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They had won. The grapples were thrown over, and the Spanish merchant ship was pulled aside the Black Pearl. Captain Jack Sparrow stood proudly on the deck as his crew boarded the other vessel and did what they did best.
Gibbs came up from below decks. "Cap'n," he said, "our hull's been breached on the front starboard side. I'-I'-I' don't look good."
The look of victory melted from Jack's face. "Can she be salvaged?" he asked his longtime friend. Gibbs shook his head.
"I'm sorry Jack. She's done for."
"Right," he said. "You make sure everyone gets over there."
"Aye, Cap'n."
Gibbs set about getting everyone over to the other ship, and anything of value as well. Just as the last man left the ship, AnaMaria reboarded the Pearl.
"Come, Cap'n," she said. "We must go. Gibbs said she's takin' on water fast."
But as AnaMaria looked into her Captain's eyes, she suddenly came to a realization.
"Y'r not coming."
He was silent.
"But Cap'n."
Jack waved his hand at her for silence. "I'd rather it be this way."
Tears formed in AnaMaria's eyes, but she knew him well enough to know there was no talking him out of it. She had often thought that if the Pearl went down, Jack was going to go with it.
AnaMaria nodded to him in understanding. "God be wi' ye," she said, and swung back over to the merchant ship. Once on the other side, she cut the lines that bound the two ships together, and the crew pulled away.
Jack watched them go. He knew AnaMaria would make them understand.
He sighed and looked around at his beloved ship. The mast, the dark sails, the shining brass - everything he loved. She had not only been his home all these years, but his partner in the soothing of his soul. She carried him across wide oceans and allowed him to be at one with the sea. Where he belonged.
Yes, he belonged here. He did not belong, as he too often had seen, with all the old salts that sat in the back of every port town's tavern he had ever been to - the ones who sat, drowning themselves in rum, because they were too old or too sick to be at sea. The ones who regaled the young sailors with tales of peril in open waters, envious of the youth and vitality of their audience, drinking ever harder to dull the pain of separation from the sea and loss of their own youth.
No. That would not be him.
He had found himself thinking more and more about this recently, as his body did not serve him as well as it once had. His bones ached the morning after a raid, and his reflexes were beginning to slow. He was more fit then any other man of fifty-two that he knew; however he had felt his age catching up with him more and more this past year or two. He knew that his days as an active member of the crew were numbered, and he would be damned if he would sit back in his quarters giving the orders while the rest of them had all the fun. He would rather die.
The stern had begun to rise up as the front of the ship took on water. She was going down by the head, and Jack would see it through. He laid his hands lovingly on her wheel.
"There, love, t'will be alright. Ol' Jack's right here wi' ye."
The Pearl had been showing her age too, as of late. The crew was constantly nailing things back together, and had replaced the mast and several sails, some twice, since retaking her. Jack had often wondered who would hold up longer - him or the Pearl.
"We're in this together, love."
The ship creaked in acknowledgement as her stern pitched high in the air.
Jack picked up a bit of rope. He lashed both his legs to the bridge, so he would not be pulled free when the ship went under.
Looking around, he took a deep breath of the sea air, savoring it. The ship shuddered, and began to slowly plunge into the water. A song formed on Jack's lips, one that had been taught to him by the beautiful Elizabeth Swann, so many years ago.
"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me."
He finally reached the water line. Taking a deep breath, he went under. He wanted to be sure that his lady was settled on the bottom for her rest before he slept. She went down quickly, and hit the ground hard, pitching him forward. As he hit the wheel, what breath he had left was knocked out of him. As his lungs filled with water, he smiled.
They were free.
They had won. The grapples were thrown over, and the Spanish merchant ship was pulled aside the Black Pearl. Captain Jack Sparrow stood proudly on the deck as his crew boarded the other vessel and did what they did best.
Gibbs came up from below decks. "Cap'n," he said, "our hull's been breached on the front starboard side. I'-I'-I' don't look good."
The look of victory melted from Jack's face. "Can she be salvaged?" he asked his longtime friend. Gibbs shook his head.
"I'm sorry Jack. She's done for."
"Right," he said. "You make sure everyone gets over there."
"Aye, Cap'n."
Gibbs set about getting everyone over to the other ship, and anything of value as well. Just as the last man left the ship, AnaMaria reboarded the Pearl.
"Come, Cap'n," she said. "We must go. Gibbs said she's takin' on water fast."
But as AnaMaria looked into her Captain's eyes, she suddenly came to a realization.
"Y'r not coming."
He was silent.
"But Cap'n."
Jack waved his hand at her for silence. "I'd rather it be this way."
Tears formed in AnaMaria's eyes, but she knew him well enough to know there was no talking him out of it. She had often thought that if the Pearl went down, Jack was going to go with it.
AnaMaria nodded to him in understanding. "God be wi' ye," she said, and swung back over to the merchant ship. Once on the other side, she cut the lines that bound the two ships together, and the crew pulled away.
Jack watched them go. He knew AnaMaria would make them understand.
He sighed and looked around at his beloved ship. The mast, the dark sails, the shining brass - everything he loved. She had not only been his home all these years, but his partner in the soothing of his soul. She carried him across wide oceans and allowed him to be at one with the sea. Where he belonged.
Yes, he belonged here. He did not belong, as he too often had seen, with all the old salts that sat in the back of every port town's tavern he had ever been to - the ones who sat, drowning themselves in rum, because they were too old or too sick to be at sea. The ones who regaled the young sailors with tales of peril in open waters, envious of the youth and vitality of their audience, drinking ever harder to dull the pain of separation from the sea and loss of their own youth.
No. That would not be him.
He had found himself thinking more and more about this recently, as his body did not serve him as well as it once had. His bones ached the morning after a raid, and his reflexes were beginning to slow. He was more fit then any other man of fifty-two that he knew; however he had felt his age catching up with him more and more this past year or two. He knew that his days as an active member of the crew were numbered, and he would be damned if he would sit back in his quarters giving the orders while the rest of them had all the fun. He would rather die.
The stern had begun to rise up as the front of the ship took on water. She was going down by the head, and Jack would see it through. He laid his hands lovingly on her wheel.
"There, love, t'will be alright. Ol' Jack's right here wi' ye."
The Pearl had been showing her age too, as of late. The crew was constantly nailing things back together, and had replaced the mast and several sails, some twice, since retaking her. Jack had often wondered who would hold up longer - him or the Pearl.
"We're in this together, love."
The ship creaked in acknowledgement as her stern pitched high in the air.
Jack picked up a bit of rope. He lashed both his legs to the bridge, so he would not be pulled free when the ship went under.
Looking around, he took a deep breath of the sea air, savoring it. The ship shuddered, and began to slowly plunge into the water. A song formed on Jack's lips, one that had been taught to him by the beautiful Elizabeth Swann, so many years ago.
"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me."
He finally reached the water line. Taking a deep breath, he went under. He wanted to be sure that his lady was settled on the bottom for her rest before he slept. She went down quickly, and hit the ground hard, pitching him forward. As he hit the wheel, what breath he had left was knocked out of him. As his lungs filled with water, he smiled.
They were free.