Angelica sat on the beach, despondent that Jack had left her behind. Again. She'd professed her love, after all. Though, admittedly, she'd lied to him plenty of times of late. Just as he taught me, she thought to herself. She'd given her most precious gift to him in that convent when they'd first met so many years ago. He swore to stay with her, but it was nothing but a lie. Seen as ruined, she was kicked from the convent before taking her vows of celibacy, nothing to her name but the clothes on her back. Who could blame her for using him? ...or getting him temporarily enslaved on her father's ship? It'd turned out alright for him in the end.
Not so much for her. Her father, the infamous Captain Blackbeard, was dead. By Jack's doing, she insisted. She had no boat. She had no food or drink. ...she had no Jack.
Her belly gave a hefty growl just as her eye caught something in the surf.
"One of father's voodoo dolls," she said with tears in her eyes, the pain of his loss still sharp.
Angelica walked to pick it up, eager for some remnant of her father. She knew now that he never fully loved her, but - other than the two times he'd tried to sacrifice her life - he'd been good to her. She'd always missed having a father growing up. ...she'd been quite excited to of found him, and couldn't help loving him dearly. Maybe he loved me as much as a pirate can love, she thought.
The doll rolled to her feet in the surf, carried along by a wave.
"...Jack," she said, picking the doll up. How odd fate was, to of washed up the voodoo doll that her father had made of Jack onto the very shore his daughter was now trapped on.
"You will pay, Jack Sparrow," she said to the doll, a wicked smile on her face.
Jack stood at the wheel, smirking as he thought about the look on Angelica's face when he'd left her. She'd shot at him as he rowed away in the longboat, wasting the one bullet he'd left her. I wonder if a trade ship picked her up yet? he wondered. "Get to windward!"
His first mate Gibbs gave him an odd look, curious as to the sudden urgency.
Jack shot back an equally odd look as a challenge. "The Pearl awaits," he said, taking the bottle with his boat in it and lightly wiggling it under Gibbs' nose as a diversion against the true reason he was feeling expeditious.
"Get to windward!" Gibbs parroted.
Jack was set on getting his beloved Black Pearl out of the bottle she'd been trapped in. Until such time, he settled for a smaller boat they'd procured. ….by way of stealing, of course.
Borrowing, Jack insisted mentally.
With the quickened speed, they'd arrive at port tomorrow. Jack was reasonably certain that all the items needed to pull the Pearl from the bottle would be there. He'd have his ship back soon enough.
"Ah," Jack hissed, a painful expression upon his face. He looked back and forth behind him, rubbing at his head suspiciously.
"If the monkey has taken to hairpulling, we'll be rid of him at the next port," Jack told Gibbs grumpily.
Gibbs looked him over queerly, "The monkey is in the bottle, Captain."
The two exchanged confused looks when Jack yelled again, his hips jutting forward and his hands flying back to cover his rear.
"Ah!" Jack spun around in surprise and reached for his sword, but no one was there.
"Captain?" Gibbs asked.
Jack's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in anger and thought until finally they flew to Gibbs in fear. "The voodoo doll," he hissed. "Angelica must have it - OW!" Jack danced up on his toes.
His cries of pain were gaining the attention of his crew. Jack inclined his head towards his cabin, and Gibbs followed him in. Jack closed the door and yelled out again. "AH! She's got the voodoo doll - OW! - Blackbeard stitched of me - AH! - she's a spiteful beast!"
The much older Gibbs watched as Jack danced about the cabin, jerking and jumping from swats neither of them could see. He'd never seen a voodoo doll before, but with all he had seen, this was an ordinary turn of events. He was just thankful the woman wasn't doing real damage.
"Orders, Captain?"
Jack bit his lip as he thought. Angelica was devilish enough to keep this up until he came for her, but he wanted her on his ship about as much as he wanted his hide tanned. He could always sail back, take the doll and leave her behind, but she'd had plenty of time to consider that and plan accordingly. It'd take four days to sail back to Angelica as it was. What's one more day? Jack thought glumly as another shot of pain lit into his hindquarters.
"Stay the course and take the he-elm," Jack growled. He grabbed a bottle of rum and pulled the cork out with his teeth, then threw his head back for a long swig.
"You'll be restin' then?"
"Aye - AAIIEEE," Jack said. His eyes went wide and he hop-marched in place.
He was reasonably certain that Angelica had found some sort of switch and was putting it to good use.
Gibbs had to fight to keep his face straight as he watched Jack bend himself over the large cabin's table. The younger man took perfect position, and Gibbs couldn't deny that he felt some satisfaction in seeing his captain getting a bit of well deserved comeuppance after playing so many tricks over the years. Some of said tricks had been at his expense. No, Gibbs thought, this is just. ...as long as it didn't go any farther and didn't last too long.
Jack had hoped the position he'd taken would bring some relief. Instead, bent over the back of a pushed in chair with his face resting on the cool wood of the table, his focus was brought even more so to his sorry rump. Every time he tried to stand he fell back over from another painful swat.
He tried to pour rum into his mouth, but succeeded only in pouring most of it on the table, soaking the maps.
Gibbs pulled the bottle from his hand and corked it. "I'll bring yer supper in me'self, Captain," he told Jack, "you try and rest til then."
Jack nodded sorrowfully.
As soon as Gibbs closed the door on his way out of the cabin, Jack began mewling. Angelica was clearly just getting started and already it was teetering on too much! He writhed over the table, clenching and unclenching his fists. No amount of wiggling or twisting saved him. It wasn't him she was aiming at, after all, it was the unmoving voodoo doll in his likeness. There was no getting away from this! Every painful swat and swipe were perfectly aimed. The only thing he was succeeding in doing was crumpling his maps.
I don't deserve this, he mentally pleaded with her. I've done nothing to warrant such treatment, Angelica! Jack felt horribly abused and wronged.
Why couldn't she see that he'd done right by her? He tricked her father into saving her, into giving his own life to save her's. A father's duty to his daughter, he thought. Blackbeard had wanted her to sacrifice her life for his - that just isn't how it's done. And the little matter of the convent? She had a lovely time.
The next few hours were torture for poor Jack. His bottom was thoroughly lit into, and now and then the backs of his thighs received the same unwanted attention. His eyes watered now and then - Captain Jack Sparrow did not cry - and he stubbornly wiped his face on his sleeves as he cursed.
Thankfully there were long pauses in between spankings - Beatings. These are tortuous beatings - during which he made his way to his bed, and Jack wondered what Angelica was doing during the reprieves. Is she napping? Did her arm get tired? ...perhaps a lovely group of cannibals have descended upon her?! As soon as he grew confident his torture had truly ended, she'd start up again. It was all very exhausting and nerve wracking.
He took solace in rum.
There was a short knock on his door and then Gibbs entered with food. He looked Jack over with concerned eyes. Jack appeared to have a painful case of the hiccups with the way his body kept jolting. Except, instead of making a hiccuping sound, Jack hissed in pain.
"Still going at it?" Gibbs asked as he set the food down.
"Aye," Jack answered. "Though her arm seems to of tired considerably." He dug into his food with gusto, much hungrier than usual.
Gibbs noted the emptied bottles of rum surrounding the bed and the aimless stabbing of Jack's fork. Aye, that's got to be it.
Jack propped himself up on his elbows to better eat. "How am I supposed to eat like this? Nnnf...Does the women not take supper?"
"Did you leave her anything to eat?" Gibbs hadn't remembered Jack doing so.
Jack glared up at him, grumbled something inaudible, and then looked at his plate with a guilty expression.
"Eat up, you need to keep your strength," Gibbs told him.
Jack gave him an irritated look, "And when did you become a wet nurse?" But he obliged him and cleaned his plate within minutes.
Gibbs took the plate, turned down the lamps and on his way out said, "Rest easy, Captain."
Jack grumbled after him.
It wasn't until a few minutes - or perhaps an hour, Jack was pretty drunk - had passed that he realized that Angelica had stopped. He stood, rubbed at his hindquarters and hissed in pain. "Is there any skin left?" he asked himself as he went to his mirror and lowered his trousers.
He was completely disappointed. The skin was reddened and there were welts left by three or four lashes of a cane or a switch, but there was no other damage. No torn skin. Not even a bruise - maybe the start of a bruise, it was hard to tell in the dim light. Jack felt personally offended that such little damage could cause him so much pain.
Fatigue won out over angst, and he stumbled back to bed. He was dead asleep by the time his head hit the pillow.
His wake up call was most unpleasant. He shot out of bed, rump held in his hands, and hop marched around the cabin in circles as he yelled, "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!"
He whimpered and kicked out of his boots, which he'd slept in, and shucked off his trousers in hopes that it'd help with the heat. It didn't.
Jack resumed his laps around the cabin in nothing but his long shirt. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!"
Gibbs burst in the door, "Quiet yourself! The crew can hear you."
Jack held his shaking fists in front of his mouth, eyes large and heartbroken. "She's at it again," he whimpered. He suddenly flinched and then began hopping around the cabin once more.
"We've known this crew a short time, get ahold of yourself or there'll be mutiny," Gibbs warned. "And put your bloody trousers on."
Jacked mewled, and then Gibbs saw it: knit brow, dimpled chin, pulled features - the great Captain Jack Sparrow was on the verge of tears.
"There, there Captain," Gibbs said as he caught hold of the younger man hopping past him. He patted him on the back and led him to the table where there was a bottle of rum. "Drink up," he said.
Jack leaned over the table and buried his face in his hands where he sniffled wetly. He twisted side to side as he made little noises, and every now and then one foot or the other kicked up.
"Have some rum," Gibbs tried again. "It helped last night."
"How long until we dock?" Jack asked from behind his hands.
"Not long."
"Tell the men we won't be ashore long."
"Captain, we barely know this crew. We've been at sea for…"
"Tell them," Jack growled.
"Aye, Captain," Gibbs conceded. He was worried how that'd go over, but he'd get it done. "Perhaps a bit of food?"
At this point Jack began pounding his fist on the table. Gibbs could see his effort to remain silent was failing. He put a bottle of rum directly into Jack's hand and breathed a sigh of relief when Jack drank deeply.
"I'll bring you some food," Gibbs told him kindly.
Jack nodded, face cradled in one hand, and listened to his first mate leave. As the spanking waned he hobbled back to bed.
Gibbs returned to a much happier Jack. The thrashing had ended for the time being - Gibbs was convinced it was provoked from a hungry Angelica who'd woken to an empty stomach and no food, though he didn't share that opinion with his captain.
He set the food on the table, and Jack stumbled over to it and began eating it while standing. Gibbs pretended not to notice, though Jack kept shooting suspicious and self conscious glances at him. Gibbs was thankful that the captain at least had put his trousers on again. The two went over the various items that needed to be procured while at port. When finished, Gibbs took Jack's dishes back to the cook and went on with his daily duties.
The next two hours passed with another short lived spanking, which Jack got through by laying in his bed with his pillow held over his mouth. Finally they arrived at port.
Gibbs checked on Jack before allowing anyone to disembark. "Captain? We're docked. Anything else you'll be needing?"
Jack looked up at him with widened eyes and a sweaty brow. Angelica was at it again.
"Remember, a crossbow, an hourglass, three goats and a trumpet." Jack's voice sounded worn out.
"I already memorized that," Gibbs told him.
Jack nodded and wiped his brow. "And I want a chest constructed. We'll pick it up in five days time. The lock is to be…"
"Like Davy Jones' chest?"
"Aye, except the lock is to be doubled," Jack insisted. "Four pronged," he held up four fingers.
"And if the smith can't …"
"Find one who can," Jack growled. "And everyone's to be aboard in three hours time. No dallying!"
Gibbs gave Jack a last exasperated look and then left. Three hours time? There'd be no fun today, this day would be spent running around like mad instead of enjoying well earned rest and relaxation. Oh, the things he'd have to do to appease the crew! He'd like to tan Jack's hide himself.
Distraught, Jack grabbed yet another bottle of rum and went back to bed. He spent a good amount of time feeling very sorry for himself. Soon he was drifting off to sleep, and found himself surrounded by three very lovely ladies. All three were quite interested in what Jack had under his clothing, and he smiled broadly, ready to show them. But, just as his hands went to the buttons in his trousers, a sharp pain ignited in his rear. Jack sat bolt up, which elicited a holler from him, and he rolled quickly to his side.
He hugged the now empty bottle of rum to him like a dolly and tried to get back to the dream he'd been having. His bottom felt as though his heart beat within it, and every beat of his heart sent an itchy pain across his globes.