Disclaimer: Still don't own them… Except in my dreams….
AN: Went and saw Pirates again last night… Number 7! I need to make it an 8 though; odd numbers bother me… I guess I'm obsessive-compulsive! lol. Anyway, I'm sorry I've been so slow in updating. School has started anew and so has homework! I've been steadily writing when I'm supposed to be listening to my Algebra 2 teacher though. He doesn't get mad at me because I know him through drama, so it's all good. Plus, I know all the material we've covered so far so it's okay for now. I'll update as often as is feasible, so stay tuned friends and neighbors! PS- YO PANCAKE!!! * wink, wink * Number 8, baby!!! lol!
Chapter 3: Past Comes to Light
Anamaria and Rosemarie sat in the first mate's cabin on the first deck down from the main. The cabin was dark, lit only by a single candle, large though it was. The wood of the walls and deck smelled musky and somehow sweet. The ship swayed from side to side gently, it was comforting somehow.
"There," Anamaria said. "That should feel better." She had put a salve of green tea leaves and dried seaweed onto the worst of Rose's injuries and wrapped them in clean linen. The new dressings were snug, but not wholly uncomfortable. It was much easier for Rose to move around.
"Feels much better. Thank ye, Anamaria." Rose stood and walked in a small circle. Her leg didn't throb as bad anymore, but her limp was still quite profound.
"Ye'll stop limpin' so bad in a few weeks, lass. I'm afraid ye'll carry a heavy scar and a mild limp for the rest of your days, though, mate."
"Aye, I think ye're right, mate. But that's a small price to pay. It could have been much worse… I could be feedin' the fishes in the depths of Davy Jones' Locker." Rosemarie sat down on the edge of Anamaria's bed. The night's activity and the constant ache of her wounds had her exhausted.
Anamaria stood from where she knelt at the foot of the bed and walked to her small closet. After looking at several different items of clothing, she pulled out a white shirt and a pair of gray pants.
"Here, lass. 'Tis better than what ye have on. I give them freely, so don't ye be tryin' to refuse 'em." Anamaria handed the clothing to Rose, and the other woman accepted them with a nod.
"Thank ye again. I'll repay the favors ye've done for me somehow." Rose said as she pulled the pants on under her skirt. They were baggy and easy to move around in, although they cut off mid-calf. Perfect for a pirate, they allowed a full range of movement.
"No need to repay me," Anamaria replied as she turned her back to Rose, allowing the other woman privacy to pull the dress off over her head and to pull the white shirt on. It was large and rather baggy, it was obvious to Rose that it had originally been a man's shirt; perhaps one of Jack's? There was a slit cut at the throat that caused a v-neck effect, but the neck stopped before it reached her bosom.
"If ye say so," Rose stood and tested her weight on her leg again. "Didn't your Captain wish to see me?"
"Aye, that he did, lass. Follow me." The first mate opened the door that led into the ship's dimly lit hallway and walked out with Rosemarie following. She sauntered down the hall slowly while Rose limped behind, trying to match her stumbling gait to that to the rocking of the Pearl. Anamaria made a right turn at the end of the hall and stopped in front of a door with a "J" carved ornately into the darkly stained wood.
"Here 'tis. He'll probably have something lying around to drink in there, but if ye're really 'ungry, the crew's mess hall is down the hall to the left," Anamaria pointed down the hallway. "Ye can't miss it. There's always at least one person there, and I'm sure they could help ye find some vittles."
Rose nodded. "Once again, thank ye Anamaria."
The first mate nodded a welcome and walked off down the corridor and disappeared into the mess hall. Rose reached up and knocked on Jack's door, banging her fist roughly against the ornate "J".
The door creaked open after a moment and Jack stood in the doorway. His beat up leather tri-horn hat was off, his dark hair lay around his shoulders, some strands beaded, some dreadlocked, and some braided. He had a bottle of rum in one hand and the smell of liquor on his breath. The musty light of several candles glowed from a small table in the center of the room. Several maps hung on the walls, yellowed with age. The bed was unmade, the gray sheets were shoved to the foot of the bed and the single pillow lay abandoned on the floor. In terms of tidiness, the room seemed a disaster, but there was a sense of coziness about the cabin and Rosemarie got the sense that Jack knew where everything was.
"Ah, me little Rose," Jack said and stepped aside as Rosemarie stepped into the dimly lit room. "Ye look a thousand times better in that shirt than I ever did, love. Would ye like a drink?" He smiled in an adorable way and tilted his head slightly as he motioned to the small table in the center of the room. Two bottles sat beside the several candles. One was clear crystal, full of a caramel-colored liquid that could only be rum if the rumors about Jack Sparrow were true. The other was slightly taller with a green tint to the glass, and it was filled with a deep red liquid that appeared to be wine.
Two plush chairs sat by the table; Jack sauntered over to one, a drunken jilt in his step. He collapsed into it and gulped more rum. Rosemarie followed suit, sitting in the other chair. She grabbed the other bottle of rum and took a swig, aware of Jack watching her. She took another deep swallow of the rum, it went down her throat like fire, spreading a delicious warmth into her stomach and through her body. Jack chuckled and drank again out of his bottle, all the while watching Rose with his dark, kohl-ringed eyes.
"What did ye want to see me for, Captain Jack?" Rose asked, nursing her bottle of rum.
"I was wanting to know your story, love. How ye came to be abandoned on that island for one thing."
"I'm supposing that since you said 'for one thing,' there's more that ye'll be wanting to know, Captain?" Rose sipped more rum and eyed Jack suspiciously.
"Aye, there's more. Ye claim that your name be Turner. I want to know who your father was. Who your mother was." Jack was running a finger around the mouth of his bottle as he gazed intently at the girl with his dark eyes.
"My father…?" Rosemarie frowned at Jack. "Me father's name was Bill Turner."
Jack's brow furrowed farther. "Bill Turner? Bootstrap Bill Turner? Your father was Bootstrap Bill Turner?"
"Aye. The best pirate e'er to sail the Caribbean. Current company an exception, of course." Rose looked at Jack, her eyes seeming to question him as a small smile formed on her lips. His mind was going crazy, he had as many questions for the girl as she undoubtedly had for him.
"You're sure of this, lass?" The girl nodded, one eyebrow raised. "How…" Jack muttered.
"Ye think I know not me own father?" Rose laughed softly. "What do ye mean, 'how'? What are ye talking about?"
"Nothing, nothing… Questions in the dark of me mind, girl." Jack gazed at the girl with renewed fascination. "Start your tale at the beginning. Where you were born, who your mother was, how old ye yourself are, how ye came to the island and so on. Savvy?"
"Aye, savvy, Captain." Rose took a deep swallow of rum, cleared her throat and began her tale.
