This is for poor Anamaria who, it seems, is repeatedly having her name spelled incorrectly and being thoroughly bashed by a lot of Mary Sue authors :-P I want to be Anamaria when I grow up.
***
"Almost"
We fixed what that wretched lot did to her.
She's clean from stem to stern,
Well-manned and well-loved.
We patched the leaks and scoured the decks
And replaced those tattered rags
With good, hardy sheets.
(what kind of idiot sails with
rags hanging on the masts, anyway?)
They fill with wind and sweep us along
This grand road
Where the air roars and the sea laughs
And we can fly until there's nothing around us
In all directions
But endless blue and sunlight.
She's a fine lady.
She isn't really mine. I know that.
The Pearl's a fine lady, but she's not mine.
Jack owes us a ship,
(Owes me two, really)
But not this one.
And if we took this one,
If we took his soul in payment of the debt he owes,
We'd be no better than Barbossa's lot.
I could be bitter about this. Jack took what was mine and
Hasn't paid up.
I could be upset.
But there's the sunlight and the salty spray on my face,
The breeze in my hair, the breeze in my eyes,
And the finest lady in all the ocean carrying me.
Who, given such fortune, could be upset?
They're hauling Jack out of the water now.
He's rising like the sun in the east,
Which makes me smile,
And he lands, sprawled on the deck.
In a charmingly clumsy way,
Which makes me smile as well.
(The Pearl's smiling too. You can tell.)
Gibbs pulls him to his feet. Cotton hands him his hat.
"Captain Sparrow," I say, with no regret,
(some envy, perhaps, but no regret)
"The Black Pearl is yours."
He slowly walks over to the wheel,
Runs his hand over it,
Caressing it like a lover,
And for a few rare seconds,
The façades and games, the drunken jokes and outrageous stories,
All fade,
And there's just Jack
At peace.
And to see that,
I know that it was all worth it.