The seasons came and went, rain and shine, day in and day out. The initial turmoil that had arisen the day Captain Jack Sparrow had encountered certain complications in Tortuga died down after a few weeks, and things had returned to business as usual aboard the Black Pearl. Well, almost business as usual.
A subtle change had come over the crew, and though Jack Sparrow pretended not to notice it, he could not truly deny that it had taken hold. The scurvy pirates that ran his ship had become... well... nice. No, perhaps not quite nice, for they still drank profusely and cursed abominably and brawled in the mess hall, but they DID tend to be a bit more–er, smiley. In the past, if Jack were to hint casually that they were about to embark on another of his wild goose chases instead of doing an honest speck o' piratin', all of his men would scowl mutinously and return to their duties only after the captain had painted elaborate pictures of the wealth that would await them next time if they went along this time. Nowadays, were he to let slip that instead of Tortuga they were bound for the swamps to locate some legendary map carved in a tree, Jack would be bowled over by an enthusiastic chorus of "AYES" before he had even MENTIONED the word "treasure." No more cajoling, no more bribery, Captain Jack Sparrow would return to the wheel stunned by the lack of such things.
Perhaps the rum has finally soaked into their brains... He would think to himself, but in the back of his mind he knew what the real reason was. It was that girl–whatsername. That four-year-old whirlwind of a nuisance who was always hanging from the rigging, jumping from the poop deck, and shimmying out the bowsprit to be splashed by the waves. Frankly, Jack could not see what on earth there was to like, but the rest of the crew seemed to delight in her every action. No matter what they were busy doing, if she happened to wander over they would stop and take the time to indulge in her games, or to let her help. The most dark-hearted scallywags in the Carribean, the most hardened scourges of the seas... the lot of them had a soft-spot for the liddle pestilence! She was turning his blood-thirsty crew of sea-dogs into sappy housewives!
Each day as the Captain stood stoically at the helm of the Pearl, he secretly watched and hoped that she would cause trouble. Perhaps tangles the lines, or annoy the bosun, or knock over the charts... but no. Gibbs and the rest had held up their end of the bargain when they had kept her–she was never in the way of Captain Sparrow. In fact, he was the only one she left bloody well alone. She would monkey around with the rest of them, sword fighting them with broken mop handles and racing them up the rigging, but would never come even within ten feet of the captain.
She's frightened o' me, he would think smugly to himself. Good, s'the way it should be. But sometimes, when he stood alone on the poop deck and watched the rest of the crew playing a spirited game of hide-and-seek, he could feel something twinge within his chest. Oh it was most definitely not jealousy. What a ludicrous idea that he could be longing to join in–He was Captain Jack Sparrow! No, it was probably just all the rum making his stomach feel all knotty. Yes, that was it. Most days Jack could convince himself of this... but some days even he couldn't swallow his own lies.
Captain Jack Sparrow sat alone at the head of the table in the mess hall, pushing his meal of stew around on the tin plate. He drew a stick-figure ship in the salty gravy and after surveying his artistic efforts for a moment, pushed the plate away from himself. A sigh escaped his lips as his gaze settled dully on the blade-scarred table. A few moments later, however, and he was startled by the door to the hall banging open and the sunlight pouring in.
"Why Cap'n, what ye be doin' hidin' in the dark on such a lovely day as this 'un?" It was a smiling Gibbs, and Jack relaxed his grip on the pistol his hand had automatically darted to.
"Bleedin' Hell Gibbs, don't ye know better 'n to startle me like that? An' I wasn't hiding. Merely thought t'feed meself before all that rum put me in a bloody coma." he scowled, but the chubby first mate merely shrugged and continued to grin.
"Apologies, Cap'n Jack, didn't know ye'd be in 'ere at this time o' day." Gibbs walked over to near where Jack was sitting and sat down himself. "By the by, how're ye gettin' along these days, Jack? We don't see a spit of ye these days, aside from when yer givin' headings for this new venture o' yourn."
Jack gazed levelly back and also shrugged his shoulders. "Busy with things of me own interest, Gibbs." He replied darkly, and once again the crewman seemed unfazed by the slight hostility.
"Ah, Cap'n, ye should c'mon out to the deck; Kelsea's teachin' us a new game o' hers: Pirates an' Redcoats–"
"What?" Jack interrupted him, and Gibbs sent him a glance of mild humor.
"'Tis a game she made up this very afternoon. Y'see, there's two teams and some's the pirates who've got to steal the ship from the redcoats an' the redcoats're tryin' t'capture all the pirates... Grand ol' bit o' fun, too– inventive liddle mite, that lass is–"
But Jack only waved his hand impatiently. "Not the game, ye barnacle head, who're ye talkin' about?"
Gibbs stared at him for a moment before replying slowly. "Kelsea..."
"Who the bloody hell is Kelsea?"
"Uh. Cap'n... the liddle lass who's been with us for nigh on five years now..." The expression on Jack Sparrow's face remained unreadable so the mate continued on carefully. "Y'know, Cap'n, the girl we picked up in Tortuga..? Yer dau–" Gibbs stopped short there, having caught himself in the nick of time. He had almost referred to the girl as Jack's daughter, and although it was the truth, the pirate captain simply refused to accept it. Woe to the poor soul who called attention to the relation between the two. Thinking quickly, he revamped what he had been about to say. "Yer dooo...n't remember, Cap'n?"
Jack, who had been waiting like a caged lion for Gibbs to blunder into saying those forbidden words, uncoiled himself and nodded curtly. "I know of the girl, Aye. I jus'... I didn' remember ye'd named the whelp is all."
Gibbs sighed inwardly in relief that he had just barely managed to escape the wrath of his lately enigmatic captain. "Oh, er, aye. Kelsea be her name, Cap'n."
"Kelsea, eh? Daft name if ye ask me. Who was it t'come up with such a bloody awful title?"
"T'was all've us really, Cap'n. Since we got her in Tortuga, Twigg was the one t'say that in his language, Kelseywith a 'y' means Island of the Ships. Then Marty said tha' he'd heard th'name "Kela" means Little Sparrow–so we put th'two together t'make Kelsea, Little Sparrow of the Island of Ships..." Gibbs trailed off here, realizing that he had just made the mistake of revealing that he and the crew had named the girl after the captain in that they had given her a first name that meant the same as his last. He braced himself for some sort of explosion, but surprisingly, it never came. He glanced over after a period of silence to see Captain Jack twirling his beaded goatee in thought.
"Hmm... Kelsea..." He murmured, a funny look surfacing in his normally shifty eyes. However, he then seemed to snap to and realize that Gibbs was regarding him in a funny way. "Hmph. Like I said: Daft name fer a daft annoyance of a girl. Think th'name 'whelp' suits me jus' fine."
Joshamee Gibbs quickly wiped the look of curiosity off of his features and shrugged once more. "Whatever suits ye, Captain... But beggin' yer pardon, I'll be gettin' back t'the crew now..." He got to his feet and turned to go when Jack's voice broke the silence.
"Aye, tell those lazy layabouts t'stop playin' games and get back t'work. Worthless cads, can't sail a ship if yer too busy indulgin' any incessant pest that comes along! That reminds me... while yer orderin' the crew back t'their duties, tell that girl, whatserface, t'leave 'em be fer once in her bothersome existence!"
Gibbs nodded quickly and saluted the obviously riled captain. "Aye, sir." And with that, he scurried out of the mess hall and the door shut behind him.
Captain Jack Sparrow was once again alone with his thoughts, and though he consoled himself with the thought that finally Gibbs would tell the whelp off... something in the very back of his mind wished that he had simply gone out to join in Pirates an' Redcoats. He would have made a very good pirate, after all...