Chapter 6
Authors Note: Okay, I have successfully written myself into a corner. There are two walls on either side of me, but no rescue in sight. I'm going to take Rat's advice, what she told me a long time ago. Just to write and then fix up whatever sucks later. Lol. What to do, what to do... drats.
The situation had absolutely no solution in sight. This was one circumstance in which Jack Sparrow couldn't fight or talk his way out of. He watched her face carefully for signs of distress, revulsion, or anything that might signify that she hadn't enjoyed the kiss as much as he.
Granted that he didn't know what he'd do if that were the case, probably contact one of his friends, gotten all the gold he could possibly carry, and settle her anywhere her heart desired. As it was, the feelings running through her at the moment in no way equaled disgust.
Quite the opposite, but looking at Jack made her nervous. He had a worried look on his expression, nay, not worried, just tense. Why was he edgy, had she done something wrong? He knew, obviously, what he was about, but she hadn't any experience in the area.
Feeling extremely embarrassed she avoided his glance then and brushed off her skirts as she stood up. She should have let Mickran court her when he asked, then she would have known what to do at a time like this. Mickran was a man of about twenty-nine who had shown interest in her upon arriving at the town.
She had asked that they keep things simple between them, she was just getting used to running the stable by herself and didn't want to see anyone. He'd taken it like a true gentleman, even helping her out with some of the chores before he left.
Losthun hadn't been able to corrupt him either, and she missed him when he left to the ocean a few months later. Now she regretted her decision and her utter lack of skill. She whistled and both Poseidon and Thanatos came over, Jack watched her pet them and wondered what had happened.
"I'm sorry..." she said quietly, he almost missed what she had said.
"For what, love. What's there to be sorry for?" he didn't need to wait for the answer when he saw the red pinken her cheeks. It didn't take a genius to guess what was plaguing her mind.
"Look," he said taking her by the shoulders so she looked him in the face, "I'm not Losthun, I won't take by force what's not offered. I won't hurt you, Ana, there's no reason to fear me."
"What!" she gasped all embarrassment gone, "How dare you throw yourself in with his lot! I wasn't afraid of you... just worried that you find me lacking..."
Now it was Jack's turn to be confused, what in all the ocean was she talking about?
"One thing the magazines and books always agreed on was... your following of certain ladies."
"And?" Jack had had his share of wenches, Giselle and Scarlett handles business on Tortuga, any port call they stopped at the bar women were never in scarce supply. If she objected to them there wasn't much he could do about it now. Nor did he want too.
"And... they know things I don't." it was the first and last time she would ever broach the subject. It was humiliating enough as it was and she wasn't one to whine over shortcomings.
"Ohh..." he paused to think on that a moment, "No worries there, love." He grinned his roguish trademark grin, "I'll teach you anything you want to learn."
"Where did the brand come from?" she asked awhile later, they were both back on horses and nearing the port.
"Hmm...?" Jack said pretending he hadn't heard her. The brand brought up memories he'd been suppressing since the escape.
"On your right arm." She had been wondering about that ever since she'd seen it that long ago night at the stable.
"It's the pirate mark." Jack replied, "A gift from the East bloody Trading Company." He remembered every moment he'd spent in their dank, dark, festering prison. To die of starvation was considered a blessing.
He could smell the death in the air, worse than that of a slavers' ship and five hundred times as bad. The rusted cuffs hanging on the wall, the splintered wood that served as both bench and coffin were the only comforts.
Bodies weren't removed until the arms had nearly rotted free from the shackles, and even then only because the guards couldn't stand the stench any longer. There, men's ribs could be seen clearly through their skin, the eyes were hollow and sunken, hoarse racking coughs erupted from throats cracking with the need for water.
It was even worse for those who had been brought there with the intent of getting information. Jack had been one of those men. He had only heard stories of the death prison guarded by men so corrupt the air quivered around them.
One step onto the island and he believed everything he'd ever heard. To begin with, he heard not a sound coming from inside. It was eerily quiet, he'd later realize that the silence had the ability to drive a man's mind apart. The silent ringing would echo through his head until he felt like ripping the flesh from his arms in an effort to escape.
It was only by escaping into the deep confines of his mind that he managed to hold onto what was left of his sanity. Every day the beatings became a little more savage, the amount of food decreased from it's already next to nothing portions, they threatened him with all manners of torture from around the world, but he never cracked.
He would rather die, and almost had, before giving up the whereabouts of his ship and crew. Granted that it wasn't really his ship anymore, until Barbossa lay rotting in his grave the Pearl lay in his incapable hands.
Every cut of the knife, all the bruises and broken bones, for any nights he lay awake from the hunger so acute it magnified itself as true pain, the knowledge that he was alive and able to feel it all gave him determination enough to continue. He would get his ship back and show the world that no one steals from Jack Sparrow without repercussions.
Ana listened to his life's story in horror. It seemed impossible all the suffering and pain he had been through, yet still he managed to keep his sense of humor and unflagging trust in himself that everything would turn out in the end.
He escaped from under the watch of seven agents of the East India Company, his trial was scheduled in London, but everyone knew that he was to hang at the end of the day. Such things were inevitable, no quarter granted to a pirate.
After being shot once in the shoulder he knew that he couldn't take it any more. He grabbed the barrel of the pistol and sent the trigger's end colliding into one of the agents stomachs. He was shot again for his efforts, but freedom was so close he could taste it.
Grabbing one of the reins of the horses he swung up into the saddle and led them on the chase of a lifetime. It was a good thing Jack knew how to ride, Marie had taught him the basics one night when he commented on one of the horses, for if he hadn't known death would have taken him full-score.
Jack finally succeeded in outwitting and outrunning them, he barely made it through the next three days. He still didn't remember much about them except knowing that he'd rather die than fall from his now exhausted horse to be found again by bounty hunters.
He managed to find a brothel, one not well known of, where over the course of seven months was nursed back to health by several willing women. The gaunt hollows in his cheeks and below his eyes filled, his ribs no longer showed under bronzed skin, but better yet were the women who taught him how to joke and laugh again.
Months of never seeing the sun or smelling the ocean had taken it's toll. Jack Sparrow would never be the same, his life changed upon entering the prison of East India. Another few months passed as Jack called in favors, he got his own ship, and a few men willing to engage in the act of piracy.
They had seen their share of gold, jewels, and riches since then. Jack was a good captain, he never asked the men to do anything he wouldn't, nor did he hoard treasure. It was split equally among them, all the while they kept a sharp eye out for any word of the Black Pearl.
There had been many ship battles, he hadn't lost any of them. Word quickly spread that Jack Sparrow hadn't dug his grave yet, anywhere 'Onyx Fire' traveled people knew that the Captain didn't harm or kill his prize ships without provocation.
Ana remembered the feral, ruthless, hatred in Jack's eyes when he had sword fought the three men who'd wanted to rob them. It was only after they threatened to hurt her did she see that side of him emerge. It would have been frightening to see such rage had she not known the man first.
Not many could see that part of him, he kept it so deeply buried within him that usually the image of a cold-blooded, insane, over-the-edge pirate was more fact than fiction. He had revenge to enact, the Pearl would be his and Ana was the one to help him get it back.
He had been able to honor his promise and find the means to an end. She would come to no harm, he wasn't that far gone yet, but she had her part to play, as did he. The opportune moment would show itself and she'd understand.
Her spirit and courage would take her through what needed to be done, it was her pride that worried him. Because of that she might never forgive him for what he'd do. It was a risk he was loathe to take, but he was a pirate after all, and what did they know better if not bartering?
Authors Note 2: I have no time to do separate thanks for all the reviewers. I just have to say thanks to you all so very much. My parents want me off the computer so I must acquiesce to their request before it becomes a demand. Hahaha.