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It isn’t until the battle is over that Barbossa notices that Jackson’s dead. He can just make out his body on the other side of the ship. He swears, and glances about him, his gaze finally fixing on a tall gangly lad near his left. Can’t remember his name but the man joined them back in Tortuga. Whore’s brat, probably. Pintel’s the only one who’ll bother with him, but then, Pintel’s no prize either. And he supposes he did just make it through the battle.
“Lad!” he growls and the man snaps to attention.
“Yes, Captain, sir?”
“What name is it ye go by?”
The man glances a bit nervously at Pintel who makes a sort of shooing motion at him, and he hurriedly says, “Ragetti, sir.”
“Well then, Ragetti. D’ye see that man fallen there, by the stern?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Go over to him and fetch me back his wooden eye.”
This earns him a very slightly confused goggle and then Ragetti bobs his head. “Right away, sir.” He bounds over to Jackson’s body, hesitates a moment, and then bends down, looking mildly disgusted and works the eye out. Then he heads back over, wiping the eye off on his shirttail as he does, finally holding the eye out for Barbossa to take.
“Nay, lad,” says Barbossa, and then leans in, his voice going hushed. “That’s a piece of eight, and I want you to mind it for me. Can ye do that, Ragetti?” Ragetti gapes, and then nods, his eyes wide.
“Aye, sir, I can. I’ll keep it safe as houses.” He pats himself down. “Er…I’ve lost my purse, actually…where should I keep it?”
“I was thinking you’d be keepin’ it in yore head, lad. Safest place for it, don’t ye think?”
Ragetti nods slowly, and then looks confused. “But how’m I meant to—aaaaaaarrrrrrrgghhhh!” he says as Barbossa grabs him by the back of his head and pops out his right eye with his dagger, severing the cord.
“That will do nicely, Ragetti, thank you,” he says, smiling like a shark as Pintel carts his whimpering mate off to seal the wound.
***
“Well,” says Pintel helpfully, as Ragetti rolls the wooden eyeball in his hand and tries to accustom himself to monocular vision. “It could be worse.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure, actually,” says Pintel, after he pauses to think over it for a while. “I suppose it can’t.”
Which is proved wrong a month later but at least Pintel has to be a cursed zombie pirate too.