Disclaimer: Jack and other wonders belong to the Mouse. Not mine, no profit, no harm intended, savvy?
Chapter 3: Why Can't I Live with You?
Captain Jack Sparrow glanced briefly at his compass, only to fetch another, closer look at it when the first didn't satisfy him. His brow furrowed as he studied the self-willed needle. True, it wasn't supposed to point north- it wasn't really supposed to point in any cardinal direction, as far as he knew. Still, he knew well enough that something was odd about it- more odd than usual, that is. He stared off in the direction it now pointed, a direction he knew for a fact it hadn't indicated that morning. Frowning at it, he silently asked the device what it was up to now, what it was pointing at. Shaking his head slightly, he put it away and adjusted the wheel of his beloved Black Pearl, aiming more or less for Port Royal. At least, he was pretty sure Port Royal was roughly that-a-way.
Jack licked his lips and tugged thoughtfully at his beaded goatee as he watched his crew taking the last of the treasures from their latest looting below decks to be sorted and divided into more or less equal parts. Although, really, as he had expected, most of the rewards that the passenger ship had had to offer had been in the form of slightly fresher food supplies (and snobbish brandy, which he personally cared for quite a bit less than rum) and the personal treasures of the passengers themselves. It had been enough though. It was mostly the adventure and thrill that led the pirates on. Of course, if there were never any profit in it, the thrill itself would dry up. There was a balance to keep: one part adventure plus one part profit for rum and pleasurable company. The rum and pleasurable company kept the spirits stoked for more adventure, which in turn provided enough profit to return again to the sort of delights offered in Tortuga, and so on and so forth. And in between the pleasures of the gaining and squandering of wealth, they lived their lives out with their only love, the sea.
Profit. With this, he turned his mind back to the trouble of the girl. An unexpected surprise, indeed. He still wasn't entirely sure how on earth she had ended up on his ship. Mostly, it amused him, but still, though he certainly would never admit it, he found it just a bit disconcerting that a timid-looking lass like herself had found her way easily enough onto his precious Pearl-and by accident, at that! He might think later about how to prevent the possibility of others swinging onto his ship in the future. However, if he guessed correctly, her aunt and uncle, whoever they may be, were probably well enough off that they would be able to manage a modest ransom to save the life (and honor, for all the stuffy aristocrats knew) of their beloved niece. Modest ransom. He mentally amended this to "generous donation to the niece's kind escorts," and grinned happily.
He normally wouldn't go to the trouble of returning her even for ransom. He didn't much care for dealing with second-hand payments. If possible, he preferred his treasure-taking to be a one-step process, and trading one item (or person) in order to gain the pocketful of gold was rather annoying. He could already be in a bar somewhere stocking up on rum while he was wandering about trading invaluables for valuables.
However, luckily for her, he had already had intentions of going to Port Royal anyway. In the past couple of years, Jack had found it enjoyable to return to Port Royal every few months to visit with his erstwhile companions, Will and Elizabeth. At first he had been just a bit uncomfortable trying to explain to his crew why he ventured so near the well-patrolled port so often. That is, until he'd realized that his men were becoming quite friendly with the half-buccaneer blacksmith and his young bride themselves and quite enjoyed their company, much as they seemed to enjoy the thrill of slipping in and out again right under the Commodore's nose with every daring visit.
Perhaps Will and Elizabeth would join them for their next voyage. They had hinted broadly at the possibility of such, of the thrill of the open sea, the last time Jack had seen them. The prospect of having his friends along for a ride was a rather pleasant one; but at the same time, he mustn't forget that neither of the two fully approved of his chosen way of making a living. Ah, well. A man can't please everyone anyway, right?
Giving his beard-braids a firm tug as though he'd reached some decision and running a hand thoughtfully over his scruffy jaw-line, Jack called to Gibbs. "Man the helm," he ordered. "Keep her toward Port Royal."
"Aye, captain," Gibbs said agreeably as the captain strode past him to his cabin. As soon as he was sure Jack had walked away, Gibbs glanced all around him and pulled a proper compass out of his own pocket and peered up to check the position of the sun. Jack thought his own crazy compass was responsible for keeping the Pearl well-navigated all the time. Well, what Jack didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Gibbs wouldn't disobey a direct order to follow Jack's compass, but in this case, the order was simply to go to Port Royal.
Gwen picked at the fabric of her skirt. She was beyond bored.
She'd convinced the pirates who had escorted her down here to allow her to relieve herself first. She had been pleased that they had permitted her enough privacy to do so, but was disappointed when she perceived there was no chance of easy escape in such a side-trip. Besides which, where was there to escape to? Even if she could make it all the way to the main deck without being caught, her only escape would be to jump into the sea, as the captain had made so clear to her earlier.
So her pirate-escorts had seen her directly to her cage-like cell, locked her in, and wandered off, either trusting that she wouldn't be able to find a way out of her prison, or knowing that she would still be of little threat even if she could escape.
Her cell itself was exactly that-a bit of metal bar enclosing a relatively small bit of damp, dark space down in the belly of the ship.
Gwen had noticed that a section of the ship's hull which her cage leaned against looked as though it had been patched up. In a roundish area, the wood's black paint seemed darker and less weathered in that spot than the surrounding area, though the repair itself looked to be at least a couple of years old.
She mused for a while on what fantastic adventure had bludgeoned the hole into the side of the ship. Her keen sense of irony and fair imagination painted her an amusing picture of the cocky Captain Sparrow down here in this very cell while his ship was shot at by the English navy. Or even better yet, by other pirates. That would have served him right, she thought bemusedly.
But this pursuit only amused her for a short period of time. Having nothing better to occupy her time, Gwen soon lost herself in other thoughts, remembering when her aunt had chosen for her the material for the very gown that she was now wearing...
"You're just as lovely as your mother was," Aunt Laura said, "and twice as strange, I'm sure."
Gwen looked to her aunt in shock. That was hardly an appropriate thing to imply about her late mother or herself! But Laura only smiled good-naturedly at her, having either forgotten her words already or having chosen to act as though she hadn't realized she'd said anything amiss.
"Ah, look at this, my girl! This green would be absolutely charming with that fair skin of yours and your beautiful brown eyes and hair," she exulted, showing Gwen the gold-embroidered sage-green material.
Laura added a gown of the pale green fabric to her order and took Gwen's arm as they left the dressmaker's shop.
"Tell me more about Uncle Webster, Aunt Laura," Gwen implored as they stepped outside.
"Well, I can tell you, he will be positively delighted to learn you're going to him in Port Royal, I assure you. His wife has a good head on her shoulders, too. I've always liked that woman. She and I and my brother-we share the same heart, I've always thought. We've all been anxiously awaiting these days to come, you know."
"No, I didn't," Gwen said, somewhat apologetically for her ignorance on the topic. "What exactly have you been awaiting?"
Aunt Laura looked taken aback, but after a moment, she seemed to find her tongue, and exclaimed, "Why, my dear child- you! Our brother, your father of course, never really... appreciated your mother in quite the same way we did. He never really seemed to understand her for what she really was. He didn't treat her accordingly, either. And then there was you, growing up all those years, and he showed the same regard for you he did for her. He never realized how... special you are. He kept you in enough money to maintain appearances, but that was hardly the correct path to lead you down. Nothing but money. Pah! No concern for what you really deserve. It's high time you got what's been owed you all your life, what you deserve to have."
At this, Laura clasped her niece's hands in her own and smiled at her briefly, an enigmatic and confusing smile. Then she turned and bustled her toward the waiting carriage.
"Come, Gwen, I wouldn't want you to catch cold. Into the carriage with you. If there's anything I couldn't bear, it's to see you suffer."
"Why can't I just stay here with you?"
"Oh, you wouldn't want to live with me, Gwen, dear. I'm just a greedy little woman with a house on a hill. In a few months, you'd see fit to thrash me soundly and run off to the sea."
"Heavens, Aunt Laura! You say the strangest things sometimes. Of course I would never do any such thing!"
"Dear child," Laura went on, as though she hadn't made such odd comments just moments before, "do you remember your mother?"
Gwen's hand flew to touch the chain which held her locket. "Of course I remember her."
"Your mother, sweet girl, was nothing like me-or any other woman I have ever known. She knew things, and she felt things... differently. She even carried herself differently. When your father married her, I saw at once how unique... how special she was. Like I can tell how special you are."
Her lips curled into a warm smile at Gwen, softening her odd words into nothing more than a gentle compliment, though her eyes remained blank.
Almost as an afterthought, she added, "I just can't be for you what your mother was for you. Your mother guarded you so closely, watching to see that you grew up to be just like her... and I just cannot be that woman for you."
"Miss Webster."
Gwen awoke suddenly to the sound of her name and the jangle of keys, wondering when she had fallen asleep and how long she'd been dozing.
"Captain thought ye'd be hungry, wants yeh to join 'im for a meal."
Gwen blinked several times to clear her sleepy vision. She realized that she was, in fact, very hungry indeed. She'd not even eaten breakfast that morning. Besides which, she knew better than to annoy her captors until she better understood her limits within their tempers. So, in the spirit of compliance, she merely nodded agreeably at the pirate.
Gripping at bars above her head, she pulled herself up into a standing position. She instantly became aware of several aches and pains, caused by her awkward sleeping posture, as she had been leaning with her back against the inner hull of the ship. Taking only a few seconds to try to work the kinks out of her stiff joints, she turned her attention back to the crew member who stood waiting for her, holding the cell door open.
The pirate guided her up from the belly of the ship to the deck again. Whether he ordered her to go before him for the sake of making sure she didn't try something stupid while following behind him or whether he merely wanted to watch her lithe figure moving before him in her distinctively feminine way was not something that occurred to her to consider. Had the thought occurred to her, however, she would have had to concede that both points were true, especially if she had noticed the lascivious grin on the pirate's face.
When they reached the main deck, Gwen was surprised to find it to be dusk already. She had slept for far longer than she'd thought she had. There were only a few hands on deck at this hour, the others presumably taking their own evening meal somewhere below. The captain himself stood beside the mainmast, gazing out at the breathtaking view offered by the sun as it sank into the sea at the distant horizon.
"The girl, captain," her pirate-guide said by way of announcing her, after he'd led her to stand behind the captain.
"Ah! Marvelous," the captain said. With one continuous motion, as deceptively unsteady as any movement he made, he scooped the cell keys out of the possession of his crewman and swept Gwen off toward his cabin at the aft of the ship with a hand at her back.
Sparrow pushed the door open ahead of her, and Gwen took in her new surroundings with a quick glance as he nudged her forward into his quarters. One wall of the room, to the left of the door way, was taken up almost entirely by a bed. Directly opposite the door was a heavy scroll desk with several drawers and pigeon-holes. A pair of brilliant lanterns sitting on the desk afforded the room's only light, but they provided ample illumination for the space. Against the third wall, to the right of the door, was a low table with a couple of chairs shoved under it, alongside a heavy wooden trunk with a thick lock at its front. A shallow, high shelf went round the room above eye-level, with lower shelves beneath it on the third wall above the trunk.
Before she could make her token complaint about the impropriety of dining alone with the captain while night was falling, the door shut behind her, and she was trapped inside with the wild-looking man. Another cursory glance around the room revealed no trace of food anywhere, and she turned to find Captain Jack grinning at her, his golden teeth shining in the lantern light.