Ok, here you are, sorry if its short and everything like that, but I do
find it hard to write long chjapters, even in the what month since I last
posted. Ahh well... Ok Author notes are from *s at the end.... Ok? Oh, and
larboard is the same as port.
CHAPTER TWO A few hours later, a couple of smaller islands now visible off the larboard side; the captain ordered the only female on the crew to take over the steering and bear on a more westerly direction to take them under St Maarten*. The captain himself retired to his cabin, by now rather weary, although he would never have shown it to his crew. By the time he had stripped to his trousers, exhaustion had begun to set in and as soon as the Captain's head touched the pillow, he was asleep. One eye always open of course.
He did not know how long he slept, merely that it was sometime later that he was rudely awakened by a loud banging on the door and a shout of 'Captain! Captain! Open the bloody door Jack!' Grunting, Jack fought with his sheets and finally managed to subdue them to pull himself up. Awake, but not yet coherent, he pulled on his shirt and stumbled out on deck, squinting as the afternoon sun revived him somewhat
'What is it ye scurvy maggots,' he yelled, slurring more than usual due to the effects of only just having woken, 'that merits ye waking a poor weary Cap'n?!'
'Captain,' Gibbs said, turning to look at his captain. 'There's a - ' He stopped, looking at Jack in a puzzled kind of way.
Jack frowned and tilted his head to look at Gibbs questioningly. 'What?' he demanded.
'Jack?' Gibbs looked amused. 'Why've you got your shirt on backward?'
'Meh?' The captain grunted in reply, looking down bemused. 'Oh.' He said noticing his hastily donned shirt was indeed on backwards.* 'I was...erm...making a fashion statement?' he quipped 'As it were.' Swiftly removing his arms and twisting his shirt around, Jack was careful he did not remove his head, hence preventing bad luck.* 'Anyway, what was your rude awakening for then?'
'Oh!' Gibbs shook himself - by now very accustomed to his captain's strange mannerism. 'Well there be a man on yonder island, waving madly at us.' Gibbs pointed at a small, rocky island off to the port side where a small figure could be made out, frantically signalling to the Black Pearl. 'I reckon he be stranded. We were wondering if you wanted us to go rescue the man, or just carry on.'
Jack shaded his eyes and peered at the figure on the islet. They looked skinny, not big enough to be any real trouble, he thought, and there was no shelter around for anyone else to be hiding in. 'He does look alone and stranded.' Jack stated, still pondering. He sighed, realising there as only one thing he could do. After all, the bloke currently residing on that spit of land was not the only one who had once - actually twice now - been stranded on an island and Jack could still remember how helpless it had made him feel. 'Send out the rowboat!' he shouted in a resigned voice. 'But make it quick!'
They had let the sails fall slack and a crew of 6 - Jack himself included so as to make sure the operation ran with utmost swiftness - were rowing the longboat* toward the small island where the figure could be seen. It was a surprisingly long way, Jack thought, feeling strain on his back and arms, they had had to stay a long way offshore because of the shallow water nearer the island, and despite being used to manual labour (after all he was a sailor, pirate or no, and a sailor's life was one of hard work and effort) he was the Captain and so was the man who could get others to do those more exhausting jobs for him and so did not always work his muscles as hard as his crew.
The figure on the island was now decidedly closer and Jack, peering at him from the boat, now very near the shore, frowned. The man, who was sitting down in what looked like complete relief, now appeared decidedly effeminate. No one had really considered the idea that perhaps the figure was a woman, just assumed the figure on the island wearing male clothing, was...well, male. If it was a woman, Jack had a good mind to shoot the damn thing and turn right around. Ah, dammit, she was a stranded, even Jack had the decency to leave her where she was with a pistol to let her do it herself. He didn't have time to be doing with a woman on his ship right now, Anamaria was more than enough. Not to mention the raucous it would cause among the crew. Now it wasn't that Jack didn't appreciate his fair share - if not more - of female company, but right now, at the end of a voyage which was taking them to one of the central ports in the Caribbean filled with Naval vessels, he didn't have time for them.
Author Notes: *does anyone happen to know if it was called that then? *I assume, even though shirts fastened up the front (ta mrs beta lady) he wouldn't have noticed because.. well... hes jack * bad luck.. ok, well I don't know about other people, but where I live, you don't take your haed out of a shirt if you are turnign it round, just your arms, because if you do its bad luck. * meh, was it one of them? What type of boats did they have?
CHAPTER TWO A few hours later, a couple of smaller islands now visible off the larboard side; the captain ordered the only female on the crew to take over the steering and bear on a more westerly direction to take them under St Maarten*. The captain himself retired to his cabin, by now rather weary, although he would never have shown it to his crew. By the time he had stripped to his trousers, exhaustion had begun to set in and as soon as the Captain's head touched the pillow, he was asleep. One eye always open of course.
He did not know how long he slept, merely that it was sometime later that he was rudely awakened by a loud banging on the door and a shout of 'Captain! Captain! Open the bloody door Jack!' Grunting, Jack fought with his sheets and finally managed to subdue them to pull himself up. Awake, but not yet coherent, he pulled on his shirt and stumbled out on deck, squinting as the afternoon sun revived him somewhat
'What is it ye scurvy maggots,' he yelled, slurring more than usual due to the effects of only just having woken, 'that merits ye waking a poor weary Cap'n?!'
'Captain,' Gibbs said, turning to look at his captain. 'There's a - ' He stopped, looking at Jack in a puzzled kind of way.
Jack frowned and tilted his head to look at Gibbs questioningly. 'What?' he demanded.
'Jack?' Gibbs looked amused. 'Why've you got your shirt on backward?'
'Meh?' The captain grunted in reply, looking down bemused. 'Oh.' He said noticing his hastily donned shirt was indeed on backwards.* 'I was...erm...making a fashion statement?' he quipped 'As it were.' Swiftly removing his arms and twisting his shirt around, Jack was careful he did not remove his head, hence preventing bad luck.* 'Anyway, what was your rude awakening for then?'
'Oh!' Gibbs shook himself - by now very accustomed to his captain's strange mannerism. 'Well there be a man on yonder island, waving madly at us.' Gibbs pointed at a small, rocky island off to the port side where a small figure could be made out, frantically signalling to the Black Pearl. 'I reckon he be stranded. We were wondering if you wanted us to go rescue the man, or just carry on.'
Jack shaded his eyes and peered at the figure on the islet. They looked skinny, not big enough to be any real trouble, he thought, and there was no shelter around for anyone else to be hiding in. 'He does look alone and stranded.' Jack stated, still pondering. He sighed, realising there as only one thing he could do. After all, the bloke currently residing on that spit of land was not the only one who had once - actually twice now - been stranded on an island and Jack could still remember how helpless it had made him feel. 'Send out the rowboat!' he shouted in a resigned voice. 'But make it quick!'
They had let the sails fall slack and a crew of 6 - Jack himself included so as to make sure the operation ran with utmost swiftness - were rowing the longboat* toward the small island where the figure could be seen. It was a surprisingly long way, Jack thought, feeling strain on his back and arms, they had had to stay a long way offshore because of the shallow water nearer the island, and despite being used to manual labour (after all he was a sailor, pirate or no, and a sailor's life was one of hard work and effort) he was the Captain and so was the man who could get others to do those more exhausting jobs for him and so did not always work his muscles as hard as his crew.
The figure on the island was now decidedly closer and Jack, peering at him from the boat, now very near the shore, frowned. The man, who was sitting down in what looked like complete relief, now appeared decidedly effeminate. No one had really considered the idea that perhaps the figure was a woman, just assumed the figure on the island wearing male clothing, was...well, male. If it was a woman, Jack had a good mind to shoot the damn thing and turn right around. Ah, dammit, she was a stranded, even Jack had the decency to leave her where she was with a pistol to let her do it herself. He didn't have time to be doing with a woman on his ship right now, Anamaria was more than enough. Not to mention the raucous it would cause among the crew. Now it wasn't that Jack didn't appreciate his fair share - if not more - of female company, but right now, at the end of a voyage which was taking them to one of the central ports in the Caribbean filled with Naval vessels, he didn't have time for them.
Author Notes: *does anyone happen to know if it was called that then? *I assume, even though shirts fastened up the front (ta mrs beta lady) he wouldn't have noticed because.. well... hes jack * bad luck.. ok, well I don't know about other people, but where I live, you don't take your haed out of a shirt if you are turnign it round, just your arms, because if you do its bad luck. * meh, was it one of them? What type of boats did they have?