Jenny jumped, more startled than she'd be willing to admit, when the thumping began. It came from above, the impacts rhythmically pounding in unison across the whole of the upper deck, so far as her hearing could tell. She feared the boat might capsize under the assault and her pulse began to quicken at the thought. "What is that?" She gasped.
To her astonishment, the captain chuckled. That devilishly handsome smile spread across his features in a smirk and his brow raised at her. "A bit skittish, are we? Here," he moved to slosh a bit more rum into her glass, and she didn't move to protest. "More of that ought to calm your nerves. It's nothing but some evening revelry amongst the crew. We're welcome to partake if you're so inclined. " He set the bottle of rum on the table and moved to open the hatch over their heads.
That's when she heard the music. Accompanied with the strumming of strings, the banging noises now sounded much more like what they were: feet using the ship itself as a drum. "What are they all celebrating?"
"Oh, life, I suppose. This is a fairly typical evening occurrence." He filled and lifted his glass once more. "Have you managed to acquaint yourself with the crew yet?"
"Not really," she admitted. "I talked to that one kid a bit..."
"Then let's take advantage of this opportunity. Come." He gestured toward the ladder, urging her to ascend before him. "Ladies first."
"Such a gentleman." Casting an eye over him, she began to climb.
"Simply enjoying the view, love." He cleared his throat.
She whipped her head around to look at him, her ponytail flying forward over her shoulder. In return, he cast her a devious grin. "You are absolutely incorrigible!" She informed him, but found she didn't really mind all that much.
"Aye," he confirmed. "Pirate, remember?"
Rolling her eyes, she continued her ascent. "Pirate, indeed." She muttered. The raucous notes amplified significantly as she reached the deck. Every man in the crew contributed to the cacophony of joyous melody with all assortment of instruments. One man plucked the strings on something that looked vaguely like a guitar, another pumped and squeezed a small accordion-like noisemaker, still more tapped or pounded on hand drums of varying sizes. One guy was just holding a pair of spoons together and smacking them on his hand and knee, and they were all stamping their feet on the boards below them. Whatever could create sound, did. She felt a smile warming her cheeks at the sight.
"Do you play?" The captain's voice rumbled behind her.
"Oh, sure. I love playing. I'm a big fan of jumping in puddles, or a good game of cards. Why do you ask?"
"By that, I meant 'do you play music?'"
"Oh. That." Jenny chewed her lip, feeling a twinge of embarrassment that she quickly suppressed. "That makes more sense." Her head cocked to the side as she gave the question some thought. She couldn't recall having ever made an actual attempt at wielding an implement of sound for its intended purpose. One time while flailing to make an escape, she'd smacked a foe upside the head with what turned out to be a trumpet. It made a noise for sure, but it wasn't very melodic. Then again, she was of the personal opinion that she had very good timing when tapping her toe along to a catchy song. Then again again, she'd also regenerated. "I don't actually know," was the answer that she settled on with excitement. "But we can find out!"
He laughed merrily, despite the bewildered expression on his face. "Aye, we can if you like. Or perhaps instead of risking all our ears, you might be amenable to a dance? That way, it's only my toes that are in danger, and I trust these boots to protect me."
"My feet are quite nimble, I'll have you know." She took offense at his insinuations of clumsiness on her part.
"Are they?" He downed the contents of his beverage and left the emptied glass atop a barrel, then gestured so that she might do the same. "I hope you're prepared to demonstrate the truth of your claims." He held a dare in the arch of his brow.
Jenny rose to his challenge. Repeating his motions, she swallowed her drink and set aside its container as he had, then took his proffered hand. With a speed that nearly stripped her breath from her, he whisked her into a lively, bouncing, whirlwind of motion, keeping immaculate time with the medley emanating into the air around them. Any worries she might have had about his sharp hook at her waist while they moved so quickly together would have felt unfounded. He seemed to have more than enough dexterity with it. Following his adept lead, her feet fell easily into the steps, and she let out a whoop of laughter as he spun them.
She thought herself fit, but found the upbeat tempo of the dance to be a greater exertion than expected. She was surprised that he wasn't breaking a sweat, because she knew that she was about to, and she had greater endurance than the vast majority of humans. Clearly, he had plenty of practice with this, and regularly. Despite the heavy boots, his feet moved with a grace she hadn't predicted.
When he finally eased her back to a halt as the music reached a diminuendo, she felt giddy and almost lightheaded from the endorphins flowing freely in her veins. Still holding her hand in his, he stepped back and bowed deeply before her, showing her a wink and bestowing a light kiss upon her knuckles before he rose. "Your proof is undeniable. Nimble feet, indeed."
"Seems you might have found yourself a decent dance partner, captain." A hoarse but jocund voice called out from behind her, and she turned to see a stocky member of the crew leaning against the railing and filling his pipe. A red scarf was knotted about his head, and thick stubble covered his cheeks aside from the line where a white scar crossed his jaw.
"You mean aside from your husband, of course?" Hook retorted in good humor.
The sailor chortled as he tapped down his tobacco. "If you've got your own now, you might stop borrowing mine. I worked damn hard to earn my place at the top o' his dance card, you know." Going a bit dreamy-eyed, he nodded toward another man over near the mast. In the midst of a blithe jig, the man missed not a note as his wildly frayed bow flew across the strings of his fiddle. The many tiny, beaded braids of his hair jumped and swung around the dark and glistening skin of his bare shoulders.
"And yet it appears that your Mr. Murray O'Sullivan is currently dancing alone. Why is that?"
The burly man raised his pipe in explanation and produced a match. "Needed to have me a smoke." He struck the match and brought the flame to the dried leaves, sucking in a few puffs to get the ember started.
"So after all that work, and you've still left a space on his card empty," the captain taunted. "Perhaps you enjoy sharing after all." With another wink toward Jenny, he dipped away to cavort with Murray and any others who cared to accompany.
Her breath still returning, Jenny joined the crewman against the railing as he laughed again softly and shook the blaze off the match before stashing its remainder in his pocket. His hand now empty, he extended it to her in greeting. "Connor O'Sullivan," he announced, blowing a stream of smoke out of the corner of his mouth and away from her. "Welcome aboard."