On with the next chapter, mates! I'm on a roll this week!!!
((AbbieNormal182: thank you for the grammar tips and such. I've already gone back and fixed the mistakes you pointed out in the last chapter. And, just so you know, I haven't forgotten about the 'reason she was so slow that night'. Wink Don't worry; I've still got that in mind. That one secret is my entire plot. And it's coming up, so keep your eyes open. grin))
Secrets of the CaribbeanWritten By: Riley Barton
[Chapter Fifteen]
The moon was glowing brightly in the night sky as a large black shadow made its way into the dock. Dark shapes and figures ran about the deck, pulling in sails and dealing with the rigging. Standing behind the helm of this ship stood a tall man with a broad black tricorn hat perched on his head and with his chin tilted cockily to the side as he steered the ship into position. Aloft in the crow's nest another figure stood, a woman with flowing hair. She stood staring at Port Marcail with a variety of emotions in her eyes, each emotion flickering across the bright green orbs before quickly disappearing and being replaced with another.
The woman took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing her rioting emotions to drain away. She would not return to the main deck until she had sorted everything out. Besides, this may be the last time she would ever stand in this very crow's nest, or even on the deck of the Black Pearl for that matter. Her life on this ship had come to an end, and it was time she left. Grabbing a piece of rope she gripped it tightly and jumped over the side of the 'nest', swinging down to the wooden deck below.
Jack looked up as Scarlett swung down and landed gracefully onto the main deck. He watched for a moment longer as Anamaria came up to the older woman, said something, and then motioned for Scarlett to follow her. Jack, however, didn't get to see where Anamaria took Scarlett because of his current task at hand: steering the Pearl into an open docking area. He maneuvered his ship like a natural, not even gently scraping the side of the wooden docks on both port and starboard side of the Black Pearl.
Long after the Pearl had been tied to the dock Jack could still be found standing at the helm of his ship, staring at Port Marcail. His black hat was pulled low over his dark brown eyes, casting a dark shadow over his entire face –he wanted it that way. He ambled away from the helm to the wooden railing and leaned against it, watching Anamaria from the corner of his eye as she went off in search of a decent place to have a drink. Normally he would be doing that too, and he knew the perfect place. He knew every damn good place available in Marcail. He knew every nook and cranny of that port, and he had far too many memories placed into a pile here. He wasn't about to pick them up and carry those burdens again.
"I thought you would be long gone by now," a voice said from behind him. Jack didn't even turn around to see who it was; he already knew. William Turner stepped up to the railing and matched Jack's stance. He looked at the pirate captain questioningly. "Why're you still here?"
"Someone's got to watch over me ship, lad," Jack replied smoothly. "May as well be the captain, aye?"
Will shrugged. "Not entirely. I believe Mr. Cotton is planning on staying aboard, so come on. Elizabeth and I are going to find a place to board and then grab a late meal. Care to join us?"
Jack shook his head. "You and the lass go on, boy. I'm going to stick around here for awhile."
"Suit yourself. We'll return in the morning."
Jack didn't respond, and Will didn't press. He could tell there was something troubling his friend, but he also knew that Jack didn't like people asking too many questions. He found Elizabeth waiting for him at the gangway and she smiled sadly when she noticed he was alone.
"Did he not want to come?" she asked.
Will shook his head, looking over his shoulder to the lone figure standing above him. "No, but I didn't really think he would in the first place."
Elizabeth sighed. "I worry about him, and I know I shouldn't. Father would call me silly for worrying about a pirate such as Jack, but I can't help it."
Will took Elizabeth's hand, kissed, and gave it a brief squeeze. "I know. I feel the same."
Scarlett stared down at the piece of parchment she held in her hand, a sense of longing and heartache washing over her. The drawing was simple: just an ordinary picture of the sky, a grassy lawn, and two people walking hand-in-hand. The lines were uneven, showing that the hand of a child had drawn them, but she knew that a ton of love had gone into that simple drawing. It was creased in various places from years of folding and unfolding, and once more she folded it into a small square and slipped it into her bag. Sighing, she tied the strings and swung the bag over her shoulder.
She stepped out of her small cabin into the narrow corridor and walked up the staircase to the deck. As she walked up each step she could feel the weight of the ruby in her small pouch bumping against her leg, and it reminded her of all the questions that still remained unanswered. She would never know now.
Scarlett paused at the double doors leading into Jack's cabin and, after briefly hesitating, she untied the small pouch from her waist, tied the string together again, and looped it onto one of the doorknobs. Jack would find it before long. Hopefully long after she had gone. She turned her back on the door and strode purposefully down the gangway, making an extra effort to silent her heavy footsteps on the creaking board.
Her destination was not far from the dock. It was on the western side of Port Marcail in the rundown area, surrounded by boarded up homes and knarled trees. No love could be found in this part of the port. It had been forsaken some time ago.
Just seeing that one house brought back so many painful memories, but they were all familiar. She felt them every time she returned here, and they didn't frighten her any longer.
Scarlett grasped the rusty doorknob and gently pushed on the door. It swung open on creaky hinges and the smell of mothballs and mold sprang up into her nostrils. The smell didn't affect her; it, too, was familiar. She gently stepped inside, her footsteps causing dust to rise from the withering floor. The room she had stepped into was dark and foreboding, the moonlight outside sending eerie shadows into the rotting living room. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, on the windows, and across small holes in the walls. Mold grew along the bottom of the wall, and insects of various kinds scuttled across the floor.
Scarlett looked about sadly, closing the rotted door behind her. Bathed in darkness with only the moonlight to guide her footsteps, she walked across the length of the small living room, past the tiny, adjacent kitchen that had once consisted of a rough sink and a wood-burning stove, and to a door at the back. She paused before this door, staring at it as if whatever was behind it would either mean certain death or life. Her eyes looked around at the doorframe, noticing the small indents and cuts, but more importantly the specks of blood and drops of alcohol. The entire house was covered in these stains, she knew. This house held more secrets than the old neighbours could have guessed.
Her hand reached out and twisted the knob only to have it break away into her hand. She let it drop to the floor and roll away, hitting the wall with a dull thud. Her heart sped up its pace as the door was pushed open and she stepped inside.
The tiny room, no larger than the size of a closet, consisted only of a rickety cot, a rotted stool that was begging to crumble, and three roughly carved boxes that had once served as a chest of drawers. Dusty and moldy clothes were stuffed into those boxes, along with old pieces of tiny writing paper and a single book. On the stool rested a pencil and a dusty, brown glass of water. On the cot was a thin blanket, no thicker than two pieces of parchment stuck together, a pillow with barely any stuffing, and a doll.
Scarlett reached down to pick the doll up, almost lovingly running her fingers across the dusty face. Her fingertips passed over the glass eyes, cracked from years of neglect, and along the sewn-on mouth. "Sara," Scarlett whispered to the empty room. She lowered herself to the cot and sat there, gazing about the room.
A tiny window above the bed let soft beams of moonlight softly lighten the room. Unlike the other room, the moonlight did not give the tiny bedroom a ghostly appearance. Instead, the room was bathed in an almost gentle, loving feel.
The doll was set aside as Scarlett drew her long legs up to her chest. She rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes. This place held so many memories…
Author's Note: This chapter is too short, way too short, but I feel as if I should stop here anyway. The next few chapters reveal a ton and need to be taken in stride, so connecting this chapter to the next one would be piling too much onto you guys. You'll understand, I think, after the next few chapters are posted. Don't forget to review, please!!