I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean, or any character or ship
therein. I do not make any profit from writing and am therefore in imminent
danger of brokeness.
Cast of thousands: That's not a word.
Me: You knew what I meant didn't you?
Cast of thousands: Why aren't you working on your other fic, Sparrow's Fall?
Me: Ssshh, I'm writing this incognito. No-one's supposed to know I'm temporarily baffled. So I'm being anonymous.
Cast of thousands: Is that why you're wearing that false moustache?
Me: No.
Cast of thousands: Ah.
*****************************************************************
Jack considered just dropping Will in the street and leaving him. The whelp was taller and broader than he was, and so Jack was getting tired. And also, he was a little bored of carrying an unconscious blacksmith/eunuch through the streets of Tortuga. Especially since he could see all the lovely wenches and taverns full of rum beckoning him. Or was that all the lovely rum and taverns full of wenches? Either way there were better ways of spending a night than this.
How had the lad managed to get so drunk anyway? He had had, Jack estimated, three mugs of grog before falling into the lap of a particularly buxom wench who seemed to have had her eye on the boy from the moment he walked through the door. Jack had watched, with a kind of amused bemusement, as Will had sat up, muttering apologies to the woman, before gazing deeply into her eyes, attempting to kiss her, missing and passing out unconscious on the floor. The wench had looked positively disgusted and had stormed off before Jack could stop her, or indeed stop laughing.
He had stopped laughing soon enough though when all his attempts to wake Will up had proved unsuccessful. The thought of simply abandoning the whelp hadn't crossed his mind - well, maybe briefly. A helpless man without a reputation to back him up could get into a lot of trouble on this rock. And, much as the boy might resent it, Will was undoubtedly his responsibility.
Besides, old Bill Turner had done the same thing for him, first time he'd got drunk. Had held him as he fell on all fours, seemingly losing everything he had ever eaten, muttering reassuring words, then, apparently, after he'd lost consciousness, carried him back to the ship they were serving on at the time, the Sea Jackal.
Mind you, this young Turner was quite a few years younger than he had been back then. But perhaps it was his first time drinking nonetheless? After all he was, as Gibbs had so elegantly put it, a bit of a stick. Trying so hard to be respectable and proper all the time, maybe he had never learnt how to have a good time. If so, Jack pitied the fair Elizabeth. She had seemed a spirited sort of wench, having one stuffy suitor after her must be bad enough, (in the shape of a commodore of the Royal Navy no less, how could anyone see past that bloody-stupid looking hat) but two? Ridiculous. Although, what with breaking the famous - nay, notorious - Captain Jack Sparrow from jail and helping him commandeer the prettiest boat that the Navy possessed, Will was possibly rather less strait-laced than he acted.
Jack stopped abruptly; he had been so lost in his musings that he'd failed to notice he was at the dock already. Now, where had he left the boat from the Interceptor? Must have been around here somewhere . oh to hell with it, just take the nearest one. He dumped Will unceremoniously in the boat that he'd chosen and leapt in himself.
"My turn to row, I s'pose." He muttered to his unconscious companion, then nodded at the non-existent reply.
It didn't take Jack long to row out to the Interceptor. It took longer to carry Will aboard; he made an awkward burden. He laid the lad down on the bed in one of the cabins, turned and walked towards the door, then stopped. He looked back at the sleeping man, then gently - and very, very stealthily - covered him with a blanket.
"Goodnight, Will Turner." He said, quietly and left, closing the door behind him with a scarcely audible click.
He wandered up on deck and gazed across the bay at the town. If he closed his eyes, it seemed that he could hear the noise, the drunken revelling, and smell the smells, that unmistakable fragrance, which he associated with only one place in the world. Tortuga. What had he said to Will earlier? "If every town was like this, no man would ever feel unwanted." Something like that, anyway. And it was true. A man would never lack for pleasurable company, nor feel thirst there. But it wasn't enough. Never had been, not really. It was a nice place for amusement, but it was nothing like home.
Without thinking, he crossed the deck and stood leaning on the railings at the other side of the ship, gazing out at the vast expanse of the sea. He breathed in deeply, the salt smell surrounding him, the spray that the wind carried with it, like a lover's fingertips on his cheek he closed his eyes, tilted his head back and, cat-like, arched his back, delighting in the wonderful closeness of the sea. How anyone could bear to spend all their time on land was beyond his understanding. He listened; to the sounds of the sea, the lapping of the current against the sides of the ship and the song the wind made as it caressed the waves; to the sounds of the ship, the creaking of the hull and the rustling of the sails.
She was a good ship, sleek and fast. But she was not his home. Not his freedom. Not his love. That glimpse of her, his Black Pearl, from the prison of Port Royal, had been his first for ten years. It had hit him, like a bullet in the heart. She had lain there, off-shore and the holes on her sails, her plainly neglected condition was an accusation in his mind. He had lost her. He had, through his carelessness, his reckless trust, had allowed her to be taken over by a man who didn't understand her. A man who understood nothing but profit and hatred.
Nothing but stories and dreams for ten years and now, there was a chance - a real chance - at taking her back. Soon, he could be standing at the helm of the Black Pearl, feeling the deck moving under him the way it was meant to. He could be in the one place in the world that he truly belonged. Soon.
He heard a noise, someone boarding the ship. He half turned, but on recognising Gibbs he turned back. The older man walked over and stood beside him.
"What be you looking at, Jack?"
"The sea." Jack answered simply.
"Ah." There was silence for a moment, then Gibbs cleared his throat and said;
"I've spread the word that you're looking for a crew, and lined up some fine potential. They'll be waiting at the dock tomorrow morning for yer inspection."
Jack nodded. "Good." He continued to look out to sea. Perhaps if he stared hard enough he would be able to see the Pearl. He could feel Gibbs looking him sideways. Probably thought he was acting strange, even by his own high standards.
"What are you thinking, Jack?"
"It'll soon be over." Jack turned round and leaned back against the railing, facing the other man.
Gibbs blinked. "What will?"
"Now." Jack saw the baffled look on his old friend's face, and in a rare moment of openness, decided to explain.
"It's been now for ten years. Since I lost the Pearl, see. Been nothing to do but make wild plans. Everything." He made an expansive gesture that seemed to encompass the entire ocean, "Has been temp'rary. Until I get her back."
"Wouldn't say its been wasted time. I've been hearing -and telling - stories about the legendary Cap'n Jack Sparrow for the whole of this past decade."
"Didn't say it hadn't been fun, just that it hadn't been right. Bit it'll soon be over. Either I'll kill Barbossa and get me ship back, or else he'll kill me."
Seeing the look on Gibbs' face, he added "Not to worry 'bout that though. Don't forget - I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."
Gibbs grinned. "Aye, we've got that on our side." He took a swig from his flask and passed it to Jack, who drank deeply from it.
h"Hey!" Gibbs exclaimed, snatching it back. Jack grinned.
"This is a really nice ship you've got here jack. Where did you get it from anyway?"
"Oh, Commodore Norrington gave it to me, in return for some advice about hats." Jack said, glibly.
Gibbs nodded, his face entirely serious. "Right." There was a pause. Gibbs tried unsuccessfully to smother a yawn.
"Go get some sleep, mate" Jack said, jerking his head in the direction of the ladder leading to below decks.
Gibbs nodded. "Aye, good idea." He hesitated. "You won't wake me with a bucket of water, will you?"
Jack grinned, but shook his head. "The whelp's passed out drunk. Feel free to wake him with a bath if you want. But wait till morning."
Gibbs grinned back at him, then disappeared below deck. Jack remained and turned once again to stare out at the sea.
"Soon, very soon, I'll have her back." He whispered. "Its only now until then."
Fin
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Hey, please tell me if that made sense and if it was any good. In other words review.
Cast of thousands: That's not a word.
Me: You knew what I meant didn't you?
Cast of thousands: Why aren't you working on your other fic, Sparrow's Fall?
Me: Ssshh, I'm writing this incognito. No-one's supposed to know I'm temporarily baffled. So I'm being anonymous.
Cast of thousands: Is that why you're wearing that false moustache?
Me: No.
Cast of thousands: Ah.
*****************************************************************
Jack considered just dropping Will in the street and leaving him. The whelp was taller and broader than he was, and so Jack was getting tired. And also, he was a little bored of carrying an unconscious blacksmith/eunuch through the streets of Tortuga. Especially since he could see all the lovely wenches and taverns full of rum beckoning him. Or was that all the lovely rum and taverns full of wenches? Either way there were better ways of spending a night than this.
How had the lad managed to get so drunk anyway? He had had, Jack estimated, three mugs of grog before falling into the lap of a particularly buxom wench who seemed to have had her eye on the boy from the moment he walked through the door. Jack had watched, with a kind of amused bemusement, as Will had sat up, muttering apologies to the woman, before gazing deeply into her eyes, attempting to kiss her, missing and passing out unconscious on the floor. The wench had looked positively disgusted and had stormed off before Jack could stop her, or indeed stop laughing.
He had stopped laughing soon enough though when all his attempts to wake Will up had proved unsuccessful. The thought of simply abandoning the whelp hadn't crossed his mind - well, maybe briefly. A helpless man without a reputation to back him up could get into a lot of trouble on this rock. And, much as the boy might resent it, Will was undoubtedly his responsibility.
Besides, old Bill Turner had done the same thing for him, first time he'd got drunk. Had held him as he fell on all fours, seemingly losing everything he had ever eaten, muttering reassuring words, then, apparently, after he'd lost consciousness, carried him back to the ship they were serving on at the time, the Sea Jackal.
Mind you, this young Turner was quite a few years younger than he had been back then. But perhaps it was his first time drinking nonetheless? After all he was, as Gibbs had so elegantly put it, a bit of a stick. Trying so hard to be respectable and proper all the time, maybe he had never learnt how to have a good time. If so, Jack pitied the fair Elizabeth. She had seemed a spirited sort of wench, having one stuffy suitor after her must be bad enough, (in the shape of a commodore of the Royal Navy no less, how could anyone see past that bloody-stupid looking hat) but two? Ridiculous. Although, what with breaking the famous - nay, notorious - Captain Jack Sparrow from jail and helping him commandeer the prettiest boat that the Navy possessed, Will was possibly rather less strait-laced than he acted.
Jack stopped abruptly; he had been so lost in his musings that he'd failed to notice he was at the dock already. Now, where had he left the boat from the Interceptor? Must have been around here somewhere . oh to hell with it, just take the nearest one. He dumped Will unceremoniously in the boat that he'd chosen and leapt in himself.
"My turn to row, I s'pose." He muttered to his unconscious companion, then nodded at the non-existent reply.
It didn't take Jack long to row out to the Interceptor. It took longer to carry Will aboard; he made an awkward burden. He laid the lad down on the bed in one of the cabins, turned and walked towards the door, then stopped. He looked back at the sleeping man, then gently - and very, very stealthily - covered him with a blanket.
"Goodnight, Will Turner." He said, quietly and left, closing the door behind him with a scarcely audible click.
He wandered up on deck and gazed across the bay at the town. If he closed his eyes, it seemed that he could hear the noise, the drunken revelling, and smell the smells, that unmistakable fragrance, which he associated with only one place in the world. Tortuga. What had he said to Will earlier? "If every town was like this, no man would ever feel unwanted." Something like that, anyway. And it was true. A man would never lack for pleasurable company, nor feel thirst there. But it wasn't enough. Never had been, not really. It was a nice place for amusement, but it was nothing like home.
Without thinking, he crossed the deck and stood leaning on the railings at the other side of the ship, gazing out at the vast expanse of the sea. He breathed in deeply, the salt smell surrounding him, the spray that the wind carried with it, like a lover's fingertips on his cheek he closed his eyes, tilted his head back and, cat-like, arched his back, delighting in the wonderful closeness of the sea. How anyone could bear to spend all their time on land was beyond his understanding. He listened; to the sounds of the sea, the lapping of the current against the sides of the ship and the song the wind made as it caressed the waves; to the sounds of the ship, the creaking of the hull and the rustling of the sails.
She was a good ship, sleek and fast. But she was not his home. Not his freedom. Not his love. That glimpse of her, his Black Pearl, from the prison of Port Royal, had been his first for ten years. It had hit him, like a bullet in the heart. She had lain there, off-shore and the holes on her sails, her plainly neglected condition was an accusation in his mind. He had lost her. He had, through his carelessness, his reckless trust, had allowed her to be taken over by a man who didn't understand her. A man who understood nothing but profit and hatred.
Nothing but stories and dreams for ten years and now, there was a chance - a real chance - at taking her back. Soon, he could be standing at the helm of the Black Pearl, feeling the deck moving under him the way it was meant to. He could be in the one place in the world that he truly belonged. Soon.
He heard a noise, someone boarding the ship. He half turned, but on recognising Gibbs he turned back. The older man walked over and stood beside him.
"What be you looking at, Jack?"
"The sea." Jack answered simply.
"Ah." There was silence for a moment, then Gibbs cleared his throat and said;
"I've spread the word that you're looking for a crew, and lined up some fine potential. They'll be waiting at the dock tomorrow morning for yer inspection."
Jack nodded. "Good." He continued to look out to sea. Perhaps if he stared hard enough he would be able to see the Pearl. He could feel Gibbs looking him sideways. Probably thought he was acting strange, even by his own high standards.
"What are you thinking, Jack?"
"It'll soon be over." Jack turned round and leaned back against the railing, facing the other man.
Gibbs blinked. "What will?"
"Now." Jack saw the baffled look on his old friend's face, and in a rare moment of openness, decided to explain.
"It's been now for ten years. Since I lost the Pearl, see. Been nothing to do but make wild plans. Everything." He made an expansive gesture that seemed to encompass the entire ocean, "Has been temp'rary. Until I get her back."
"Wouldn't say its been wasted time. I've been hearing -and telling - stories about the legendary Cap'n Jack Sparrow for the whole of this past decade."
"Didn't say it hadn't been fun, just that it hadn't been right. Bit it'll soon be over. Either I'll kill Barbossa and get me ship back, or else he'll kill me."
Seeing the look on Gibbs' face, he added "Not to worry 'bout that though. Don't forget - I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."
Gibbs grinned. "Aye, we've got that on our side." He took a swig from his flask and passed it to Jack, who drank deeply from it.
h"Hey!" Gibbs exclaimed, snatching it back. Jack grinned.
"This is a really nice ship you've got here jack. Where did you get it from anyway?"
"Oh, Commodore Norrington gave it to me, in return for some advice about hats." Jack said, glibly.
Gibbs nodded, his face entirely serious. "Right." There was a pause. Gibbs tried unsuccessfully to smother a yawn.
"Go get some sleep, mate" Jack said, jerking his head in the direction of the ladder leading to below decks.
Gibbs nodded. "Aye, good idea." He hesitated. "You won't wake me with a bucket of water, will you?"
Jack grinned, but shook his head. "The whelp's passed out drunk. Feel free to wake him with a bath if you want. But wait till morning."
Gibbs grinned back at him, then disappeared below deck. Jack remained and turned once again to stare out at the sea.
"Soon, very soon, I'll have her back." He whispered. "Its only now until then."
Fin
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Hey, please tell me if that made sense and if it was any good. In other words review.