As he waited patiently in a filthy mist filled tavern on the Isle of Tortuga, the rotund man held a glass filled with bad tasting alcohol with his stubby fingers. He lifted the glass to his lips and took another swig as he watched the other inhabitants of the tavern quaff their own rum. He swore when on the second supposed-to-be-mouthful, he missed and the alcohol spilled down his already grubby shirt, "Aw bloody hell!" He tried drying himself off with his hand but soon gave up as he was just smearing the dirt and grime on his shirt around into a kind of alcohol mud.
He tried to placate his boredom by observing the other patrons as they made a raucous mess. The other drunken men weren't overly amusing or exciting and when an itch began on his grey-whiskered cheek the irritation was simply too much for such an uncomplicated man to cope with, he scratched the itch. He cursed again after he realised his hand was still slick with alcohol and he had just covered his face with said liquid as well as some unknown muck compliments from his dirty shirt, "Aw shit!"
He had been waiting in the dismal tavern for well over an hour and his patience was starting to wear thin, "How long does it bloody take?" He growled with annoyance and just as he said this, he was just barely over the din of the tavern able to hear it. Others could hear it too because soon the whole tavern quietened to a hushed whisper as everyone listened.
"You like that don't ye?" a deep and very masculine voice grunted and even in the near silence of the now rapt tavern, it could just barely be heard.
"Aye I do! Jack I do! Oh Jack, Jack, JACK!" an extremely feminine scream sounded loudly through the muted tavern. The men listened totally engrossed; more than one of them had drool trickling out the corner of his mouth at the sound of the woman's obvious pleasure.
The man nodded, "Aye that be Jack", he sighed then leaned back in his chair tiresomely putting his feet on the table. He finished off his mug and placed it on the table before signalling for the barmaid to fetch him another drink. After a well-meaning glare from the working-woman, he removed his feet, placing them back on the ground. Taking up his new mug now filled with the disgusting but still drinkable alcohol as before, he took a quick swig just as applause sounded.
He looked over to the stairs leading up to the second story of the tavern and saw his captain bowing gallantly to the people of the pub. He shook his head in exasperation at his captain's antics and also at the way the opposite sex fawned over him. Gesturing to the barmaid again, he brought his captain a mug of rum and she arrived at the table just as Captain Jack did.
"Aye love, that's just what ol' Jack be needin'" he said with a grunt as he sat down. His husky voice and sexy smirk brought the strumpet to a state of jelly-legged-giggles. As the barmaid left to continue her work, Jack grabbed her behind giving rise to a squeal and a lustful blush.
"Leave her alone Jack", the man said somewhat despondently.
"Do I bloody well have to write the word on me forehead?" Jack cried irately his arms waving about behind him wildly, "every bastard forgets about it, the strumpets, the authorities and even you me old mate, Gibbs!" He slammed his mug down on the muck-ridden table, making the liquid slosh over the sides.
The now named Gibbs jumped back at his captain's outburst before raising a fuzzy eyebrow as he questioned uncertainly, "and what'd that be mate?"
Jack leaned back, mug still in hand, "Never mind, mate", he took a long draught of his brownish rum a slight glare in his dark eyes, "if everyone forgets it mustn't be that important".
Gibbs wasn't about to argue, "aye mate, whatever ye says", he agreed half-heartedly before finishing off the rest of his rum and signalling for another to be brought. He wasn't an overly complex man like his captain but he did know a few things and one of them was when his captain was restless.
The captain just sniffed sulkily downing the rest of his drink and stood up to leave. "I be goin' to get some the good sea breeze. That's just what I be needin' right now", he said as an explanation after receiving a questioning look from his first mate. He then left the old pub and his inebriated first mate behind as he walked out into the somewhat fresher air.
Jack had come to Tortuga after a good month of pirating, his crew and his humble self deserved some rest and relaxation every now and then. His infamous ship, the Black Pearl, had been especially swift and daunting and for some strange reason it worried him.
He had reached the beach and he walked to the edge of the sand where the water lapped at the granules. Jack exhaled a deep sigh and shook his head gloomily at the memories that filled his head.
"Bloody Barbossa!" He cursed vehemently through his teeth. He gave the sand nearby a good thrashing in his anger, "Captain Barbossa?" he asked in a shout to the world in general, or the bum that was asleep behind the bush behind him. "Bloody first mate Barbossa!" he answered, roaring passionately giving the beach a beating it wouldn't soon forget, "the mutinous bastard!"
He calmed slowly and with his anger spent, he shook his head sadly folding to the sand. He sat quietly for a few minutes just watching the waves as his thoughts ran deep. He moved to a more comfortable position with his knees bent and folded and his arms resting upon them. He leaned back, using a hand to support him and just breathed.
The sounds of the ocean sounded all around him and he watched as seagulls fought and bickered over the ocean in the sky. The large red and orange sun hung low in the sky melting into the horizon of the ocean painting a magnificent view on his retina. He had seen many beautiful things in his time, not just sunsets.
He leaned forward again resting his hand on his knee and he brought his other hand to the front of his face with one finger raised in thought. "I'm missin' something", he said at last his forehead creased and eyebrows frowning as he thought. He slowly began to count on his fingers, "I got me ship", he started with the most important thing to him, "me rum, I got strumpets and me pirating's been good".
He looked at his pinkie finger that still didn't have an item for it to be counted on. He growled shaking his hand in annoyance when he was unable to think of anything for his little finger. He tried to think harder, he was certain that there was something missing in his life.
His hand left his knee to scratch his dreadlocked hair as he dug around in his mind trying to find what was missing. His hand dropped from his head back to his knee with a slow descent. "I got me rum", he said again with a little more vivacity as he gestured with his hand to reinforce the issue of his rum.
He paused suddenly his eyes becoming wide as a deep fear coursed through every fibre in his being. "Where is me rum?" he questioned in frantic terror. That did it. He immediately began a thorough search of his person. Patting down everywhere, reaching into pockets, he prodded and poked but came up with nothing.
Jack really started to panic and he increased his hunting efforts and, he decided, if need be he would strip search himself. He looked up despairingly his eyes finding the beauty of the full moon rising opposite to where the sun had set a few hours earlier. He whimpered and looked around but stopped short when he saw the shadow of his body, curtesy of the moons light.
"Well I'll be a scallywag", he said bemusedly a slight smile creeping up the corners of his lips. He brought his hand up and patted the top of his head. "Must've left it with the strumpet", he spoke of his hat. He gave the moon a bow in thanks, making the gesture of taking his hat off and bringing it to his chest mockingly. He then turned on his heel and strode back up the beach to the tavern to fetch his misplaced hat, giving the bum behind the bush a once-over in passing just in case he had some rum upon his person.
Gibbs was onto his fifth or eleventh mug of rum and was finding himself losing one of the oldest drunken man's battles, sitting in one's chair. He fell off and spilled the remainder of his drink all over himself. Sitting up precariously, swaying in the way of drunken men, he brought his mug up and placed it with extreme care on the top of his balding head. He girned quite happily then he collapsed and was out cold. The mug spun across the pub's floor and stopped by a man of average height and of the misplaced hat variety.
Jack watched as Gibbs lost consciousness with slight amusement, he then waltzed over to the downed man. The pirate captain then made an exaggerated show of stepping over his first mate, taking great care of manoeuvring over the man's large stomach. He smiled triumphantly when he heard a pained yelp from his first mate after he had accidentally on purpose trodden on the man's podgy hand.
He strode up the stairs leading to the second story of the tavern where the rooms for the patrons existed. Jack walked in a way that suggested the he was either, eternally drunk or that his body parts had a life and personality of their own and the only reason he was able to get anywhere was because the body parts wished to get there too but with that said they wanted to do it in their own way.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he walked quickly to the first door on the left and opened it, slipping quietly inside. The strumpet was sleeping blissfully in the double bed centred in the room, one arm thrown lazily over her eyes. Jack could make out her happy smile clearly, as well as the rest of her, which was naked, from the light provided selflessly by the moon.
He spotted his hat and almost skipped to it like a happy child. How could he ever forget something as important as his captain's hat? Must have been the thought of his audience, he concluded. He had known that he was being listened to because of the silence. No bar in Tortuga would be that quiet unless something good was happening. In Jack's well-travelled opinion, it was, to a certain extent, good.
He put his hat on his head feeling much better with the weight the article brought. He looked down when something glinted with the moonlight and his face lit up with what his eye beheld. He picked up the flask of rum, opening it immediately, and swallowed a large portion of the alcohol in one gulp.
He heard movement from the bed and felt eyes on him so he turned. She was looking at him in a seductive way with a pleased smile curving her lips. "Jack", was all she said as she rolled over into a more provocative position to entice him more.
Jack bristled immediately, "Saffron", he replied, his voice edged with anger at the clothes-less woman's lack of memory.
Her hand had been stroking her body slowly, seductively from her breast to her lower thigh but it stopped when her ears distinguished the anger-laced tone her recent lover used when he spoke her name. As well as that, the very fact that he had remembered her name at all surprised her. Especially since she had told him her real name during the passionate sex that they had wrought earlier that night.
Jack had impressed her many times since their meeting in a back alley near the docks. Not one of her previous customers had remembered her name let alone wanted to know it. Not one of her customers had ever made her really scream or have such a pleasurable orgasm. Jack's reputation among the prostitutes of Tortuga preceded him and the rumours did him no justice as to his true capacity.
Oh, she had screamed for other customers before but they were fake screams and her orgasms forced. Nothing was forced or fake when Jack was at the helm. It seemed Jack was experienced in both sailing and pleasure making. "Have I done something wrong, love?" she asked after a time with an acted pout and scared eyes.
Jack knew she was faking her look, he could see straight through her bright green eyes. Saffron looked away just as he knew she would. Very few people were able to meet his intense gaze and fewer still were able to keep it. Jack had only come across two people who could match his stare, those two people being his mother and his old mate Bootstrap Bill Turner. Oh, Turner's get too, he was able to meet his glare, not bad for a whelp.
He decided not to answer her. Instead, he pulled out some coins from a hidden pocket and threw them in front of her. "Ye were nice, love. Keep the bed for the night. I already paid for it", he stated in a dismissive manner.
"But I thought we had fun, Jack?" she whined, a true pout forming on her lips.
Jack did a once over of the room to make sure he had all of his effects and then turned to leave. When bells began to toll in his mind he stopped. 'But I thought we had fun, Jack?' '…we had fun, Jack?' '…fun, Jack?' Fun! That's what had been missing! Bloody fun! He hadn't had any fun since the whelp had decided to stop pirating and go square.
"Bloody hell woman I think ye's a genius!" He cried vibrantly surprising Saffron once more. He ran over to her lifting her from the bed twirling her around the room, finishing off with a dizzyingly fine kiss. Jack then dumped her arse on the bed, ran out of the room, and down the stairs taking them two at a time and leaving a very dazed and confused prostitute behind him.
Jack almost tripped over the unconscious form of Gibbs in his rush. After the near accident, he slowed and walked, or rather his legs decided it was beneficial if they were on the deck of the Pearl and so moved, at a normal pace and he made his way back to his beloved ship. "I think it's time to visit some old friends", he said, a wicked smirk appearing on his roguish face.
girn – to girn, girned, girnning – girn is smiling stupidly while drooling over oneself.
