Expect the Unexpected
Chapter Ten: Freedom For Freedom
"…and really bad eggs. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!" Jack finished, with Hazel mumbling the words except for the familiar chorus. Her mumbling matched Jack's mumbling of the beloved song but on account of very different reasons. Hazel's mumbling was the lack of knowledge of the lyrics while Jack's mumbling was because of an influential drink called rum. They were both surprisingly in tune, and if they had an audience, the audience would have been quite entertained.
"No, no, no," Jack slurred, getting up and just as quickly, falling over. "Luv, ye juss can't mumble through the song. You gotta sing it with passion, if it's truly what you believe!"
Hazel didn't question whether or not Jack was drunk; although it may be hard to tell from time to time and although Hazel was particularly naïve when it came to such toxic liquids, he was so blatantly drunk that she almost found it funny. He was pretty much the same, just a lot more accentuated. And that is what Hazel found so funny. She never thought Jack could be more accentuated than he already was.
"The second day on this bloody island an' you still can't get the song right," Jack mumbled lazily, not getting up from his current position of being sprawled out on the hot sand.
"Well, I apologize for not imitating your drunken mums with certain perfection," Hazel remarked dryly, casting a glance at her captain.
"I am so glad to be in your company, luv, really and that's saying something' from the bottom of my heart," Jack replied sarcastically.
"The heart that's currently pumping well above it's normal heart beat because of all the liquor you've been consuming?" Hazel asked, rolling her shoulders back, hearing them crack with pleasure.
"I am not drunk!" Jack said, lifting his head up to look at her, and extended his finger for emphasis.
Hazel rolled her emerald-green eyes towards the sky. "Oh, come off it Jack. You're so drunk, you couldn't even spell it."
"You know," Jack said, furrowing his brow. "A real lady would offer to get the real gentleman who saved her life another drink, close her mouth, and just sit there, looking pretty without offering any opinions."
"Well, it's a good thing for you and me both that I'm not a real lady or else the ship we may have been on might have been mutinied right from underneath us because, I, as a lady, wouldn't have spoken up," Hazel said, almost cuttingly. Then, her eyes widened with sarcasm. "Oh, that's right. That very thing happened despite warnings from this real lady."
"I need more to drink if I have to be dealin' with more of this," he said, picking himself up and gesturing toward Hazel with a disgusted look on his face.
"Don't trip on any roots that might pop up from out of nowhere," she called after his retreating frame. Hazel sighed, regretting what she said about him not listening to her. She knew Jack knew what he did was wrong, but Jack had this way of crawling underneath her skin, saying the exact things that he knew would piss her off. And without thinking much, partly because of the heat and partly because of the pain, she spat any remark back that she could think of that, in turn, she knew would piss off Jack.
Turning toward the open seas, she fanned herself, although in vain. She began to wonder where Jack got the rum; if there was rum, than surely there would be food, wouldn't there? But she didn't ask because if there was food, she was certain Jack would bring some back with him… Right? Jack was something, that was all she could definitively say about the man. He could be incredibly sweet, and the next day incredibly biting. He had an unpredictable personality. Maybe that's why they got on so well. She had the same type of personality as well, maybe just with more sentimentality.
Something from the horizon made her eyes flicker, and she pulled herself up, scanning the sea thoroughly. Was that…? A ship? It was impossible, unless Barbossa himself was mutinied by a member of the crew, and they were coming back to kick Barbossa's sorry ass off in this hellhole and pick Hazel and Jack up. That was a possibility, right? But as the ship slowly became easier to see, Hazel recognized that it was not that o the Black Pearl; it was bigger, and rather slow, with white flags that read something that, from Hazel's viewpoint, couldn't quite read. All she knew for sure was that they were heading for this island. She didn't question why a big ship would be heading to some undocumented island. All she could register was that it was a way off the island.
Hazel impatiently paced back and forth on the shore, letting the smooth waves hit her cut-up feet. The cold water relaxed at her. She hummed the song Jack had been previously teaching, which, when she realized this, cursed Jack's name a few more times for getting a song stuck in her head where she only knew maybe seven words to the song. But as she kept turning towards the ship, she realized that it was not a hallucination, that people had come, that she, and Jack if she was in a good mood, were saved. They could get off this bloody island, relax for a few days- build up strength and such- and then go get the Pearl back.
After what seemed like years, the ship docked and Hazel could tell these men were not pirates. They were seamen, burly with white shirts and beige chaps. It almost looked like they were wearing a uniform. She also noticed well-dressed men making way to get on the island, and she quirked a brow at this. Why would they be here on this island? They look like they belong in England or France… or somewhere not here. The billowing flag above struck her from her thoughts, and she then remembered to read what it said: East India Trading Company.
A short gentleman, around thirty or so, walked up to Hazel, his hands behind his back in fear of touching something so dirty. He was maybe an inch taller than Hazel with cold blue eyes and a powdered wig over what Hazel suspected to be dark hair. His voice was sharp and crisp. "And what are you doing on this island… Miss…?"
"Hazel… Hazel Holland," Hazel replied, running her tongue over her chapped lips. "I-I-I…" Hazel wasn't sure whether or not to tell this man about her little adventure. She wasn't sure how Jack would respond to this; if he wanted someone to know the details of everything. So she played the damsel in distress. "I forgot. I can't seem to remember." Her green eyes tried to seduce him with a puppy-like look of innocence. "Who're you?"
"You can have the honor of calling me Mr. Cutler Becket, Miss Holland," the man said, a smile adorning his face.
Jack stormed off to where his secret stash of rum was, because, like he said, he really did need a few more drinks. Women, he realized, were very difficult to deal with outside of a bedroom. They could be smartasses, always believing they're right about every goddamn thing, and then not letting you forget if you made one simple mistake that, yes, could have been prevented if listened to but he made a choice, and dammit, he'd stick to it. God, what were they going to argue about next? Directions?
Women. Jack shook his head. Women were beautiful when they simply kept their mouth shut. There were few exceptions of what a woman could say: "Oh God", "Harder", and, of course, his favorite, "Captain Jack". But the environment of when these phrases could be uttered were very strict, and the tone also had to have a certain melody to it as well.
How is it that he got stuck with the one woman who… who… Who what? Thought for herself, could hold her own against your remarks, who looked out for you, who was blunt, who could actually hold an intellectual conversation… and, in your so humble opinion, was not that bad to look at if? He shook his head. He was talking, no, thinking to himself. This was not good. Too much sun, not enough rum.
Jack turned to his right, and moved three adjacent tree branches, sighing with affection at the hefty sum of bottles of rum before him. If rum was a woman… He let his thought trail off as he grabbed three- five to be safe- bottles of rum. He opened one with skill, and was just about to taste the sweet brown liquid on his lips when a piercing cry interrupted him.
"JACK!"
Jack was so surprised, he nearly tripped over himself, but steadied his balance just in time. He glanced at where Hazel was, and then back at his dear rum bottles, who never said anything, just tempted him to drink them. He looked again to where Hazel's cry was, then down at the rum, then back to where Hazel might be. "Oh bugger," he cursed softly, opting to run towards the girl with the five bottles in his arms.
"So… you have no recollection of how you got here, but your associate, a Mr. Jack something will," Cutler said, one hand to his lips in thought, while the other rested on the small of his back. A few of his men made what appeared to be a semi-circle around him, and Hazel was in front of him, keeping her innocent pout on her face. He quirked a brow at the girl. "Why didn't you have this Jack fellow just tell you himself?" He had a sense that this girl was lying, but her face looked completely naïve of anything. How old was she? he wondered suddenly.
"Jack didn't want to relive the experience," Hazel said, thinking quickly but not showing any effort she put into her lies on her face. "He said it was a dreadful experience, and that he would rather not think of it so soon."
"Well, that's not healthy," Cutler said, then glanced at the girl up and down. "When was the last time you ate, sweetheart? The last time you drank fresh water?"
Hazel almost gave herself away when he called her sweetheart. A look of disgust nearly vomited itself on her usual calm exterior, but at that precise moment is when Jack decided to make his grand entrance, carrying five rum bottles in his arms. "Look," Hazel said, pointing at Jack. "He's drinking his sorrows away."
Jack cocked his head in a confused manner, not only to what Hazel just said, but at the ship and the people that currently graced the island with their presence. He skillfully masked his drunken stupor, which wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do with five rum bottles in your arms.
"That's my rum!" Cutler cried, his usually calm eyes wide with fury.
"Actually," Jack said, shifting the rum, and lifting a finger, leaning forward. "As they say, finders keepers, losers weepers."
"Children say that when they find toys and whatnot!" the short, powerful man exclaimed. "This is money that you're drinking away. Rum is incredibly expensive!"
"My mother always said I had a taste for the divine," Jack said, taking a swig of rum.
"You are a pirate!" Cutler spat. "With your unruly hair, your dirty, filthy clothes, your dark skin. Why shouldn't I take you to the galleys of Port Royal right now?"
Jack quirked a brow, not exactly taking the man seriously. "How do you know I'm not disguised as a pirate?"
"Listen," Hazel interrupted, masking her evident fear for Jack and replaced it with her innocent look that seemed to win Cutler over when they first met. "There must be something we can work out, Mr. Becket. Jack is my companion. He saved my life. Doesn't that, in turn, grant him freedom?"
"So one good deed should make up for the countless bad ones he's committed?" Cutler asked hardly, but his eyes softened when he rested his eyes on the young girl. "Well… I suppose we can work something out…" He glanced sideways at Jack, and then his men. "Take him on board and throw him in the brigs," he ordered, then looked back at Hazel. "Miss Holland? Please allow me to escort you to my ship, where we will discuss a said pirate's future."
Hazel took hold of Cutler's arm, and glanced at Jack, who could be seen staring hardly at Cutler, his eyes narrowed in pure and utter hatred. She sighed, knowing that she would once again have to try and save Jack. If circumstances were different, she probably would have laughed out loud due to the fact that she was getting quite good at saving (or trying to, at least) her captain's life. Wasn't it usually supposed to be the other way around? It didn't matter, anyways. She was a prideful girl, and wouldn't want to be saved.
Once on board, Jack was roughly shoved below, towards the direction of the brigs. Hazel released Cutler and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive manner, and cocking her head, waiting for him to speak.
"You seem to be caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time, Miss Holland," Cutler began, after thinking intently for a moment. "I think it would be deemed fair if I allowed you free passage to Port Royal, where you come from, I believe?" Hazel didn't answer, so he continued. "But asking for that pirate's freedom? I-I-I can't even fathom why, and-" he held up his hands "-I do not want to know… but that is asking far too much." He stopped for a moment, placing his hands behind his back once again. "But, I do have a proposition for you. I will grant that pirate full pardon, a small boat so he can sail whichever leach-ridden place he came from… but in return, I want to take you to Port Royal… I want you to live with the governor and his daughter, learning how to speak, how to act, you know, how to be a real lady…"
Being a real lady always seems to be a problem for me, Hazel thought dryly.
"…and such. And on your eighteenth birthday, I want you to marry me," Cutler finished.
Hazel stood in shock, her mask of innocence fallen off her face. He wanted to marry her? They only just met! What could he possibly see in her? But it didn't matter. Jack's freedom was at stake. And so is yours, another voice cut in. Would you really give up your life for a man you've known for a few weeks, a month at the most? It didn't take Hazel long to realize that yes, she would. I have two years to figure out a way to get myself out of it. Jack would have a day, at most, if I don't agree to this.
Hazel nodded, biting her lip nervously. "It's a deal, then," Hazel said. "But I get to tell him myself."
Cutler nodded, smiling almost sadistically. "Follow the stairs down and it's at the end of the long hallways, hidden away from spectators so they can't see the filth that rots in the brigs."
Hazel ignored every word out of Cutler's mouth as she slowly felt her footsteps get heavier and heavier. She was signing away her freedom. Was that really okay with her? Just think of Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack. Yes, it would be worth it. She could think of a plan to save herself within two years, right? She was smart, so could work her way under the cold exterior of Cutler; surely she could perfect this skill she didn't realize she had. She nodded. Yes, of course she could.
When she saw Jack, every wall she built up broke down, and seemed to unlock the tear ducts she thought were glued shut. Jack's brown eyes drowned in hers with concern; he was clearly sober now. Sober as Jack Sparrow could be, that is. Hazel grabbed the bars encaging her captain, and Jack placed his rough hands over hers in a manner of comforting. He stared at the girl, silently crying, but kept his mouth shut. She would tell him when she was ready.
"Jack…" she said.
"It's alright, luv," Jack said softly. "I can get out of anything. Port Royal can't hold me…"
Hazel shook her head, locking her watery green eyes with his. "No, that's not it," she said, wiping her cheeks on her dirty shoulders. "Cutler's going to let you go."
"Luv, that's wonderful!" Jack exclaimed. "You and I, we're alike with our way of persuasion…"
"No, no, no," Hazel said mournfully, but forced a smile. She needed strength to show that she was okay being separated with Jack for two years. That way, Jack wouldn't argue. "Cutler's going to give you row boat, or something and give you a full pardon and, and, and…" She sighed, locking eyes with Jack again. "In return, I am to be sent to live with the governor of Port Royal, you know, pick up a few trades of being a real lady and whatnot… and then on my eighteenth birthday, I am to give my hand in marriage to him."
Jack shook his head. "No, no, no. Luv, I can't let you give up your freedom for mine. I, more than anybody, know how precious freedom is, and-"
"It's done, Jack," Hazel said, her eyes vacant. "I owe you so much for being so generous with your hospitality."
Jack's eyes were getting hazy, but he would not cry. Not him. But this girl… she was doing the unthinkable for him. No one has ever really looked out for Jack Sparrow in his life. No one has ever sacrificed for Jack Sparrow. And he liked it that way. He didn't want to repay debt, didn't want to get emotional and whatnot (not that he would ever admit it, of course). This girl was unlike anyone he ever met, and he realized how much he truly owed her, and not the other way around.
"I'll save you," Jack murmured in her hair, kissing it, caressing it. He wanted to memorize how she felt, how she spoke, how her eyes changed color with her moods, how she tilted her head when she was confused, how smooth her skin was, how dirt didn't hide her beauty, but complimented it as well. There was so much Jack realized he wanted to learn about her, learn from her and they had no time. No time whatsoever.
"Jack," she said, hoping that he meant what he said, but knowing that he couldn't possibly go through with it. "Like you said, I'm giving up my freedom for you. Don't let me do this in vain."
"Luv, if it's the last thing I do, I swear to the gods and on my name as a captain, I will save you from this marriage," Jack said lowly, seriously.
"Sorry for me to break this up," Cutler said from behind them. Jack immediately released Hazel's hands, and they dropped to her sides, lifeless. "But we have a pirate we need to dispose of and a wedding we need to plan."
Before Hazel realized just exactly what was happening, they were back on deck. Jack's hands were free, but two big, strong men held both of his arms. Cutler stood in front of everyone, his arms behind his back, scanning his men and the two castaways he managed to pick up. "Well, Jack, this is where we get to say goodbye, farewell, and good riddance to you. Let's shake on it, then?" Cutler asked, putting out his right hand. Jack was hesitant, but pulled out his hand and shook Cutler's hand. Without warning, Cutler tightened his grip on Jack's hand and pulled out a long steel pole with a fiery "P" on the end.
He's going to brand him! Hazel realized and screamed, "That's not part of the deal!"
"Oh, do shut up," Cutler said, pressing the iron against Jack's forearm. He didn't scream, but grunted in pain. "Now, if we ever do run into each other again, you'll be forever branded as a pirate." He cast a seething look at Hazel. "And not some mere 'companion'. Now, pirate, get out of here. I don't want to see your face."
Jack looked at Hazel for a fleeting moment, as if to remind her of what he said down below deck, and just like that, Jack was gone.
