Unrequited Devotion
At times, it was so that he could hardly breathe. He would often stare at her across the dinner table and dream that she would just once give him a look displaying just a quarter as much love as he held for her. His gaze remained transfixed upon her perfect face and he felt endlessly envious of his friend Will. Instead she would give him a glare, often just aimed at his tattered bandana, and coolly ask him if he wanted any more ale. Freedom and the open seas was enough for him when he was carefree young pirate but strangely all he wanted now was to settle down. With someone half as beautiful as the woman sat opposite him. Maybe even in Port Royal, the only place on land where he ever felt really at home. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me, he thought glumly.
"Cap'n Jack?" repeated the young lad. Where do we get these people? thought Jack Sparrow, standing in front of his wheel and his hands on his hips. Most of his old crew had left and he started to feel old, despite not yet having reached the age of 40. He turned the teenager with some vague agreements and turned back toward Port Royal. Had it really been eight years since he'd jumped off that cliff to join his crew? Would he now be happier if he'd stayed under the custody of the now Governor Will Turner and tried to woo the still beautiful Elizabeth? The life of liberty aboard the Black Pearl was beginning to drag on him, and he was beginning to feel the solitude. Sure, there had been a string of willing ladies from Portsmouth to Tortuga, but none of them held anything but a physical attraction within him. He wasn't able to talk to them like he had with Elizabeth, especially like they did on that island. Rum Island he'd secretly dubbed it in his head. The place where he'd shared 24 blissful hours with the lady of his dreams and done next to nothing about it. He slumped down and lay on the deck of his ship, the one love he could call his own. The beating Caribbean sun beat down on him yet he saw nothing in the sky but Elizabeth's face.
He longing looks over dinner had not gone unnoticed by either of the Turners. Elizabeth had seen and for reasons of her own decided to ignore them and disregard his feelings towards her altogether, refusing to acknowledge it, even to herself. Will thought upon the issue with both jealousy and pity. He too loved his wife more than he could ever hope to put into words. Governor Turner may be loved by all the inhabitants of Port Royal, may be a brilliant craftsman and strangely adept with a bow and arrow but a master of words he was not. However, luckily for him, his wife loved him for what he was. She had even put up with his strange tendency to put on only light-coloured clothes, grow his hair long, bleach it, carry a bow and arrow and talk in a strange language every Christmas for three years. He in turn was bemused by her skill in that commoners' game where they kicked around a pig's bladder, where she was renowned for being able to bend a ball like some other football player in Manchester. Davey Peckham, was it? Despite his suspicion of Jack, however, he could not help but feel sorry for him. Will had often felt urges to live the pirate life but then a month aboard the Black Pearl had cured him of that and brought him back to his beloved wife. And more importantly, Jack Sparrow, esquire, was a friend of the Turners. Savvy? Will decided he would something about it, after he'd finished that sword for that King who was Returning.
So what could he possible do? Jack paced his cabin trying desperately to think of what he could do to cure that sullen aching in his heart. He could not possibly try to win Elizabeth's heart, he didn't think he could do that to good-natured Will. But then again, Jack Sparrow always looks out for Number One, and if that meant he wanted Elizabeth, didn't he owe it to himself to get her? Didn't he feel a spark between them on Rum Island? Jack twirled his dreadlocks, his moustache, then resumed pacing.
At times, it was so that he could hardly breathe. He would often stare at her across the dinner table and dream that she would just once give him a look displaying just a quarter as much love as he held for her. His gaze remained transfixed upon her perfect face and he felt endlessly envious of his friend Will. Instead she would give him a glare, often just aimed at his tattered bandana, and coolly ask him if he wanted any more ale. Freedom and the open seas was enough for him when he was carefree young pirate but strangely all he wanted now was to settle down. With someone half as beautiful as the woman sat opposite him. Maybe even in Port Royal, the only place on land where he ever felt really at home. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me, he thought glumly.
"Cap'n Jack?" repeated the young lad. Where do we get these people? thought Jack Sparrow, standing in front of his wheel and his hands on his hips. Most of his old crew had left and he started to feel old, despite not yet having reached the age of 40. He turned the teenager with some vague agreements and turned back toward Port Royal. Had it really been eight years since he'd jumped off that cliff to join his crew? Would he now be happier if he'd stayed under the custody of the now Governor Will Turner and tried to woo the still beautiful Elizabeth? The life of liberty aboard the Black Pearl was beginning to drag on him, and he was beginning to feel the solitude. Sure, there had been a string of willing ladies from Portsmouth to Tortuga, but none of them held anything but a physical attraction within him. He wasn't able to talk to them like he had with Elizabeth, especially like they did on that island. Rum Island he'd secretly dubbed it in his head. The place where he'd shared 24 blissful hours with the lady of his dreams and done next to nothing about it. He slumped down and lay on the deck of his ship, the one love he could call his own. The beating Caribbean sun beat down on him yet he saw nothing in the sky but Elizabeth's face.
He longing looks over dinner had not gone unnoticed by either of the Turners. Elizabeth had seen and for reasons of her own decided to ignore them and disregard his feelings towards her altogether, refusing to acknowledge it, even to herself. Will thought upon the issue with both jealousy and pity. He too loved his wife more than he could ever hope to put into words. Governor Turner may be loved by all the inhabitants of Port Royal, may be a brilliant craftsman and strangely adept with a bow and arrow but a master of words he was not. However, luckily for him, his wife loved him for what he was. She had even put up with his strange tendency to put on only light-coloured clothes, grow his hair long, bleach it, carry a bow and arrow and talk in a strange language every Christmas for three years. He in turn was bemused by her skill in that commoners' game where they kicked around a pig's bladder, where she was renowned for being able to bend a ball like some other football player in Manchester. Davey Peckham, was it? Despite his suspicion of Jack, however, he could not help but feel sorry for him. Will had often felt urges to live the pirate life but then a month aboard the Black Pearl had cured him of that and brought him back to his beloved wife. And more importantly, Jack Sparrow, esquire, was a friend of the Turners. Savvy? Will decided he would something about it, after he'd finished that sword for that King who was Returning.
So what could he possible do? Jack paced his cabin trying desperately to think of what he could do to cure that sullen aching in his heart. He could not possibly try to win Elizabeth's heart, he didn't think he could do that to good-natured Will. But then again, Jack Sparrow always looks out for Number One, and if that meant he wanted Elizabeth, didn't he owe it to himself to get her? Didn't he feel a spark between them on Rum Island? Jack twirled his dreadlocks, his moustache, then resumed pacing.