Chapter 3
Disclaimer: I forgot one at the beginning. I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, including Jack Sparrow and any of the other aspects of the movie. Any other characters not in the movie are of my own creating , but feel free to use them if you want, I would be flattered!!
A/N: Here's Chapter 3, it's a bit shorter than I planned, but I decided the break this part up into two sections because otherwise it would have been waaayyy to long. Thank you to everyone who had reviewed, your comments mean the world to me and inspire me to write. And for those of you who have been waiting, this is the chapter where Emaline meets Jack, so yayayayayay!!! Please continue to review, and again, sorry about my spelling!!
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Peter Wyndham looked out across the bay as the small rowboat slowly inched its way toward shore. The lights of Port Royal glittered against the darkening sky, and his heart rejoiced at the prospect of walking on land again. He breathed in the thick, moist air, and chanced a glance at Ms. Darcy. She looked almost lovely in this light, with her hair swept up and wearing such a very fashionable, elegant dress. She reminded him of home, of parties and wine and fine food, but not, strangely enough, of Claire.
When he had first learnt that Emaline Darcy would be joining him on the voyage, he had thought of her as nothing more than a very poor substitute for the charms of her far more attractive sister. Oh, how his thought's had changed! Emaline was every bit as obliging as her sister, and though nowhere near as beautiful, there was a wit and intelligence about her that he found most pleasing. Peter enjoyed their conversations more than he cared to admit, and when he thought of Emaline, he often made no connection between her and the beauteous Claire, whom he had thought himself madly in love with.
There had even been a few times when he had considered asking Emaline to marry him, though he quickly squelched the idea as soon as it popped into his head. He may find her very pleasing in these circumstances, but was quite sure that when they returned to England, he would again become immersed in Claire and his feelings for Emaline would fade. They would become common and indifferent acquaintances, nothing more and nothing less. Peter's conscience pricked at this, but he knew that Emaline would deal with it very well. She knew as well as he that a match between them would be ludicrous, and besides, the girl would be so occupied by her studies that any thoughts of him would be easily forgotten.
Peter let out a sigh, and turned his attention back to sea before him. He would dwell on Emaline no longer. For now, he would enjoy her smiles, and see where the wind would take him.
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The company reached the shore and docked the boat with little hassle at all. For Emaline, it was actually exiting the boat the proved difficult. The many layers and heavy material of her skirts caused her to be off balance, and her corset demanded that all movements were small and required as little breath as possible. Finally, with the assistance of Mr. Wyndham, she stepped onto the sand. Emaline breathed in a sigh of relief, and proceeded to look around her. The landscape was beautiful, unlike anything she had ever seen before. White sand spread in every direction, and lush plants swayed in the light breeze.
As the group started forward, she got her first look of the people who inhabited this emerald paradise. Emaline saw men for the most part, more than she would have expected to be out at this hour. Some were British officers dressed in fine red regimentals, but most looked to be sailors, slightly scruffy and dirty, but not sinister enough to be pirates, surely.
Capt. Foster and his men left herself and Peter together for a moment, as they went to speak to the officers and learn the news from England. The two of them were silent, each absorbed in their own thoughts, but they stood close together, taking comfort in the steadying presence of the other in place they were both unsure of. The captain returned after a few minutes with worry etched across his old face. When Peter inquired after the officers' news, Capt. Foster simply said that there had been a few pirate raids, and that there was nothing to fear, though the tone of his voice said otherwise.
Again, they pushed onward, but with the captain clearly leading this time and his men seeming to flank Emaline and Peter on either side. Their pace had also quickened, and Emaline had trouble keeping up, as her corset was severely restricting her breathing. Still they pressed forward, up the main street now, with Capt. Foster casting his eyes about as if he were searching for someone. Just when Emaline was sure that she could go no farther, the company came to an abrupt halt.
The captain took a step away from the group and called out to a man who stood leaning against a building, a three-corner hat pulled down over his eyes.
" Oh, a pirate may be a drunk,
He may be a scoundrel,
He may be without a plan…."
Captain Foster spoke the words clearly, almost putting a tune behind them, and then waited silently, as if he expected the man to answer him.
A voice like rich, smooth honey filled the air.
" But you cannot judge a pirate,
Because many are a good sort of man,
Yo-ho, my laddie, yo-ho,
A good sort of man!"
The man from the building looked up, and Emaline's breath caught in her throat. Before her, no more than ten feet away, stood the most realistic looking pirate she had ever dreamed of seeing. It seemed as though Peter thought the same thing, for she felt him tense behind her and take in a sharp breath.
The pirate walked toward their group, if one could call what he did walking. Indeed, he seemed to swagger and glide more than walk, and his smirk glittered in the moonlight, suggesting that there was gold inlaid on his teeth. He was tall and seemed strong, though his build was rather lean. He had a good deal of dark hair, long and laying in large chunks instead of single strands. A sword swung at his side, and he had a pistol tucked into his belt. But the most remarkable thing about him were his eyes, which shown out from his tanned face. The irises were as black as the pupils, and his lids were lined with a charcoal pencil. Those eyes gave him a strange look; a mix of mystery, shrewdness, and an overall passion for danger.
Emaline believed that she had never seen a man who was more of a contradiction, for as much as his eyes were burningly intense, his manner was light and carefree. He fixed his eyes upon each one of their party as he approached, a sardonic little smile on his face. When his gaze fell on her, Emaline felt a shiver run down her spine and knot form in her belly. She held his eyes for only a moment, and then forced herself to look away. His eyebrow quirked at this, but she did not see it. Finally, he reached Capt. Foster, and gave him an eccentric bow.
" He who speaks the pass-words had my full attention. Capt. Jack Sparrow at your service, Foster."
