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Pirates of the Caribbean: The True Black Pearl
Chapter 2: Old Meetings
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Disclaimer: I know this is pointless as I have it on the first page, but I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. The only thing that I own here is the future characters of Roxanne Tarisse and the crew of the Eclipse plus some randomized characters that appear now an again... And if you don't believe me, I'll sick my budgies on you!
Thanks for all the lovely reviews so far! It's given me a lot of inspiration to keep going!
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Jack flexed his fingers, looking himself over in the full-length mirror with a distinguished frown. He was no longer wearing his pirate clothing, rather some decorative wear as to not be recognized in the crowds of Port Royal. He had caused enough trouble on his last visit, and he was admitted to the people as he had been before... well, he was certain Will wouldn't come to his rescue this time, reason being he probably wouldn't even know he was there in the first place, and second of all, the good Commodore probably wouldn't be as generous as he had been the time before.
The Captain inspected every attribute of his outfit. He was still in the overlarge white shirt, as it seemed to be custom in the style of males in the day- both the exhaled and pirates. Atop of that was a red vest, trimmed in black and gold buttons. His hair was fastened to the back of his head, surprisingly enough, and goatee was neatly groomed. The sash was still tied around his waist, holding both his sword and pistol (which this time had more then one shot), but the kohl was gone, and last, but certainly not least- a new hat. A red one, with a white feather, made to the precise style of his vest. Captain Jack Sparrow didn't look much like a pirate at all. Jack muttered darkly under his breath.
"Not as nice as me other one…" He said, regarding to his hat, turning his head to inspect it at a different angle, "... but I guess it'll just have to do fur the time bein'..." Jack paused, eyeing the wrist of his left arm carefully. With a tilt of his head, he brushed up the sleeve, revealing the tattoos that would prove his guilt to pirate-ism. With a slight hum of amusement and great difficulty, he single-handedly fastened a leather strap tightly around his right wrist, holding the sleeve of his shirt in place, making the evidence almost impossible in obtaining.
"I won't be makin' that mistake again..." He muttered, recalling the events with Commodore Norrington the first time they'd met. "Damn the demon to hell... him and his navy..."
Captain Jack Sparrow was obviously not in a good mood.
It was necessary for him not to be recognized as was stated before, but this also included his drunken behavior. The slur of his speech, the awkwardness of his movements... Now indeed, it was above all a 'disability' rather then a result of the rum that he acted the way he did, but the alcohol didn't help in any way- it just made it worse. Jack was very aware of this fact, but unfortunately for him- the crew did as well, and knowing the importance of this mission, they had forbid their Captain to any rum the night before or that very morning. At first it had been an acceptable feeling to not be cursed with a hangover by daybreak, but the after effect was starting to take effect.
Captain Jack Sparrow really wasn't in a good mood...
"Cap'n?" A voice asked as a knock was heard at the door of his cabin. Jack passed the door a dark look.
"What?" He responded in a less then welcoming tone. The tone of both the grunt and the mocking words that came after it confirmed his suspicion. It was Anamaria.
"We've dropped anchor and are waiting for you, Cap'n." Her reply came muffled through the wooden door, but it was obvious she wasn't at all pleased, "And you should do something about your tone." Jack growled, resisting the urge to slam his fist down on... something.
"Ye took away me rum, ye bloody savages! Damn ye to hell!"
With clunks of his heavy boots as he left his cabin, Jack Sparrow approached the rest of his crew who stood all prepared to lower the small rowboat into the waters. He surveyed his surroundings carefully, noticing the ship was stopped rather close to the island's cliff fencing. Jack muttered breathlessly. Indeed, the position was fine for the time being on the calm waters of that day, but what if a storm was to pick up? His precious Black Pearl would be smashed against the rocks! If this was the way they were going to treat his ship when he wasn't in their presence, he might not allow them to steer her! Bloody scallywags...
As Jack had approached the crew in the adequate distance for them to notice him, they all couldn't help but laugh in result of the new look of their captain.
"Looks like ye be one o' those land-lubbers, Cap'n!" One of the men pointed out half drunkenly, almost falling off the crate on which he sat. Jack watched the man's alcohol-stemmed glazed over eyes in envy. How he longed for the bitter yet sweet taste of the rum to once again grace his tongue, and the time between these two points seemed a forever and then some. He would have to get his task completed in great haste, for he feared that they would drink what he considered the nectar of life.
"There be any others ye want to be bringin' ashore, Cap'n?" Gibbs asked after the laughter had died down under their Captain's harsh glare. Jack looked up at his first mate hesitantly, but simply shifted his weight in a single over-exaggerated movement.
"Nay. I'll be headin' off on me lonesome." He responded, starting towards the rowboat his was to use to arrive ashore as the crew parted before him. Swinging his legs one after the other into the boat, he plopped down on the seat next to the ores, settling himself in as much as he possibly could on the count that the wooden plank which served as a bench for it's passengers as it was far less then what would be considered comfortable.
With a nod of his head, the entire horde of them started hauling on specific ropes. The boat was lifted up into the air for a second before being pushed over the railing of the ship and began it's decent. Slowly but steadily, Jack and the little boat were brought to the salty brine with a slight plop. The Captain gave a slight wave to his crew before rowing off.
Jack glanced back to the Black Pearl as he and his little boat started away from the ship's view. Satisfied with what he saw, he reached down into the bottom of the boat, searching for something. His fingertips paused upon touching a small bottle, hastily snatching it within his grasp and bringing it back up to his level of attention. A smug grin imprinted across his lips as he uncorked the tiny bottle.
"Think they've got me all figured out, have they?" He muttered slyly, taking a swig of the bitter, warm liquid inside.
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Elizabeth sat quietly, being one who was included in assemble of the four- the others being Commodore Norrington, Mary Morgan and Will. She held a fan, refreshing herself with its constant movement. Though it was a cool and the quartette was outside enjoying day of divine weather, she still found the need to do so. The reason being that accursed corset. She had managed to convince the maids not to tie it so tightly, but it was obviously not enough for she still couldn't breathe as well as she could freely. She found herself growing accustom to it, though.
They had been chatting warmly for about an hour, now, and yet the conversation had gone suddenly still. It felt awkward, as if something was wrong, very wrong. Or perhaps they'd run out of things to talk about? Perhaps their welcome had just run out... Speaking of which, it was possibly time for them to request their leave... But Commodore Norrington broke the silence.
"So..." He started, sipping his tea, "Have you heard anything of old Jack Sparrow, lately?" Elizabeth shifted her weight, slightly started by this specific topic. Her eyes turned to her husband thus they exchanged worried glances before turning back to Norrington, a look of curiosity wrapping about her features.
"No, we haven't. I suspect he's too busy plundering, pilfering... etcetera..." Will replied slowly. Norrington nodded at that, his lips white as he sipped his tea once again. The man obviously disliked the pirate- or any pirate in that case. She considered the subject slightly, and concluded that the Commodore was looking for any way into news of the infamous pirate Captain's wear-a-bouts.
Elizabeth inspected Mary Morgan carefully as she sipped her tea. The girl was dressed in a fairly elegant dress, holding a fan just as she was. Her hair was straight, a dark brown- almost black that haloed her face. Her skin was fair, a soft bed for two gem-like green eyes. She hadn't said anything since they had arrived and in truth, she didn't look as if she was at all delighted to be there. The girl was young... very young. She didn't look at all to be the age to be wed, and couldn't possibly be aged over fifteen. Unfortunately for the girl, and several others, most women didn't have much say in those sorts of choices in that very day and age.
Elizabeth pitied her.
"Mr. and Mrs. Turner..." All attention turned to the man who had reported their names in formalities. He was a servant, one who had served the party just slightly earlier. With all eyes on him, he nodded slightly, "Excuse the interruption, but there's a man who wishes to see you at the front gate. We have informed him that you're busy, but he insists to stay until he gains a company with you. He's very persistent..." Elizabeth turned to Will with a raised brow. Her husband seemed equally surprised as she. After a slight hesitation and an inspection of the Commodore's expression, she nodded.
"Then we will see him..."
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Please R&R!
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