Part II
"May I bequest for truth in what I am hearing?" Elizabeth asked in her confused accent.
"You may." Her father granted and nodded his head, still looking at Anita.
"You," She started, motioning with open hands to Anita. "Are the daughter of my father's brother... whom I know nothing of?"
Anita nodded.
"And you lived in Spain- your father's farm was attacked by outlaws, and your father was killed? So you're here- with us?"
Anita nodded again, wondering how long it would take the seemingly dense governor's daughter to figure out just who Anita Swann was. She dug too deep, and asked too many questions.
"And you," Elizabeth continued, motioning to her old father. "Forgot to tell me. The fact just... slipped your mind?"
Her father nodded... again.
"Well you should have told me!" Elizabeth rose her tone of voice with a smile. "Now I've some company!" Her father laughed with glee and Anita shone a half-true smile.
After being drug up the staircase by the younger girl, Anita found herself standing to the left of the bed in what she presumed was Elizabeth's room, watching her bustle around the room doing one thing or another. She tried hard to bite her lip and keep her comments to herself- she didn't necessarily have anything bad to say, but she wasn't nearly as sophisticated as even the maids.
"Oh my- you've lost your father! Your poor father- my uncle!" Elizabeth rambled though a smile still rang in her words. "But what of your mother? Have you no mother?" Anita tried to answer that she had never known her mother, but instead watched as two maids came into the room while Elizabeth kept talking without pause. "No I suppose you haven't a mother- but nor do I- and I've become a 'fine woman'- as the Commodore tells me."
'Oh well aren't you just the most lovely lass- if the Commodore says so?' Anita thought to herself, but said nothing.
"In fact- he proposed! Imagine that- the Commodore fancying me. True it would be a smart match- so I've heard- but I've accepted the proposal of another. I'm married at only eighteen years! What do you take of that? How old are you anyway?"
Seeing that Elizabeth finally asked a question that she expected to be answered, Anita spoke up. "Twenty-seven." After the short phrase had been said, Elizabeth and even the two maids stopped dead in their doings.
"What?" Elizabeth asked.
"Twenty-seven. I have twenty seven years."
"You're accent... it's so lovely."
"Ah yes, the accent." Anita smiled gently. "But- to me, you are the one with the accent."
"For someone I've never met, you sure seem somewhat familiar." Elizabeth interjected.
"Well, you know what that means, do you not?"
Elizabeth shook her head.
"You're mad." Anita grinned and winked at her newfound cousin.
Elizabeth, however, could not shake the feeling of familiarity
~~~~~
Jack sparrow sat on his beloved ship- eating an apple in the dining quarters. Something about Barbossa's obsession with the fruit made Jack want it that much more... Sick maybe, but the truth.
"Captain!" He heard yelled loudly and Gibbs came through the door with a short knock.
"Aye?" He threw out without taking his concentration off his apple.
Gibbs came running down the stairs, carrying his canteen- talking up a storm before he was even visible. "Storm'sa comin', hard on from the east. They's wicked winds- a cruel blow in the opposite direction we be headed. It's wicked bad luck to spite the winds."
"Ah yes- the devil's own luck to spite those winds." Jack said with a sigh as he stuck his knife into the apple and set it upon the dark mahogany table before standing. "I do hope those winds would be forgiving of us..." Jack said in a mordant tone. One could only handle Gibb's constant ramblings about 'luck' for so long. Jack did not believe in any of it.
Jack made his way up to the deck however, sensing the change in the temperature of the winds before he had even seen the daylight. Gibbs was right about a storm- though the part about luck may have been pushing it. "Annamaria!" He called, and walked over to the helm where his first-mate stood. Whenever Jack wasn't steering, it was Annamaria in second to him- as good a captain as any could expect of a woman- better even.
He shone her his authentic smile, and nodded a 'thank you' to her as she stepped down from the helm, letting him steer his beloved again. "Annamaria, what do you think of this weather?" He asked in a rather cherry tone, his dark hands reaching up to tug on the two matching braids that hung from his chin.
"The weather, Captain, is strange. Wind's just reversed they' direction- bloody hard to get to Tortuga." She told him, shading her eyes as she stared up to the oncoming black clouds.
Jack looked up as well, squinting his eyes against the strong breeze coming off the water, and had a thought. "Gibbs!" He called, turned and held his hand out as he though aloud in his usual manner. "The date, if ye please."
His old, superstitious friend with graying, yes still thick sideburns held his canteen still midway to his mouth, and appeared to be counting in his head. "This be out 16th day at sea?"
"Aye." His Captain answered.
"Tis the... 21st... of August. Or 22nd... Somewhere's about the 21st."
Jack clapped his together in thanks, then turned to Annamaria, waggling his fingers as a sign for her to further distance herself from the helm.
"Captain?" She asked. It had taken her a few months to regularly call Jack Sparrow her captain, but in an attempt to avoid his ego, she had learned.
"Some friends o' ours are preparing a voyage." He said taking out a compass that actually pointed north instead of the old wooden one that showed the path to 'The Isle de Muerte'. "We wouldn't want t' miss the festivities, would we?" He punctuated his point by turning the wheel as far to the starboard side as it would go.
Once again, a certain song came into his head, and he began humming the tune to himself.
To some, the ocean may seem lonely at times, but never to Jack Sparrow.
Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow.
"May I bequest for truth in what I am hearing?" Elizabeth asked in her confused accent.
"You may." Her father granted and nodded his head, still looking at Anita.
"You," She started, motioning with open hands to Anita. "Are the daughter of my father's brother... whom I know nothing of?"
Anita nodded.
"And you lived in Spain- your father's farm was attacked by outlaws, and your father was killed? So you're here- with us?"
Anita nodded again, wondering how long it would take the seemingly dense governor's daughter to figure out just who Anita Swann was. She dug too deep, and asked too many questions.
"And you," Elizabeth continued, motioning to her old father. "Forgot to tell me. The fact just... slipped your mind?"
Her father nodded... again.
"Well you should have told me!" Elizabeth rose her tone of voice with a smile. "Now I've some company!" Her father laughed with glee and Anita shone a half-true smile.
After being drug up the staircase by the younger girl, Anita found herself standing to the left of the bed in what she presumed was Elizabeth's room, watching her bustle around the room doing one thing or another. She tried hard to bite her lip and keep her comments to herself- she didn't necessarily have anything bad to say, but she wasn't nearly as sophisticated as even the maids.
"Oh my- you've lost your father! Your poor father- my uncle!" Elizabeth rambled though a smile still rang in her words. "But what of your mother? Have you no mother?" Anita tried to answer that she had never known her mother, but instead watched as two maids came into the room while Elizabeth kept talking without pause. "No I suppose you haven't a mother- but nor do I- and I've become a 'fine woman'- as the Commodore tells me."
'Oh well aren't you just the most lovely lass- if the Commodore says so?' Anita thought to herself, but said nothing.
"In fact- he proposed! Imagine that- the Commodore fancying me. True it would be a smart match- so I've heard- but I've accepted the proposal of another. I'm married at only eighteen years! What do you take of that? How old are you anyway?"
Seeing that Elizabeth finally asked a question that she expected to be answered, Anita spoke up. "Twenty-seven." After the short phrase had been said, Elizabeth and even the two maids stopped dead in their doings.
"What?" Elizabeth asked.
"Twenty-seven. I have twenty seven years."
"You're accent... it's so lovely."
"Ah yes, the accent." Anita smiled gently. "But- to me, you are the one with the accent."
"For someone I've never met, you sure seem somewhat familiar." Elizabeth interjected.
"Well, you know what that means, do you not?"
Elizabeth shook her head.
"You're mad." Anita grinned and winked at her newfound cousin.
Elizabeth, however, could not shake the feeling of familiarity
~~~~~
Jack sparrow sat on his beloved ship- eating an apple in the dining quarters. Something about Barbossa's obsession with the fruit made Jack want it that much more... Sick maybe, but the truth.
"Captain!" He heard yelled loudly and Gibbs came through the door with a short knock.
"Aye?" He threw out without taking his concentration off his apple.
Gibbs came running down the stairs, carrying his canteen- talking up a storm before he was even visible. "Storm'sa comin', hard on from the east. They's wicked winds- a cruel blow in the opposite direction we be headed. It's wicked bad luck to spite the winds."
"Ah yes- the devil's own luck to spite those winds." Jack said with a sigh as he stuck his knife into the apple and set it upon the dark mahogany table before standing. "I do hope those winds would be forgiving of us..." Jack said in a mordant tone. One could only handle Gibb's constant ramblings about 'luck' for so long. Jack did not believe in any of it.
Jack made his way up to the deck however, sensing the change in the temperature of the winds before he had even seen the daylight. Gibbs was right about a storm- though the part about luck may have been pushing it. "Annamaria!" He called, and walked over to the helm where his first-mate stood. Whenever Jack wasn't steering, it was Annamaria in second to him- as good a captain as any could expect of a woman- better even.
He shone her his authentic smile, and nodded a 'thank you' to her as she stepped down from the helm, letting him steer his beloved again. "Annamaria, what do you think of this weather?" He asked in a rather cherry tone, his dark hands reaching up to tug on the two matching braids that hung from his chin.
"The weather, Captain, is strange. Wind's just reversed they' direction- bloody hard to get to Tortuga." She told him, shading her eyes as she stared up to the oncoming black clouds.
Jack looked up as well, squinting his eyes against the strong breeze coming off the water, and had a thought. "Gibbs!" He called, turned and held his hand out as he though aloud in his usual manner. "The date, if ye please."
His old, superstitious friend with graying, yes still thick sideburns held his canteen still midway to his mouth, and appeared to be counting in his head. "This be out 16th day at sea?"
"Aye." His Captain answered.
"Tis the... 21st... of August. Or 22nd... Somewhere's about the 21st."
Jack clapped his together in thanks, then turned to Annamaria, waggling his fingers as a sign for her to further distance herself from the helm.
"Captain?" She asked. It had taken her a few months to regularly call Jack Sparrow her captain, but in an attempt to avoid his ego, she had learned.
"Some friends o' ours are preparing a voyage." He said taking out a compass that actually pointed north instead of the old wooden one that showed the path to 'The Isle de Muerte'. "We wouldn't want t' miss the festivities, would we?" He punctuated his point by turning the wheel as far to the starboard side as it would go.
Once again, a certain song came into his head, and he began humming the tune to himself.
To some, the ocean may seem lonely at times, but never to Jack Sparrow.
Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow.