Note: I had a couple of reviewers say they couldn't imagine Jack without all his long hair and dreadlocks and all. I based my mental picture of a short-haired Jack on several photos of Johnny Depp at some red-carpet events and other films. If anyone is interested in seeing how I picture Jack without all his hair, visit my livejournal, found here: anwallace (dot) livejournal (dot) com to see several of the photos that I'm talking about.
And my anonymous reviewer who complained about all the action-I can't reply directly since you didn't log in, but I invite you to look up "dramatic structure" on wikipedia for an explanation of what I'm doing here (actually, I invite all my readers to do so, as it really helps to understand the structure of a story arc!). This is a novel-length story, so I am using typical novel structure. All the action scenes comprise the climax, and the subsequent "death and sacrifice" scenes are the falling action. There is going to be a slightly extended denouement, and then it will be over. I've had it all planned for weeks, and have nearly finished writing it. Thank you for your comments, particularly about the fencing scene, but the structure of the story arc is not changeable at this point.
As always, please read and review! We're in the homestretch here!
Will exchanged mischievous glances with Calypso. He dematerialized from the Dutchman and was waiting there at the Black Pearl when Jack pulled himself up the ladder, sodden, dripping, and breathless.
"I could have brought you, you know," he said calmly.
"Ahhhh!" Jack yelped, startled again. He glared at Will. "Stop doing that!"
Will laughed. Jack leaned against the gunwale and lifted each leg in turn to empty the water out of his boots. He reached up to squeeze the water from his hair, but ended up sheepishly patting the back of his shorn head with both hands.
"Want some help?" Will offered.
"With what?"
"Drying off."
Jack gave him a disgusted look. "I can do it myself, darling."
Will grimaced. "I didn't mean like that. I just meant—" He gestured toward Jack's clothes. "It's one of my clever powers. One touch and you're dry. Even your boots."
"Fine, then. Ye can touch my boots." Jack put one foot forward.
Will gave him an innocent smile and stomped on Jack's toes.
"Ow!" Jack cried, hopping on his other foot. "What the hell, Will?"
"You're dry, aren't you?" Will asked him coolly.
He was.
"Next time I'll just stay wet, if it's all the same to you. What did you do that for?"
"Oh, just a little reminder, before you go ashore to woo my wife. Don't you dare hurt or dishonor her, because when you die you'll be having to answer to me. 'Savvy?'"
Jack gave him an insouciant grin. "She's not your wife, mate. Never was. Now, as to whether or not she'll be mine, well… we'll just have to wait and see."
"Oh, so you do want to marry her?" Will asked him with a sharp look.
Jack gave a salacious smile. "Will, I want her every way I can have her."
Will shrugged. "Can't fault your taste. I do hope it doesn't bother you that I had her first," he taunted.
Jack pulled off his tattered coat and draped it over his arm. He looked up at Will again. "You had her once, William, and never legally. I'm going to have her forever, in the eyes of God and man, and in every way possible." He walked past Will toward his cabin to change into clean clothes, pausing only once to look back and say, "Oh, and Will? Get the hell off my ship." The cabin door closed behind him.
Will heard someone laughing, and looked around. Gibbs was standing watch, and had seen the whole confrontation. He was snickering. "'A hit,'" he quoted. "'A very palpable hit!'"*
Will snorted. "No argument here," he said, with a rueful grin. "Evening, Gibbs."
"Evening, Will. What happened over there?" Gibbs asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
"Jack saved Elizabeth by bawling like a baby in front of Calypso," Will told him. He grinned. "But I'm sure you'll be able to work sea turtles into it somehow." He nodded to Gibbs and disappeared.
"Aye," Gibbs said thoughtfully, "but it'll be harder than usual."
"Mr Gibbs!" Jack yelled, sticking his head out the door of his cabin and peering up at his first mate.
"Aye, Captain?"
"Wake Mr Cotton and see if he's well enough to come in here with his shaving kit!"
"Aye, Captain!"
Cotton showed up at Jack's door a few minutes later, with his parrot on his shoulder, his barbering kit in his hands, and a puzzled look on his face.
"Ah, Cotton. Feeling better, I'm glad to see. Just neaten this up a bit, will you?" Jack gestured toward his ragged-looking haircut and waggled his fingers under the scraggly remainders of his beard.
Cotton's eyes bugged at the sight of his newly-shorn captain. "Weigh anchor!" squawked his parrot. "Full canvas!"
"Aye, that's the general idea," Jack admitted. "Go on, man, what are you waiting for?"
Shaking his head in amazement, Cotton got out his comb and scissors and set to work.
When Cotton had finished, Jack thoughtfully examined his reflection in the glass. It could be worse. He wasn't very piratical-looking anymore, but he was still an awfully handsome devil.
He had a quick sponge bath to wash off the last of the sweat and blood from the battle, and put on some clean clothes and his new hat. Then he left Cotton on watch and had Gibbs fetch up something from below, and then row him ashore. He had to go see Elizabeth and his father and tell them he was all right, but he had one small matter to see to, first.
Looking quite dapper in clean clothes, a tidy haircut, and neatly groomed short beard, Jack strode boldly into Pirates Hall. Barbossa was there with Tai Huang and a few of the Empress' crew, Scrum and a few others from the Revenge, along with some of the Pearl's crew as well.
Barbossa was munching on a green apple. He'd just taken a large bite when his eyes flickered up to see Jack standing in the doorway. His mouth dropped open in shock. His mouthful of apple plopped out wetly onto the table.
"Evenin', Cap'n Sparrow," Scrum greeted. "Pleased to see you survived the day after all. Some fun, eh?"
"Greetings, my piratical compatriots," Jack said to them all.
"Jaaack, what are ye doin' here?" Barbossa asked, flicking the half-chewed apple bits from the table onto the floor. "Cap'n Teague told us all ye were dead!"
Jack looked smug. "No need to be jealous, Hector, just because you've managed to come back from the dead only once! As you can see, I'm somewhat altered in appearance from my experience, but very much the same in essentials. Just thought I'd pop in to greet you gentlemen and express my appreciation for your assistance with the Blackbeard-spawn who fancied herself and her six warships a match for the pirates of Shipwreck Cove!"
Jack's voice had risen on this last sentence, and his enthusiasm was catching. The men, Marty, Ragetti, and Pintel among them, started grinning and agreeing loudly as Jack went on with his speech.
"I just want to emphasize here: we were three ships—"
"—And a fort!" Marty put in proudly.
"—And a small fort, with only four guns, 'gainst seven Spanish warships. Did we make bargains with eldritch creatures?"
"No!" yelled some of the men.
"Did we have an armada at our disposal?"
"No!" they cried.
"Did we turn tail and run when we saw what we were up against?" Jack queried boisterously.
"No! We gave 'em what-for!" yelled Scrum.
Jack pointed at him with a smile. "That's it! Gentlemen, we beat the tar out of them!" Jack announced. "We thrashed 'em so bad that even the ones what lived will be pulling out splinters of warship for the rest of their lives. We taught those dim-witted Spaniards to think twice before they come an' attack proper pirates in our own waters! And for that, gentlemen, you have my sincere gratitude… and a barrel of rum!"
He whistled a signal, and Mr Gibbs sauntered in amid cheers, with a cask of rum on his shoulder. He dropped it onto the table and wiped his brow with the back of his wrist.
"Now," Gibbs announced. "Let's get this party started!"
There was a roar of approval over this idea, combined with a ragged chorus of "For he's a jolly good fellow," sung in Jack's honor. Jack grinned and waved amid the general jollity, bowed to the Empress' crew, bumped fists with Gibbs, and was gone by the time they reached "…And so say all of us!"
* Hamlet, Act 5, Scene II. Yes, I do think Gibbs can read, and may even have read some Shakespeare in his youth.
Note: Partial inspiration for this chapter and for one aspect of a future chapter was taken from Lakritzwolf's delightful story, "Generations," which can be found here on FFN (and on my fav. stories list, along with its sequel, "Generations II" in case anyone is interested). I was inspired slightly by Lakritzwolf and I want to make sure I give credit where it is due.
Readers may also notice similarities between this and Brethless M's excellent stories "The Flying Dutchman" and "Savarna" (also on my fav's list); however, I read them after I had most of this one already written, so the similarities are coincidental in that case. She and I just had some brain-crossing going on, that's all.
However, all four stories are quite good, so make sure you go read and review 'em when you finish this one!
