Chapter 6 – Absent Minded Adventurers
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Jack felt himself being dragged by his arms along a soft surface, dangling by the sleeves of his damp linen shirt, unable to muster the energy to move in order to keep himself warm. Droplets of sea water ran down his face as he vaguely heard the sound of voices, but could not open his eyes to see where they were coming from. He was able to detect a frantic conversation – the voices yelling something about finding more…
'Finding more of what?' he thought to himself, observing as the light of the sun attempted to force itself through his eyelids. He groaned, trying to move his arm in the effort of shielding his face from the heat. He winced, feeling a sharp pain pulsating down his left arm, noticing that it felt unusually warm.
Colin Andrews had made the grim discovery early on the day while taking his morning stroll. The wind blew lightly through his long, dirty blond hair, enjoying the morning rays of sunlight upon his face, looking up at the pinks and oranges that were painted gracefully along the horizon.
Colin was a tall, muscular man, who had spent most of his life serving the English colonies as a soldier, traveling down from Virginia to Florida in the effort to begin a new life with his blushing bride.
He was trained in many forms of combat since he was a child, knowing that he would be a great asset to the colony's general, but had declined the opportunity to join the army.
Colin looked down toward the shore for a moment, hoping to enjoy the poetic manifestation of waves crashing gently upon the sand, yet noticed something unexpected floating in the shallow water. Acting quickly, he ran down to the shore toward the object. His eyes widening as he approached the figure in dismay, realizing that he had stumbled upon the limp carcass of a poor soul lost at sea.
As he turned the body over, his fears were confirmed, it was a man - a dark skinned man, with long black hair adorned with various trinkets. His eyes were tightly shut, but to Colin's relief, his breath was still strong enough to detect. His left arm was injured by a sharp piece of wood, slicing clear though his bicep and bleeding profusely. Without hesitation, Colin pulled the man out of the water and onto dry land by the sleeves of his shirt.
He crouched down beside of the unconscious man, unsure of what to do or where to go from there. He raised his hand above his eyes, shielding them from the harsh sun as he scanned the rest of the beach, resolute in finding some sort of help nearby. His heart dropped as he spotted more dark silhouettes, floating helplessly in the shallow water.
He stood to his feet. "Stay right there, I'll be right back. I promise!" he hollered, running off to find more adequate help.
"Sir, we found more men down toward the other side of the beach! We're going to need more soldiers from the colony to get them all out before nightfall," Colin yelled, rushing up to the officer in command.
"Thank you, Mr. Andrews. There should be more men coming within the hour, we should be able to get all of them to in the fort before dusk. They must have been stuck in the storm overnight so, let's just be glad none of them are dead," Lieutenant James Moore observed sternly.
Colin had collided into the lieutenant as he was frantically running toward the colony, waving his arms out for someone to help him. Once Colin explained what he had found on the beach, Moore alerted the colony's general immediately.
'The survivors shall be brought here to the fort. Please, make sure they all receive their own accommodations. Also, begin the repairs on their vessel or what's left of it. I'm sure these men will be in need of some sort of transportation back to where they came from. Once they regain themselves, they can come meet with me before they make way. I'd like to meet these absent minded adventurers… ' Moore thought, recalling the general's orders in his mind.
Lieutenant James Moore did as he was instructed, making his way down to the scene with a handful of the army's strongest soldiers, hoping to save as many lives as they could. Moore was the descendant of a very long line of soldiers, possessing strikingly handsome features even with his harsh demeanor. His statuesque physique appeared to be chiseled from stone, adorned with long, red hair that cascaded down his pronounced jaw line to shoulders.
Moore dressed in common clothes which were preferred by the general, believing that soldiers should wear something a bit more comfortable when training. Moore and the general had found that the soldier's overall performance was better in battle when they were able to move freely without worrying about carrying heavy armor or minding fancy red jackets.
The only thing that weighed Moore down more than his power was his swords. He did not carry just one cutlass, rather he carried two oversized cutlasses wherever he went, crossed like an 'X' on his back.
Moore and Andrews looked on as the soldiers continued to carry limp bodies across the beach. "Jordan! Murphy! Step lively now!" he ordered, quickly turning his attention to the two ships that had washed up on shore.
One of the ships was completely destroyed, with pieces of its once majestic existence floating around a large part of its former white hull. The other ship had toppled over on its side at the other end of the shore. Emanating darkness that was as black as night, maybe even darker. The soldiers had reported finding more bodies around that particular wreckage, meaning that it must have carried a larger crew than its white counterpart. The grim, black ship seemed to have taken a large hit; the main mast had been lost, but with the help of all the men, it could be repaired with time.
"We're going to have to start rebuilding where it lies for now, later on when it's in better condition to move, we can bring it over to the docks for the remainder of the repairs," Moore ordered, turning his attention to the bodies.
"Now, let's get these men out of here!"
Jack stirred himself awake from his restless slumber, absorbing his soft and comfortable surroundings, realizing that they coincide with the condition he remembered being in. He lifted his hands to his eyes, rubbing away morning fatigue as he felt a sharp pain move down his left arm. He gritted his teeth and let out a low and painful groan.
"Sir, it's best you don't move your arm for now. Your arm was badly injured in the storm," a voice suggested, trying not to startle the man.
He jumped, turning to find a young man sitting at his bedside.
The last thing Jack could recall was the coldness of Poseidon's rage, feeling wave had come over him and his ship like a festering disease. There was no way out and the last thing he remembered seeing was the reflection of bright sun above him as he sank into the dark abyss.
"This isn't the locker is it, lad?" he managed to blurt out, looking down at his arm.
"The locker, sir?" the man inquired, confused by his question.
"I suppose not, the whelp would have been here by now," he answered gravely.
The man looked at Jack, juggling feelings of intrigue and confusion. "Whelp?"
"My apologies, lad," he began. "Captain Jack Sparrow and who may you be?"
"Colin Andrews!" he exclaimed, quickly getting up, smiling brightly as he extended his hand to Jack.
"It's good to see you up, Captain Sparrow. You've been out for awhile; we were starting to get concerned since you've lost quite a bit of blood. Had to have one of our maids change the sheets each morning."
"Ah," he uttered, smiling. "Well, I shall have to thank her personally. But, what about you, lad? Why do you sit at my bedside?"
You were the first one I found, so I thought I'd take care of you myself…"
Jack's eyes grew puzzled, relinquishing his hand wearily, recalling the last time he had shook hands with a stranger, which eventually landed him in prison.
"A few of your men have woken up within the past week. Mr. Gibbs was the first - such a fine man, he's been telling me stories about your adventures at sea.
"Has he, now?"
"Yes, lots of them! The others from your crew have awakened as well. Mr. Pintel and Ragetti, Mr. Murtogg and Mullroy, and Mr. Cotton … who, might I say, is a fine cook! Oh, and Captain Barbossa, but he's been pacing around this place worried about his crew mates as well as yourself, sir."
Jack finally realized where he was – he was dead and he found another whelp.
"Mr. Sparrow?" Colin inquired, noticing Jack's blank stare.
"Captain. It's Captain Sparrow," he insisted, raising his brow to the young man.
"So, Barbossa made it out alive?
"Yes, sir. He's been inquiring about your condition the whole time."
"Wasn't expecting that …"
"Good man, he is."
Jack spoke after a moment. "Could you be doing me the favor of answering my question here, lad? Where am I?" Jack inquired, beginning to scan the circular stone room.
Sunlight poured onto the dark floors through a small balcony, which showcased a wonderful view of the sea. His bed was large, adorned with gray silk sheets and white crisp pillows. A small wood-burning fireplace sat parallel to him while his belongings were laid down upon a dark wooden chair beside it.
"You're in Florida, Captain Sparrow!" Colin smiled warmly. "We're just a small colony of soldiers. Right near the harbor - it's really a lovely little town. I just moved here myself about a month ago with my wife."
Jack held up his hands to Colin. "That's all fine and dandy, son, but I'm really in need of finding Captain Barbossa. Could you show me to that slimy ol' cur?" Jack narrowed his eyes, smiling half-heartedly.
'If my Pearl is damaged I'll have his scruffy old head on a platter!'
"Alright sir, let me help you up. The general told me to keep you as comfortable as possible," Colin stated, taking Jack's good arm, placing it upon his shoulder as he lifted Jack onto his feet.
"The 'general', lad? Would you care to elaborate?"
"Jack Sparrow, ye ain't hurt that bad. Stop whining like a little girl and grow a proper set of land legs. We 'ave some serious business to attend to," Barbossa interrupted, laughing as he appeared from the shadow of the doorway.
"Captain Barbossa, how is it that I always seem to find you by my side when I am either dead or dying?"
"Captain Barbossa, what is the condition of my Pearl?" Jack snarled as they walked briskly down the candlelit stone corridor.
"My Pearl is perfectly fine. She suffered some major damage to the hull and the main mast is God knows where. She's being repaired as we speak," Barbossa explained, stopping to place his hands on his waist.
Jack stopped, resting his hands on his waist as well, mimicking Barbossa.
Jack pointed a knowing finger at Barbossa. "This is all your fault, mate!"
"My fault? Last time I checked ye were the one with the map, navigation boy!"
"Where is the map then, eh? It's no longer in my coat pocket; therefore, you – my thieving and conniving counterpart – must have it in your possession!"
"Jack, we'll not be needin' that map any longer, because we've already found what we were intendin' ta find!"
"Gentlemen!" interrupted a voice.
Both men turned to face a large, red headed figure moving toward them.
"Lieutenant James Moore," he announced. "It's a great pleasure to see you all up and well. The general will be very pleased to see all of you. Unfortunately, you've caught us at a bad time - the soldiers are training at the moment. So, if you'd like, I can assort you to the training room."
Barbossa nodded. "Will we be meetin' with yer general after?"
"Yes, the general wishes to meet with you both about the condition of your ship and the purpose of your journey," he stated, motioning Jack and Barbossa to follow him down the corridor.
"Our purpose?" Barbossa questioned.
"Shut it, mate. Finally, someone is willing introduce me to this bloody general!" Jack grimaced at him.
They followed Moore down to the end of the corridor, finding an overwhelming vast stone staircase, consumed by darkness. Jack and Barbossa spotted a bright light, revitalizing the dark hallway at the bottom of the stairs. They heard the clashing of swords and the agonizing cry of injured men.
Lieutenant Moore stopped at the threshold. "Right this way, gentlemen, no need to fret. We're all really nice people when we live this room," he stated, laughing as he pressed on through the door frame.
Jack and Barbossa stood their ground.
Jack turned to Barbossa. "You first..."
Barbossa growled, rolling his eyes as he hurried passed Jack, pulling him along by his shirt as he walked through the threshold.