Chapter Ten:
Spanish Ladies
Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.
Note: [15 Jan 2017] I chose "Spanish Ladies" as performed by Sarah Blasko, and it was a song based on the point of view of the sailors from the Royal British Navy. This version was played in AMC's Turn: Washington's Spies. It's a very pretty acoustic piece; highly recommended!
To my most recent reviewer, Sly…
While, I appreciate your candor, I hope you also appreciate my willingness to defend against your blatant misconceptions against women. I won't rant and rave and froth at the mouth about it. I will simply say I find your comments and your review as a whole were disheartening, ill-spoken, and above all insulting. Just because someone—female or otherwise—isn't physically strong, or shows a sparing moment of emotional weakness, does not make them worthless. It should not suddenly allow for a character that has a weakness out on display to the world (or the reader in this case) to be immediately deigned as unfit to serve a purpose. I would go on, but this isn't the time nor the place to continue to do so. If you have more to say, please feel free to contact me via private message.
Also, as I've felt the need to say in my other stories…fuck 2016. It was a shitty year for a lot of people. It was a shitty year for the world as a whole. For any of you who have had a bad year…I'm sorry with the way things have been going and they don't seem to be improving much. What we can do, however, is keep hope alive. It's what Carrie Fisher would want, and so many others that we've lost would rally behind her to concur. Let's give 'em hell to honour them.
Don't let the Screaming Orange Cheeto and people like him get you down. Fight back.
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Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies
Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain
For we have received orders
To sail to old England,
We hope in a short time to see you again
We'll rant and we'll roar, like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar on all the salt seas
Until we strike soundings
In the Channel of old England,
From Ushant to Scilly, 'tis thirty-five leagues
-"Spanish Ladies" by Sarah Blasko
OoOoOoOoOoO
The coastline of Spain came as suddenly as the grey dawn. The fog rolled in nearly as soon as the sun was up, obscuring the sight of land within the hour of it being glimpsed. But it raised the crew's fervor in making berth as soon as possible. Jack took on the task of docking the Pearl, standing tall and proudly at the helm. The closer they got, the more clogged the waters surrounding port became. Most of the ships they spotted were fishing vessels, with hardened, scraggy men pulling at nets over the sides of their ships. Some were merchant trading vessels, their hulls bursting with tradable goods. There were quite a number of those lurking about.
So far, no Spanish navy vessels were lurking about, or so Gibbs claimed.
A flag of Spain had been raised several nights prior, to distill any suspicion regarding the Black Pearl's appearance as she edged closer to Spain. Its bright crimson and gold colours flapped noisily in the wind above them all.
The energy bubbled and rose as the docks came into plain view at last and finding one open proved fruitful. It was long before the anchors were dropped, the lines cast out to anchor themselves to the docks, and the gangplank was thrown down. Jack's orders were clearly barked form the quarterdeck.
Work first, and then play later.
Unload any tradable goods, tally up the last of the lists that required items to purchase, and assess what was feasibly able to be purchased. Mister Gibbs divided up the groups of those who would be venturing out into the street and dockside stalls, along with those that would visit the right merchants for miscellaneous materials and supplies further in town.
Tearlach was paired with Lupin, predictably enough, along with Marty, Bish, Alphonse and Edward. The other groups were quickly formed and split off to complete their tasks in town. They said quick goodbyes before diving into the dockside merchant stalls, passing by the owners as they were hawking their freshly caught fish, clams, oysters, crabs, and more. Tearlach led the way into the city proper, past the market on the docks.
Cádiz was a booming port city immersed with a rich history, Tearlach stated as they weaved through the crowds and navigated the streets.
"Although," he scratched at his neck with a yawn, "I don't know it all. I do know that the Spaniards aren't too welcoming of the English in this town all that much yet, so try not to talk too much, girl, if you can help it."
"Yeah, Loopy doesn't speak Spanish," Bish snickered. Lupin sighed.
"Sorry I'm not amazingly bilingual like you. I bow to you and your double-language coolness."
"You'd better." Bish reached over and lightly pinched Lupin's side. The brunette yelped and reached out to smack at her friend, but Bish merely juked away just out of reach and snickered teasingly back.
"Now, now, children, try not to make a scene, we're in public," Edward chided lightly.
"Lock it up, all of you!" Marty snapped. Edward glowered half-heartedly at the shorter man, but kept quiet alongside the others.
The rest of the morning and most of the afternoon was spent at stalls and a few merchant stores in the town proper, haggling over supplies, materials, raw goods. They passed by several of many towers in the merchants' market, churches and monuments within the small square area they visited, but it was enough to garner stares.
"Wow."
"I know, right?"
"I think we're kind of lucky being here."
"Lucky to see this when it was still in relatively good condition, not so much that we're stuck here, right?"
"All of the above. I kind of wish I had a camera right now."
"Right?"
"Geez, you two. Can you stop gawking like that? You're getting stared at for staring at everything else."
"Dude, how can you not enjoy all of this? Seriously." Bish pinned Edward with a mild glare, although her heart wasn't really in it at the moment. She wasn't angry, not really. Annoyed, perhaps. But it passed just as quickly as it manifested. Nope. He couldn't keep her down. Not today! Spain, after all, has always been on her bucket list of places to visit. She only wished she could explore at her leisure, instead of being dragged around on a shopping trip she wasn't enjoying.
"It's just a town with a lot of churches. And lots of Spanish. Half of it I understand, the other half…it's going too quick." Edward scratched the back of his head, frowning as they followed after Tearlach. He carved the way through the crowds without apology. Tearlach had them stop at several merchant stalls, and away he went, bartering and haggling as he went down the list of items still in need of purchasing.
"At least you understand half of it," Alphonse said as they wound their way past another merchant stall, this one hawking away its wares of freshly caught fish and crab and oysters. "I only get every other word."
"Seriously?" Bish hissed back, her brows shooting up in surprise. "Spanish is easy."
"Easy for you," Lupin remarked back, before yelping when Bish whirled to pinch her. "Ow! The fuck, dude?"
"What did I say, girl? No talking!" Tearlach barked over his shoulder.
Lupin muttered a few curses under her breath, some aimed at Tearlach. Bish turned back to Alphonse and quietly continued, "I could give you a few lessons. It really is easy. And if Loopy here had taken a damned language class in school, she'd know how easy it is."
"Hey, I needed that advanced placement art class in my senior year. And all the other years. And I took…sign language. In middle school. I don't need to know it to tell you how to fuck off nonverbally, though."
"Learning another language is part of the art electives. And I will finish what you failed to do with your fingers, sweetie. Just try me."
Bish smiled sweetly at Lupin and the smaller girl inched around Edward to put him between her and Bish. He glanced down at her with a flat look. "Really?"
"You should be honoured that I chose you as a shield to put between me and her. You don't fuck with the Guatemalan rage-monster. You just don't."
"Latina, sweetie. Latina rage-monster. Also, she's right, you don't," Bish replied with a chipper smile.
"Apologies, hun. Latina rage-monster."
"My mistake. I'm honoured," Edward said flatly as he looked, although the façade didn't hold for long and a faint smile briefly tugged his lips up. As much as he wanted to be irritated, he couldn't quite feel it in him to do so. It felt good to be on dry land, to be around other people, to see the booming life that was here. While they were isolated on the Black Pearl, it was him and his brother against the others, and at times, it was lonely.
With no land in sight, it was hard to feel like there was anything more out there besides the ocean stretching out as far as the eye could see. He knew better, and Alphonse did as well, but that didn't negate the feeling of sheer remoteness, like the water was all that was left in the world. No land, no other people, nothing.
Humans were resourceful in driving away the feeling of isolation, sure…but sometimes it wasn't enough.
Edward wanted to enjoy his time on land and that meant reining in whatever snappish remarks he might have let loose if the situation were any different. He didn't want a repeat of the argument he had with Lupin a few weeks ago. Turning away perhaps one of the few allies he felt he could trust, even by a single iota, wasn't in his plans. He has long since come to the conclusion that he and Alphonse would need all the allies they could get if they were to get back home.
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It wasn't unusual for Jack Sparrow to garner more than his fair shares of stares due to his eclectic dress. He often embraced the weirdness he had steeped himself in. Today, however, he was in need of keeping himself incognito, and especially careful. That bloody Norrington was hot on his trail, if that storm hasn't sank his fleet already.
It was by pure luck that Jack had been given his new lease on life, when both Will and Elizabeth defended him at the gallows, when Norrington had willingly given him a head start.
It was only a temporary measure and one he planned to make permanent.
The first step was getting information.
He only wished it was from someone else.
Jack always found himself at odds with his fellow Pirate Lords, but none so much as one Captain Eduardo Villanueva. The man had a mental vendetta against pirates who haven't the years of experience that Villanueva himself has had under his belt as a pirate. Not to his level of standards, anyways.
The bar in which Villanueva resided in was a comely little thing, hidden betwixt twists and turns and the deepest, seediest bowels of the city. A place where no one would find, unless they knew where to look, had the patience to navigate the route, or had someone to guide them. The courtyard bristled with men lounging about, having a good time, and quite a few were accompanied by pleasurable young ladies. Their bright ruffled skirts swirled as they moved about, flashing coy looks at interested parties. Jack himself lost a moment to stare in appreciation and he even flashed a grin to one particular buxom Spanish beauty and felt himself gravitating towards her.
If only Villanueva hadn't parked himself in Jack's path, he could have had a good time before talking with the irate and proud Spaniard.
Villanueva was just as Jack last remembered him as; perhaps a little rounder in the belly and his hairs were beginning to look more grey than black now. Still, the man exuded a quiet demand for respect and despite being shorter than Jack, Villanueva stared at Jack as though he was peering down his nose at him.
"Sparrow," the man rumbled with a vague tilt of his head. Jack glanced over Villanueva's shoulder, spying the buxom Spanish beauty. She's already moved on, but she blew him a kiss before turning away. She was giggling at her new companion. Jack's upper lip twitched.
Damn.
He returned his attention to Villanueva, offering a nod of his own. "Captain Villanueva. I almost didn't recognize you without your ship beneath you."
"Ha. You think you'll charm me like you believe you charm the world?" Villanueva spat on the ground. "The Centurion is in hiding, as she should be when I'm about in public ports such as this. Being caught by the Spanish Navy is not high on my list of things to do these days, not when I am close to retiring. But I can't say the same for you, Sparrow."
"Oh? Care to enlighten me?"
"Gladly. You bring your precious Pearl limping into port, not even bothering to hide her black sails. You might as well have a target painted on your back."
"I wouldn't say we limped into port," Jack smoothly addressed, feeling slightly offended. His girl doesn't limp. She sails with style. "And secondly, we've made port because we were in need of supplies. We have goods to trade—"
Villanueva's sardonic laughter cut him off and rang across the courtyard. Most of the noise around them fell to a hush, if only for a moment, before its buzz came right back at full volume. The Spaniard turned on his heel and made for the bar proper. Jack followed.
"Goods, you say. What goods? Treasure from Isla de Muerta?"
Jack's ire climbed up a notch as Villanueva barked out another round of mocking chuckles. It had been a bitter blow to find the island vanished without a trace, as though it had never existed, after his escape from Port Royal. Jack had been fencing his hopes on paying out his men, on trading for goods and for repairs on his ship. His hopes had been thoroughly dashed at Isla de Muerta's disappearance.
Jack had only just barely scraped together enough for the basics, and the rest had been that bastard Barbossa's men's doing. Their hulls had been bursting with extra supplies and a small cache of swag, so ready and eager were they to transition from skeletal wraith-men to full men. They barely got to taste their freedom as actual men before bloody Norrington and his men snatched it away from them.
It was only salt in the wound to hear Villanueva's doubt being spoken so brazenly and with such disrespect.
"The only thing you have worth anything is your head's bounty and the ship you're sailing on, if only barely that. You'd best not let some rogue steal it away from you again. You might not get it back a second time around."
Inside, the droning buzz of voices was louder, it was more crowded, and it was hotter with all the bodies writhing about inside, drinking the day away. It would be even more boisterous come nighttime.
Villanueva approached the bar and motioned to the barkeep. The man behind the counter nodded, rifling through his supplies to serve Villanueva. Jack leaned against the counter beside the Spaniard, giving the place a cursory look and lingering on a few individuals. None sprang to mind as familiar, yet he was suspicious all the same.
"What are you doing so far from home, little Sparrow? Shouldn't you be causing someone else a headache over in the Spanish Main, hmm?"
The man uttered a few words of thanks to the barkeep as he returned with a drink for Villanueva. Jack attempted to flag him down, but the barkeep ignored him completely. Jack soured internally, but he wouldn't allow it to completely dishearten him. He simply stepped away to snatch up the mug of a patron snoozing on the bar counter, his drink forgotten completely.
It went down sour yet strong as he took his first sip.
"I would be, but I have a bit of a mission I'm working on, I'm afraid."
"And that concerns me how?"
"I need information. In order to get that information, however, I need to know where Captain Teague is."
A new light arose in Villanueva's dark eyes. A sliver of respect at the mention of the Keeper of the Code. He slowly lowered his flagon, ignoring the dewy buildup clinging to his greying whiskers as he regarded Jack carefully. He cast slow, deliberate looks around them before jerking his head in a nod.
"Come. We'll speak elsewhere. I don't trust the ears in this place."
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Villanueva led Jack to another establishment a few streets down from the seedy pub, this one a woman's shop for clothes and garments. The couple that manned the shop took one look at Villanueva, and then Jack as he crossed the threshold, before scuttling over to lock the doors behind the two men. The woman paused to speak softly in Spanish to Villanueva, her words too quick and mumbled to catch. She glanced at Jack, her bright sienna eyes filled with a mixture of curiousity and worry.
Villanueva rumbled back, patting the woman on the cheek with a softness in his eyes. He turned to Jack, the steely glint back in his dark eyes as he growled, "Let's go."
Through the shop he led Jack, and into the back, up a set of stairs. The steps creaked and groaned, but they held as the men ascended to the third floor. The two pirates traversed along a narrow hallway, stopping at the last door on the left. Villanueva ushered Jack inside after unlocking the door.
It was sparsely furnished inside, with only a sagging dresser, a dusty chair, and a worn bed with a threadbare wool blanket. Villanueva sat himself in the only chair, and it groaned under his weight as he settled.
"So. You want to find Captain Teague."
"I'm sure I've established this already, yes." Jack responded, his lips twitching into a faint smile. "I've been 'aving a spot o' trouble locatin' 'im and thought to meself, who else would have any idea t' where he might be?"
"Is that what you tell yourself? That I have any clue to where your father is?"
"That's the gist of it."
"Why?"
"I have my reasons."
"And I have mine for not helping."
"I think you'll help."
"Oh, is that so? What makes you say that?"
"The Code."
Villanueva's face darkened with hints of red beginning to speckle his cheeks and nose. "You dare incite the Code to me—"
"I do an' can, an' as such, I need to consult with the Keeper of the Code on matters that, frankly, aren't any of yer business. But I need to know where the Keeper of the Code is in order to consult with said Keeper on matters of grave importance. I need to know where 'e is, Eduardo. Not want. Need. I've 'eard you might 'ave been in contact with 'im recently."
The redness in Villanueva's face didn't dissipate completely, but it mellowed several shades as he regarded Jack in silent fury. He stared for nearly a minute simply fuming at him, before he finally averted his gaze.
"Pedaso de mierda."
Jack inclined his head at the other man, frowning in disapproval.
"Now, that's not very nice. We're all friends here."
Villanueva grunted. He rolled to his feet, his frame rigid and tight, looking ready to pounce.
"I'll get back to you in a few days. Try not to cause a commotion. I'd like to sit in one spot for more than a few weeks."
"Thought you were retired."
"Retiring. Not here."
"Found a replacement, have you?"
Villanueva considered Jack almost thoughtfully as he paused at the door. "No. I'll hang on to it until I've found a worthy successor. You?"
"Nobody springs to mind, sadly." Jack shrugged. "I'll be sure to keep an eye out for you, though."
"Yeah, sure. Of course you will."
The older pirate grunted again, leading the way out and back down to the shop below. The woman and the man were working away in the back when they entered. The woman paused in her work, however, to come to Villanueva. She embraced him tightly, shooting off rapid-fire questions. Jack caught the gist of what was exchanged. He stood by, taking note of the guarded expression the young man was casting between the woman and Villanueva and Jack himself. He was a handsome lad, if a little young, with a small scar above his lip. Jack inclined his head toward the young man.
"My niece and her husband," Villanueva said, interrupting Jack's thoughts. "They own this shop. Very good, very honest work. I try not to interfere if I can help it. I don't want the Navy to come for them just to get to me. I'll be leaving in a few weeks' time."
"What for?"
"I told you, I'm retiring. I'll probably be down your alley soon enough, eh?"
"Whereabouts?"
"Like I'd tell you."
"It'd make things go much smoother, if yer going t' be in my terri'try for an extended period."
Villanueva muttered another curse under his breathe before jerking his head. "Go now. I have some other business to attend to. You know the way out."
Jack watched for only a moment, lingering in his spot before he noticed the young lad surging toward him, his jaw clenched and eyes burning. Jack leaned away from his touch, showing his hands in the air and let his fingers dance. The young man stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing.
"Going, lad. No need to make a fuss."
He wiggled his fingers a little more purposefully in a mocking wave, weaving his way around Villanueva and his young niece to take his leave.
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The shadows were growing long and dark as the sun began its final descent in the sky. The warmth in the air remained, as did the festive energies of the city and its people. He could hear the various chimes and peals of church bells ringing in the distance, beckoning to their good little sheep.
Jack perused through a few shops. Several of them his crew had already been through, while others were more of his own venue. He doubled back to the bar he had met Captain Villanueva at, if only for a few hours afterwards. By the time he left, the sun had well and truly set, and the streets were lit by lantern and torch. The glow of fire added an extra kind of warmth to the scenery.
All appeared well and relatively peaceful, but to Jack, things were stirring into a frenzy. He had leads. He had rumours of leads. He hoped to satisfy their legitimacy, but hope was starting to become a thing long since stretched thin and beyond its capacity to work out. Perhaps Captain Teague could settle things once and for all. The man's mysteries had mysteries.
As good as he was with it, there were times when Jack hated the waiting. The waiting meant time wasted. It meant he was that much closer to the deadline with no results to show for it.
Jack stopped in his trek back to the docks altogether when he came across a sleeping form at the mouth of an alleyway, a hat tilted far down their head to cover their face. It wasn't unusual to find someone or another snoozing on the streets. Some had no homes to go to. Others did, yet they chose not to go for reasons that were their own. They were easy pickings, Jack has come to find over the years. Whether it be a coin nicked from their pockets, or perhaps even a trinket in hand, he wasn't one to let spoils be overlooked.
He gave his surroundings a quick check and found that no one else on the street was giving him a passing glance. Jack stepped closer, confident he could rifle through the lad's pockets without disturbing him in the least. He stopped altogether when he noticed something was crawling atop the boy's lap. It was tiny, whatever it was, and at first, he believed it to be rats, a pair of them. Although, he noted, when they squeaked, it sounded wrong.
That was when he noticed the fingers chewed to bloodied stubs and the faint bouquet of purification reached him as he inspected the lad closer. All grey-skinned and stiff, it was the beginnings of a rotting corpse. Jack leaned away.
Dead.
And no one else was going to take a second look at the lad until he was well and putrefied and writhing with rats and maggots and flies. What he died of, no one else would know of that, either. Sometimes, people dropped dead, or fell asleep and never awoke. Or they were hung at the gallows, executed by a firing squad, or run through by a sword, shot by cannon, drowned at sea…
So many ways to die in this world.
Jack didn't let that deter him for long. Surely no one has thought to pick the poor boy's pockets yet. He shooed away the furry body, unconcerned when it flopped over and squeaked at him. Jack came away with not much except perhaps the lad's vest—its condition good and perhaps close enough to new as it could get. He paused at the crawling little bodies still trying and failing to climb the dead lad.
They weren't rats, he realized. They were kittens. Jack grimaced, baring his teeth as he considered the little creatures.
Oh, that was just not fair.
He uncurled himself back up to his feet, lips still peeled back as he motioned for the felines to go away. They continued their plaintive squeaks, ignoring him entirely. One of the kittens was back to nibbling at the already chewed-on fingers. Jack spun on his heel, taking a few brisk if wobbly steps away.
Cats. He wasn't a cat person. Annoying little animals, they were.
He made it only a few steps before he stopped completely.
Although…as annoying as they were, it pained him to even admit it to himself, the little lass Lupin was only right about one item: they were hunters. They hunted other animals. Rats were a nuisance and he couldn't afford to lose any hands to some plague the little bastards carried. The pox, yellow fever, the plague, even a common illness could ruin things.
Jack himself could catch something, if they continued rolling around in the food, if her word had any merit of truth.
Most importantly of all, they were hunters.
Not just of rats, but perhaps also of a certain annoying undead monkey that was plaguing his ship one day.
If they got fat enough on the rats, then a monkey would be next to nothing.
Jack already found himself hating the decision: cats or no cats. He disliked cats…but he hated that undead monkey even more. And the idea of him, Captain Jack Sparrow, being done in by a little cough, was not high on his agenda. Being done in at all, ever, was not either. He struggled a little longer with even entertaining the idea of having the deplorable little creatures aboard his precious Pearl, usefulness notwithstanding. On the one hand, they would be helpful. On the other hand…he hated them. He also didn't want to give in to the demands and whims of a woman who would be proven right.
And yet, it would be worse luck to not have them aboard.
He barely qualified as the superstitious type. He had no qualms with women aboard his ship, so long as they proved useful—physical strength was not the only thing he desired for working hands, after all. There was cleverness to contend with when it came to womenfolk. They often saw things differently than men, viewed problems from a different perspective and came to differently conclusions and solutions.
This, he grudgingly admitted, would certainly be one of them.
Cats, he's heard the rumours flitting about over the years, were often enough good luck charms aboard ships, if one were to believe in that frivolity.
He didn't believe in the superstition of bad luck with women. Perhaps he could allow, this once, for himself to believe the same for the mangy little fur balls. That didn't mean he had to like them, but merely admit that they were the lesser of two evils. Or three, if anyone was counting.
Jack doubled back, hesitating every time he tried to pick up the furry little bastards, grimacing all the while. He managed to snag one of the kittens up by the scruff of the neck. It squirmed in his grasp and squeaked in protest, clumsily pawing at the air.
"You come near me or my cabin, and I'll have you for dinner, savvy?"
He plopped the kitten into his coat pocket, reached over and snatched the other one up.
"Same goes for you."
That one went in as well, right atop its companion.
When Jack returned to the Pearl later that evening, he found most of the crew gone for the evening, all except for a skeleton watch and his four newest hands. They had either voluntarily elected to stay behind or they had graveyard shifts later that night. Either way, it would make this transition easier, he reasoned, as he swept through the cots, looking for Lupin.
He found her hidden away in a corner rack, her friend snoozing in the cot above. Jack shook the young woman awake and she slurred out a few sleepy insults at him, one of which sound suspiciously like "fuck off". It miffed him, but not completely enough to deter him. When she finally managed to lift herself up, he promptly plopped the vest in her lap, alongside the two little beasts in his pockets.
"Whassis?"
"These are yours. Keep them out of my cabin and well away from me. Let them have free reign in the hull all you like and we'll have no issues."
"Wha…?"
Lupin groaned, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes with her good hand, even as he left without another word.
She'd figure it out. She was smart enough.
OoOoOoOoOoO
Spanish Translation:
Pedaso de mierda—literally "piece of shit"
All the thanks to my beta, Bishie-kins, for the help in finding the perfect insult!
Addendum Notes: In the 18th century, sailors considered it good luck to have cats aboard their ships. They especially, and very ironically, considered it even luckier if they had a black cat on their vessel. Yeah, you read that right: black cats (which everyone now associates with bad luck even to this day)! A polydactyl (or many-toed) cat was even luckier still, as they believed it made them better mousers, as well as better equipped at climbing around the ship. If a cat was thrown or lost overboard, it would conjure a deadly storm, but if it survived it would bring about seven years of bad luck. They also considered cats to be magic, as they could predict the weather, good or bad. Although, scientifically speaking, this isn't completely superstitious hoo-ha, as cats are more sensitive to weather changes than human beings are, so there is some truth to the tall tales!
I have a wonderful, if smug, black cat myself. His name is Thor. He's almost twenty pounds and that ain't fat, it's pure muscle (unlike my tabby, Freckle, who is a bit of a chubby baby, but he's got a lot of love to give so it balances out). Thor thinks he runs this house like a little lion in my living room. I love him all the same, the lazy little lug.
Also, I don't think Jack cares much for cats. Or dogs. Or animals in general. He finds them moderately useful to extremely annoying to really delicious (depending on what they are lol). Mostly though, I see him as pretty indifferent to animals in general altogether. That's how I see it, anyways.
