Em strode towards her Captain's Quarters and yanked the double doors open, her mind racing. She closed the doors with a sharp snap behind her and leaned onto them, taking slow, deep breathes to calm her racing nerves.
She knew what Michael must be thinking now, because they both usually were on the same line of thought after she avoided something in their conversation. What had really happened back there when Michael mentioned Tim kissing her hand? She blushed. But why? Was it that embarrassing to have Tim kiss her hand? No, of course not because . . . Em placed her left hand over her thumping heart, for she had felt a small pang of pain; it had been soft, a reminder to her that the last and only person to kiss her hand was Jack.
So was she finally warming up to Tim? Or, to her dread, that she was finally moving on from Jack and was developing strong feelings for Tim? Em felt a deep well of sorrow open up at the pit of her stomach, and an unseen, icy hand gripped at her heart at the thought. No, I won't forget Jack, she thought. I won't give up on him. Em rested the back of her head on the doors and closed her eyes, slowly repeating Tia's words about Jack returning in her mind until the unseen hand let go of her heart, but the well of sorrow still stayed.
Em opened her eyes and looked over at her desk. Her old journal lay wide open to the page she was to read tonight. Em pushed herself off the doors and walked silently towards her desk, moving around it and falling into her chair. Making sure to first snuff out her single candle so she could read by the moonlight, as she had done for the last couple of days, Em lifted her journal and began to read.
Entry 11
I apologize for not recording anything but lists of cargo supplies for the last few days, but I have been very busy. One reason is because of Jack, for we are arguing about whose ship, the Black Pearl or The Raven, we will use for our joint adventures.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
The day after Entry 7, we finally landed on Santiago. It was Jack who spotted the port first. I woke up early as usual and did my same routines of waking up the crew. I joined Jack, for what seemed like the final time, up the crow's nest to watch the sun rise from the horizon.
We didn't talk about what happened yesterday about me finding him in my office reading my journal. We just watched silently, standing particularly close next to each other and breathed in the morning.
I closed my eyes and let the gusts of the winds fly around and through me, blowing my long hair in all directions. I soon felt Jack close the excess space in between us and lean down to me so that I felt his warm breath on my ear.
"Lovely little rings you have on those ears, love," he whispered and even started to nibble on the part of my earlobe that didn't house a small silver ring piercing. I shivered from the exciting sensation he was giving me and closed my eyes tighter, moving into the warmth his body provided. I felt his strong arms wrap around me and felt so peaceful for that one shining moment.
Em looked up from those sweet words at a distinguishable sound of two thumps upon the side of The Raven. It couldn't have been Ozz, for not only was it too early to have come back from Tia's, but he only needed one boat. She silently put her journal on the desk and stood up slowly so as not to make any noise to alert the intruders. Em swiftly walked around her desk and with utter care so as not to make much noise, she pushed her reclining couch closer to her desk and opened up the hatch it hid.
Em began descending down the stairs that led to the crew's quarters. Once she had reached the deck, it was quickly apparent to her that no one had heard the bumps against their ship. Em spotted Michael's blonde head immediately and rushed over to him, shaking him forcefully awake.
"Wha-Emelia?" Michael saw his captain's hostile face above him and soon all drowsiness he had felt was replaced by worry. "What's happened?" he demanded.
Em shushed him up and gestured for him to keep his voice level low. "There are intruders trying to board The Raven," she told him quietly, her lips moved rapidly. "Wake up the rest of the crew as quietly and quickly as possible and then you and a few others report to my quarters," she commanded. Em motioned for him with a finger to lean in closer and then whispered some extra instructions. Michael pulled away, already in the act of pulling off the wool blanket, and nodded.
Without another word, Em stood up and spun on her heel, striding back towards the stairs. She left the hatch open for Michael and whomever he was bringing and tiptoed closer to her front doors. Keeping to the side of the right door, Em pulled out a throwing knife out of her wide belt and with the blade she slightly moved the curtains up and peered outside.
Jack flinched as the two row boats bumped loudly onto the side of the abandoned ship. He looked up and saw the bottom carvings under the cloth hanging off the right side of the ship. He couldn't make out the words, but he knew that the ship had two words in its name. He turned around to face his crew, minus Cotton, and ordered them to "take the hooks."
He nodded in approval once everyone held a grappling hook. Gibbs handed Jack the left over hook and rope and grinned. Jack tilted his head forward in a mock little sign of assent. He held out the hook to the side and began swinging it around faster and faster in small circles, a jolly grin almost identical to Gibbs' spreading across his face. "On the count of three, if you gents all will. One . . . two . . . THREE!"
"So everyone's at where they are supposed to be?" Em whispered over her shoulder. Her eyes were still watching the silent deck outside the double doors.
Behind her, Michael and three others nodded.
"Where be Tim? Not still up in the crow's nest, is he?" one of the three men inquired in concern for their skipper.
Em's dark brown eyes rose up and looked towards the crow's nest. Even with the distance between them, Em still managed to catch Tim's eye. "He's still up there," Em murmured, "and he's waiting." She moved away from the door and hid the dagger she held back into her belt. She heard the hums of the other four men's swords being unsheathed along with her own and smirked.
They didn't have long to wait for the warning sign. Soon, the heavy, metallic sounds associated with grappling hooks reverberated throughout the night as the hooks clunked onto the deck. The hooks then began to scrape along the deck to Em and her four other crew mates' left before the hooks caught themselves on various parts of the deck.
"Steady boys," Em whispered, pointing her sword off to the side to give her clear access to the doors before her. Anticipation and adrenaline racing through her veins and pumping rapidly into her heart, she strained her ears in hopes to make out the faint sounds of the intruders climbing the side ship wall. When she heard the first pairs of boots jump onto the deck, she raised her foot and kicked open the door.
Up in the crow's nest, Tim saw the grappling hooks in the intruders' hands and looked quickly towards the double doors leading to the Captain's Quarters. He caught Em's eyes in between the slightly parted curtains and gave her a nod that she wouldn't see.
Out of the corner of his left eye, Tim spotted shadows moving on the deck below, but knew after a moment's pause that they did not belong to the intruders. Turning his head towards the direction he saw the shadows, he then noticed that it was his crew mates silently creeping out from the lower decks and positioning themselves all over the deck to surprise the intruders.
Not wanting to be missing out in this by being a bystander, Tim turned around, eased his body from the crow's nest, and began to carefully climb down the ropes forming a net that led down to the deck. Everyone will be in for an unpleasant surprise, Tim thought grimly as his mouth clamped over the blade of his cutlass, making it easier with his free hands to climb down the net.
He was not even halfway down the net when the intruders began boarding the ship and the two doors leading to the Captain's Quarters burst open.
Jack watched with a grin as he, Gibbs, and the rest of the crew let of the spinning grappling hooks. Twelve grappling sailed high into the air before arcing at their highest point in the sky and landing with many satisfyingly dull thunks onto the ship's deck. As one, they piled onto their individual ropes until their hooks snagged into something. With Jack leading the way, they slowly began their climb up the side of the ship and jumped over the banister.
From just one look, Jack thought that the ship truly was abandoned, but he had only taken three steps on the sea-worn wood before to their left the double doors leading to the Captain's Quarters
suddenly burst open, and roaring, four men ran out the doors with their cutlasses held high. This seemed to have been a signal of sorts because many other similar battle-cries wrenched away the previous quietness of the night and soon, Jack and his men found themselves surrounded on all sides by swords pointed straight at them.
"Oh bugger," Jack muttered as he lowered his unsheathed sword.
"Captain Jack Sparrow?" To Jack's right, stepping away from the rest of the hostile pirates and his and his crew's miraculous savior was a young man with light tan skin, true blonde hair, and eyes as blue as the day sky with an expression of shock across his fine features equal to Jack's once he recognized this man.
"Michael? Michael Turnbull?" Jack questioned and moved a little closer as if to see if this wasn't someone else he had mistake with the first mate of The Raven.
"I think that's enough of the floorboards you intruders have infected," a deep, manly voice snarled from Jack's left. Jack spun around on his heels towards where that voice came from, and like Moses and the parting of the Red Sea, the men moved out of the way to let through a tall handsome man with wild dirt-blonde hair and dark green eyes. His facial features, though normal circumstances would be considered very alluring, was twisted in an angry scowl as he pointed his sword straight at Jack's heart.
"Drop you weapon," Tim commanded. He felt all his crew mates' eyes upon him questioningly, as if wondering why he was the one making the orders and taking control when it was their real captain (who was curiously absent at the moment) that deserved that right, but at that particular moment, while he had the infamous and elusive Captain Jack Sparrow under his mercy, Tim didn't care.
Jack cocked his eyebrow at this scene opening up before him: this blonde scurvy dog who did not have the looks of the captain and the looks his crew were giving him, and then wisely chose not to relinquish his cutlass.
"Well?" Tim growled after a minute of silently waiting. When Jack gave no sign that he would comply, Tim ordered the men to kill them.
Jack and Gibbs backed up into each other as the circle around them and the rest of their crew tightened. The blades of their opponents looked mighty sharp from their point of view as they drew closer. Jack tried looking above the sea of swords for any sign of the "Michael look-alike", but he had disappeared.
Bugger, Jack thought disappointingly. He stumbled as he nearly tripped over short Marty. "Sorry mate," Jack mumbled.
"Parley! Parley!" Gibbs suddenly cried, even as his sword blade tried vainly to push away the oncoming swords.
Those words sounded so beautiful to Jack's ears as Jack gave an inaudible sigh of relief and reached over to clap Gibbs' hefty shoulder jovially. "Well done, Mr. Gibbs!" Jack exclaimed and watched as the other crew retreated back, all with a curious look of relief on their faces. Jack turned to the tall arrogant blonde man who now wore a look of scarlet anger across his face. Jack more than waltz up to him and demanded to speak to their captain. "According to the Brethren of the Caribbean code of 'parley' I demand to speak with your captain, and it also states that we are not harmed until I speak with them, mate," Jack added with a sly wink.
"You're looking at the captain," Tim growled defiantly. Angry and confused murmurs reached his ears from his fellow crew mates, and Tim knew he had gone too far with the claim.
"What in Davy Jones' locker is this?" a familiar female voice full of sharpness and anger reached all of the men's ears.
