James stepped back and admired his handiwork. It had taken what he estimated to be several days of hard labor, but he had finally finished their ramshackle shelter. It certainly wasn't the quality of Fort Charles, but it was definitely a step up from sleeping on the hard, bristle-like grass or worse, the stone grey sand.
After much discussion, Beckett had agreed that this was the best place to build. They'd made a circuit of the island and scoped out the area from a tall tree. It was a desolate place, indeed.
The entirety of the island was surrounded by jagged black stones, which looked like leftover rubble from the last eruption. No ships could hope to get close. That is, if there were any ships in Purgatory to begin with.
More depressing was the island itself. It was either black from cooled lava, or covered in the dreadful gritty grey sand.
"It brings to mind the rubble from the diamond mines in the Indies. We would find this type of dirt in every bloody possible place while we were stationed there. Especially if a mine collapsed, then it would be in the air too," Beckett had mused as he'd emptied out his boot for the third time.
"You think this used to be a mining island?" James knew that Beckett was as aware as he was of their dead status, but it helped to humanize things a little. Purgatory versus an abandoned mining island? –well there really wasn't any question which was the saner of the two.
Beckett leveled his piercing grey eyes at the former Admiral. "I would have, yes. But the 'sand' extends as far out into the ocean as one can see. Even past the rocks."
James nodded ignoring the demeaning look from his diminutive companion. "Well, you climb up first, then, and test it out," he pointed up to their shelter which sat nestled in a sturdy yet quite unquestionably dead tree.
Beckett fixed James with a glare. "I will not! You built the blasted thing, besides you're twice my size and weight-"
"Height, perhaps, but not weight. All those henchman start to add a little padding, Beckett," James quipped.
Beckett spluttered staring at James. "And what on earth is that supposed to mean!"
James grinned. "Apparently even the dead can get fat."
Beckett narrowed his eyes. "I understood that quite clearly, Norrington. What I meant was, how does my having underlings – such as yourself –contriubte to my suppsed weight gain?"
James started climbing, branch by branch smiling to himself as he went. "Well, Beckett, if I sat around in an office and let everyone else do my legwork, I'd imagine I'd look a little doughy too."
James was at the top of the tree now, sat on the boards they had found washed up on the eastern shore.
It had taken some time, and not a little arguing to decide which direction was which. They had found, after discovering James still wore his pocket watch, that in a 24 hour period the sun didn't change in the slightest. It was always directly above their heads at high noon, but with just enough cloud cover that it didn't really illuminate anything either.
It was a dreadful nuisance. Too dark to really see well and too light to sleep comfortably. So, they had come to decide that the Volcano, which was set at the very edge of one side of the island, was due north.
James thought it reminded him of a compass. The largest most obvious point was always indicative of North.
It was then, deciding the volcano was north, that they had decided to build their shelter as far from it as possible. So now, on the southern side of the island, James sat high in a dead tree on the remnants of an old rowboat. They certainly weren't the first ones here.
The shelter was sturdy enough for being built out of driftwood. James had dampened the wood and straightened each piece so as to accommodate their needs for a flat sleeping surface. There had been enough wood for a floor and one side, which he'd built facing the Volcano, just in case. Then, forcing Beckett to assist, at the threat of dragging his much smaller self, the two had collected dead branches for the remaining walls and used some of the longer grasses for a roof. It looked like the home of a savage rather than a shelter for two gentlemen. But one must learn to make due.
With the old boat they had found a few other odd supplies. A spyglass, a tarp, a flag so worn one couldn't pick out what the colors might have been, an old ink bottle, and a broken piece of a crate. Upon discovering these lucky finds, James had almost entertained the idea of fellow men on the island, that is, until Beckett had pointed out the half-buried hand of a skeleton, pointing toward the volcano.
They'd decided the skeleton would mark due east, and had left the bones in peace.
Now, Beckett stared up at James as the latter peered down through the opening they made on one side of the floor.
"Are you coming up, or do you need to be carried?" James quipped.
Beckett glared and started climbing. His shorter frame wasn't suited to climbing tall, dead trees, and he struggled to reach the opening. James had managed it in less than a minute with his long arms and legs to assist him.
When Beckett was close enough, James reached down through the hole to help him up.
Beckett swatted his hand away, and growled something obscene under his breath as he hauled himself up.
…
"I was right."
Beckett snapped a glare at the naval officer. "You were right about what," he snarled panting in his selected corner.
"You are out of shape!" James smirked at his companion and leaned back against the wall, propping his head on his folded arms.
"I could still strangle you in your sleep, Norrington."
"Ah, but we're dead, Beckett, I have nothing to fear!"
Beckett let out an exasperated huff and pulled the tarp they found over himself like a quilt. This left James with the flag to keep warm. Lovely.
James settled in for the night, listening to the win whistle through the shack and the grasses rustling dryly below them. He glanced at his companion wondering if he was the only one affected by the unsettling sounds.
"Norrington."
Ah, Beckett wasn't asleep then.
"Yes?"
"Stop staring, it's impossible to sleep."
James snorted. Of course the man would feel a stare!
"And Norrington!"
"What now!" James growled.
"You will build a ladder tomorrow."
It took a moment for the words to process in James' tired brain, but as he replayed Beckett's less-than-graceful ascension into the tree-house. It wasn't, he realized, because Beckett was lazy, but because he was short!
James chuckled to himself.
"NORRINGTON!"
James couldn't keep the smile from his face. "Yes?" he replied innocently.
"Laughing in purgatory is just as bad a smiling. Go to SLEEP."
James smirked to himself and shook his, head rolling over on one side. They still needed a food source –as his aching belly reminded him, and a steady source of fresh water, but for now they were well on their way to surviving purgatory.
He could only hope they fared better than Mr. Bones in the east.
Hey there! I decided I wanted to add another chapter to this! So while my aching ankle keeps me awake I present for your pleasure: CHAPTER TWO!
I may or may not continue this further. It all depends on the amount of free time I have and the inspiration I get and the interest I receive from you readers! :D Love you guys! Hope you enjoyed and please remember to review! I LOVE YOU ALL but it's so much easier to show the love if I have a review to reply to! ^_^ Have a good night, all!
