Chapter 7

An hour later she still pretended to sleep, she hadn't slept much the night before. What allowed her to rest was the utter exhaustion she felt. Now her breath came irregularly as if she had just finished swabbing the entirety of the Pearl. Her mind was a whirl of fog and reality, she could see the cell they were held in, but there wasn't any sound. Was there anything to be heard anyway? She couldn't tell.

She focused on the wooden planks coated with straw on the floor. Interesting really, the grain of the wood and the mildew on the straw. Little knotholes were naturally carved into the planks and where they had become wet they were different colored than the rest.

She held her hand up to her face and stared at it transfixed. Small cuts, nearly invisible

lined various places on her skin. Some of them were new, some of them old . The old ones were lined in white or clear scars, the new ones were pink or red. Everyday aboard a ship brought new injuries, to escape without any at the end of the day was considered odd. That was part of the curse and amazement of being a pirate.

Jack was the same although since he was the Captain he faced more injuries than anyone. Normally land walkers figured that the Captain had it easy, having all the other men do the work for him. It was the opposite, the Captain did most of the work for the crew. All the crewmen did was support the ropes, anchor, sails, mast, and one man to keep watch in the Crow's Nest.

She had once seen, during a storm, part of the mast fall onto Jack's shoulder. After the

storm had passed Jack had asked her to reset it. A storm that had lasted throughout the

night. Jack had sailed the ship around the worst of it and all that with a dislocated

shoulder. He hadn't had the time to push it back in place so he waited it out.

Having nothing else to do she let the memories run through her mind. Jack was sleeping

or at least resting against the wall. He had his long legs crossed in front of him and his

arms crossed. Through all that they'd been through Jack still had the black outlining

around his eyes. She knew the reason for that, he had a small sword-cut on the bottom of

one eye. While it was hardly visible it made him appear just a little bit cross-eyed without

the black kohl.

One night when they had both had too much rum she had taken the kohl he bargained

from Singapore and outlined his eyes as a joke. He had liked it so much though that from

then on he had kept the look and she had to admit it suited him well.

The kohl was more than just dramatic effect, components in the soot and other ingredients protected against the sea's salt and the sun's glare. Annamaria wore a little for that reason, though not nearly as much as Jack.

Though his arms were crossed she could see the P branded into his skin. That had also been another night of story-telling after too much drink. The normal story was that Jack

Sparrow the invincible pirate of the sea had lashed two pair of sea-turtles together and

tamed them to take him back to shore. What had really transpired had nothing to do with turtles. Jack had told her in confidence about the rum-runners, that he was able to barter passage off with the promise of treasure from the Pearl's cache.

That didn't sit over to well with the rumrunners, they liked their trade and to get involved

with a pirate went against the grain, so to speak. They took him up on the deal though and

in the middle of the night sold him over to the East India Trading Company. He had learned a lot from being marooned, tricked, and sold.

While he still passed off serious situations with humor there was no denying the darkness in him. He no longer had the young, carefree, slightly innocent view of the world anymore, if he had at all. Only when he was drunk did she see that side of him emerge.

The East India Trading Company had taken him to a prison, he was set to be sold into

slavery. The night before he was to be sold they took the brand to his arm and the mark

was forever impressed onto his arm. That's where she had met him, lying in an alley as

proud as ever. She was the daughter of a barmaid and was trying to escape the clutches of

a customer.

No matter what else Jack was, there was definitely a chivalrous nature to him. He had

fought off her abuser with the hilt of a sword and a small dagger. Then with that he

collapsed onto his knees on the cobblestone. On closer inspection she had seen the ragged

flesh around the burn, as well as the worst scar she had ever seen in her life.

He had looked up at her from eyes that were too dark for his age and asked for a tankard

of rum. He then took a deep breath and forced himself to his feet, he had too much pride

to kneel on the ground in front of her, no matter that she had knelt to spare him. One rum

bottle later and after all the customers had gone, she had snuck him into her room and

administered to his wounds.

She had cut meticulously at the broken and still sensitive flesh around the burn, careful

not to dig in to deeply with the knife. He had never winced or made any move to pull his

arm away. The only sign she had to know that it hurt was the way that he clutched the

bottle and his sharp intakes of breath. She had worked as fast as she could, now all that

was left was the brand, it signified both their meeting and the start of a friendship that

hadn't ever faltered.

Coming out of her daze she was just in time to scream out a warning to Jack who seemed to be sleeping. Ruyifor was back but this time he had company.