Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC, my OC is mine.
By the Hand of Jack Sparrow
Mourning
I woke up alone in the bed. Sitting up and looking around in the dim light of the cabin, I noticed Jack slumped onto the table. There was an empty bottle of rum toppled over next to him.
I got up out of bed and went to wake him. He was groggy and a little disoriented at first.
"Jack! Get up!" I said loudly.
"What? Are we being pursued?!" Jack's eyes widened and he leapt from the chair.
"No, no! Everything's fine," I told him, "Come to bed."
He looked reluctantly at the maps on the table.
"Come on, Jack, you need a good night's sleep," I urged. Then, decided to change my tone to be a bit more persuasive, "Besides, I'm lonely in bed without you."
He smiled slowly and let me lead him to the bed. After taking off his boots and clothes, he got into bed and snuggled next to me. He kissed me softly on the neck, wrapping his arms around me. His breath smelled strongly of rum.
"I love you, Eve," he murmured as he drifted off to sleep.
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There were no signs of trouble over the next couple of days, at least not in the form of trouble from hostile forces. The Pearl sailed peacefully through the islands of the Bahamas, on our course for Tortuga. The crewmembers were in good spirits, exhilarated from our encounter with the merchant ship and anticipating a little shore-leave once docked in Tortuga. Gibbs was at the helm most of the time, and he had been instructing me on the names of the different sails, and familiarizing me with some of the meanings of the different orders Jack tended to favor. Mr. Cotton had spent an afternoon showing me how to tie various knots, which I kept practicing.
I was avoiding Jack like the plague. For whatever reason, he had taken to spending nearly all of his time in the cabin, continually drunk and surly, and obsessing over his maps and the logbook from the merchant ship. I had taken to dining with the crew and spending evenings on deck, until I knew Jack had passed out for the night. It was only then that I would enter the cabin.
When I asked Gibbs if he knew the reason for Jack's behavior, he confessed to being as mystified as I was. Apparently, Jack had chosen to confide in no one.
Gibbs simply summed up by shrugging and saying vaguely, "Cap'n has his moods sometimes."
I looked at Gibbs with surprise.
"Just be patient with him, lass, and ride it out," he advised. "Jack'll be back to his usual self soon."
"Oh, yeah? Well, not soon enough! This has got to stop, now!" I responded out of frustration, stomping off toward the cabin.
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"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I yelled at Jack, as I flung open the doors to the cabin.
He was sitting in his chair at the table, his head in his hands.
" 'Ello, luv," he said, slowly looking up at me. "Would you mind closing the doors?"
I stared at him for a moment, then turned and slammed the doors shut loudly.
Jack groaned at the sound, then said wearily, "And what is it I can do for you?"
He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot and devoid of any expression. And even the kohl he wore could not conceal the dark circles that had developed under his eyes.
"Well, for starters, you can sober up a little and quit acting like a drunken asshole," I suggested harshly. I was furious and made no effort to hide it.
Jack suddenly sprang up out of his chair and slammed his hand down on the table. It startled me, but I held my ground and glared at him.
"This is MY ship and I'm the Captain! I can do whatever I bloody well please!" He was glaring at me.
"I suppose you can, but it makes me wonder if it wasn't some little episode such as this that caused your crew to mutiny, and leave you on that charming little island you claim to be so fond of!" I retorted.
Jack stared at me with his mouth open. He sighed. "Get out of my cabin!" he growled.
I continued to hold my ground. "No! I've shared this bed with you every night since I set foot on this ship! It's my cabin too!"
We stood for a moment glaring at each other, breathless with anger. Jack finally sat back down, mumbling, "Gibbs is right, women are nothing but trouble." He reached for the rum, only to find it empty.
"Stop it, Jack," I said coldly.
Jack rubbed his hands over his face. He looked up at me, his expression distraught.
"I've made a horrible, unspeakable mistake," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I had our crew search that merchant vessel, and it never even occurred to me until I read the logbook."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused.
He picked up the logbook and read, "Left Sierra Leone this morning, bound for West Indies. There was no room in the cargo holds, so had to use the bilge level to house newly acquired cargo."
I looked at Jack, perplexed. "Sierra Leone's in Africa," I mentioned.
Jack nodded slowly, "Yep, those good-for-nothing bastards stored their African 'cargo' in the bilges of their ship," he said venomously.
I covered my mouth with my hand, my eyes widened, as the realization of what Jack was saying filled me with horror. "Oh my God, Jack!" I exclaimed.
He looked at me with tears in his eyes. "And we blew that ship full of holes and sunk it to the bottom of the sea."
I sank to the floor and just sat there, staring into space. I couldn't believe what he was telling me. Jack got up and went to the cabinet to get more rum. He opened the bottle and handed it to me. I drank several big mouthfuls before letting the bottle thud to the floor.
My eyes filled with tears. I looked at Jack. "My God…I'm so sorry."
Jack reached for the rum. "So, now you know why I've been a little out-of-sorts lately," he said sarcastically, then drank a long swig from the bottle.
"Jack…I'm so sorry," I repeated, "I had no idea."
"You and me both, luv," he replied quietly.
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Jack had read through the logbook the day after our encounter with the merchant ship, and it was then that he discovered the atrocities that had taken place. Captain Beauclerk's decision to house the slaves in the bilges of the merchant ship had caused many of them to become sick with disease. The merchant ship's crew was reluctant to venture down there to check on the slaves or even to bring them food, fearing for their own health and safety.
No doubt, by the time the Black Pearl encountered the merchant ship, many had succumbed to the horrific conditions they were forced into enduring.
Jack had spent the last days, wracked with horror and guilt, drunk and distraught. He never admitted it to me, but his face clearly showed the effect of the tears he had shed.
I sat on the floor of the cabin, drinking rum and crying, as Jack told me. I understood all of what Jack was feeling. The hatred of Captain Beauclerk for his cruel decision to house the slaves in the ship's bilges. The self-condemnation for not searching the ship entirely. The complete disbelief that anything so horrible could even occur. The fact that the crew of the merchant ship were probably hoping to be able to salvage some profits from the sale of the slaves, after we'd plundered the rest of their cargo. And finally, the fact that we were responsible for sending an untold number of souls to their ultimate deaths. The horror and sadness we both felt was overwhelming.
Jack continued his self-imposed imprisonment in the cabin. I would periodically make trips to the galley, to make him something to eat. I asked Gibbs if he wouldn't mind acting as captain until we reached port, explaining that Jack was not feeling well. Gibbs obligingly accepted this responsibility and expressed his concern over Jack. I explained that I would tend to Jack and that I felt certain he would be feeling better soon. I lied through my teeth to Gibbs, whenever I encountered him, at Jack's request.
Jack had sobered up significantly, but was an emotional wreck. Mostly, he sat quietly at the table, staring into space, or he slept. Once, he picked up the logbook, read for a moment, then flung it across the room, howling in fury and anguish. I picked it up, walked to the main deck, and dropped it into the sea.
Each time I ventured out of the cabin, Gibbs would ask how Jack was doing. "He'll be better soon," was my usual, vague response. I could tell Gibbs wasn't buying it, and I felt guilty about concealing things from him. Jack wanted nothing to do with Gibbs or the crew, and I'd promised him I'd make certain he had his privacy.
I just really hoped that Jack would be able to be back to his usual self by the time we reached Tortuga. Or that he would, at least, find himself capable of faking it. And so, I protected Jack, allowing him time to mourn, as I lied to Gibbs and the crew for as long as I could manage.
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A/N: Wicked plot twist, eh? Hope this isn't too horribly depressing. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading! Stay tuned, more drama is on the way! And, a happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate it!
