Ahoy there!
Yup, another round of mad mayhem.
Regular disclaimer.
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Chapter Seventeen - Letting Go
"Why him, Elizabeth, why him?"
Will could feel his anger lessening. Why anybody? Why indeed had she chosen Will himself? He shook his head. That was different. He was a blacksmith. It wasn't glamorous, and it certainly wasn't posh, but it was respectable. Jack was a pirate. That wasn't even vaguely a step in the right direction.
Elizabeth fixed him with her soft brown eyes. Will felt his anger melt completely. He couldn't be angry with Elizabeth. He could kill Jack, but he couldn't even manage another angry question for her.
"Why?"
His voice had faded to a whisper. If it wasn't him she loved, fine. But why, of all people, was it a mischievous pirate Captain, with a rum fixation, and a mad crew?
Elizabeth couldn't answer. She had no idea. Why indeed? Perhaps Jack himself knew. She didn't. At first, she had thought she and Will were drifting apart. But, now she knew they weren't, surely Will was her only love. But he wasn't. She couldn't care less if Will proposed this minute, whisked her off to a romantic place somewhere, and bought her flowers every other day. She'd grow old looking out at the sea, imagining a ship with black sails, Captained by a slightly deranged pirate, with long dark hair, and kohl lined, soulful brown eyes.
"I don't know, Will. I don't think I'll ever really know."
Will let go of her. Not only with his arms, but also with his heart.
"If you're happy." "I will be."
Elizabeth smiled weakly. Will returned it, with an obvious effort.
The spell was broken by the loud moan of someone who has just fallen down some stairs.
Elizabeth began to descend the stairs. Jack had hauled himself to his feet. Years of being thrown about on deck during storms made him naturally resistant to falling down stairs. However, at the sight of a concerned lady stepping down toward him, Jack decided to take complete advantage of the situation.
"Jack are you alright?"
"I s'pose so. I'm sure this throbbing pain in me shoulder will go soon enough."
Elizabeth was about to rush over and make sure it looked all right. But something about his face stopped her.
"Jack, you're making it up!"
"Course I am. Won't get any sympathy otherwise."
Elizabeth grasped his hand, and tugged on the arm that apparently hurt so much. Jack staggered after her up the stairs. Elizabeth stopped at the top. Jack, so as to avoid walking into her, stepped to one side. He had a clear view of the corridor. He didn't like what was in it.
"Hello, Captain."
Jack looked nervously at Elizabeth. She nodded encouragingly.
"Hello, Will."
Will coughed politely.
"Er, Mr Turner, if you don't mind."
Jack pressed his hands together in front of his chest, as if in prayer.
"Certainly."
They stepped out together onto the deck. Their ears were greeted by the angry howls of a female first mate, bound at the ankles and wrists, lying on the deck.
"Help! Jack, ye worthless lump, get over 'ere!"
There followed a loud groan from what appeared to be a bundle of rags, flopped across the steering wheel. The squinting eyes of a drugged Quartermaster gazed blurrily at the rest of the ship.
"Tis bad luck to 'ave this many women on board . . ."
He fell back to his previous position, and commenced snoring.
Yup, another round of mad mayhem.
Regular disclaimer.
***********************************************************
Chapter Seventeen - Letting Go
"Why him, Elizabeth, why him?"
Will could feel his anger lessening. Why anybody? Why indeed had she chosen Will himself? He shook his head. That was different. He was a blacksmith. It wasn't glamorous, and it certainly wasn't posh, but it was respectable. Jack was a pirate. That wasn't even vaguely a step in the right direction.
Elizabeth fixed him with her soft brown eyes. Will felt his anger melt completely. He couldn't be angry with Elizabeth. He could kill Jack, but he couldn't even manage another angry question for her.
"Why?"
His voice had faded to a whisper. If it wasn't him she loved, fine. But why, of all people, was it a mischievous pirate Captain, with a rum fixation, and a mad crew?
Elizabeth couldn't answer. She had no idea. Why indeed? Perhaps Jack himself knew. She didn't. At first, she had thought she and Will were drifting apart. But, now she knew they weren't, surely Will was her only love. But he wasn't. She couldn't care less if Will proposed this minute, whisked her off to a romantic place somewhere, and bought her flowers every other day. She'd grow old looking out at the sea, imagining a ship with black sails, Captained by a slightly deranged pirate, with long dark hair, and kohl lined, soulful brown eyes.
"I don't know, Will. I don't think I'll ever really know."
Will let go of her. Not only with his arms, but also with his heart.
"If you're happy." "I will be."
Elizabeth smiled weakly. Will returned it, with an obvious effort.
The spell was broken by the loud moan of someone who has just fallen down some stairs.
Elizabeth began to descend the stairs. Jack had hauled himself to his feet. Years of being thrown about on deck during storms made him naturally resistant to falling down stairs. However, at the sight of a concerned lady stepping down toward him, Jack decided to take complete advantage of the situation.
"Jack are you alright?"
"I s'pose so. I'm sure this throbbing pain in me shoulder will go soon enough."
Elizabeth was about to rush over and make sure it looked all right. But something about his face stopped her.
"Jack, you're making it up!"
"Course I am. Won't get any sympathy otherwise."
Elizabeth grasped his hand, and tugged on the arm that apparently hurt so much. Jack staggered after her up the stairs. Elizabeth stopped at the top. Jack, so as to avoid walking into her, stepped to one side. He had a clear view of the corridor. He didn't like what was in it.
"Hello, Captain."
Jack looked nervously at Elizabeth. She nodded encouragingly.
"Hello, Will."
Will coughed politely.
"Er, Mr Turner, if you don't mind."
Jack pressed his hands together in front of his chest, as if in prayer.
"Certainly."
They stepped out together onto the deck. Their ears were greeted by the angry howls of a female first mate, bound at the ankles and wrists, lying on the deck.
"Help! Jack, ye worthless lump, get over 'ere!"
There followed a loud groan from what appeared to be a bundle of rags, flopped across the steering wheel. The squinting eyes of a drugged Quartermaster gazed blurrily at the rest of the ship.
"Tis bad luck to 'ave this many women on board . . ."
He fell back to his previous position, and commenced snoring.