Hi again.
Umm, does anyone mind if we kind of zooooooom forward two years? Well, tough if you do. And if anyone is wondering why the ages are shown...umm, on a whim, really.
Oh yeah. I NEED ANA'S SURNAME FROM THE FILM!!! If she doesn't have one I'll make it up, but could someone with a DVD/Video/better memory please tell me in your review!! Can't update without it guys.
Regular disclaimer.
***********************************************************
Chapter Eight – Someone Else?
(Two years have passed. Jack-19. Ana-18.)
The sea was rough. Waves fell to the deck, pummelling the crew flat. The air was crammed to bursting with sharp rain, biting gales and the yells and orders of the crew.
Below decks, water soaked down through the gaps in the timbers. The amount of bilge water had increased alarmingly. The creaks of the ship were louder; the sails that were still out, strained above, screeching against the wind in protest.
Ana tried to sleep. She was miserable. She had been miserable for two years. No, she'd been miserable most of her life, but for the last two years she'd been worse. It was awful. She pulled the large shirt she wore tighter. After the incident of getting caught, and nearly washed overboard several months ago in that dress, she'd changed. Now she favoured men's clothing, purely for her own safety. It was, she had to admit, more comfortable.
Jack was sleeping like a baby next to her. He could sleep anywhere. He looked a lot different. Again, the extravagant clothes of the rich had no place on a pirate ship. Shirt, breeches, jacket and boots; all the other members of the crew wore variations on the above. His hair was hanging either side of his face, as he'd given up trying to tie up out of his eyes. Several plaits had appeared; there wasn't much else to do down here.
The rumble of the sky and the roar of the sea woke Jack. It had lulled him to sleep. But now the noise was almost deafening.
"You're awake then."
"Yes. Storm still goin' on up there?"
Jack kept his face expressionless. Ana resisted the urge to slap him. Instead she concentrated on the rising water on the floor.
He's started talking like the pirates do. But so have I.
"Ben, get 'em up 'ere!"
The voice of Captain Aversham rang out down the stair well. It was a voice they'd learnt to hate. The first mate, Mr Trant, came rushing down, soaked to the bone. He looked wild and scared. Hastily opening the door, he pushed them out, and up to the deck.
From now on, Jack knew to do what he was told. He'd end up over the side otherwise. Ana followed him. A loud, thwacking noise beat out a strange rhythm above them. A sail was not furled. With a sinking feeling, Ana knew who'd be sent up the rigging.
"You two! Get that sail sorted ou'!"
Argument was useless. Jack started up the twisting rigging. Rain lashed his face; his hands were frozen to the rope by the wind. He could hang on in that same spot for ages, but he had to let go to climb up.
Eventually, after miles of coarse rope and gallons of stinging water, he reached the beam that stretched above the sail. He looked back to help Ana onto it. They stood on the slippery wood, watching even the rain slide off. It was a long way to the unforgiving deck below.
Gingerly, they stepped out, Jack then Ana. Sideways along it they went. Right to the other end. Crouching down, they began lifting the heavy canvas. After many misses, when one or both of them overbalanced, the sail was up. Ana started the long walk back. Jack followed on behind her, taking a quick look out to sea. His heart shot into hi throat, and his stomach fell into his feet. There was a large wave, heading right for the prow. He opened his mouth to warn his sister, but too late.
The entire ship shook violently. Ana gave a shrill shriek of surprise, and leapt upward. He feet hit the beam quickly, but the force made her wobble. Jack too began a mad dance, his feet never still, trying to stay upright. The ship rolled uncontrollably, throwing men about like seeds in a sack.
Jack shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on the ship's movement. Tried to feel through the wood where it would go next. It worked. He stopped waving like an ear of corn. Ana too seemed absorbed with focusing on her balance. Soon enough, they were still, swaying automatically with the motion of the sea.
Captain Aversham called them down. Gladly, they clambered back down the rigging. No shouts of gratitude, no slapping on the back. Once again, they were lead the familiar path back to their dark, dingy cell.
The morning dawned clear. The crew were celebrating their victory with barrels of ale and rum. Raucous singing could be heard. Ana and Jack sat, silent in the brig. There was no chatter. Two years was a long time to fill with chatter from end to end. They talked less anyway. Ever since their escape, Jack had been quiet. Indeed, he rarely said a word. But there was always a knowing look about him, like one who's in on a joke, which no body else in the world has heard. The entire episode seemed for him to be an enormous practical joke that he'd planned, but it hadn't yet reached the punch line.
Ana had no one else to talk to, so had rather got out of the habit.
The singing stopped. There were indistinguishable calls, then the sound of something being brought aboard. Several moments later, and two crew members came down the stairs, dragging two bodies behind them.
"Got some friends, fer ye!"
The bodies were shoved into the opposite cell. The pirates left. Jack and Ana peered through the bars at the new comers. Two men. Both were wet, and raggedly clothed. One was quite tubby round the middle. The other was lean, with hair the colour of dirty sand.
They appeared to be unconscious. Ana sat back, deflated. No new stories for a while. Jack looked amazingly disinterested. He began another plait.
Several hours later, and the singing, which had restarted, had quietened. There were muffled yells from above, but little else.
The two visitors moaned and groaned in their waking. The fat one sat up. He had very little hair, but what there was of it was dark brown and wiry. He looked at Ana strangely.
"Who might ye be, lass?"
"Ana. Who are you?"
"Name's Pintel. This 'ere's Ragetti. What ship's this?"
"The Black Pearl. Where did you come from?"
"Black Pearl, eh?" Pintel looked round at the brig. "Nice ship this. Could do wit' a few repairs, but..."
The still unconscious form of Ragetti yawned and sat up.
"Yew awake now? Thought you was goin' ta be like that for ever!"
"S'not my fault. That Capt'n hit me one on me head!"
Ragetti's voice was un-naturally high for a man. But it suited him. Is face was gaunt, and the skin seemed stretched over his bones.
"Who's this wench, then?"
Ana uttered a cry of rage.
"I am no one's wench!"
"Alright! No need ta blow yer top. Who's he? Mute, is he?"
Jack, who had been ignoring the previous conversation, but listening to them intently, raised his eyes to the new prisoners. Neither could hold his gaze.
"We didn't mean to offend him, like."
"Nah, jus' askin'!"
Ana looked back at her brother. He was surveying Ragetti and Pintel with a look of hopefulness and amusement. Finally he grinned. Ana stared at him. He never used to grin like that. His eyes seemed to light up like beacons. He looked triumphant.
"You two are pirates, right?"
Ana looked back quickly, as they nodded their heads.
"That's right. Aboard the 'Wave Cutter'."
Jack moved closer to the bars. He stopped grinning, and replaced it with a look of sincerity.
"How come you end up bein' hauled aboard this tub then?"
"Ahh, we got chucked over board by the sea, see? Been floatin' about on the water for a while."
"Yeah, that 'orrid storm."
"Well, me lucky lads I've got a plan. But, trouble is, I need a brave an' bold crew to help me, see?"
Pintel and Ragetti nodded eagerly. They leaned closer to the bars of their cell.
"Well, seems to me, that the current crew of this 'ere ship have probably 'ad enough drink to drown a fish. Why don't we stroll on up, an do a bit of piratin' by taking the ship!"
There was a shocked silence. Jack had stretched his arms out sideways, the strange grin had returned. His audience were captivated. Ana couldn't believe it. Was this her brother? Was this Jackarius Moineau? Or was it someone else?
Umm, does anyone mind if we kind of zooooooom forward two years? Well, tough if you do. And if anyone is wondering why the ages are shown...umm, on a whim, really.
Oh yeah. I NEED ANA'S SURNAME FROM THE FILM!!! If she doesn't have one I'll make it up, but could someone with a DVD/Video/better memory please tell me in your review!! Can't update without it guys.
Regular disclaimer.
***********************************************************
Chapter Eight – Someone Else?
(Two years have passed. Jack-19. Ana-18.)
The sea was rough. Waves fell to the deck, pummelling the crew flat. The air was crammed to bursting with sharp rain, biting gales and the yells and orders of the crew.
Below decks, water soaked down through the gaps in the timbers. The amount of bilge water had increased alarmingly. The creaks of the ship were louder; the sails that were still out, strained above, screeching against the wind in protest.
Ana tried to sleep. She was miserable. She had been miserable for two years. No, she'd been miserable most of her life, but for the last two years she'd been worse. It was awful. She pulled the large shirt she wore tighter. After the incident of getting caught, and nearly washed overboard several months ago in that dress, she'd changed. Now she favoured men's clothing, purely for her own safety. It was, she had to admit, more comfortable.
Jack was sleeping like a baby next to her. He could sleep anywhere. He looked a lot different. Again, the extravagant clothes of the rich had no place on a pirate ship. Shirt, breeches, jacket and boots; all the other members of the crew wore variations on the above. His hair was hanging either side of his face, as he'd given up trying to tie up out of his eyes. Several plaits had appeared; there wasn't much else to do down here.
The rumble of the sky and the roar of the sea woke Jack. It had lulled him to sleep. But now the noise was almost deafening.
"You're awake then."
"Yes. Storm still goin' on up there?"
Jack kept his face expressionless. Ana resisted the urge to slap him. Instead she concentrated on the rising water on the floor.
He's started talking like the pirates do. But so have I.
"Ben, get 'em up 'ere!"
The voice of Captain Aversham rang out down the stair well. It was a voice they'd learnt to hate. The first mate, Mr Trant, came rushing down, soaked to the bone. He looked wild and scared. Hastily opening the door, he pushed them out, and up to the deck.
From now on, Jack knew to do what he was told. He'd end up over the side otherwise. Ana followed him. A loud, thwacking noise beat out a strange rhythm above them. A sail was not furled. With a sinking feeling, Ana knew who'd be sent up the rigging.
"You two! Get that sail sorted ou'!"
Argument was useless. Jack started up the twisting rigging. Rain lashed his face; his hands were frozen to the rope by the wind. He could hang on in that same spot for ages, but he had to let go to climb up.
Eventually, after miles of coarse rope and gallons of stinging water, he reached the beam that stretched above the sail. He looked back to help Ana onto it. They stood on the slippery wood, watching even the rain slide off. It was a long way to the unforgiving deck below.
Gingerly, they stepped out, Jack then Ana. Sideways along it they went. Right to the other end. Crouching down, they began lifting the heavy canvas. After many misses, when one or both of them overbalanced, the sail was up. Ana started the long walk back. Jack followed on behind her, taking a quick look out to sea. His heart shot into hi throat, and his stomach fell into his feet. There was a large wave, heading right for the prow. He opened his mouth to warn his sister, but too late.
The entire ship shook violently. Ana gave a shrill shriek of surprise, and leapt upward. He feet hit the beam quickly, but the force made her wobble. Jack too began a mad dance, his feet never still, trying to stay upright. The ship rolled uncontrollably, throwing men about like seeds in a sack.
Jack shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on the ship's movement. Tried to feel through the wood where it would go next. It worked. He stopped waving like an ear of corn. Ana too seemed absorbed with focusing on her balance. Soon enough, they were still, swaying automatically with the motion of the sea.
Captain Aversham called them down. Gladly, they clambered back down the rigging. No shouts of gratitude, no slapping on the back. Once again, they were lead the familiar path back to their dark, dingy cell.
The morning dawned clear. The crew were celebrating their victory with barrels of ale and rum. Raucous singing could be heard. Ana and Jack sat, silent in the brig. There was no chatter. Two years was a long time to fill with chatter from end to end. They talked less anyway. Ever since their escape, Jack had been quiet. Indeed, he rarely said a word. But there was always a knowing look about him, like one who's in on a joke, which no body else in the world has heard. The entire episode seemed for him to be an enormous practical joke that he'd planned, but it hadn't yet reached the punch line.
Ana had no one else to talk to, so had rather got out of the habit.
The singing stopped. There were indistinguishable calls, then the sound of something being brought aboard. Several moments later, and two crew members came down the stairs, dragging two bodies behind them.
"Got some friends, fer ye!"
The bodies were shoved into the opposite cell. The pirates left. Jack and Ana peered through the bars at the new comers. Two men. Both were wet, and raggedly clothed. One was quite tubby round the middle. The other was lean, with hair the colour of dirty sand.
They appeared to be unconscious. Ana sat back, deflated. No new stories for a while. Jack looked amazingly disinterested. He began another plait.
Several hours later, and the singing, which had restarted, had quietened. There were muffled yells from above, but little else.
The two visitors moaned and groaned in their waking. The fat one sat up. He had very little hair, but what there was of it was dark brown and wiry. He looked at Ana strangely.
"Who might ye be, lass?"
"Ana. Who are you?"
"Name's Pintel. This 'ere's Ragetti. What ship's this?"
"The Black Pearl. Where did you come from?"
"Black Pearl, eh?" Pintel looked round at the brig. "Nice ship this. Could do wit' a few repairs, but..."
The still unconscious form of Ragetti yawned and sat up.
"Yew awake now? Thought you was goin' ta be like that for ever!"
"S'not my fault. That Capt'n hit me one on me head!"
Ragetti's voice was un-naturally high for a man. But it suited him. Is face was gaunt, and the skin seemed stretched over his bones.
"Who's this wench, then?"
Ana uttered a cry of rage.
"I am no one's wench!"
"Alright! No need ta blow yer top. Who's he? Mute, is he?"
Jack, who had been ignoring the previous conversation, but listening to them intently, raised his eyes to the new prisoners. Neither could hold his gaze.
"We didn't mean to offend him, like."
"Nah, jus' askin'!"
Ana looked back at her brother. He was surveying Ragetti and Pintel with a look of hopefulness and amusement. Finally he grinned. Ana stared at him. He never used to grin like that. His eyes seemed to light up like beacons. He looked triumphant.
"You two are pirates, right?"
Ana looked back quickly, as they nodded their heads.
"That's right. Aboard the 'Wave Cutter'."
Jack moved closer to the bars. He stopped grinning, and replaced it with a look of sincerity.
"How come you end up bein' hauled aboard this tub then?"
"Ahh, we got chucked over board by the sea, see? Been floatin' about on the water for a while."
"Yeah, that 'orrid storm."
"Well, me lucky lads I've got a plan. But, trouble is, I need a brave an' bold crew to help me, see?"
Pintel and Ragetti nodded eagerly. They leaned closer to the bars of their cell.
"Well, seems to me, that the current crew of this 'ere ship have probably 'ad enough drink to drown a fish. Why don't we stroll on up, an do a bit of piratin' by taking the ship!"
There was a shocked silence. Jack had stretched his arms out sideways, the strange grin had returned. His audience were captivated. Ana couldn't believe it. Was this her brother? Was this Jackarius Moineau? Or was it someone else?