The Sting of the Yellow Dart
~Gehemnis~
A/N - I don't own any pirates, apart from the ones made of Lego that I get at the dollar store. But I ~am~ a pirate, and a fine teller of tales. So let me entertain you with one that I think is going places.
For Mel's birthday. Yer a foine cap'n.
Chapter One
"Epics always begin in the middle o'things, love!" the pirate cried, his voice nearly drowned out by the clash of sword-metal on sword-metal. "That is 'ow one can tell they are truly worthy of one's time - they waste none of it!"
"If it's all the same to you, Jack," a female voice replied amidst the din, breathless with effort, "I would just as soon have time for pause and a breath of air. There is something to be said," she went on, "for the tale that one reads in the comfort of one's own ship!"
But whether or not Captain Jack Sparrow responded to Captain Melanie Cash's quip was not known, because both of their voices became lost in the noise of the skirmish that had erupted on the streets of Tortuga. To call it a battle would not be fair, for a great many contenders were not armed with swords; though to call it a brawl would be no more fair, for a great many contenders had them. In any case, the whole of the thing had enveloped not only one ship's crew, but two, along with an uncountable number of transients who - in proper Tortuga-esque fashion -conveniently included themselves in such an evening event.
Evening it was, and shimmering with sultry warmth. The remaining sun glinted off sword and wielded scrap of metal alike as both joined the fray. The air - heavy now with sweat and curses - had been a gentle caress, timid enough not to stir up the debris gathered in the streets, but with just enough spirit to lift and toy with the hair of the ladies who, for the most part, were removing themselves from the scene in great haste and great numbers. At any other time, Jack Sparrow would have leisurely enjoyed such an evening of rest with his crew as they paused at this harbor. Their last venture had earned them much in the way of silver and good spirits. A Robin Hood he was certainly not, but on occasional days it sat more pleasantly with the captain to encounter a ship loaded with pay for traded slaves than one on an honest crossing. He and his mates had retired for a time to Tortuga to relax and wait for word of similarly ripe vessels.
Unfortunately, Tortuga was generally known for being far from a place of rest and relaxation. It had been exactly six hours since Jack's crew had docked, and already a misplaced hand on the wrong thigh had caused the Hound's Tooth Pub to erupt into a chaos that had joyfully spread out into the street and attracted the participation of many a passer-by.
"I see two futures for us, me fine fellow captain," Jack called out. "We can make ourselves scarce, an' talk for a while in more civil quarters, or continue to grace these strapping gentlemen with your presence. 'Ave you a preference?" He sidestepped a blow from a heavy-set man with an eye patch and strained to hear. Melanie Cash, though, was not far away.
"This company does seem attractive," she cried, and Jack could hear her voice punctuated with jabs from her blade. An unlucky combatant let out a rasping cry of surprise and defeat close by. "But perhaps it is best to seek some solitude," she finished, finally coming to stand beside him.
Upon seeing her he inclined his head, allowing his eyes to stray low to the hem of her skirt before raising them to meet hers. He took her by one hand and, with the other, created an exit from the fray much like a tribesman hacking before him with a machete in the jungle. The tide of bodies parted, allowing the pair to take their leave and disappear instead into an inn further down the road.
"Your crew?" Melanie began, sheathing her sword as Jack cast a reassuring look and nod in the worried innkeeper's direction.
"That lot? They'll be fine, love. This is not their first time in this lovely little town, and after an evening as pleasant as this one, it shall no' be the last."
The two seated themselves at an empty table in a quiet corner where the continuing sounds of the street could not quite reach. Melanie removed her hat and adjusted the scarf on her hair while Jack reclined in his chair, studying her in the candlelight. "You 'aven't changed a bit, fair Captain," he said with the ghost of a smile. His eyes traced the smooth line of her jaw and the curtain of hair about her shoulders.
She caught and held his gaze. "None o' that, Jack. I've been down the road where talk like that leads. I'm here on business."
"Care to venture down it again?" he murmured, leaning closer. Then he stopped. "Hold up there, lass. What sort o'business could you possibly 'ave in mind?"
"I bring news from an old friend. A friend in Port Royal."
Jack thought a moment. "I've a good number of friends in ol' Royal. Some older, some younger, some at an in-between and rather awkward age -"
"Some in need of urgent aid," she finished. "And one named William Turner."
A/N - Come, come good people! Read and review and ye shall ne'er be disappointed. 'Tis a slower start, aye, but shall we see what the 'morrow brings, hmmm?
~Gehemnis~
A/N - I don't own any pirates, apart from the ones made of Lego that I get at the dollar store. But I ~am~ a pirate, and a fine teller of tales. So let me entertain you with one that I think is going places.
For Mel's birthday. Yer a foine cap'n.
Chapter One
"Epics always begin in the middle o'things, love!" the pirate cried, his voice nearly drowned out by the clash of sword-metal on sword-metal. "That is 'ow one can tell they are truly worthy of one's time - they waste none of it!"
"If it's all the same to you, Jack," a female voice replied amidst the din, breathless with effort, "I would just as soon have time for pause and a breath of air. There is something to be said," she went on, "for the tale that one reads in the comfort of one's own ship!"
But whether or not Captain Jack Sparrow responded to Captain Melanie Cash's quip was not known, because both of their voices became lost in the noise of the skirmish that had erupted on the streets of Tortuga. To call it a battle would not be fair, for a great many contenders were not armed with swords; though to call it a brawl would be no more fair, for a great many contenders had them. In any case, the whole of the thing had enveloped not only one ship's crew, but two, along with an uncountable number of transients who - in proper Tortuga-esque fashion -conveniently included themselves in such an evening event.
Evening it was, and shimmering with sultry warmth. The remaining sun glinted off sword and wielded scrap of metal alike as both joined the fray. The air - heavy now with sweat and curses - had been a gentle caress, timid enough not to stir up the debris gathered in the streets, but with just enough spirit to lift and toy with the hair of the ladies who, for the most part, were removing themselves from the scene in great haste and great numbers. At any other time, Jack Sparrow would have leisurely enjoyed such an evening of rest with his crew as they paused at this harbor. Their last venture had earned them much in the way of silver and good spirits. A Robin Hood he was certainly not, but on occasional days it sat more pleasantly with the captain to encounter a ship loaded with pay for traded slaves than one on an honest crossing. He and his mates had retired for a time to Tortuga to relax and wait for word of similarly ripe vessels.
Unfortunately, Tortuga was generally known for being far from a place of rest and relaxation. It had been exactly six hours since Jack's crew had docked, and already a misplaced hand on the wrong thigh had caused the Hound's Tooth Pub to erupt into a chaos that had joyfully spread out into the street and attracted the participation of many a passer-by.
"I see two futures for us, me fine fellow captain," Jack called out. "We can make ourselves scarce, an' talk for a while in more civil quarters, or continue to grace these strapping gentlemen with your presence. 'Ave you a preference?" He sidestepped a blow from a heavy-set man with an eye patch and strained to hear. Melanie Cash, though, was not far away.
"This company does seem attractive," she cried, and Jack could hear her voice punctuated with jabs from her blade. An unlucky combatant let out a rasping cry of surprise and defeat close by. "But perhaps it is best to seek some solitude," she finished, finally coming to stand beside him.
Upon seeing her he inclined his head, allowing his eyes to stray low to the hem of her skirt before raising them to meet hers. He took her by one hand and, with the other, created an exit from the fray much like a tribesman hacking before him with a machete in the jungle. The tide of bodies parted, allowing the pair to take their leave and disappear instead into an inn further down the road.
"Your crew?" Melanie began, sheathing her sword as Jack cast a reassuring look and nod in the worried innkeeper's direction.
"That lot? They'll be fine, love. This is not their first time in this lovely little town, and after an evening as pleasant as this one, it shall no' be the last."
The two seated themselves at an empty table in a quiet corner where the continuing sounds of the street could not quite reach. Melanie removed her hat and adjusted the scarf on her hair while Jack reclined in his chair, studying her in the candlelight. "You 'aven't changed a bit, fair Captain," he said with the ghost of a smile. His eyes traced the smooth line of her jaw and the curtain of hair about her shoulders.
She caught and held his gaze. "None o' that, Jack. I've been down the road where talk like that leads. I'm here on business."
"Care to venture down it again?" he murmured, leaning closer. Then he stopped. "Hold up there, lass. What sort o'business could you possibly 'ave in mind?"
"I bring news from an old friend. A friend in Port Royal."
Jack thought a moment. "I've a good number of friends in ol' Royal. Some older, some younger, some at an in-between and rather awkward age -"
"Some in need of urgent aid," she finished. "And one named William Turner."
A/N - Come, come good people! Read and review and ye shall ne'er be disappointed. 'Tis a slower start, aye, but shall we see what the 'morrow brings, hmmm?