Author's reminder… I don't own Jack, Ana, Will, Elizabeth, Gibbs, Cotton, Norrington or anything else having to do with the movie Pirates of the Caribbean - But I do claim the Captains Deverill and Jonesy. Not to mention the plot. They are mine, and should anyone wish to borrow them, I'm not opposed to lending them out. All you need do is ask… Thank you!
To MollieJoy… I'm glad you finally got to it! Your enthusiasm and cheerleading for me are a constant source of confidence and realization for me. Who else would I dedicate my hard work to?? Besides Johnny Depp, of course… ;)
To J.L. Dexter… blushes Wow, thank you! I'm absolutely speechless! There's a whole lot more I could say, but I'm speechless!! ;)
To Cal… There are few words to express how much I appreciate your reviews. I'm glad you caught the intuition insinuation… that was all for you! It proves that I go through reviews with a fine tooth comb to see what my readers say or want! And I totally agree that Johnny would do a wonderful job with that scene… hint, hint sequel writers… hint, hint… :P Either that, or I could just borrow Johnny and have him do that scene solely for me! ;) Don't worry, I'd share it with you!!
To Starrynight265… A monkey wrench indeed... I find myself shocked at where my plot seems to be going. This story seems to be writing itself, but I suppose that's a good thing for a writer to say. It means I'm involved, right? Thanks again!
To Reese Sparrow… Once again, thank you! It is a pleasure to see people reviewing. And I'm sorry to hear that your review thingy didn't work!! :P
And so ends my faux Golden Globes acceptance speech… sorry Johnny, that you didn't win – you should have, although Bill Murray is a worthy opponent… :(
Two days later…
Ana sat in the dim candlelight looking thoughtfully around the captain's cabin. She was clothed in a heavy robe and tucked deep under the covers of the bed. Her face felt swollen and her arms ached terribly. It hurt to turn any direction due to the large slash that lay across her stomach. It had been properly tended to and was now uncomfortably bandaged. How she got to this bed, she didn't remember. How she came aboard such a ship, she had no memory. Every now and then, when she slipped off into a drug induced sleep, did snippets of dreams come to her. A frown marred her features as she thought back. One was of a ghastly ship… black and full of torn sails. The other of a screeching woman talking of nothing but corsets. Sometimes, those two dreams would merge together… the screeching woman aboard the frightening ship. It was all so strange… Ana's attention was drawn to the door as it opened, revealing a man she did not recognize. She pulled the covers closer to her in a apprehension that felt foreign.
"Who are you?" she asked. The graying man smiled slightly as his girth made its way slowly to where she sat.
"Me name is Zachariah Jones… but I be Jonesy to all…" the man said, setting the tray he was carrying down on the table next to her. She eyed the tray carefully.
"I be the cook aboard this vessel, miss… and play the part of doctor as well. It was I who stitched your gizzard…" he continued. Ana smiled as she realized that the man had confused his positions.
"Mr. Jones…" she said, sobering. "Where am I?" The old man cleared his throat slightly and looked to the tray of food.
"You be on the Zephyr, miss…" he answered. The name did not feel familiar to her in any way.
"The Zephyr…" she murmured to herself. "Who be the captain?" Again, Jonesy avoided her gaze when she looked at him.
"He be Captain Deverill," the doctor/cook answered. Ana frowned as she tried to place the name in her memory. No such luck.
"How did I come to be here?" she inquired. Again, Jonesy cleared his throat.
"An awful lot of questions for one who just woke up," he scolded lightly. "Ye'd best be eatin' something, lassie. Get your strength back…" Ana looked to the bread and broth that sat on the tray.
"Why won't you tell me what happened?" she asked. The man let out a burdened sigh.
"I'm not one for lyin', and as much as the Captain says we're just withholding, it still feels like lyin'," he admitted. Ana frowned as she reached for the bread, her stomach rumbling for food.
"What are you 'withholding'?" she asked. Jonesy took familiarity into his own hands as he sat his heavy frame on the edge of the bed and took one of her hands lightly in his and pat it with almost fatherly affection, his warm gray eyes giving her something to focus on.
"Lass, we don't want to push ye to remembering a painful past… and we're all certain that's what ye've come from. Captain Deverill says that he and his associate found ye all but dead. Beaten with an inch of your life. The good captain brought ye back to the Zephyr and ordered ye healed and healthy," Jonesy revealed. Ana racked her brain for any part of the memory that her companion had imparted to her. Again, there was nothing.
"Where did you find me?" she asked. A sad look came across the man's face.
"Ye were under the watch of the captain's brother… until he passed on. We believe that he'd taken your part from a ship that be called the Black Pearl. There's no saying what all was done to ye aboard that ship… their cruelties are numerous and fair to unspeakable due their viciousness," he told her. Ana's eyes widened as the name took root in her brain.
"The Black Pearl…" she murmured. The image of the ghastly black ship flashed in front of her eyes for a moment. Her dark eyes unfocused for a second and she shook her head to clear it. Jonesy looked at her, concerned.
"Did ye remember something, lass?" he asked, patting her hand again. She looked to him, a look of concentration on her face. Memories, again, flashed for just moments. Someone standing over her, someone she couldn't focus on. Then the pain… the gut wrenching pain… Cruel laughter and a circle of cruel eyes watching. The name of the ship sounded familiar… as familiar as the pain. Ana slipped her hand from Jonesy's grasp and curled herself further under the blankets, a look of horror on her face.
"Aye, I think I remember the Pearl…" she said softly. Jonesy let out a soft curse.
"I be sorry lass, for bringing it up… but now I know we be right 'bout it all…" he said kindly, laying a comforting hand on Ana's blanket covered shoulder. "… now's time for ye to rest." Ana didn't say anything, she just closed her eyes and willed the memories away. It brought to mind more questions to mind, but there would be time for them later. She heard the door of the cabin close behind Jonesy as he took his leave. She was alone and she opened her eyes to focus on the burning candle next to her. The Black Pearl… what had it done to her?
Jonesy shook his head as he exited his captain's quarters. The girl was soon to be asleep, and not of his concern.
"Did she believe everything that you were so kind as to suggest?" a voice behind Jonesy asked. The old man turned, the mask of kindness that had been on his face evaporating into the night like it had never existed. His steel gray eyes back to their cold, greedy origin.
"Aye, Captain… she be chewin' it," he said. Damien Deverill smiled, the malice in his soul shining in his eyes.
"Excellent," he said. Jonesy crossed his heavy arms.
"Now… where's the extra ye promised me," he asked with a menacing frown. Damien tapped a purse of coins against the palm of his hand.
"Your bonus, as promised… And I might say, you've done a bang-up job settling the girl," the captain said. Jonesy growled as he reached out and snatched the pouch.
"I didn't become a pirate to be known as a nice old man… you want more of a show, ye'll have to compensate for it," the large man said as he pocketed his earnings. Damien nodded, a beautiful smile on his face.
"Rest assured, if your assistance puts the girl where we want her and gets us what we want, you'll be able to retire happily," the captain said.
"I'll do what ye ask… even if I still don't much like it. I'll do my part, but this has the makings of backfiring on the lot o' us with severe penalty…" he told his captain.
"Your concerns have been duly noted, Jonesy," Damien said diplomatically. "At the first sign of trouble, I assure you, the girl will be dealt with." Jonesy nodded and then made his way back to the galley where he belonged. Damien stood at the railing, the wind gently blowing across his sharp patrician features.
"It's my turn… and they won't know what hit 'em…" he muttered to the forgetting wind before turning to return to the helm.
The
Pearl…"ANA!" Jack's hoarse voice called out into the dark of his cabin. He bolted upright in bed, a sheen of wet covering his bare chest. With a deep breath to calm his nerves Jack swung his legs around so that his feet touched the cool wood of the floor. A knock came at the door as Jack leaned over hoping to will his stomach back to where it belonged.
"Jack?" Will's voice called. The door opened and the young man stuck his head in the door. "You alright, Jack?"
"Aye, lad, I'm okay," the pirate answered after a moment.
"I heard you shout…" the blacksmith said. Jack pushed himself off of the bed and reached for his shirt. He pulled it over his head and then went in search of rum.
"Who's at the helm, lad?" he asked.
"Gibbs took over for Cotton an hour past," Will answered. Jack nodded as he uncorked the waiting bottle of rum and took a drink. It took Jack a moment to form his thoughts into words.
"I see things when I close me eyes, lad. And they're not nightmares… they're worse than nightmares. They are things that could be happening right now as we sit here doing nothing… and of course, all I can do is watch, because I'm not there and me mind knows that," he said before taking another drink of the numbing liquor. "Was this how it felt, lad?" Will stepped into the cabin and closed the door behind him.
"How what felt?" the young man asked his friend. Jack gave a humorless smirk in Will's direction.
"When Barbossa took Elizabeth…" Jack clarified. It didn't escape Will's notice that Jack's eyes looked a bit sleep-deprived… or that the man had just finished a half a bottle of rum in mere minutes. And Will also knew that the sleep wouldn't come and the rum wouldn't do a thing to bring the sought after forgetfulness.
"Aye, this is how it felt," Will confirmed. "It also pains me to say that Elizabeth had an advantage… she had you. You knew Barbossa…" Jack grimaced.
"You're quite correct, lad. We don't know our enemy this time, beyond his name. It's what troubles me most, I'm afraid…" the pirate admitted as he approached his bed and sat on the edge. Will approached Jack and took the rum bottle from him. The pirate watched in slight amusement as the blacksmith took a drink.
"Elizabeth would have your head," he muttered. Will smiled as he handed the drink back.
"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," he said. Jack let out a little laugh.
"I imagine that would be inconsequential compared to how she'll respond when she sees you again, mate. I don't think she'll thank you, lad, for leaving her like that," he said of the notably absent Elizabeth. Will looked uncertain, but shook his head.
"It was for the best. She didn't need to be included in this. One adventure that almost got her killed is enough for now," he said. Jack arched an eyebrow.
"Aye, if you say so. But whatever she serves you… methinks you'll deserve…" the pirate said while closely examining the flat of his hand. "… savvy?" Will gave the pirate a look.
"Do we know where we're going?" Will finally asked. Jack looked over at him.
"Do 'we' know where we're going? No…" Jack said as he lifted his legs to the bed again and sat against the headboard. "Do I know where we're going? Yes…" Will looked at the pirate expectantly. Jack ignored him for a moment, but the weight of the blacksmith's stare had him returning the look.
"Fine… we're headin' for Rum Cay," the pirate said. Will frowned.
"Rum Cay? How far is that?" he asked. Jack shrugged.
"6 or 7 days thereabouts," he said. Will nodded.
"Why there?" he asked. Jack stood up again and went to the table that held his map. He pointed his finger to the selected island.
"Because it's on the edge of the Caribbean, mate. The Zephyr passed dock at Tortuga… which means they have to be low on supplies. They'll have to go somewhere, and the best bet in either direction would be Rum Cay… besides, I just like the name…" Jack said, a smirk crossing his face at Will's shake of his head.
"What do you mean either direction?" Will asked, concerned. Jack let out a sigh.
"You be the one that brought up the point, lad. We don't know our foe… He could be heading back in Port Royal's direction, or he could be hopping the ocean without a by your leave. We don't know which, do we? We'll make tracks for the last logical port before such a trip, aye?" Jack asked, looking up at his friend. Will thought for a second and then nodded in agreement.
"It makes sense, aye… but, Jack… The man seems intent on taking you and the Pearl. Why would he take Ana further away?" the young man inquired. Jack rested both palms on the map and leaned on them.
"I'm not sayin' he is, savvy? But we cannot afford to not think of everything right now. He's using her to get to me to, apparently, get to our good Commodore. There's no telling what this man is capable of," Jack said earnestly. "My guess is he won't take her anywhere but between Tortuga and Port Royal knowing that those are the waters I favor. He won't pursue me… not while he has Ana. He'll wait for me to pursue him." Will cleared his throat and tried to broach the subject Jack seemed to be avoiding.
"Jack… he may be leading you to believe he has Ana. He may not have her anymore," he said. Jack was silent as he continued to stare at the map below his hands.
"I know that, lad. I know what you're trying to tell me…" Jack said after a while. "And don't think I haven't thought about it when I'm all by me onesies, staring at this bloody ceiling to a point of madness." Will laid a hand on the pirate captain's back.
"You know I don't want to think about it either, Jack. But you said it yourself… we can't afford to not think of everything… and you did kill his brother," Will reminded him. Jack smiled – actually, it was more than a smile. It was a reliving of a moment.
"Aye, that I did, lad. And I wish I could do it again…" Jack said with a wistful look. "Deverill has revenge in mind, I'm sure. But I have revenge of me own he'll have to contend with…"
The Zephyr…
Damien watched the girl closely from where he stood at the helm. She was walking alongside the railings of the ship in the morning sun, awkwardly uncomfortable in the 'borrowed' dress he had given her. Her injuries were far from healed, but they far from detracted from her beauty… a fact which many of the crew had not been oblivious of. The girl was often skittish around the men's interest… often alternating between almost cowering from it and lashing out against it. Both reactions were understandable due to the situation she was currently in. The unfortunate crew members that had piqued her anger already sported healthy bruises on whatever piece of their anatomy that had been in her reach. The girl also often spoke in a pirate brogue that bespoke of a sea life and she often watched the mock sword-play on deck with apt interest. It made Damien re-think his original assessment of the girl. She was more than the mere mistress or whore that some of his men had thought her to be when they'd captured her. And it was this conclusion that made Damien realize his plans for her were much grander than what he'd first conspired. With a calculating smile, he turned the helm over to his first mate. Damien approached her with caution, not wanting to be on the wrong end of her fist… or her foot. When he was sure she was aware of his approach, he dared address her.
"Miss…" he greeted with a gallant bow as she turned to him. Her dark eyes assessed him critically before she graced him with a small smile.
"Yes?" she inquired. Damien smiled back as he folded his hands behind his back.
"It would honor me greatly if you would join me for a small luncheon in my quarters," he offered. A wary look was back in her eyes as she contemplated his offer. After a moment or two of deliberation, she finally gave a small nod.
"It be difficult to reject such a civil request," she said. Damien smiled warmly, the expression suitably concealing his calculating mentality.
Duh, duh, duh…. :P
Author's info: Now, I warned ye… history being played with… And this is only the beginning!! In real life, Rum Cay is a small island located in the Bahamas. Christopher Columbus named the island Santa Maria De La Conception. The modern name, Rum Cay, is said to be in memory of a wreck destroyed with a cargo of rum which foundered off the coral reefs that were plentiful along the island's shore. The wreck of the 101-gun man-of-war H.M.S. Conqueror, built in Devon in 1855 and which served in the Crimean War, lies in 30 feet of water off Rum Cay where it sank in 1861. I've taken liberties with many a date, and the fact that I'm calling Rum Cay 'Rum Cay' in my story and keeping everything else in the seeming late 1650's – early 1660's is an obvious discrepancy. I apologize, yet I don't – cuz this be fiction and it works… right?? Right…