disclaimer: I-do-not-own-these-characters. So there.
It was almost dark. The sun was below the horizon, a few golden rays reaching out to touch the sails of the Black Pearl. The activity on the main deck had settled down, and many of the sailors had gone below decks. Jack alone stood at the wheel, a silhouette against the fiery beams of the sun. A small figure in the midst of an ocean, land miles away. The darkness grew closer, inching its black fingers towards the ship. Overhead, clouds formed.
Jack shivered despite the warm Caribbean temperatures. A sense of foreboding lay on his mind, though he couldn't imagine what there was to be worried about...besides his ship of course. He had felt like this before, in a jail cell long ago. When the moon had clouded over and distant booms shattered the stillness. But here he was on a ship for heaven's sake, his ship, with a crew around him and the wheel at his hands. There was no cause to be afraid.
He mentally kicked himself at his cowardice. Of course, there was one sure-fire cure...
* *
*
"Jack, you've had quite enough of that. Give it here, now," Anamaria demanded firmly.
Jack clutched his bottle of rum to his chest and looked up at her blearily. "Why go and spoil the fun, love? A man can...never 'ave too much rum."
"Oh is that right? So shall I let you drink until you fall overboard and leave us captainless?"
"Darlin,' a captain...this captain...never EVER falls overboard. For I, I am Captain Jack Sparrow, ye know."
"Yes, I know. Now come on, give it to me."
Anamaria finally pried it from his fingers, letting him fall backward onto his cot. Jack grinned up at her, making no move to get up.
"Ye know, you're quite a fine gal, love."
"None of that, Jack Sparrow. I've heard it all before, so don't be thinkin' that ye can try your flattery with me."
"Flattery, darlin? Who ever said anythin' bout flattery? I'm only statin' the truth!"
"Sure ye are. Why don't you reconsider that statement when you're not drunk?" she asked pointedly.
Jack's eyes flickered under his eyelids. He watched her drowsily as she corked the bottle and placed it in a chest. He'd really have to get to know her better...tomorrow perhaps...when his head stopped spinning...
Barbossa was smirking at him from on board the Black Pearl. He had just reached out his hand to grab the gold from the monkey and then, then it was snatched away by Barbossa. He heard the gunfire around him and wondered what was happening to that young fool of a Turner. Hoped he was safe, but he couldn't quite concentrate on any particular thought at the moment. Then Barbossa's face changed, and jack was no longer on his ship but on land, Tortuga to be exact. There was still lots of shouting going on, probably those drunken sailors...all the rum was gone...the man was shouting at him again.
Jack jerked his body upright in his bunk. There was actual gunfire. He cradled his aching head in his hands. Why did this always happen to him? He unsteadily, and unsuccessfully, tried to get up. The ship was rocking so much, or perhaps that was just his blurry vision. Again, he tried, this time lunging for the chest and managed to drape himself over it. So far so good. Making his way toward the loudest noises, holding onto whatever presented itself, he finally reached the top deck. It was still pitch black, but for the bursts of fire from cannons. Which were, in fact, very close. Too close. So close he could see the sailors running about on the other ship.
Whereas his men
were...nowhere to be seen. His mind reeled
as he tried to take this in. There was no
one on deck! Where the bloody he- even as
his mind raced through the countless
possibilities he realized the truth. His
crew had abandoned ship. And the only
reason for doing that was because...the
ship was sinking.
It was almost dark. The sun was below the horizon, a few golden rays reaching out to touch the sails of the Black Pearl. The activity on the main deck had settled down, and many of the sailors had gone below decks. Jack alone stood at the wheel, a silhouette against the fiery beams of the sun. A small figure in the midst of an ocean, land miles away. The darkness grew closer, inching its black fingers towards the ship. Overhead, clouds formed.
Jack shivered despite the warm Caribbean temperatures. A sense of foreboding lay on his mind, though he couldn't imagine what there was to be worried about...besides his ship of course. He had felt like this before, in a jail cell long ago. When the moon had clouded over and distant booms shattered the stillness. But here he was on a ship for heaven's sake, his ship, with a crew around him and the wheel at his hands. There was no cause to be afraid.
He mentally kicked himself at his cowardice. Of course, there was one sure-fire cure...
* *
*
"Jack, you've had quite enough of that. Give it here, now," Anamaria demanded firmly.
Jack clutched his bottle of rum to his chest and looked up at her blearily. "Why go and spoil the fun, love? A man can...never 'ave too much rum."
"Oh is that right? So shall I let you drink until you fall overboard and leave us captainless?"
"Darlin,' a captain...this captain...never EVER falls overboard. For I, I am Captain Jack Sparrow, ye know."
"Yes, I know. Now come on, give it to me."
Anamaria finally pried it from his fingers, letting him fall backward onto his cot. Jack grinned up at her, making no move to get up.
"Ye know, you're quite a fine gal, love."
"None of that, Jack Sparrow. I've heard it all before, so don't be thinkin' that ye can try your flattery with me."
"Flattery, darlin? Who ever said anythin' bout flattery? I'm only statin' the truth!"
"Sure ye are. Why don't you reconsider that statement when you're not drunk?" she asked pointedly.
Jack's eyes flickered under his eyelids. He watched her drowsily as she corked the bottle and placed it in a chest. He'd really have to get to know her better...tomorrow perhaps...when his head stopped spinning...
Barbossa was smirking at him from on board the Black Pearl. He had just reached out his hand to grab the gold from the monkey and then, then it was snatched away by Barbossa. He heard the gunfire around him and wondered what was happening to that young fool of a Turner. Hoped he was safe, but he couldn't quite concentrate on any particular thought at the moment. Then Barbossa's face changed, and jack was no longer on his ship but on land, Tortuga to be exact. There was still lots of shouting going on, probably those drunken sailors...all the rum was gone...the man was shouting at him again.
Jack jerked his body upright in his bunk. There was actual gunfire. He cradled his aching head in his hands. Why did this always happen to him? He unsteadily, and unsuccessfully, tried to get up. The ship was rocking so much, or perhaps that was just his blurry vision. Again, he tried, this time lunging for the chest and managed to drape himself over it. So far so good. Making his way toward the loudest noises, holding onto whatever presented itself, he finally reached the top deck. It was still pitch black, but for the bursts of fire from cannons. Which were, in fact, very close. Too close. So close he could see the sailors running about on the other ship.
Whereas his men
were...nowhere to be seen. His mind reeled
as he tried to take this in. There was no
one on deck! Where the bloody he- even as
his mind raced through the countless
possibilities he realized the truth. His
crew had abandoned ship. And the only
reason for doing that was because...the
ship was sinking.
