Sea Maiden
(In between Jack leaving the island, and 'sailing' into Port Royal, where was he? Im thinking Jack was 23 when he was marooned, which makes him 33 in PotC)
10 years previous to PotC
Jack Sparrow dug his toe into the sand and looked around at the lush island landscape. He was getting fed up with islands. The loss of the pearl stung, it had only been a week since he had been marooned by the mutinous dog Barbossa, and he wanted off islands and on the Pearl, preferably with the wrinkled pox-ridden bastard keelhauled underneath.
In a mix of Spanish and English, the rumrunners he had come to shore with told him if he wasn't back by sunset he would be in the situation they found him in. Jack didn't argue, they would be spending their time stocking water and some live animals for the trip, he was free to wander off. Well, who was he to protest?
So with a full bottle of rum he flipped a coin to choose the direction, left or right along the beach. Tails, left it was.
He half staggered, half swaggered along the sand until the curve of the island took him out of sight of the rumrunners ship. The island was small enough to walk around in a day, the runners had chosen the sandy side, while there was no cover and it meant a longer row back to the ship, it meant that supplies would not have to be hauled up or sown any steep paths. On the opposite side was a series of cliffs and coves, some suitable for hiding a ship, according to the rumrunners sailing master. Jack carefully filed that tidbit away for further use. Of course, that only served to remind him of the loss of the Pearl. He took a long draw of the rum, and continued walking.
He had barely taken three steps when he fell into a stream. It wasn't a big one, nor particularly deep, but it was enough of an inconvenience to make Jack take down half the bottle in one go and swear to the birds who whistled at his fall. He got to his feet, albeit it unsteadily, and decided a new course would be wise.
From where he was, roughly quarter of an hour would get him to where the cliffs started, where apparently a bit of climbing and you could see for hundreds of miles. Jack wondered if he could still see the Pearl. It was impossible, but still worth a go.
Given that logic, he started off again.
The jungle started to thin as he drew closer to the rocky shore. Out of habit he had been making no noise as he walked. After years of taking watch on islands where rival pirates were lurking he could move silently and his captaincy had not blunted that. As he turned a large boulder he almost choked on his rum.
The rock platforms and natural rock arches formed a natural lagoon, a good forty yards round. What startled him was the still surface being broken by a pair of hands, followed by a head and shoulders, all apparently belonging to female. Jack watched in fascination as she reached up and placed shells on the rock ledge, then swam away, and dived under. Jack swore. The quick flash of what he had thought would be a leg was blue green.
Bloody rum.
He took the opportunity to sneak closer as she was underwater, concealing himself behind a pile of rocks that had fallen beside a natural indent in the rock, which gave him an excellent view. If he was to be stuck on this godforsaken rock with no ship, he was entitled a little looksies.
After a minute or so, the girl resurfaced, placing more shells on the ledge. Then her other hand appeared holding a dagger, which she placed between her teeth, as she lifted herself out to sit next to her pile of shells. Jack almost swallowed his tongue when he saw that from the hem of the short, dark shift she wore, unnecessary in his opinion, was a length of blue green scales. He toyed with the idea of leaving, but quickly dismissed it as a stupidly noble and useless gesture. Besides, a mermaid! Even if it was the rum, it was worth a watch.
When she shifted to slip the dagger into the sheath at her waist Jack kicked himself for his foolishness. She did have legs; what he had thought was scales were some kind of tattoo covering all her legs down to her toes. Jack, who usually preferred his women unmarked, noticed that the coloring was actually rather attractive on her. Her wet hair hung halfway down her back, and was a dark auburn-red, her skin lightly tanned and part of another tattoo peeking over the top of the shift, not enough to make it out, but enough to be teasing Jacks curiosity. As Jack watched, she separated a strand of her hair at the nape of her neck from the rest of the mass and picked up the shells and started weaving them into a plait. As she continued, her hair dried, revealing golden streaks in amongst the reds and browns.
At this point Jack had one of the moments of honesty that made his piratical career less … profitable than it should have been. He should make his presence known, the lady was almost certainly not a whore, and where she came from was presenting rather a puzzle to Jacks mind.
Unconsciously keeping his soundless tread he walked towards her, realizing as he did that she was singing under her breath a version of an old Irish song he had heard an old man sing once in Tortuga, not long before the fiasco of the Pearl.
"If he were a minstrel he'd sing me six love songs, To tell the whole world of the love that we share, If he were a merchant he'd bring me six diamonds, With six blood red roses on my head to wear, But he is a simple man, a poor common farmer, So gave me six ribbons to tie back my hair, Yellow and brown, blue as the sky, Red as his blood, green as my eyes."
By now Jack was a scant yard away from her. His thought of scales had not been far off, the blue green color tattoo was in fact a rendering of scales completely covering her legs. Her nicely bare legs. He cleared his throat to speak, to say something unthreatening but at the sound the girl started and dove from her sitting position into the water. Jack swore under his breath, at least the whores in Tortuga stopped for a word. A few yards out she surfaced quietly, watching him with large green eyes.
Unable to think of anything to say, Jack called out "Lovely day, isn't it?"
As inane as it was, given the circumstances, it seemed to do the trick. The girl smiled, "Lovely," she agreed, her voice clear, with an Irish lilt.
"How's the water?" He asked, slowly moving forward. She didn't start away again, but didn't move any closer.
"The water is fine," she said, ducking under for a moment as if to emphasize her point.
Jack grinned as an idea presented itself. He started unbuckling his belt.
The girls eyes widened, "What are ye doing?" her accent stronger with surprise.
His belt was placed on a flat boulder by him, followed by his hat, his smile turning somewhat predatory. "Well," he said, "It's a hot day, thought I'd like a swim since the waters so fine."
"What?" the girl said, now very startled.
Now his jacket joined his other effects, along with his boots. He paused and risked a sideways glance at the girl. She was slowly backing away, and kept looking over her shoulder at the rock barrier that separated the lagoon from the sea. "Relax, love," he said, "Just a swim, your honor is completely safe with me, savvy?"
She relaxed somewhat but kept her weary distance. "Savvy," she agreed. She was still as he undid his cuffs but moved after a few moments to the side of the lagoon, hoisting herself onto the ledge. It was still a distance from Jack, but the same amount of distance to the sea. Jack interpreted it as she meant it, establishing a manner of trust.
He watched out of the corner of his eye as he undid the ties at his neck and loosened his shirt from his pants. She was not attractive in the way most women were in Jacks experience. She wasn't the curvaceous, voluptuous women of Tortuga, nor the pale, slender things of the higher classes. She had all the right curves as the wet shift revealed, her arms and legs were slender and smooth like any woman's, but when she lifted herself it revealed under the skin were muscles, not bulky but strong certainly. She was lithe, that was the word.
He tugged the shirt over his head, gratified to see that the girl was watching him from the corner of her eye, and a light blush spread across her cheeks. Nice to know his recent … downfalls hadn't blunted his edge. He had been involuntarily celibate for almost two months and even though this girl was not likely to provide relief, a little mutual observation was not unwelcome. Besides he could use an ego boost.
He crouched down on the ledge, testing the water with his hand. It was an excellent temperature, the last tide had filled the lagoon up, while the tropical sun had warmed it up. Taking a deep breath, he dived into the water. Underwater the surroundings were soft green, the sand white underneath, seaweed and some type of coral grew along the back wall of the lagoon. Then from the green a face materialized, the girl had swum up to him, and now was a scant few inches away, her hair haloing around her. She grinned and gestured to the surface. He broke the water first, followed by her.
"I'm Ann," she said.
"Jack," he replied. If she wasn't supplying last names, neither was he. Her eyes were the same green as the water.
They swam in silence for a good while, Ann slowly relaxing enough to allow unconscious contact. Through casual conversation he discovered she was 16, but she gave very little other information. The only other thing he gleaned from her was she was an excellent swimmer and liked shells. Eventually, after she had proved that she was a far better swimmer and a good two hours had passed, they sat on the ledge near where Jack had discarded his clothes.
"So, how did you get here?" he asked, his curiosity finally unstoppable.
She shrugged, "Well I'm told my father met my mother…"
"No, I think I've got a fair idea on that part," Jack interrupted, "How did you get here, to this island?"
"I swam" she offered. Then looked at him, "What about you?"
"I flew," he shrugged in return. She found that amusing. He watched the waters hypnotic movements, the glanced back at her. She wasn't looking at him, so much, but staring rather intensely at his hair.
"What?" he asked, she grinned.
"Can I put one of these on you?" she asked, pulling at her braid decorated by shells.
Jack grinned, now this was an opportunity to answer another question he had. "All right, love, but if you do, I get to see that art work, savvy?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, "It's pretty goddamn visible."
Jack noted the language, then tapped her back, "I meant that one love."
She seemed to debate it in her head, but eventually nodded. Getting to her feet, she went to a small cairn of rocks near by, and from behind it retrieved a small bag of oilcloth with a thin woven strap. She resumed her seat next to him, emptying the bag onto the rock. It was filled with beads and bits of shell and glass as well as a metal comb.
He sat perfectly still as she combed out his hair, which up until two days ago had been a matted mess. He was finding the attention enjoyable, as well as the occasional glimpses of cleavage her position afforded him. It wasn't much more than a somewhat low cut dress would give, but until Tortuga, it would do.
She worked quickly, weaving beads and shells into the lock of hair at his temple. When at last she was done, Jack observed the work as best he could. His slight fear that she would choose something that would get him, in all likelihood, beaten to the ground it appeared was unfounded. The beads she used was black, gold and silver, the shells a dark purple color, shiny like an oyster shell. Like a black pearl. Quite suitable for a pirate.
"All right love, I kept my end, now you." Jack said, throwing in a leer for good measure. She sighed exaggeratedly, then turned her back to him. This was better than Jack had hoped for. That he would get a looksies no touchy warning, yes he expected. But to get her silent permission to somewhat undress her. Oh yes, Captain Jack Sparrow was still in his game.
He traced the neckline with the tip of his finger, eyeing the fit. As hoped, there wasn't enough give in the material which obliged him to brush the straps of the shift off her shoulders. He was gratified to see goose bumps raise on her arms and the hand he could see bunch the strap of her bag. Though he could see he wouldn't be able to see anything other then her back, as the hand he couldn't see was holding the front of the shift up, it was enough of a tease to make his mouth water.
"So," she started, then cleared her throat and started again, "So, what do you think?"
"Very nice," he said under his breath, and then remembered he was supposed to be looking at her tattoo.
It was a ship in full sail, the water slashing against the sides. Given the angle most of the ships sides were not shown, but the bow was clearly visible. The figurehead was a dragon or sea serpent, sleek and smiling. It was a beautiful tattoo. He traced it lightly, smiling as the goose bumps made a return, along with a small shiver.
He leaned forward, "Where did you get this, love?" he asked softly.
Ann made a small sigh, leaning back obviously without realizing it. "Tortuga," she said, then tensed.
"What were you doing in Tortuga?" he asked, a little more sharply then he intended.
"What do you know about Tortuga?" she returned, pushing her straps back up and slinging her bag so it went across her body. She jumped to her feet, "I have to go, tis almost noon."
"Wait," Jack said, suddenly very reluctant to let her go, "Can't you stay?"
Ann paused, but shook her head, "I have to go." Then she smiled, "I'm sure we'll meet again."
Jack watched as she made her way quickly across the rock, skipping over rock pools without slipping, until she came to the cliff. She walked along it out past the shore, walking across the rock ledge until she came to the end of the outcrop, a good fifty yards away from the shore, then disappeared. Jack wasn't sure whether she dived into the water or slipped around the rock.
Only that she was gone.
Suddenly the rum looked a lot more welcoming. Looking around he noticed there was a fairly easy path winding from the beach to the cliffs above. The cliffs were higher here than anywhere else on the island and would give a view of the whole island. Jack shifted, well since Ann had left, and already he was wondering how much of her was real, and how much was the rum and involuntary chastity, he'd better walk it off. He dressed and set off, a little disappointed when the path was not very difficult.
Walking away from the beach he was a good half mile from the starting place when he reached the peak. The view was a surprise though. Out to one side he could see the rumrunners ship, all around the blue sea and the green islands. And most surprisingly, below him, half hidden in a cove was a pirate ship. Well that was something interesting, no mistake. Another swig of rum and the ship was still there. What the hell was in this stuff? First a girl appearing and disappearing, now a full blown ship. He touched the braid to reassure himself that at least Ann was real.
It took him a while to remember where he left his small telescope, but he eventually located it in the sash around his waist. Glancing around to ensure the sun wouldn't betray him, he extended it and settled himself into a comfortable position. It was defiantly a pirate ship, the flag and lack of uniforms confirmed that. What really interested him was the small rowboat heading towards the ship. In it was a figure, one of the cabin boys probably, the slight figure in a dark green jacket and baggy brown pants, a tricorner hat concealing their face. In good strong strokes, the 'boy' maneuvered the small boat to the ships side, using ropes to haul themselves up. Upon springing onto the deck the figure removed their hat, revealing curling red hair. The telescope confirmed it. It was Ann, apparently completely at home amongst the ruffians and vagrants. She was lending a hand in hauling up the boat and even helping with the rigging. Well, well, this was a day for surprises.
The ship was vaguely familiar, and it took Jack a moment to remember it. The Maeve, The pirate ship captained by Sam Morgan. Its reputation was colorful to say the least. If you believed the stories, it took on Spanish gold ships and had never been caught by the English navy. It was one of the more successful pirate ships and captained by one of the finest pirate captains to sail the sea.
Jack whistled under his breath. Nice company Ann was keeping.
He took his time, leisurely watching her as she nimbly climbed rigging and helped as a crew member. It was dangerously close to sunset when he finally left, running for the beach where the rumrunners said to meet.
She said they would meet again, well, Tortuga wasn't far away, and sooner or later all ships came there.
A/N: Review are needed, and suggestions are always ALWAYS welcome
(In between Jack leaving the island, and 'sailing' into Port Royal, where was he? Im thinking Jack was 23 when he was marooned, which makes him 33 in PotC)
10 years previous to PotC
Jack Sparrow dug his toe into the sand and looked around at the lush island landscape. He was getting fed up with islands. The loss of the pearl stung, it had only been a week since he had been marooned by the mutinous dog Barbossa, and he wanted off islands and on the Pearl, preferably with the wrinkled pox-ridden bastard keelhauled underneath.
In a mix of Spanish and English, the rumrunners he had come to shore with told him if he wasn't back by sunset he would be in the situation they found him in. Jack didn't argue, they would be spending their time stocking water and some live animals for the trip, he was free to wander off. Well, who was he to protest?
So with a full bottle of rum he flipped a coin to choose the direction, left or right along the beach. Tails, left it was.
He half staggered, half swaggered along the sand until the curve of the island took him out of sight of the rumrunners ship. The island was small enough to walk around in a day, the runners had chosen the sandy side, while there was no cover and it meant a longer row back to the ship, it meant that supplies would not have to be hauled up or sown any steep paths. On the opposite side was a series of cliffs and coves, some suitable for hiding a ship, according to the rumrunners sailing master. Jack carefully filed that tidbit away for further use. Of course, that only served to remind him of the loss of the Pearl. He took a long draw of the rum, and continued walking.
He had barely taken three steps when he fell into a stream. It wasn't a big one, nor particularly deep, but it was enough of an inconvenience to make Jack take down half the bottle in one go and swear to the birds who whistled at his fall. He got to his feet, albeit it unsteadily, and decided a new course would be wise.
From where he was, roughly quarter of an hour would get him to where the cliffs started, where apparently a bit of climbing and you could see for hundreds of miles. Jack wondered if he could still see the Pearl. It was impossible, but still worth a go.
Given that logic, he started off again.
The jungle started to thin as he drew closer to the rocky shore. Out of habit he had been making no noise as he walked. After years of taking watch on islands where rival pirates were lurking he could move silently and his captaincy had not blunted that. As he turned a large boulder he almost choked on his rum.
The rock platforms and natural rock arches formed a natural lagoon, a good forty yards round. What startled him was the still surface being broken by a pair of hands, followed by a head and shoulders, all apparently belonging to female. Jack watched in fascination as she reached up and placed shells on the rock ledge, then swam away, and dived under. Jack swore. The quick flash of what he had thought would be a leg was blue green.
Bloody rum.
He took the opportunity to sneak closer as she was underwater, concealing himself behind a pile of rocks that had fallen beside a natural indent in the rock, which gave him an excellent view. If he was to be stuck on this godforsaken rock with no ship, he was entitled a little looksies.
After a minute or so, the girl resurfaced, placing more shells on the ledge. Then her other hand appeared holding a dagger, which she placed between her teeth, as she lifted herself out to sit next to her pile of shells. Jack almost swallowed his tongue when he saw that from the hem of the short, dark shift she wore, unnecessary in his opinion, was a length of blue green scales. He toyed with the idea of leaving, but quickly dismissed it as a stupidly noble and useless gesture. Besides, a mermaid! Even if it was the rum, it was worth a watch.
When she shifted to slip the dagger into the sheath at her waist Jack kicked himself for his foolishness. She did have legs; what he had thought was scales were some kind of tattoo covering all her legs down to her toes. Jack, who usually preferred his women unmarked, noticed that the coloring was actually rather attractive on her. Her wet hair hung halfway down her back, and was a dark auburn-red, her skin lightly tanned and part of another tattoo peeking over the top of the shift, not enough to make it out, but enough to be teasing Jacks curiosity. As Jack watched, she separated a strand of her hair at the nape of her neck from the rest of the mass and picked up the shells and started weaving them into a plait. As she continued, her hair dried, revealing golden streaks in amongst the reds and browns.
At this point Jack had one of the moments of honesty that made his piratical career less … profitable than it should have been. He should make his presence known, the lady was almost certainly not a whore, and where she came from was presenting rather a puzzle to Jacks mind.
Unconsciously keeping his soundless tread he walked towards her, realizing as he did that she was singing under her breath a version of an old Irish song he had heard an old man sing once in Tortuga, not long before the fiasco of the Pearl.
"If he were a minstrel he'd sing me six love songs, To tell the whole world of the love that we share, If he were a merchant he'd bring me six diamonds, With six blood red roses on my head to wear, But he is a simple man, a poor common farmer, So gave me six ribbons to tie back my hair, Yellow and brown, blue as the sky, Red as his blood, green as my eyes."
By now Jack was a scant yard away from her. His thought of scales had not been far off, the blue green color tattoo was in fact a rendering of scales completely covering her legs. Her nicely bare legs. He cleared his throat to speak, to say something unthreatening but at the sound the girl started and dove from her sitting position into the water. Jack swore under his breath, at least the whores in Tortuga stopped for a word. A few yards out she surfaced quietly, watching him with large green eyes.
Unable to think of anything to say, Jack called out "Lovely day, isn't it?"
As inane as it was, given the circumstances, it seemed to do the trick. The girl smiled, "Lovely," she agreed, her voice clear, with an Irish lilt.
"How's the water?" He asked, slowly moving forward. She didn't start away again, but didn't move any closer.
"The water is fine," she said, ducking under for a moment as if to emphasize her point.
Jack grinned as an idea presented itself. He started unbuckling his belt.
The girls eyes widened, "What are ye doing?" her accent stronger with surprise.
His belt was placed on a flat boulder by him, followed by his hat, his smile turning somewhat predatory. "Well," he said, "It's a hot day, thought I'd like a swim since the waters so fine."
"What?" the girl said, now very startled.
Now his jacket joined his other effects, along with his boots. He paused and risked a sideways glance at the girl. She was slowly backing away, and kept looking over her shoulder at the rock barrier that separated the lagoon from the sea. "Relax, love," he said, "Just a swim, your honor is completely safe with me, savvy?"
She relaxed somewhat but kept her weary distance. "Savvy," she agreed. She was still as he undid his cuffs but moved after a few moments to the side of the lagoon, hoisting herself onto the ledge. It was still a distance from Jack, but the same amount of distance to the sea. Jack interpreted it as she meant it, establishing a manner of trust.
He watched out of the corner of his eye as he undid the ties at his neck and loosened his shirt from his pants. She was not attractive in the way most women were in Jacks experience. She wasn't the curvaceous, voluptuous women of Tortuga, nor the pale, slender things of the higher classes. She had all the right curves as the wet shift revealed, her arms and legs were slender and smooth like any woman's, but when she lifted herself it revealed under the skin were muscles, not bulky but strong certainly. She was lithe, that was the word.
He tugged the shirt over his head, gratified to see that the girl was watching him from the corner of her eye, and a light blush spread across her cheeks. Nice to know his recent … downfalls hadn't blunted his edge. He had been involuntarily celibate for almost two months and even though this girl was not likely to provide relief, a little mutual observation was not unwelcome. Besides he could use an ego boost.
He crouched down on the ledge, testing the water with his hand. It was an excellent temperature, the last tide had filled the lagoon up, while the tropical sun had warmed it up. Taking a deep breath, he dived into the water. Underwater the surroundings were soft green, the sand white underneath, seaweed and some type of coral grew along the back wall of the lagoon. Then from the green a face materialized, the girl had swum up to him, and now was a scant few inches away, her hair haloing around her. She grinned and gestured to the surface. He broke the water first, followed by her.
"I'm Ann," she said.
"Jack," he replied. If she wasn't supplying last names, neither was he. Her eyes were the same green as the water.
They swam in silence for a good while, Ann slowly relaxing enough to allow unconscious contact. Through casual conversation he discovered she was 16, but she gave very little other information. The only other thing he gleaned from her was she was an excellent swimmer and liked shells. Eventually, after she had proved that she was a far better swimmer and a good two hours had passed, they sat on the ledge near where Jack had discarded his clothes.
"So, how did you get here?" he asked, his curiosity finally unstoppable.
She shrugged, "Well I'm told my father met my mother…"
"No, I think I've got a fair idea on that part," Jack interrupted, "How did you get here, to this island?"
"I swam" she offered. Then looked at him, "What about you?"
"I flew," he shrugged in return. She found that amusing. He watched the waters hypnotic movements, the glanced back at her. She wasn't looking at him, so much, but staring rather intensely at his hair.
"What?" he asked, she grinned.
"Can I put one of these on you?" she asked, pulling at her braid decorated by shells.
Jack grinned, now this was an opportunity to answer another question he had. "All right, love, but if you do, I get to see that art work, savvy?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, "It's pretty goddamn visible."
Jack noted the language, then tapped her back, "I meant that one love."
She seemed to debate it in her head, but eventually nodded. Getting to her feet, she went to a small cairn of rocks near by, and from behind it retrieved a small bag of oilcloth with a thin woven strap. She resumed her seat next to him, emptying the bag onto the rock. It was filled with beads and bits of shell and glass as well as a metal comb.
He sat perfectly still as she combed out his hair, which up until two days ago had been a matted mess. He was finding the attention enjoyable, as well as the occasional glimpses of cleavage her position afforded him. It wasn't much more than a somewhat low cut dress would give, but until Tortuga, it would do.
She worked quickly, weaving beads and shells into the lock of hair at his temple. When at last she was done, Jack observed the work as best he could. His slight fear that she would choose something that would get him, in all likelihood, beaten to the ground it appeared was unfounded. The beads she used was black, gold and silver, the shells a dark purple color, shiny like an oyster shell. Like a black pearl. Quite suitable for a pirate.
"All right love, I kept my end, now you." Jack said, throwing in a leer for good measure. She sighed exaggeratedly, then turned her back to him. This was better than Jack had hoped for. That he would get a looksies no touchy warning, yes he expected. But to get her silent permission to somewhat undress her. Oh yes, Captain Jack Sparrow was still in his game.
He traced the neckline with the tip of his finger, eyeing the fit. As hoped, there wasn't enough give in the material which obliged him to brush the straps of the shift off her shoulders. He was gratified to see goose bumps raise on her arms and the hand he could see bunch the strap of her bag. Though he could see he wouldn't be able to see anything other then her back, as the hand he couldn't see was holding the front of the shift up, it was enough of a tease to make his mouth water.
"So," she started, then cleared her throat and started again, "So, what do you think?"
"Very nice," he said under his breath, and then remembered he was supposed to be looking at her tattoo.
It was a ship in full sail, the water slashing against the sides. Given the angle most of the ships sides were not shown, but the bow was clearly visible. The figurehead was a dragon or sea serpent, sleek and smiling. It was a beautiful tattoo. He traced it lightly, smiling as the goose bumps made a return, along with a small shiver.
He leaned forward, "Where did you get this, love?" he asked softly.
Ann made a small sigh, leaning back obviously without realizing it. "Tortuga," she said, then tensed.
"What were you doing in Tortuga?" he asked, a little more sharply then he intended.
"What do you know about Tortuga?" she returned, pushing her straps back up and slinging her bag so it went across her body. She jumped to her feet, "I have to go, tis almost noon."
"Wait," Jack said, suddenly very reluctant to let her go, "Can't you stay?"
Ann paused, but shook her head, "I have to go." Then she smiled, "I'm sure we'll meet again."
Jack watched as she made her way quickly across the rock, skipping over rock pools without slipping, until she came to the cliff. She walked along it out past the shore, walking across the rock ledge until she came to the end of the outcrop, a good fifty yards away from the shore, then disappeared. Jack wasn't sure whether she dived into the water or slipped around the rock.
Only that she was gone.
Suddenly the rum looked a lot more welcoming. Looking around he noticed there was a fairly easy path winding from the beach to the cliffs above. The cliffs were higher here than anywhere else on the island and would give a view of the whole island. Jack shifted, well since Ann had left, and already he was wondering how much of her was real, and how much was the rum and involuntary chastity, he'd better walk it off. He dressed and set off, a little disappointed when the path was not very difficult.
Walking away from the beach he was a good half mile from the starting place when he reached the peak. The view was a surprise though. Out to one side he could see the rumrunners ship, all around the blue sea and the green islands. And most surprisingly, below him, half hidden in a cove was a pirate ship. Well that was something interesting, no mistake. Another swig of rum and the ship was still there. What the hell was in this stuff? First a girl appearing and disappearing, now a full blown ship. He touched the braid to reassure himself that at least Ann was real.
It took him a while to remember where he left his small telescope, but he eventually located it in the sash around his waist. Glancing around to ensure the sun wouldn't betray him, he extended it and settled himself into a comfortable position. It was defiantly a pirate ship, the flag and lack of uniforms confirmed that. What really interested him was the small rowboat heading towards the ship. In it was a figure, one of the cabin boys probably, the slight figure in a dark green jacket and baggy brown pants, a tricorner hat concealing their face. In good strong strokes, the 'boy' maneuvered the small boat to the ships side, using ropes to haul themselves up. Upon springing onto the deck the figure removed their hat, revealing curling red hair. The telescope confirmed it. It was Ann, apparently completely at home amongst the ruffians and vagrants. She was lending a hand in hauling up the boat and even helping with the rigging. Well, well, this was a day for surprises.
The ship was vaguely familiar, and it took Jack a moment to remember it. The Maeve, The pirate ship captained by Sam Morgan. Its reputation was colorful to say the least. If you believed the stories, it took on Spanish gold ships and had never been caught by the English navy. It was one of the more successful pirate ships and captained by one of the finest pirate captains to sail the sea.
Jack whistled under his breath. Nice company Ann was keeping.
He took his time, leisurely watching her as she nimbly climbed rigging and helped as a crew member. It was dangerously close to sunset when he finally left, running for the beach where the rumrunners said to meet.
She said they would meet again, well, Tortuga wasn't far away, and sooner or later all ships came there.
A/N: Review are needed, and suggestions are always ALWAYS welcome