Disclaimer: I do not own anything or any character from Pirates of the
Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. If I owned Captain Jack Sparrow,
do you think I'd be writing this? No, we'd be too busy in the closet.
Chapter: "Why d'you keep doin' that?"
-
Captain Sparrow! Open the door, ye slimy scallywag! Jus' because ye hole yerself up in yer cabin don't mean I'm not goin' to ignore the fact that ye're taken us to the very port that would like most to hang every one of us dead!" A tall, dark skinned woman thumped monotonously on the sturdy wooden door of the captain's cabin, before giving up and simply standing, glowering at the obstruction and waiting for him to open it, because if he didn't she'd give him the slap of a lifetime.
Said captain groaned, squeezing his kohl-rimmed eyes shut and covering his ears with his hands, repeating a mantra he'd been using rather frequently as of late. "If I ignore 'er she'll go away. If I ignore 'er she'll go away. If I ignore 'er she'll go away."
He nearly jumped out of his skin as his mumblings were met with a swift kick to his poor abused door and a muffled "I can hear you!" sounded through the room. Sighing, Jack rose from his seated position on the small bed, beads and various trinkets in his hair swinging against his face, and threw open the door. "Wha' is it you'd like to say, ye hellcat?" The captain asked cheerfully to the fuming woman before him. He was met, of course, with a sharp slap across the face. "Bloody hell, Anamaria! Why d'you keep doin' that?"
Anamaria ignored both his questions, and instead poked him roughly in the middle of his chest. "Why are we goin' to Port Royal? After yer, say, sixth escape from the gallows ye know Norrington will jus' about shoot ye on sight!"
"Aye, I know. But that's only if 'e sees me, savvy? An' we're goin' to visit old friends, remember? Or did you happen to miss that little fact when I told the rest o' the crew whilst you were plotting up new ways t' torture me?" Jack flashed one of his gold-plated grins at her, and she glared at him vehemently, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to leave.
"Jus' don't 'spect me to be joinin' ye." Anamaria spat.
"Suit yourself, love." Jack turned and retreated back into his cabin, rubbing his sore jaw. He retrieved one of his many bottles of rum (ah, the blessed substance), and uncorked it, lowering himself onto his sole chair and propping his feet up on his desk, shoving various maps and papers aside. "Poor thing, tha' Anamaria. can't resist me charms." Grinning faintly to himself, Captain Jack Sparrow lifted the rum to his lips and downed half the bottle in one breath.
-
Port Royal was renowned for it's picturesque hills and harbor, but Jack knew better. He knew of the whores that came out at night and the taverns were rum and other alcohol overflowed in the customers mugs. However, on this Sunday night, the town seemed to have given up its raucous nighttime ways. Jack wandered the streets alone, swaggering about in his own unique way, fingers and hands flying every which way, and singing his song as he went. He was supposed to be visiting the Turners, but for now, was content to saunter about the docks.
"We're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs, drink up, me hearties, yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho." He continued on, stopping only to examine various boats and ships that were docked along the harbor.
"SPARROW! We had an agreement! You were to stay away from Port Royal!" Jack didn't even have to turn around to know who was yelling at him.
"Oh, that's bloody wonderful." Jack whispered quickly to himself, before his voice returned to its cheery and amiable tone. "Ah, if it isn't the famous Commodore Norrington, and 'is crew of musket bearin' countrymen! Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service." Jack bowed low, but in response to Norrington's statement, he winced. "I know, mate, but it's jus' so hard for me to keep away. Mus' be your appeal, Norry." Much to the commodore's disgust, the captain winked suggestively at him.
Jack noted with amusement the pink tinge that rose to Norrington's cheeks, but our dear commodore soon regained his air of pompous superiority. "Mullroy! Fetch some irons. We wouldn't want the captain here to escape from right under our noses again." He bellowed to someone within his group of ten or so accomplices, and then strode quickly up to Jack and grabbed his arm harshly.
"'Ey, mate! No need ta be rough." Jack protested, but Norrington just gripped harder, his voice turning into a venomous hiss.
"This time, Sparrow, you won't escape and humiliate me so easily. I swear, by tomorrow morning, your feet will be hanging three feet from the ground and we will be taking your body away in a coffin." Jack watched as the commodore's nose turned red with fury.
"Alrigh', mate. Oak would be nice. For me coffin, I mean." Jack replied somewhat distractedly, barely containing the grin that threatened to appear upon his lips. Norrington thrust Jack in the direction of Mullroy, who began to place shackles around his wrists.
Quite suddenly, Jack heard footsteps behind him. Light footsteps of feet clad in cotton slippers. He turned his head as much as Mullroy would let him.
A woman was standing just to his left in naught but her nightgown and robe, and Jack could see, in the corner of his eye, Norrington blushing again. She's quite th' pretty little thing, isn't she? Jack thought faintly to himself. She was small and pale, with skin the color of cream in the moonlight and a sort of strange white bonnet covering her hair. Before Jack's eyes could wander innocently lower, Mullroy jerked him around, and he was left with just his ears to aid him.
Jack heard Norrington stride towards her. "Miss Cuthburt, you really shouldn't be present at this time. I shall escort you back to your house." Jack could tell Norrington cared for this Miss Cuthburt greatly, for he was slightly breathless and his tone was kind. Well, this is interesting, Jack thought.
"Don't be ridiculous, James." Her voice was like silk. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. Now, will one of you please tell me what's going on?" Jack heard the commodore step back several steps, flabbergasted by her confidence in the midst of a wanted felon.
Jack grinned widely, noticing that Mullroy was now distracted by the woman as well, and the shackles were firmly clasped onto his wrists, and his Pearl was but 100 yards away. What's more, the fool Mullroy had forgotten to confiscate his effects. This was too easy. He would've thought Norrington would have learned the ways of Captain Jack Sparrow by now.
Chapter: "Why d'you keep doin' that?"
-
Captain Sparrow! Open the door, ye slimy scallywag! Jus' because ye hole yerself up in yer cabin don't mean I'm not goin' to ignore the fact that ye're taken us to the very port that would like most to hang every one of us dead!" A tall, dark skinned woman thumped monotonously on the sturdy wooden door of the captain's cabin, before giving up and simply standing, glowering at the obstruction and waiting for him to open it, because if he didn't she'd give him the slap of a lifetime.
Said captain groaned, squeezing his kohl-rimmed eyes shut and covering his ears with his hands, repeating a mantra he'd been using rather frequently as of late. "If I ignore 'er she'll go away. If I ignore 'er she'll go away. If I ignore 'er she'll go away."
He nearly jumped out of his skin as his mumblings were met with a swift kick to his poor abused door and a muffled "I can hear you!" sounded through the room. Sighing, Jack rose from his seated position on the small bed, beads and various trinkets in his hair swinging against his face, and threw open the door. "Wha' is it you'd like to say, ye hellcat?" The captain asked cheerfully to the fuming woman before him. He was met, of course, with a sharp slap across the face. "Bloody hell, Anamaria! Why d'you keep doin' that?"
Anamaria ignored both his questions, and instead poked him roughly in the middle of his chest. "Why are we goin' to Port Royal? After yer, say, sixth escape from the gallows ye know Norrington will jus' about shoot ye on sight!"
"Aye, I know. But that's only if 'e sees me, savvy? An' we're goin' to visit old friends, remember? Or did you happen to miss that little fact when I told the rest o' the crew whilst you were plotting up new ways t' torture me?" Jack flashed one of his gold-plated grins at her, and she glared at him vehemently, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to leave.
"Jus' don't 'spect me to be joinin' ye." Anamaria spat.
"Suit yourself, love." Jack turned and retreated back into his cabin, rubbing his sore jaw. He retrieved one of his many bottles of rum (ah, the blessed substance), and uncorked it, lowering himself onto his sole chair and propping his feet up on his desk, shoving various maps and papers aside. "Poor thing, tha' Anamaria. can't resist me charms." Grinning faintly to himself, Captain Jack Sparrow lifted the rum to his lips and downed half the bottle in one breath.
-
Port Royal was renowned for it's picturesque hills and harbor, but Jack knew better. He knew of the whores that came out at night and the taverns were rum and other alcohol overflowed in the customers mugs. However, on this Sunday night, the town seemed to have given up its raucous nighttime ways. Jack wandered the streets alone, swaggering about in his own unique way, fingers and hands flying every which way, and singing his song as he went. He was supposed to be visiting the Turners, but for now, was content to saunter about the docks.
"We're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs, drink up, me hearties, yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho." He continued on, stopping only to examine various boats and ships that were docked along the harbor.
"SPARROW! We had an agreement! You were to stay away from Port Royal!" Jack didn't even have to turn around to know who was yelling at him.
"Oh, that's bloody wonderful." Jack whispered quickly to himself, before his voice returned to its cheery and amiable tone. "Ah, if it isn't the famous Commodore Norrington, and 'is crew of musket bearin' countrymen! Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service." Jack bowed low, but in response to Norrington's statement, he winced. "I know, mate, but it's jus' so hard for me to keep away. Mus' be your appeal, Norry." Much to the commodore's disgust, the captain winked suggestively at him.
Jack noted with amusement the pink tinge that rose to Norrington's cheeks, but our dear commodore soon regained his air of pompous superiority. "Mullroy! Fetch some irons. We wouldn't want the captain here to escape from right under our noses again." He bellowed to someone within his group of ten or so accomplices, and then strode quickly up to Jack and grabbed his arm harshly.
"'Ey, mate! No need ta be rough." Jack protested, but Norrington just gripped harder, his voice turning into a venomous hiss.
"This time, Sparrow, you won't escape and humiliate me so easily. I swear, by tomorrow morning, your feet will be hanging three feet from the ground and we will be taking your body away in a coffin." Jack watched as the commodore's nose turned red with fury.
"Alrigh', mate. Oak would be nice. For me coffin, I mean." Jack replied somewhat distractedly, barely containing the grin that threatened to appear upon his lips. Norrington thrust Jack in the direction of Mullroy, who began to place shackles around his wrists.
Quite suddenly, Jack heard footsteps behind him. Light footsteps of feet clad in cotton slippers. He turned his head as much as Mullroy would let him.
A woman was standing just to his left in naught but her nightgown and robe, and Jack could see, in the corner of his eye, Norrington blushing again. She's quite th' pretty little thing, isn't she? Jack thought faintly to himself. She was small and pale, with skin the color of cream in the moonlight and a sort of strange white bonnet covering her hair. Before Jack's eyes could wander innocently lower, Mullroy jerked him around, and he was left with just his ears to aid him.
Jack heard Norrington stride towards her. "Miss Cuthburt, you really shouldn't be present at this time. I shall escort you back to your house." Jack could tell Norrington cared for this Miss Cuthburt greatly, for he was slightly breathless and his tone was kind. Well, this is interesting, Jack thought.
"Don't be ridiculous, James." Her voice was like silk. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. Now, will one of you please tell me what's going on?" Jack heard the commodore step back several steps, flabbergasted by her confidence in the midst of a wanted felon.
Jack grinned widely, noticing that Mullroy was now distracted by the woman as well, and the shackles were firmly clasped onto his wrists, and his Pearl was but 100 yards away. What's more, the fool Mullroy had forgotten to confiscate his effects. This was too easy. He would've thought Norrington would have learned the ways of Captain Jack Sparrow by now.