legends to recognize it instantly—and it wasn’t good.
“My God,” he whispered in dread.
The rogue pirate ship was heading right toward it, retreating from the Monarch’s gunfire. Henry had to stop the Monarch from following it. Dashing for the stairs, he nearly crashed into Maddox.
“I’ve warned you about leaving your post, boy! Shall I show you the lash?” The officer planted his fists on his hips and glared at Henry menacingly.
“Sir, I have to speak to the captain.” Henry dodged around Maddox, adding, “Be right back!”
The officer blinked in astonishment. There was no “ be right back” under his command. But the lieutenant’s cries of “Turner!” were lost on Henry, who was already topside.
Sprinting along the deck, Henry pushed his way through the soldiers manning the guns and drawing in the sails to reach Captain Toms and Officer Cole, who stood at the ship’s wheel, watching triumphantly as the pirates lowered their flag in defeat.
“Chase her down,” Captain Toms ordered. “The British navy does not grant surrender to pirates.” As the Ruddy Rose approached the gate and began to sail through, the captain nodded toward it. “Follow her in.”
“No! Don’t do it!” Henry yelled. The officers turned to him in disbelief. Who dared challenge the captain’s will? Henry rushed to explain, gesturing to the nearby charts. “Sir, look at your charts. We’re between three distant points of land with perfect symmetry to the center. Captain, you’re sailing into the Devil’s Triangle.”
The captain’s eyebrows shot up and he began to laugh. “You hear this, men? He believes an old sailor’s myth!”
Henry gritted his teeth, annoyed, as the closest soldiers jeered at him dismissively. “Captain, trust in what I say. Ships that sail into the Triangle do not sail out. Change your course.”
“You dare to give me orders?” The captain’s face was stern, all traces of laughter gone.
“I won’t let you kill us all.” Henry flung himself at the ship’s wheel and began to reverse direction.
Instantly, soldiers sprang upon him. Henry was no stranger to fighting; his fists and elbows jabbed out as he struggled to get free of their grasp. Had the men been without guns, he might have held them off. Instead, he found himself glaring at a dozen gun barrels, ready to fire. At that moment, Maddox ran up to join them, taking aim as well.
Henry held up his hands but stared defiantly as Captain Toms stalked toward him, his cheeks red with anger.
“This is treason!” Captain Toms declared, furiously tearing the sleeves off Henry’s coat to mark his sin. “Take him below. We are going in after that ship.”
Maddox was only too happy to lead Henry down to the cells himself. “If it was up to me,” he said, throwing the young man into a cell belowdecks, “I’d string you up from the highest yardarm.”
As Henry tumbled to the hard floor, a scrap of paper flew from his pocket. It slipped across the wooden planks to stop beside the occupant in the next cell—a grizzled man with a fountain of long white hair. Tattoos on his arms identified him as a pirate.
“Jack Sparrow?” the man said, pointing a bony finger at the face etched on the paper. “I believe he’s dead. Buried in an unmarked grave on the isle of Saint Martin.”
Henry sighed. If the Monarch was heading into the Triangle, they had more pressing things to worry about than the location of an elusive pirate.
* * *
Racing after the Ruddy Rose, the Monarch passed through a cloud of smoke from its own guns before sailing under the rock archway. A thick mist rose from the sea around them. Captain Toms raised his spyglass and scanned the ocean, looking for the pirate ship. But it was long gone.
The mist swallowed all sound, plunging the crew into an eerie silence compounded by a sudden darkness, as though the sun’s rays could not reach them anymore.
“Sir, there’s something in the water,” Officer Cole called, pointing below them.
Swirling in the dark sea was the white outline of a skeletal face with a bloodred rose emblazoned next to it—the flag of the pirate ship they’d been pursuing. But what had happened to the pirates? Where was their ship? Despite the crew’s training, a shiver of apprehension ran through them.
“Ship off the bow,” Captain Toms called. He’d spotted something large moving toward them through the mist. But as it got closer, the shape became clearer.
“That’s no ship, sir. It’s a shipwreck,” the first officer said, his voice hushed and worried.
In all his years of service to Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, the captain had never seen anything so strange. The ship that was sailing toward them could not possibly be sailing at all.
Its skin was torn off and its bone structure exposed—the wooden ribs of its hull open to the elements. Yet not a drop of water penetrated it as it plowed toward them. This was the Silent Mary.
Despite the impossibility of the decimated ship staying afloat, it was charging them in a very aggressive manner. Already on edge, Captain Toms wasn’t going to take any risks, and gave the only order he could think of: “Fire!”
The full arsenal of the Monarch let loose into the darkness, gunfire blazing. Then there was nothing. The mysterious ship seemed to have disappeared as quickly as it had come.
“Sir,” said Maddox, “there is nothing out there.” But he had spoken too soon, for whatever had been out there was suddenly right in front of them—on board their ship.
“Aaaieeeee!” Screams from the top deck pierced the eerie quiet. Then they cut off abruptly and the only sound was that of footsteps approaching the main deck.
Someone—something—was coming for them.
Terrified beyond their worst nightmares, the crew pushed toward the walls, recoiling from some invisible menace. Blinded by sweat, they looked to the stairs, waiting to see their enemy.
Instead, a pair of hands shot straight through the wall and grabbed hold of a soldier. His gun and sword clattered to the floor and he was dead before he could utter a word. His fellow soldiers spun uselessly as dozens of arms reached through solid wood as if it were made of pudding.
Disembodied limbs lifted the men, flinging them through the air or snapping their necks. The intruders materialized, looking like monsters from a nightmare. Swords clanged and lanterns were knocked over during the struggle, igniting the ship.
In minutes, a new ghastly crew had taken over. The decks were strewn with bodies and flames. Through the blaze strode the leader of the ghoulish killers, his boots unaffected by the fire.
Reflecting the flames, a chestful of medals glinted from the tattered Spanish navy uniform of Captain Armando Salazar. He casually stepped over soldiers as he headed toward the lone man still standing on the deck.
Captain Toms hid his fear as the dark, hulking form wielding a five-foot sword stopped in front of him. With no apparent effort, Captain Salazar lifted the man into the air.
Captain Toms abandoned his stoicism and his mouth dropped open in horror at the rotted visage before him. The flesh of his assailant’s face was crisscrossed by black lines, and the left side of his head was missing a large chunk.
“What are you?” Captain Toms asked.
“Death,” Salazar replied, thrusting his sword through Toms’s heart.
Dropping his victim to the floor, Captain Salazar spun to address his crew. “Return those pokers and remove your caps!” he barked.
“You heard the captain!” said Officer Lesaro, Salazar’s lieutenant. “Order to the front!”
As they snapped to attention, Salazar inspected his ghoulish men. They were not transparent, as ghosts are usually imagined. They were solid beings, their feet on the ground. But dozens of wounds festered on their faces, which were a ghastly gray and covered in black cracks and crevices. Their uniforms had been long rotted and nibbled by vermin, and gaping holes in their bodies allowed one to see straight through to the rails behind them. Once they removed their caps, their hair floated up as though they were underwater.
“By rule of the king, we have provided a fair and just punishment. This ship dared to cross our bow ... and so she will rest at the bottom of the sea,” said Salazar, adjusting the collar of a soldier who was missing half his throat. “For years we have been condemned to the Triangle, waiting to escape the borders that confine us. I assure you, my very dead men, your loyalty will be rewarded with blood, as we will not rest until we have our revenge!”
Trapped in his cell belowdecks, Henry had seen the ghost ship approach through the porthole. He’d heard the terrors above, caught the flickering shadows of the fight on deck. And he’d tried to remain as still and silent as possible.
But in the cell next door, the old pirate stretched out his hand, catching drops of blood oozing from the slats above him. Henry could not stop him from screaming. Alerted, the ghosts began reaching through the prison walls. And then the old man screamed no more.
Creak, creak.
Captain Salazar advanced down the stairs and toward Henry’s cell. Then he stepped right through the bars. Henry backed up to the ship’s wall, his pulse racing.
Captain Salazar paused, the sheet of paper with Jack Sparrow’s portrait catching his eye.
“Do you know this pirate?” asked Salazar, spearing the parchment with his sword and raising it high.
Henry swallowed nervously. “Only in name,” he said.
Captain Salazar pinned him with his sharp eyes, alight with interest. “Are you looking for him?”
“Yes,” Henry croaked.
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