Disclaimer: Fun is the only thing I get from this. No harm was meant in the writing of this oneshot.
Inspired by the first three minutes and four seconds of "Underwater March" on the Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl soundtrack. Please review, I'd really appreciate it.
What did Terry Rossio mean when he said Anamaria was off sailing on The Interceptor after the end of The Curse of the Black Pearl?
Captain of Her Own Ship
Blood seeped through the thin linen, colouring the dirty white shirt a dark red that contrasted starkly with all around it and continued to trickle down her skin onto the deck below her.
The cries of battle, the booms of the cannons, and the clash of steel against steel; it swarmed around her like a thick fog, unclear but there all the same. Her dark eyes registered that the deck of The Black Pearl was slick with sea water and blood, the crimson liquid becoming diluted to a soft pink the further away from her it was. She quickly realised that it was her own blood pooling on the poop deck, staining the black wood a lighter, warmer tone.
The Arctic Star, the brig Jack had decided to engage was floundering, her main mast destroyed and slipping into the cerulean waters of the Caribbean Ocean and yet her remaining crew fought on, fear and desperation spurring them to continue even though their cause was lost and their fates sealed. The things her captain would do for rum.
She attempted to chuckle at the thought of so much mess being made over the small cargo of rum Jack had discovered The Arctic Star to ship to Cuba every month. The Governor's personal supply, the finest rum in the whole Caribbean; there was no doubt Jack would want to taste it for himself. Pain racked her torso as the reverberations of her gentle laughter shuddered through her ribcage and irritated the lead shot lodged deeply between two of her ribs.
It was a lucky shot for the sailor who had wounded her, who now lay dead propped up by the helm not too far from her own prostrate position on the deck. He had just managed to squeeze the trigger of his own pistol as the shot from her flintlock penetrated his skull and sent him reeling backwards. Lucky for him, bloody unlucky for her.
As always the sun was shining down from the Heavens warming everything it touched. Even her, which was surprising as she could feel a distinct chill settling in her bones. Lying there in the heat of the midday sun reminded her of her childhood when she would spend hours stretched out on the beach basking in the sun's rays with her brothers when they were supposed to be fishing for supper. Her mother would be so angry when they returned home empty handed, she would smack them all upside the head and send them out to find something else to eat if there was nothing in the cottage.
"Mother…" She whispered.
She couldn't remember the last time she visited her mother; it had to have been at least two years previous. Perhaps she would ask Jack to make a quick visit for her, make sure her mother was alright and had everything she needed. Jack would do it, for all his playing the fearsome and insane pirate captain he certainly had a soft spot for mothers even if it wasn't his own.
A cheer went up from the crew of The Pearl signalling the end of the battle; she wondered if Jack had managed to get his hands on that rum before the brig went down. Knowing him he'd send some of his crew down to find it if he could, he hated the thought of wasting rum especially if were as good as this load was meant to be.
The pain that had plagued her for however long the battle had lasted had begun to dull, but as it did so she found it was becoming hard work to inhale the air she very much needed.
She could hear Jack's far away voice shouting commands to her fellow deckhands; he clearly wanted to get away from the remains of The Arctic Star as quickly as possible. Not that she could blame him, with Commodore Norrington on their tail more often than not the last thing he needed was for the pompous naval officer to catch up any time soon.
Jack would take the helm before long and the only regret she had was that he would see her in this state, it wasn't exactly becoming. It was strange to think that she had spent so much of her life spurning the attention of men, ignoring their advances and propositions of marriage, vowing to never love anything but the sea only to fall for the one person who caused her more grief than any other. She loved Jack, in some silly twisted way she loved him more than any man she had ever known, even more than the sea. Like hundreds of women before her she had fallen for those mysterious brown eyes, that cocky smirk and ridiculous swagger; he had hypnotised her with his foppish demeanour and enigmatic mind that never revealed more than it had to. And underneath that rough, unpredictable exterior she knew to be a man born of passion that rivalled no other but was never shown in fear of marring that legendary reputation he had built up. Many a time she had cursed herself for it, knowing fully well that Jack Sparrow's first and only love was the sea just like hers was supposed to be, but unlike her Jack would never change his mind.
She was tired, so tired. Perhaps if she had a little sleep the pain would go away and Jack would ignore her; he knew better than to wake her when she was resting. But she knew at the back of her mind that it wasn't just a scratch and if she went to sleep she would more than likely never wake. Yet the idea still appealed to her, no fuss, that's what she wanted, no fuss at all.
She wasn't quite sure but she felt as if someone was calling her name. She remained as she was, waiting to hear it again, staring up at the sun and blue cloudless sky above; her hand still wrapped around her flintlock pistol that lay on the deck by her side.
"Anamaria!"
Yes, she had heard her name after all. Anamaria felt a warm hand cover the bloody hole in her side, causing a new current of agony to spread through the area surrounding it. She closed her eyes tightly and whimpered hoarsely, unable to catch her breath.
The voice continued to shout, no it roared, to Gibbs to get Crooke the ship's surgeon up onto the poop deck and Anamaria quickly realised it to be that of Jack. Opening her eyes she was greeted by the sight of her captain's face inches from her own, staring down at her with frantic concern clear in those beautiful brown eyes of his.
"Ana? Can you hear me luv?"
She managed to turn the corner of her lips up into a weak smile.
"Aye capt'n." Her voice was a harsh whisper.
"Crooke'll get you patched up in no time darlin' you just hold on for him to get here, savvy?"
Anamaria didn't answer; she just stared up at him as he looked between her face and the shot wound, doing his best to stop the bleeding with his hand alone.
"Gibbs! Where the bloody hell is Crooke?!" Jack bellowed angrily. "Not long now Ana luv, lazy bugger disappeared below deck as soon as he were able, but he'll be here soon otherwise he'll be kissing the gunner's daughter." He fixed her with a reassuring smirk not dissimilar to his normally seductive one.
"Stop fussin' Jack, you're not my mother." She groused painfully, pathetically swatting away the hand that stroked her cheek.
"That's Captain Jack to you missy." He countered cockily drawing a shaky laugh from the pirate lass.
The laugh quickly became another cry of pain, and Jack was well aware that her breathing was rapidly becoming raspier and shallower.
"Just a bit longer Ana, just a bit longer." He murmured. He could see the blood beginning to stain her teeth and the colour of her eyes fade that little bit more.
"The rum better be heavenly Captain." Anamaria croaked, the banter she meant to speak with was there but just a ghost in her words.
Jack grinned, "Darlin' its rum, course it is." He added a wink and tried to remain humoured in order to keep her spirits up.
"Captain?" He twisted around to find Crooke and Gibbs standing at the top of the steps, staring on in horror at what they found. Jack could see the rest of the crew waiting anxiously on the quarterdeck below.
Anamaria continued to watch Jack even whilst he was turned away from her. She knew then that it was time, she didn't want a fuss and Jack wasn't looking. She sighed; exhaling the air she had fought so desperately to breathe in those few moments before and closed her eyes in peace.
Jack felt the change immediately, he snapped around to look upon Anamaria; his braids and beads clicking together as he did so. She looked so peaceful, as if she was sleeping but Jack knew better. He had seen it time and time again but never gotten used to it. Releasing a shaky sigh of his own, Jack felt the grief begin to mount as he looked down at his hand. The light of the sun danced and shimmered in the blood that covered his long, lean fingers. Unable to tear away his gaze from his hand, Jack called out softly to Gibbs:
"Prepare for a burial at sea Mr Gibbs."
"Aye Captain." Was the quiet and sad reply he received.
The ocean stretched on for miles, from horizon to horizon interrupted only by the silhouettes of islands in certain directions. The bright light of the sun reflecting off the rippling waters made it shine silver on the crest of each swell and reminded Captain Jack Sparrow of the tales he heard as a child of sea nymphs and mermaids. He stood by the starboard balustrade staring off into the distance completely aware of the melancholy atmosphere aboard his beloved Pearl.
"Captain?" Gibbs sounded gruff, well more so than usual. For all his talk of women being bad luck on a ship Jack knew that Gibbs had held Ana in high regard as a sailor and shipmate; not that he told her that of course.
"Yes Mr Gibbs?"
"We're ready to proceed when you are Jack."
Jack nodded, letting the lack of his proper title slide just this once. He cleared his throat, "Good."
Jack expected Gibbs to leave and when his First Mate did not he looked at him with an eyebrow arched in inquiry.
"I wasn't sure if you were aware, but this be where The Interceptor went down." Gibbs informed him.
Jack looked out at the water below them.
"You stole my boat!" Anamaria accuse angrily.
"Actually-" Jack was cut off by another slap, the resonating crack of her palm connecting with his cheek leaving more than just a little pain. Grimacing at the throbbing he turned back to face her, the strength behind her action causing his head to spin to the side.
"Borrowed. Borrowed without permission. But with every intention of bringing it back to you." Jack rationalized.
"But you didn't!" Anamaria snapped, Jack could see the rage in her eyes.
"You'll get another one." Jack attempted to pacify her, knowing full well what she was like at her worst; he never wanted to see that again that was for certain.
"I will." She warned, pointing a forefinger threateningly at him.
"A better one." The whelp added, Jack looked at him briefly but was slightly relieved at the support; she wouldn't be able to murder both of them.
"A better one!" Jack confirmed.
"That one." Jack frowned at Will's latest remark.
"What one…?" He turned to see where Will was pointing, eyes widening when he realised he was talking about The Interceptor.
"That one?!" Fuming wasn't the word for what Jack was right then, his eyes narrowed murderously for a brief moment but on seeing the look on Anamaria's face he quickly gave in. "Aye, that one. What say you?"
Jack smirked, a low, almost inaudible chuckle following shortly afterwards as the memory replayed in his head.
"That's interesting. That's very interesting."