Chapter 4
"And what are you going to do when blood turns your shirt red? What are you going to explain to them then?" Ana demanded as Jack stood braced against the wall.
"That I have a feisty lass who's determined to take a strip out o'me 'fore t'day's through." He slurred mock-drunkenly.
"Very funny.'' Ana crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow.
"Mm-hmmm." Jack took a deep breath and stood straight ignoring the fact that he could feel the outline of the bullet through his skin. Not a feeling he'd cherish.
"I still think you're daft." Ana glared, but she opened the door for him anyway and her gaze didn't waver from him as he went out on deck.
The crew all cheered as he made his way down to the waiting boats. Two days after being shot twice and he was good as ever. That's who he was, their Captain through good and bad.
"Boats get t'the island, gents, you'll have nigh three days t'pilfer, plunder, and do what you do best till I see you all again." A louder roar went up at that, three whole days and all of them knew a place they could go despite the fact it was Port Royale.
He was with Ana, Gibbs, and Marton in one of the boats and he closed his eyes to drown out the agony of actually having to move. None of the crew noticed it, he made sure of that.
"Oh, and men? Don't let the Navy catch sight of ye, savvy?" he winked as they reached shore and gave them that final word of advice. "I'd hate for me last sight of ye t'be hangin from th'noose."
Laughter and farewell shouts came in reply and the swarm of them headed off toward Madam Rina's, a place well known for the company and the rum. Ana would stay with Jack, but Gibbs would meet up with them again in the morning.
Jack followed Ana's lead slowly but surely, one foot in front of the other he kept reminding himself. Where was the bloody doctor? Wasn't it their job to sniff out sickness and charge price of life for a cure?
He refused to look down at his shirt, he could feel the hot, wet stickiness of blood staining the extra cloth bound to the wound. It wouldn't do any good to look and see what he knew was there.
"Oy!" they located the source of the voice, a young lad of about ten and five regarded them seriously, "If you were t'be lookin' for t'doctor, he ain't 'ere."
"Where would he be then?" Jack asked.
"Island or two o'er. 'e'll be back 'fore long I'd 'spose."
"Thanks very much." Just like them, when they were needed the doctors were never there, and when they got back they yelled about not having come sooner. Well pardon him for not knowing he was going to be shot at.
"Bloody hell!" Ana swore, "What are we going to do now? We can't very well wait for him to get back."
"I'm sorry, Ana." Jack sighed, at least they'd have a chance to visit Will and Elizabeth.
"Not half so sorry as that doctor's going to be when he gets back." She snarled blindly following Jack's lead.
"I hate to break into your revenge planning, but we're walking along the road'ere, we don't exactly look like gentry. I'd really not want to meet the Commodore right now, savvy?"
"Er, right of course." Ana stepped out into the middle of the street and waited for the opportune moment. "Two shillings waitin'ere!" she called loudly as a source of transportation came rambling by.
The horse drawn carriage stopped for them and the hansom driver looked down at her apprehensively. She didn't look like any woman from Port Royale, why she was dressed in black pants! Not at all suitable for a woman, especially not- he noticed the man standing against a wooden post behind her. Could it be? That man looked like-
"Smith, at your service." Jack would have bowed, but he didn't think that was such a good idea considering. "We'd be most obliged if you'd take us to the Turner residence, we'll be expected there."
"You can pay?" the cabbie looked at them suspiciously, the man he was sure was a pirate. Either that or some other worthless scum wanting to beg a ride and not pay. With coins in his long black hair and black outlining his eyes, he should be on his knees praying rather than walking the streets bold as brass.
"Three shillings, mate." Jack grinned as if sensing his thoughts. That made the hansom driver all the more suspicious, but three shillings was a lot for the short ride it would take to get there. He nodded his agreement and tried not to stare as Jack opened the door for the woman and climbed inside. Where was the Commodore? If Norrington just caught one glimpse inside the carriage he'd have done his civic duty for the year.
"He knows." Ana said safely inside the carriage.
"Of course he does, but he won't say anything if he knows what's good for'i'm." Jack winked and watched the scenery change outside the window. It wasn't the most comfortable way of traveling, he could feel the blood tricking past the makeshift bandage. Every rock and stone in the road they seemed to roll over making Jack catch his breath and stars swim before his eyes.
Ana pulled out a flask of rum and looked at him through concerned eyes. She knew this would happen, he was pale as a sheet again and his eyes were taking on the hue of a feverish man. Damn him and his stubborn pride.
As the liquor burned it's way to his stomach he sighed in momentary relief, the pain ebbed dully away as the alcohol raged it's way through his system. He'd be sure not to drink too much, it wouldn't do to show up at the Turner's doorstep drunk, not to mention Elizabeth's intense hatred of the drink.
"Better now?" Ana asked dryly.
"Much." Jack took another long drink and saluted her with the flask. She rolled her eyes and was the first to climb down the stairs of the carriage. Jack was next and saved the slight stumbling by wavering along the path and singing the pirate song he'd learned, ironically, from the same woman who burned his rum.
"Jack?" William threw open the ornate gold-trimmed door and looked at the pirate captain in horror. "What on earth happened to you?"
"And what are you going to do when blood turns your shirt red? What are you going to explain to them then?" Ana demanded as Jack stood braced against the wall.
"That I have a feisty lass who's determined to take a strip out o'me 'fore t'day's through." He slurred mock-drunkenly.
"Very funny.'' Ana crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow.
"Mm-hmmm." Jack took a deep breath and stood straight ignoring the fact that he could feel the outline of the bullet through his skin. Not a feeling he'd cherish.
"I still think you're daft." Ana glared, but she opened the door for him anyway and her gaze didn't waver from him as he went out on deck.
The crew all cheered as he made his way down to the waiting boats. Two days after being shot twice and he was good as ever. That's who he was, their Captain through good and bad.
"Boats get t'the island, gents, you'll have nigh three days t'pilfer, plunder, and do what you do best till I see you all again." A louder roar went up at that, three whole days and all of them knew a place they could go despite the fact it was Port Royale.
He was with Ana, Gibbs, and Marton in one of the boats and he closed his eyes to drown out the agony of actually having to move. None of the crew noticed it, he made sure of that.
"Oh, and men? Don't let the Navy catch sight of ye, savvy?" he winked as they reached shore and gave them that final word of advice. "I'd hate for me last sight of ye t'be hangin from th'noose."
Laughter and farewell shouts came in reply and the swarm of them headed off toward Madam Rina's, a place well known for the company and the rum. Ana would stay with Jack, but Gibbs would meet up with them again in the morning.
Jack followed Ana's lead slowly but surely, one foot in front of the other he kept reminding himself. Where was the bloody doctor? Wasn't it their job to sniff out sickness and charge price of life for a cure?
He refused to look down at his shirt, he could feel the hot, wet stickiness of blood staining the extra cloth bound to the wound. It wouldn't do any good to look and see what he knew was there.
"Oy!" they located the source of the voice, a young lad of about ten and five regarded them seriously, "If you were t'be lookin' for t'doctor, he ain't 'ere."
"Where would he be then?" Jack asked.
"Island or two o'er. 'e'll be back 'fore long I'd 'spose."
"Thanks very much." Just like them, when they were needed the doctors were never there, and when they got back they yelled about not having come sooner. Well pardon him for not knowing he was going to be shot at.
"Bloody hell!" Ana swore, "What are we going to do now? We can't very well wait for him to get back."
"I'm sorry, Ana." Jack sighed, at least they'd have a chance to visit Will and Elizabeth.
"Not half so sorry as that doctor's going to be when he gets back." She snarled blindly following Jack's lead.
"I hate to break into your revenge planning, but we're walking along the road'ere, we don't exactly look like gentry. I'd really not want to meet the Commodore right now, savvy?"
"Er, right of course." Ana stepped out into the middle of the street and waited for the opportune moment. "Two shillings waitin'ere!" she called loudly as a source of transportation came rambling by.
The horse drawn carriage stopped for them and the hansom driver looked down at her apprehensively. She didn't look like any woman from Port Royale, why she was dressed in black pants! Not at all suitable for a woman, especially not- he noticed the man standing against a wooden post behind her. Could it be? That man looked like-
"Smith, at your service." Jack would have bowed, but he didn't think that was such a good idea considering. "We'd be most obliged if you'd take us to the Turner residence, we'll be expected there."
"You can pay?" the cabbie looked at them suspiciously, the man he was sure was a pirate. Either that or some other worthless scum wanting to beg a ride and not pay. With coins in his long black hair and black outlining his eyes, he should be on his knees praying rather than walking the streets bold as brass.
"Three shillings, mate." Jack grinned as if sensing his thoughts. That made the hansom driver all the more suspicious, but three shillings was a lot for the short ride it would take to get there. He nodded his agreement and tried not to stare as Jack opened the door for the woman and climbed inside. Where was the Commodore? If Norrington just caught one glimpse inside the carriage he'd have done his civic duty for the year.
"He knows." Ana said safely inside the carriage.
"Of course he does, but he won't say anything if he knows what's good for'i'm." Jack winked and watched the scenery change outside the window. It wasn't the most comfortable way of traveling, he could feel the blood tricking past the makeshift bandage. Every rock and stone in the road they seemed to roll over making Jack catch his breath and stars swim before his eyes.
Ana pulled out a flask of rum and looked at him through concerned eyes. She knew this would happen, he was pale as a sheet again and his eyes were taking on the hue of a feverish man. Damn him and his stubborn pride.
As the liquor burned it's way to his stomach he sighed in momentary relief, the pain ebbed dully away as the alcohol raged it's way through his system. He'd be sure not to drink too much, it wouldn't do to show up at the Turner's doorstep drunk, not to mention Elizabeth's intense hatred of the drink.
"Better now?" Ana asked dryly.
"Much." Jack took another long drink and saluted her with the flask. She rolled her eyes and was the first to climb down the stairs of the carriage. Jack was next and saved the slight stumbling by wavering along the path and singing the pirate song he'd learned, ironically, from the same woman who burned his rum.
"Jack?" William threw open the ornate gold-trimmed door and looked at the pirate captain in horror. "What on earth happened to you?"