Conversation on the Pearl

Jack swayed over and leaned up against the rail next to the man already leaning there and offered him the bottle of rum. Bill held a hand up in refusal.

"Suit yerself then." Jack said. With a slight smile he continued, "All the better for me mate." and pulled the bottle back and took a drink.

After a short silence Bill turned his head a bit in Jack's direction and in a solemn tone asked, "How do ya manage it Jack?"

Jack lowered the bottle and gave a little moue; the tone of voice said it all, Bootstrap was in one of those kinds of moods, and Jack hated it when his normally easy going mate got into one of those kinds of moods. It meant Bootstrap was going to go all philosophical on him, and there wasn't much Jack disliked more in this world, other than being locked up in some jail cell somewhere, than philosophical. He could walk away now, before anymore was said, and that was his first inclination, walk away and pretend he had never stepped over here, but Bill was one of the few people he considered a friend, and they had been through a lot together, and he couldn't quite stop that nagging voice telling him it was the right thing to do. His expression moved into a more pronounced moue, buggerin bloody conscience anyway, never did understand why he'd been plagued with something so useless.

He let out a sigh, "How do I manage what Bill?"

Bill turned a little more toward Jack, "How do you keep from feelin attachments?"

Jack blustered a bit, "I have attachments, lots of attachments, and don't think I don't."

"Not talkin bout swag or shiny or the sea or the Pearl Jack, 'm talkin bout people, family, a wife 'n youngins, that like." Bill replied as he turned back to gaze out at the horizon.

Jack took another pull off the bottle before he answered, if he wasn't careful this conversation would manage, as a few of similar nature with this man in the past had, to make him as depressed as Bill seemed to be now.

"Never been in my nature to have those manner of attachments." He replied airily with a shrug of his shoulders, trying to sound convincing even though he knew full well there had been at least some manner of those attachments in his past that he'd lost through circumstances out of his control, or had done a fine job of mucking up himself.

Bill shook his head, "Ah but that I could set me own feelins on that course Jack."

"Weren't meant ta be mate. You're who you are and I wouldn't change places with you for all the swag and shiny in the Spanish Main. You have the call of family pulling in one direction and the sea another, but it's the lot you've got in life and you have to square with it Bill."

"'S not an easy thing." Bill said.

"Didn't say it was." Jack replied.

Bill turned on the rail to face Jack, "Well let's have a pull off'n that rum and see if it don't damper some of me melancholy."

Jack started to pass the bottle over and then sharply pulled it back out of Bill's grasp, "Just so ya know, the minute you start babblin tearfully in yer cups I'm off to my cabin."

Bill nodded, "Don't blame ya fer that Jack, hate ta listen ta meself in them circumstances." He reached over and grabbed the bottle and took a long swallow, then both men resumed their places side by side on the rail.

The End

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