Title: All That Shines
Author: Your's truly, Memory Untainted
Rating: pg-13, I think. Strong language later on.
Summary: Pirates of the Caribbean/The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle crossover. The Seahawk is on course for Port Royal to deliever a "special cargo". A certain pirate crew comes across the Seahawk when it runs aground on a sandbar. The cargo falls into their hands. . .
Disclaimer: Still do not own anyone from PotC or TTCoCD. Sadly. Thanks for all of the support through the first chapter and I have to say that I sinscerely hope that this is going to get better. I've not been in much of a writing mood lately and this is the first thing I've really wanted to write. Sorry if I disappoint.
'. . .' - thoughts
". . ." - speaking
{. . .} - author's notes from me
. . .* - something that I am going to explain at the end of the chapter.
"/. . ./" - singing outloud
~~ - scene cut
Chapter 2
The warm Tortugan night air swept across Charlotte's face in a ghostly whisper. On it was the throathy calls of the local whore, some of them calling out to Ewing by name or some crude petname. Charlotte's handsome blonde Scottish escort was finding it hard not to run to some of the prettiest whores. Luckily he remember that he was supposed to be showing Charlotte around.
"Well, what do you think of Tortuga, lass," Ewing asked as he smiled around at the crowded streets. Charlotte was strangely silent at his side. "Charlotte?" He looked down to where she should have been. The young girl was no longer there. "Charlotte?! Charlotte! Charlotte, lass," the panic was starting to rise in Ewing's voice.
"EWING!"
Ewing looked up just in time to see his young charge being carried off by a burly looking sailor. He fought the crowd to get to Charlotte. Her cries faded into a pub, and Ewing ran after them.
Charlotte and her captor were lost to Ewing in the hustle and bustle of the crowded pub. The young girl was drug over to a large table in a more private corner. Clustered around the table were the roughest bunch of men that Charlotte had ever seen. She had once thought that her crew on the Seahawk were unwashed miscrients, but these men were the very embodiment of uncleanliness. They reeked of sea water and fish, tar and sweat. The true mark of a sailor. She guessed that they had just put into port and had yet to wash. Pity her nose.
"Aye then, Galvaz, what did ye drag back now?" One of the men at the table, drunk as the rest of them, eyed Charlotte boldly. She was dressed in her canvas shirt and breeches, but she suddenly felt more exposed than if she were wearing a dress. The top set of lacing loops for her shirt had ripped, leaving a great deal of her chest hanging out. Her breeches were a smidge too tight around the hips and rump. Her bare calves and feet, tanned as the rest of her exposed skin was, open for all eyes to see. "Ah, I see. A dock- side doxie, is it? Well, bring 'er 'ere, Galvaz. Lemme 'ave a look at ye, lassie. Come see ol' Murtogg."
Against her will, Charlotte was shoved towards the man. His rancid breath smelled horridly of rum and various other alcoholic drinks. She gagged. The contents of her stomach threatened to spew all over herself and the man who was now looking at her in such a crude manner that she was appalled. No man had ever dared to look at her that way. Maybe because when she was younger and the ideal gentlewoman, she was protectively shielded by parents and teachers, and now as a sailor she was treated as such and protectively shielded by her fellow sailors. Her pride asserted itself and her back went as straight as a rail.
"Well, well, well. A little suntanned. Could be a red Indian, if not for the lovely golden hair. An' oh, what hair." The man reached out and snapped the tie that bound her hair. The golden mass fell around her shoulders in waves. The gnarled fingers tangled in her hair, twirled the strands, ran through it, drew her head closer to him. "Who be ye, little one?" Instead of an answer, Charlotte spit in his face. The men around her howled their laughter.
A strong hand shot out and delt her a staggering blow. She was jerked back and her face was inches away from the man's. His breath heaved onto her. His hands tangled into her hair again, holding her close, making her feel as if her scalp would rip loose at any moment.
"Tha' wasn't very nice, love," he hissed in her face.
"EWING!!"
Her screams merely brought another howling round of laughter from the men. Liqour Breath drew his hand back to slap her again. Charlotte closed her eyes as she steeled herself in anticipation of the awaited blow. She felt the man swing, but then there was nothing; only tense silence.
"An' tha's no' very nice, either," said a new voice. Charlotte opened her eyes just in time to see Liqour Breath being punched in the face, releasing her, and falling back. The men around her rose to their feet and drew their weapons. The stranger who had spoken pulled Charlotte behind her and she found herself in the midst of a large crowd, each holding weapons, prepared to fight her abuser.
"Well, blow me down, if it ain' Cap'n Jack Sparrow," Liqour Breath laughed nervoulsly. "What brings ye bac' to Tortuga, Jack?"
"It's Cap'n Sparrow to ye, Murtogg, and I don' recall me havin' to report my business to the likes of ye. But as long as I'm here, I'm liberating this young thing from ye. All right there, darlin'?"
The man turned to Charlotte and smiled widely. His golden teeth glittered in the low light. The dark dreadlocks hung around his face, filled with trinkets, a bone, and a faded red bandana. The dark, kohl-lined eyes looked her up and down for harm. Then his eyes changed expression and she was reminded of Liqour Breath again. She huffed and looked away. As she looked towards the door, she saw a familiar blonde scottsman looking around for her.
"Ewing! Ewing! Over here!" The young girl started shoving through the crowd of her saviors towards her friend. A strong arm reached out to hold her in place. She turned around to see the dreadlocked-man holding her arm.
"Let go! Let me go this instant!"
"Don't think that's the best o' ideas, love."
Liqour Breath took the advantage of Jack's distraction to get to his feet. With a fluid swing, a fist came flying towards Jack. The captain swayed just in time for Liqour Breath to miss and go sprawling to the floor. Jack used the toe of his boot to push the man's face into the dirty floorboards.
"Clear out, ye scallywags," Jack yelled to Murtogg's men. They gathered their friend and ran off quickly. Jack's crew took their place at the recently vacated table. Charlotte soon found herself seated firmly on Jack's lap, and with the strong arms around her waist, she had no hopes of moving.
"Now, love, tell ol' Jack wha' a young'un like you is doin' in a place like this," Jack whispered huskily in her ear.
"I'll tell you nothing. EWING!!!!"
"That'd be me ear ye just shouted in, love." Jack rubbed his ear.
"And that would be my charge that you are defiling, sir," Ewing said as he came to stand at Jack's side.
"Oh, so she is," Jack laughed and handed Charlotte over to Ewing as if she were a sack of potatoes. "Just keepin' 'er warm for ye."
"Quite."
"Mind if I borrow 'er when ye're done, mate?"
Ewing turned and left, not even dignifying Jack's question with an answer. Jack watched the two go, smiling to himself. That fiesty little brunette had near deafened him, but still he had wanted to keep her. He could use someone with such spunk in his. . . crew. {A/N: Crew? Yeah, sure, Jack. Riiiiiiight. . .} Shame to see her leave, really. Jack considered going after her for a moment or two, then shrugged and ordered a round of drinks for the crew. They had had a successful voyage and were already ahead of Will. Now all he had to do was sail back to Port Royal and he would have won the race. Will's ship must have gotten blown off course during that storm. The rum arrived and the sailors started their night of drinking.
Jack sang, "/Drink up me hearties, yo ho!/"
~~
"What were you thinking," Ewing yelled. "Why did you wander off?! You could have been killed! Or worse! What's wrong with that head of your's?! Did the sun fry your brain?!"
"Ewing, I--" Charlotte tried to interruput the tidal wave of anger directed at her, but her attempts proved fruitless.
"No, Charlotte, don't interrupt! You worried me to death! All of this could have been avoided if you had just stayed by my side!"
"I know. I'm sorry." She hung her head so that he would see the tears that were threatening to fall. The scott's heart sunk in his chest. He had been such a heel.
With tender care, Ewing gathered the crying young woman in his arms to hug her fiercely. He hadn't meant to be so hard on her. It was just that seeing her being dragged off and not being able to find her, only to later find her with a nasty bruise forming on her cheek had had him fearing the worst.
"It's all right, mermaid. Sssh. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, lass. Will you accept my apology?" No answer. "Charlotte? Charlotte, lass, I asked you if you would accept my apology." Ewing pulled her away from him so that he could see her face. Young Miss Doyle had fallen asleep in his arms. He had to smile.
Ewing carefully deposited his bundle in her hammock. They were safe and sound on the Seahawk once more. Charlotte would sleep better here where she could hear the waves lap on the side of the ship, feel the rocking of the ship. Even in her sleep, Charlotte could hear and feel everything around her and she knew that she was at home on her beloved Seahawk.
E N D O F C H A P T E R 2
Author: Your's truly, Memory Untainted
Rating: pg-13, I think. Strong language later on.
Summary: Pirates of the Caribbean/The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle crossover. The Seahawk is on course for Port Royal to deliever a "special cargo". A certain pirate crew comes across the Seahawk when it runs aground on a sandbar. The cargo falls into their hands. . .
Disclaimer: Still do not own anyone from PotC or TTCoCD. Sadly. Thanks for all of the support through the first chapter and I have to say that I sinscerely hope that this is going to get better. I've not been in much of a writing mood lately and this is the first thing I've really wanted to write. Sorry if I disappoint.
'. . .' - thoughts
". . ." - speaking
{. . .} - author's notes from me
. . .* - something that I am going to explain at the end of the chapter.
"/. . ./" - singing outloud
~~ - scene cut
Chapter 2
The warm Tortugan night air swept across Charlotte's face in a ghostly whisper. On it was the throathy calls of the local whore, some of them calling out to Ewing by name or some crude petname. Charlotte's handsome blonde Scottish escort was finding it hard not to run to some of the prettiest whores. Luckily he remember that he was supposed to be showing Charlotte around.
"Well, what do you think of Tortuga, lass," Ewing asked as he smiled around at the crowded streets. Charlotte was strangely silent at his side. "Charlotte?" He looked down to where she should have been. The young girl was no longer there. "Charlotte?! Charlotte! Charlotte, lass," the panic was starting to rise in Ewing's voice.
"EWING!"
Ewing looked up just in time to see his young charge being carried off by a burly looking sailor. He fought the crowd to get to Charlotte. Her cries faded into a pub, and Ewing ran after them.
Charlotte and her captor were lost to Ewing in the hustle and bustle of the crowded pub. The young girl was drug over to a large table in a more private corner. Clustered around the table were the roughest bunch of men that Charlotte had ever seen. She had once thought that her crew on the Seahawk were unwashed miscrients, but these men were the very embodiment of uncleanliness. They reeked of sea water and fish, tar and sweat. The true mark of a sailor. She guessed that they had just put into port and had yet to wash. Pity her nose.
"Aye then, Galvaz, what did ye drag back now?" One of the men at the table, drunk as the rest of them, eyed Charlotte boldly. She was dressed in her canvas shirt and breeches, but she suddenly felt more exposed than if she were wearing a dress. The top set of lacing loops for her shirt had ripped, leaving a great deal of her chest hanging out. Her breeches were a smidge too tight around the hips and rump. Her bare calves and feet, tanned as the rest of her exposed skin was, open for all eyes to see. "Ah, I see. A dock- side doxie, is it? Well, bring 'er 'ere, Galvaz. Lemme 'ave a look at ye, lassie. Come see ol' Murtogg."
Against her will, Charlotte was shoved towards the man. His rancid breath smelled horridly of rum and various other alcoholic drinks. She gagged. The contents of her stomach threatened to spew all over herself and the man who was now looking at her in such a crude manner that she was appalled. No man had ever dared to look at her that way. Maybe because when she was younger and the ideal gentlewoman, she was protectively shielded by parents and teachers, and now as a sailor she was treated as such and protectively shielded by her fellow sailors. Her pride asserted itself and her back went as straight as a rail.
"Well, well, well. A little suntanned. Could be a red Indian, if not for the lovely golden hair. An' oh, what hair." The man reached out and snapped the tie that bound her hair. The golden mass fell around her shoulders in waves. The gnarled fingers tangled in her hair, twirled the strands, ran through it, drew her head closer to him. "Who be ye, little one?" Instead of an answer, Charlotte spit in his face. The men around her howled their laughter.
A strong hand shot out and delt her a staggering blow. She was jerked back and her face was inches away from the man's. His breath heaved onto her. His hands tangled into her hair again, holding her close, making her feel as if her scalp would rip loose at any moment.
"Tha' wasn't very nice, love," he hissed in her face.
"EWING!!"
Her screams merely brought another howling round of laughter from the men. Liqour Breath drew his hand back to slap her again. Charlotte closed her eyes as she steeled herself in anticipation of the awaited blow. She felt the man swing, but then there was nothing; only tense silence.
"An' tha's no' very nice, either," said a new voice. Charlotte opened her eyes just in time to see Liqour Breath being punched in the face, releasing her, and falling back. The men around her rose to their feet and drew their weapons. The stranger who had spoken pulled Charlotte behind her and she found herself in the midst of a large crowd, each holding weapons, prepared to fight her abuser.
"Well, blow me down, if it ain' Cap'n Jack Sparrow," Liqour Breath laughed nervoulsly. "What brings ye bac' to Tortuga, Jack?"
"It's Cap'n Sparrow to ye, Murtogg, and I don' recall me havin' to report my business to the likes of ye. But as long as I'm here, I'm liberating this young thing from ye. All right there, darlin'?"
The man turned to Charlotte and smiled widely. His golden teeth glittered in the low light. The dark dreadlocks hung around his face, filled with trinkets, a bone, and a faded red bandana. The dark, kohl-lined eyes looked her up and down for harm. Then his eyes changed expression and she was reminded of Liqour Breath again. She huffed and looked away. As she looked towards the door, she saw a familiar blonde scottsman looking around for her.
"Ewing! Ewing! Over here!" The young girl started shoving through the crowd of her saviors towards her friend. A strong arm reached out to hold her in place. She turned around to see the dreadlocked-man holding her arm.
"Let go! Let me go this instant!"
"Don't think that's the best o' ideas, love."
Liqour Breath took the advantage of Jack's distraction to get to his feet. With a fluid swing, a fist came flying towards Jack. The captain swayed just in time for Liqour Breath to miss and go sprawling to the floor. Jack used the toe of his boot to push the man's face into the dirty floorboards.
"Clear out, ye scallywags," Jack yelled to Murtogg's men. They gathered their friend and ran off quickly. Jack's crew took their place at the recently vacated table. Charlotte soon found herself seated firmly on Jack's lap, and with the strong arms around her waist, she had no hopes of moving.
"Now, love, tell ol' Jack wha' a young'un like you is doin' in a place like this," Jack whispered huskily in her ear.
"I'll tell you nothing. EWING!!!!"
"That'd be me ear ye just shouted in, love." Jack rubbed his ear.
"And that would be my charge that you are defiling, sir," Ewing said as he came to stand at Jack's side.
"Oh, so she is," Jack laughed and handed Charlotte over to Ewing as if she were a sack of potatoes. "Just keepin' 'er warm for ye."
"Quite."
"Mind if I borrow 'er when ye're done, mate?"
Ewing turned and left, not even dignifying Jack's question with an answer. Jack watched the two go, smiling to himself. That fiesty little brunette had near deafened him, but still he had wanted to keep her. He could use someone with such spunk in his. . . crew. {A/N: Crew? Yeah, sure, Jack. Riiiiiiight. . .} Shame to see her leave, really. Jack considered going after her for a moment or two, then shrugged and ordered a round of drinks for the crew. They had had a successful voyage and were already ahead of Will. Now all he had to do was sail back to Port Royal and he would have won the race. Will's ship must have gotten blown off course during that storm. The rum arrived and the sailors started their night of drinking.
Jack sang, "/Drink up me hearties, yo ho!/"
~~
"What were you thinking," Ewing yelled. "Why did you wander off?! You could have been killed! Or worse! What's wrong with that head of your's?! Did the sun fry your brain?!"
"Ewing, I--" Charlotte tried to interruput the tidal wave of anger directed at her, but her attempts proved fruitless.
"No, Charlotte, don't interrupt! You worried me to death! All of this could have been avoided if you had just stayed by my side!"
"I know. I'm sorry." She hung her head so that he would see the tears that were threatening to fall. The scott's heart sunk in his chest. He had been such a heel.
With tender care, Ewing gathered the crying young woman in his arms to hug her fiercely. He hadn't meant to be so hard on her. It was just that seeing her being dragged off and not being able to find her, only to later find her with a nasty bruise forming on her cheek had had him fearing the worst.
"It's all right, mermaid. Sssh. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, lass. Will you accept my apology?" No answer. "Charlotte? Charlotte, lass, I asked you if you would accept my apology." Ewing pulled her away from him so that he could see her face. Young Miss Doyle had fallen asleep in his arms. He had to smile.
Ewing carefully deposited his bundle in her hammock. They were safe and sound on the Seahawk once more. Charlotte would sleep better here where she could hear the waves lap on the side of the ship, feel the rocking of the ship. Even in her sleep, Charlotte could hear and feel everything around her and she knew that she was at home on her beloved Seahawk.
E N D O F C H A P T E R 2