Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow and his crew disembark at the Isle of Shadows
hoping to unearth the mythical lost treasure of the Morning Rose. The
guardians of the island, however, have different ideas. . .
~
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
~
AN: Hi! This is my first attempt at writing Pirates of the Caribbean fiction. Please review, constructive crit is good. I know this chapter's short, it's sort of a prologue I suppose. Anyway, on with the story. . .
~
Chapter One
~
Captain Jack Sparrow squinted ahead through the gathering mist. It was night, deepest night, and the frosty air was callously cold. The Black Pearl's polished stern carved through the dark water, leaving only a foamy trail and gentle swelling waves behind.
"Doing well darlin'," Jack murmured softly, speaking as he often did to his ship. He immediately checked over his shoulder for any crewmembers that may be within earshot. He did, after all, have a reputation to uphold.
Jack spun the helm a little, adjusting their course slightly. The ship complied smoothly, sensitive to his lightest touch. Jack pulled out a flask and took a swig of rum, enjoying the burning warmth as it trickled down his throat. He grinned to himself in the darkness. At the helm of the Pearl, slicing through the water, with a good flask of rum at hand. What could be better?
It was a moment later that something strange caught Jack's eye. Something that didn't belong in the featureless landscape of dark water and darker sky. He pulled out a sturdy wooden eyeglass, extended it to its full length and raised it to his eye. After a quick sweep of the horizon he focused on an indistinct shape in the distance. Drawing a sharp breath, he gave a gold- studded grin. He had found what he was looking for.
"Anamaria," he called over his shoulder. Within a moment she was at his side, hands on her hips, glaring at him darkly.
"This had better be important. I was in the middle of untangling that bloody rope, and-"
"Take a peek through this," Jack interrupted, giving an undeniably smug smile as he handed her the eyeglass.
Grumbling under her breath she held it to her eye. "What am I supposed to be looking-" She fell silent abruptly, and gave a long, low whistle of astonishment.
"There it is," Jack gloated. "The Isle of Shadows. I think, missy, that I am owed three gold pieces. Remember our little wager?"
Anamaria pointedly ignored him. "What are we going to do? Go ashore tonight, or wait till sunrise?"
Jack stared at her. "Tonight, of course. Haven't you heard the rumors? The whole bloody island disappears at dawn."
"Unlike you, I don't pay much attention to children's bedtime stories," she snapped, lowering the eyeglass. "I'd say we were no more than an hour's sail away, with this breeze. And we have about eight hours until sunrise."
"Perfect," said Jack, narrowing his eyes resolutely. "Perfect."
Anamaria shook her head and turned away resignedly to rouse the rest of the crew. Jack didn't take his eyes from the black smudge in the distance. The mythical Isle of Shadows. Or not so mythical, Jack mused with a grin. Nothing was mythical as far as he was concerned. Every story had a grain of truth at its heart; you just had to find it.
He stood for a moment, swaying slightly with the movement of the Pearl as she skimmed across the waves. He had heard the story of the Isle of Shadows many times. Each version was different, altered and twisted to suit the imagination of the narrator, but a few facts were consistent.
Jack turned to see his crew, most of them bleary-eyed and yawning, emerging from various parts of the ship. Anamaria returned to his side, arms folded across her chest for warmth. "This is crazy," she muttered, squinting through the darkness. The Isle was slowly growing as they drew closer, yet still seemed somehow insubstantial. It was shrouded in a shadowy grey mist, but one could occasionally catch a glimpse of black rocky outcrops and high tapering summits, protruding into the sky like pointed fingers. Anamaria turned away with a slight shudder.
"I don't like that island," she said tersely.
"And I don't like vague premonitions," Jack replied cheerfully. "So we're even."
And yet, though he never would have admitted it, the captain too was uneasy.
~
~
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
~
AN: Hi! This is my first attempt at writing Pirates of the Caribbean fiction. Please review, constructive crit is good. I know this chapter's short, it's sort of a prologue I suppose. Anyway, on with the story. . .
~
Chapter One
~
Captain Jack Sparrow squinted ahead through the gathering mist. It was night, deepest night, and the frosty air was callously cold. The Black Pearl's polished stern carved through the dark water, leaving only a foamy trail and gentle swelling waves behind.
"Doing well darlin'," Jack murmured softly, speaking as he often did to his ship. He immediately checked over his shoulder for any crewmembers that may be within earshot. He did, after all, have a reputation to uphold.
Jack spun the helm a little, adjusting their course slightly. The ship complied smoothly, sensitive to his lightest touch. Jack pulled out a flask and took a swig of rum, enjoying the burning warmth as it trickled down his throat. He grinned to himself in the darkness. At the helm of the Pearl, slicing through the water, with a good flask of rum at hand. What could be better?
It was a moment later that something strange caught Jack's eye. Something that didn't belong in the featureless landscape of dark water and darker sky. He pulled out a sturdy wooden eyeglass, extended it to its full length and raised it to his eye. After a quick sweep of the horizon he focused on an indistinct shape in the distance. Drawing a sharp breath, he gave a gold- studded grin. He had found what he was looking for.
"Anamaria," he called over his shoulder. Within a moment she was at his side, hands on her hips, glaring at him darkly.
"This had better be important. I was in the middle of untangling that bloody rope, and-"
"Take a peek through this," Jack interrupted, giving an undeniably smug smile as he handed her the eyeglass.
Grumbling under her breath she held it to her eye. "What am I supposed to be looking-" She fell silent abruptly, and gave a long, low whistle of astonishment.
"There it is," Jack gloated. "The Isle of Shadows. I think, missy, that I am owed three gold pieces. Remember our little wager?"
Anamaria pointedly ignored him. "What are we going to do? Go ashore tonight, or wait till sunrise?"
Jack stared at her. "Tonight, of course. Haven't you heard the rumors? The whole bloody island disappears at dawn."
"Unlike you, I don't pay much attention to children's bedtime stories," she snapped, lowering the eyeglass. "I'd say we were no more than an hour's sail away, with this breeze. And we have about eight hours until sunrise."
"Perfect," said Jack, narrowing his eyes resolutely. "Perfect."
Anamaria shook her head and turned away resignedly to rouse the rest of the crew. Jack didn't take his eyes from the black smudge in the distance. The mythical Isle of Shadows. Or not so mythical, Jack mused with a grin. Nothing was mythical as far as he was concerned. Every story had a grain of truth at its heart; you just had to find it.
He stood for a moment, swaying slightly with the movement of the Pearl as she skimmed across the waves. He had heard the story of the Isle of Shadows many times. Each version was different, altered and twisted to suit the imagination of the narrator, but a few facts were consistent.
Jack turned to see his crew, most of them bleary-eyed and yawning, emerging from various parts of the ship. Anamaria returned to his side, arms folded across her chest for warmth. "This is crazy," she muttered, squinting through the darkness. The Isle was slowly growing as they drew closer, yet still seemed somehow insubstantial. It was shrouded in a shadowy grey mist, but one could occasionally catch a glimpse of black rocky outcrops and high tapering summits, protruding into the sky like pointed fingers. Anamaria turned away with a slight shudder.
"I don't like that island," she said tersely.
"And I don't like vague premonitions," Jack replied cheerfully. "So we're even."
And yet, though he never would have admitted it, the captain too was uneasy.
~
