AN: Hello all. I know it's been a while, probably the longest hiatus I've
ever taken! I am not the fastest writer, sorry! Anyways, I hope you guys
enjoy it. Maybe the length will make up for the delay. :)
A Sparrow's Daughter
By Anlei
Chapter Twelve
By the time Annabelle awoke, the ship was already pulling into Tortuga's noisy port. Having left Gibbs in the cabin to go explore the deck, Annabelle first noticed the utter chaos of the town. There were both men and women toting pistols and blades, stumbling around in drunken stupors. Some were even unconscious on the docks, bottles of potent alcohol strewn beside them. Tortuga was indeed everything Port Royale was not. The cleanliness and the order were no where to found in this port. The differences between the two were so striking, Annabelle truly felt that she was about to step into the underbelly of the pirate world.
It would be a lie to say she wasn't nervous. Her memories of this place were sketchy but then she was looking through it with the eyes of a curious child unable to understand danger.
Gibbs had awoken and was now standing beside her, looking completely alive as the ship slowed to a halt. Tortuga was a home for him, a place where he could go to be comfortable being who he was. Annabelle was amazed to find it mostly in tact. She figured the navy would have long since swept those grounds. But then again she figured Tortuga was well beyond any form of order.
"It ain't what it used to be...but it's still as strong as I remember." Gibbs remarked roughly.
"How long has it been since you've been to this place?" She asked curiously.
"Not for years, missie. Not for many years..." Gibbs trailed off into his own thoughts. Annabelle left him to gather her things.
When she returned they departed from the ship. She clutched her bag over her shoulder and held the bundled sword tightly in one hand. She did remember one thing strongly about Tortuga: If you left anything unattended, even if it was on your very own back, it became free game for anyone to take.
Annabelle stuck close to Gibbs while they slowly walked through the streets. She kept on guard, not wanting to accidentally be on the wrong end of a pistol. Although she was slightly frightened, she couldn't help but feel fascinated.
"If there's anything you're to learn while you're here is that despite its seediness, no one here gives a rat's ass what you wear, what you do, or who you do, missie." Gibbs remarked bluntly.
Annabelle blushed a little bit but managed to hide it. Looking around she understood what he said. The only people here were the ones that society looked down upon, whores, pirates, unwed mothers, thieves, killers, and every sort of criminal known to man. All of these people were free in this place. As strange as everything in Tortuga seemed to Annabelle, who'd never really known anything other than Port Royal, she was enthralled.
They reached a small inn, where they paid for two small rooms beside each other. Once inside Gibbs told her to never leave anything of value alone in the room. Even the inn keepers were sneaky.
"You've got an hour to get yourself cleaned up before we're to meet with a friend of mine. Don't go wanderin' about without me. It's best you just stay in your room for now." He warned her as she settled in her small room.
"How long will it be until we find my father? Am I to stay in my room until then?" She asked, clearly not liking the idea of being confined to her room for more than a few hours.
Gibbs sighed. He was not at all equipped to deal with young, innocent women, with not means of defending themselves. Especially not the daughter of Jack and Annamaria (that alone meant she would be more trouble than he'd bargained for).
"I made no promises to you, missie. I never said this would be fun. Tortuga's no place for someone who can't use a sword or even shoot straight." He said bluntly, leaning heavily against the door frame. Annabelle shot him a small glare.
"Well then..." she began, thinking on something she had been wanting to ask for a while now, "couldn't you show me how to use them?"
Gibbs shot her an incredulous look. "Are you daft girl? There's a reason I'm no longer part of the crew of your father's ship. Teaching swordplay requires two good legs lass, which you can see, I don't have and—."
"What about using a pistol then? You could at least show me how to shoot properly. And you could show me the basics of using a sword, at least!" Annabelle protested.
"You don't know what you're asking!" He argued.
"I'm only asking to be able to protect myself. It would foolish of me to believe that everywhere we go will be as safe as Port Royale." Annabelle's brown eyes pleaded with his, and he knew in that moment he was going to give in.
Gibbs felt a strong urge to make his way down to the bar and order the largest serving of rum he could afford.
"I knew you were going to be as much trouble as your mother." He muttered.
She smiled at him, sweetly. "Thank you."
"Now you listen here! I can teach you a few pointers but that doesn't mean you get to run around and do what you want. You're not to leave the inn without me. I doubt Jack would be happy finding his only child raped and murdered and washed up on the shore somewhere." He told her sternly. She nodded eagerly.
"I mean, what I said, lass." He began in a gentler tone. "Tortuga's no place for naive young ex-maids with no world experience."
Annabelle nodded. "I understand."
With a sigh, he granted her a grin. "You're well on your way to becoming a pirate, missie. Next you'll be asking me how to pilfer gold from the well to do members of society."
He left her to her own devices and disappeared down the hallway.
That same morning in Port Royale, Norrington fought to keep his face devoid of any expression that would upset his already livid wife further. He and his oldest son had been trying to leave without confrontation with Mrs. Norrington but she would have none of it.
"How can you leave now?! James, your party is to be in a few days! Nearly half the town is appearing to honor that and you stand before me about to leave, again! You just returned home!" She nearly screeched angrily.
James shifted uncomfortably. He hated to make is mother upset, especially when she had been so happy preparing for his return. He hadn't seen her this happy in a while. But accompanying his father was much more important than a birthday gathering.
"Mother, please, this is important. Father and I must go." He pleaded, his hat clenched in one hand.
"What could be so important that someone else under your command could not take care of it?" She demanded, her tiny hands placed upon her hips.
Taking a deep breath, James opened his mouth to reply when his father answered for him.
"This is something I must handle personally and James wishes to accompany me." He replied smoothly in a voice that left no room for argument.
Rebecca Norrington's eyes flared, turning her attention to her husband.
"You intend to go gallivanting off in search of that girl, don't you?" She demanded, her voice low with barely restrained anger.
Commodore Norrington, quickly seeing this "discussion" would obviously lead to a fight quietly dismissed his son to wait for him outside. James hesitated leaving his father but did so without argument, knowing their "disagreement" would develop into an all out verbal brawl. He had no desire to witness such a fight between his parents. Once gone, Norrington turned to his wife.
"There is more to my leaving than that, Rebecca." He replied calmly. She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Oh? What more could there be James? She goes missing one week and you tell me that you are to leave the next! Why do you insist on keeping that girl around? She's not your child, James! You have no responsibility toward her!" Rebecca's voice rose to a shout, as it always did when concerning Annabelle.
Norrington could feel the migraine seeping into the frontal area of his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wondered what he could do it avoid the oncoming fight.
"I brought her into this our home therefore she is my responsibility. How many times must we go through this?" He asked, feeling his resolve slipping.
"She's a servant, James! Not a member of this household! How is she any more your responsibility than the rest of the 'hired help'?"
"Rebecca, I do not have time for this!" He shouted abruptly. His wife looked momentarily startled before her face fell back into that angry scowl.
"Of course you don't! You never do unless it's to chase after that girl!" Rebecca angrily spun around and allowed him the view of her tense back. "Well go on then! Leave me here, alone!"
Norrington found his anger fading and wanted to reach out and draw his wife into his arms. But she, with all the fury in her petite body, stalked out of the room, slamming doors and startling every maid in the house. Schooling his features, he turned and walked the opposite direction to where his eldest was waiting outside. James didn't bother questioning his father for details, the rigid lines in his posture said enough. Instead he focused on the task at hand.
"Where do you propose we go to find Sparrow?" James asked, keeping his voice low.
"If there's one thing I learned during my time spent with him, it's that Mr. Sparrow was never one to keep a low profile and he's known to frequent certain ports. One in particular more than the others." Norrington grimaced at the mere thought of setting sail to such a place.
"Where is this port, father?" James asked.
"Tortuga." He said, cringing as if the word itself tasted foul.
James looked at his father in surprise, then smiled. "You know. if mother ever finds out where we're going..."
"If you are as intelligent as you would have me believe, son, you will do well to make sure she never does."
James gave a short laugh, following his father to the carriage waiting just beyond the gate.
After twenty minutes had passed, Annabelle found boredom creeping into her system. She wasn't supposed to leave the inn, let alone her room. She couldn't even go downstairs to the bar, not that she particularly wanted to. It wasn't like her home with the NOrrington's, where she had a number of chores to do every day. Or even working at Gibb's tavern. She had nothing.
Annabelle could feel the urge to go exploring growing stronger. Despite the apparent danger of being unfamiliar with Tortuga, she was eager to walk the streets and watch the people. It was something she'd done as a child. Since she spent the majority of her time with her mother rather than playing with nearby children she would often sit and absorb the world around her. Even as a child she was fascinated with people. Then she'd later barrage her mother with questions.
"Who are they, mama? What are they doing, mama? What's that, mama?" She'd ask seemingly all in a row.
"Blazes, child! Don't you ever tire of asking such questions?" Her mother would tease her, pretending to be tired of answering them all. But Annabelle knew otherwise.
Annabelle had been restless since she'd entered Gibbs' rundown tavern. She was growing impatient. It was her first time leaving Port Royale in years and here she was, forced to stay in her room until Gibbs would lead her off to whatever it was he had planned. In the back of her mind she understood that it was only for her protection and her safety. But she wasn't entirely focusing on that.
She was too busy focusing on her utter fascination with Port Royal's polar opposite. She began pacing in her room, looking from the door to her window and back again. She fidgeted on one foot to the other.
Technically Gibbs had no control over her. She could very well leave and he couldn't stop her. Annabelle immediately felt guilty about such thoughts. This man was willing to risk his own neck just so she could find her father. He'd offered to look after her wellbeing. And this is how she chose to repay him? She shook her head, willing the guilt to leave her. Unfortunately, it didn't. Shaking her head ruefully, she wondered just what kind of pirate she would be if she was too afraid of breaking the rules.
All the pirate blood in my body pales in comparison to the years spent being a proper maid. She thought
A few angry shouts had diverted Annabelle's attention from her thoughts. It sounded like two men violently arguing in the room across from hers. Knowing she should ignore it, her curiosity got the better of her and she cracked the door open to try and get a glimpse of what was happening. She noticed the door was slightly ajar and only one person could be a seen. It was haggard looking man, well beyond the days of his prime, cowering against the wall. She heard the sound of glass hitting the wall and the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking. Annabelle's eyes widened.
"I swear, I don't know nothin! I did me part, as promised! I don't know nothin' please, don't kill me!" He begged in a strained voice with tears falling down his face. Whoever he was talking too terrified him.
"You failed me one to many times, Jonesy. If I remember correctly, and I do, you had one bloody job to do!" The mystery voice began in a soft, calm tone before escalating into a near shriek.
"I did my best, I swear it!"
"Do you have any idea, all the trouble I've been put through because of you?! No, of course not! You're just as useless as a crippled hound, aren't you? And you do realize what happens to them."
She thought about closing the door and pretending that she was ignorant of anything outside her own room when the man turned and locked gazed with her.
His stare betrayed his fear and silently pleaded with her for help. It was a look that made Annabelle's stomach churn. Then something in his eyes changed. His eyes became hysterical, frantic. Annabelle had the feeling that if he wasn't at gun point that he would have barreled out of the room straight for her.
"I think you've wasted enough of my time." The other man said, back to his calm unflappable tone.
Thoroughly shaken, Annabelle forced her arms to close the door with a resounding click but not before she heard the last words of a desperate man.
"Wait!! I can fix it! I know where--!"
A shot...
...the sound of a body tumbling to the floor...
...then silence.
A pair of boots could be heard walking down the corridor and fade into the distance.
Annabelle remained frozen against the door, feeling guilty for something she knew she couldn't have helped. And yet the man's eyes wouldn't leave her. There was something in his last looks that made her feel exposed.
She slowly backed away from the door, the backs of her knees hitting the lumpy mattress. She sat down, trying to calm her nerves. The harsh reality of Tortuga had given her a swift kick to the stomach and she fought hard not to vomit. Gibbs was right.
Just what had she been thinking? Could she really live like this?
What upset Annabelle the most was that for some reason, she kept seeing her mothers face instead of his, the last look she had before dying. Why she saw that was beyond her reasoning.
It was another hour before Gibbs had come knocking on her door. The sound made Annabelle leap from her bed to the floor, vaguely wondering if it would be wise to slide under her bed and hide. The part of her mother that still lived within her was disgusted by that idea.
"Time to go, lass."
Annabelle sighed in relief. It was only Gibbs. After a few moments she allowed herself a small smile. Whoever that strange man was, he was long gone. And he had nothing to do with her.
Grabbing her hat and coat she threw them on, before gathering the rest of her valuables and stepped outside to great Gibbs.
"Tuck that sword into your belt, missie, and pull your coat around it. It's a nice blade and someone other than me just might like it a bit too much." Annabelle nodded and did as she was told.
"Who are we going to meet?" She asked as they made their way down to the inn's bar.
"An old friend of mine by the name of Twigs, friend of your father's too. Since he does business with him often, he's one of the few people to know where we can find him." Gibbs replied, pushing his way through the crowd of drunken customers to a small table in the back, relatively secluded. Once there, they both took a seat, Annabelle tugging her hat lower over her eyes.
"I spoke to him earlier, he's agreed to teach you a thing or two about sword play." Gibbs added, already nursing a mug he snagged from a wench walking past.
Annabelle looked at him sharply.
"You said you wanted to learn how to fight, missie. He can do a better job than I can." Gibbs remarked before she could question him.
"Will this delay our efforts to find my father?" She asked.
"You can't expect to learn anything in one day. Besides, we'll be staying here a while." He replied in a tone that made Annabelle stare at him intently. Was there something he wasn't telling her? Deciding to leave it be for now, she looked away and into the crowd.
"I...saw someone killed today." Her voice going quiet.
Gibbs looked at the girl beside him, remembering that she wasn't used to this kind of lifestyle.
"It's not as uncommon as you think, missie." He replied softly. She strained to hear him over the noise.
"I know. I just didn't expect to see it again." Annabelle bit back the lump rising in her throat and surprised both Gibbs and herself by taking a deep swig of his rum. Coughing, she handed the mug back to him, still having trouble with the burning sensation going down her throat.
"You had better get used to it. I daresay looking for your father...you're going to see more of it. It's best not to have a weak stomach." He replied in a way that seemed terribly blunt, callous, and caring at the same time.
Trying to shake the images out of her head, she turned to him with another question.
"What sort of name is Twigs?" She asked curiously.
"It's what people used to call him when he was a boy because he was nothing but skin and bones. They used to say he was a few twigs put together. When he got older and entered the "business" he took the name. Says he don't want people to know his real name." Gibbs explained, drinking the last of his rum. Annabelle wanted to ask what Gibbs meant by the word "business" but she figured, at this rate, she'd find out sooner or later.
It wasn't much longer before "Twigs" made an entrance to the bar. Annabelle immediately noticed that without trying to, this man stood out from the crowd. He was taller than most of the room's occupants and so thin that he looked almost emaciated. He had straggly dirty blond hair tied messily at the nape of his neck and a scruffy beard to match. He made his way over to a bar wench, leaning down to speak with her before he was pointed in their direction. His dark eyes locked directly on her as he made his way over to their table. Annabelle looked away, meekly.
She ventured another look at him as he sat down with a hearty greeting from Gibbs.
"So this is the surprise you brought me out here to see, Joshamee?" He asked, jerking a thumb in her direction, "Don't see what so special?" He turned and faced her fully, heavily scrutinizing her. Annabelle frowned in return. This man was going to teach her swordplay? Annabelle found herself wishing it was Gibbs instead, even if he could barely use both of his legs.
"Once I tell you what I know, you'll think otherwise. And didn't I tell you never to call me by my first name?"
Annabelle listened silently as Gibbs revealed who she was. She had been expecting a reaction close to Gibbs. Instead, he merely stared at her as if he thought she had spun an elaborate lie and somehow dragged Gibbs along for the trip. After giving her another hard stare (to which she glowered, annoyed) he continued conversing to Gibbs, ignoring her all together. Annabelle wasn't too surprised. Something in his posture screamed distrust at the girl across from him. At the moment she didn't care. Her only interest was hearing news of Jack Sparrow. However, the two decided to speak on lighter subjects, catching up on lost time. Annabelle sighed, looking around the room.
Eventually, her eyes landed on a table where a group of men were playing a game of cards, using their daggers and pistols to try and intimidate the other players. A man with a red scarf and scars decorating his bare forearms caught her eye and sneered. She lowered her eyes and looked away, back to Gibbs and his strange friend.
Somewhere, in a dark corner, a man nearly choked on his drink, eyes glued to the back of the dark skinned woman dressed in men's clothing. He trembled with anxiety, hardly believing his luck. He jumped up from his chair, knocking over a few others in the process and dashed out of the room, unnoticed.
AN: Wow! So glad to get this chapter out! It finally took me some time but I've got some momentum again. I won't make promises about updating soon but I promise, I haven't given up! Reviews always welcome. Anlei
A Sparrow's Daughter
By Anlei
Chapter Twelve
By the time Annabelle awoke, the ship was already pulling into Tortuga's noisy port. Having left Gibbs in the cabin to go explore the deck, Annabelle first noticed the utter chaos of the town. There were both men and women toting pistols and blades, stumbling around in drunken stupors. Some were even unconscious on the docks, bottles of potent alcohol strewn beside them. Tortuga was indeed everything Port Royale was not. The cleanliness and the order were no where to found in this port. The differences between the two were so striking, Annabelle truly felt that she was about to step into the underbelly of the pirate world.
It would be a lie to say she wasn't nervous. Her memories of this place were sketchy but then she was looking through it with the eyes of a curious child unable to understand danger.
Gibbs had awoken and was now standing beside her, looking completely alive as the ship slowed to a halt. Tortuga was a home for him, a place where he could go to be comfortable being who he was. Annabelle was amazed to find it mostly in tact. She figured the navy would have long since swept those grounds. But then again she figured Tortuga was well beyond any form of order.
"It ain't what it used to be...but it's still as strong as I remember." Gibbs remarked roughly.
"How long has it been since you've been to this place?" She asked curiously.
"Not for years, missie. Not for many years..." Gibbs trailed off into his own thoughts. Annabelle left him to gather her things.
When she returned they departed from the ship. She clutched her bag over her shoulder and held the bundled sword tightly in one hand. She did remember one thing strongly about Tortuga: If you left anything unattended, even if it was on your very own back, it became free game for anyone to take.
Annabelle stuck close to Gibbs while they slowly walked through the streets. She kept on guard, not wanting to accidentally be on the wrong end of a pistol. Although she was slightly frightened, she couldn't help but feel fascinated.
"If there's anything you're to learn while you're here is that despite its seediness, no one here gives a rat's ass what you wear, what you do, or who you do, missie." Gibbs remarked bluntly.
Annabelle blushed a little bit but managed to hide it. Looking around she understood what he said. The only people here were the ones that society looked down upon, whores, pirates, unwed mothers, thieves, killers, and every sort of criminal known to man. All of these people were free in this place. As strange as everything in Tortuga seemed to Annabelle, who'd never really known anything other than Port Royal, she was enthralled.
They reached a small inn, where they paid for two small rooms beside each other. Once inside Gibbs told her to never leave anything of value alone in the room. Even the inn keepers were sneaky.
"You've got an hour to get yourself cleaned up before we're to meet with a friend of mine. Don't go wanderin' about without me. It's best you just stay in your room for now." He warned her as she settled in her small room.
"How long will it be until we find my father? Am I to stay in my room until then?" She asked, clearly not liking the idea of being confined to her room for more than a few hours.
Gibbs sighed. He was not at all equipped to deal with young, innocent women, with not means of defending themselves. Especially not the daughter of Jack and Annamaria (that alone meant she would be more trouble than he'd bargained for).
"I made no promises to you, missie. I never said this would be fun. Tortuga's no place for someone who can't use a sword or even shoot straight." He said bluntly, leaning heavily against the door frame. Annabelle shot him a small glare.
"Well then..." she began, thinking on something she had been wanting to ask for a while now, "couldn't you show me how to use them?"
Gibbs shot her an incredulous look. "Are you daft girl? There's a reason I'm no longer part of the crew of your father's ship. Teaching swordplay requires two good legs lass, which you can see, I don't have and—."
"What about using a pistol then? You could at least show me how to shoot properly. And you could show me the basics of using a sword, at least!" Annabelle protested.
"You don't know what you're asking!" He argued.
"I'm only asking to be able to protect myself. It would foolish of me to believe that everywhere we go will be as safe as Port Royale." Annabelle's brown eyes pleaded with his, and he knew in that moment he was going to give in.
Gibbs felt a strong urge to make his way down to the bar and order the largest serving of rum he could afford.
"I knew you were going to be as much trouble as your mother." He muttered.
She smiled at him, sweetly. "Thank you."
"Now you listen here! I can teach you a few pointers but that doesn't mean you get to run around and do what you want. You're not to leave the inn without me. I doubt Jack would be happy finding his only child raped and murdered and washed up on the shore somewhere." He told her sternly. She nodded eagerly.
"I mean, what I said, lass." He began in a gentler tone. "Tortuga's no place for naive young ex-maids with no world experience."
Annabelle nodded. "I understand."
With a sigh, he granted her a grin. "You're well on your way to becoming a pirate, missie. Next you'll be asking me how to pilfer gold from the well to do members of society."
He left her to her own devices and disappeared down the hallway.
That same morning in Port Royale, Norrington fought to keep his face devoid of any expression that would upset his already livid wife further. He and his oldest son had been trying to leave without confrontation with Mrs. Norrington but she would have none of it.
"How can you leave now?! James, your party is to be in a few days! Nearly half the town is appearing to honor that and you stand before me about to leave, again! You just returned home!" She nearly screeched angrily.
James shifted uncomfortably. He hated to make is mother upset, especially when she had been so happy preparing for his return. He hadn't seen her this happy in a while. But accompanying his father was much more important than a birthday gathering.
"Mother, please, this is important. Father and I must go." He pleaded, his hat clenched in one hand.
"What could be so important that someone else under your command could not take care of it?" She demanded, her tiny hands placed upon her hips.
Taking a deep breath, James opened his mouth to reply when his father answered for him.
"This is something I must handle personally and James wishes to accompany me." He replied smoothly in a voice that left no room for argument.
Rebecca Norrington's eyes flared, turning her attention to her husband.
"You intend to go gallivanting off in search of that girl, don't you?" She demanded, her voice low with barely restrained anger.
Commodore Norrington, quickly seeing this "discussion" would obviously lead to a fight quietly dismissed his son to wait for him outside. James hesitated leaving his father but did so without argument, knowing their "disagreement" would develop into an all out verbal brawl. He had no desire to witness such a fight between his parents. Once gone, Norrington turned to his wife.
"There is more to my leaving than that, Rebecca." He replied calmly. She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Oh? What more could there be James? She goes missing one week and you tell me that you are to leave the next! Why do you insist on keeping that girl around? She's not your child, James! You have no responsibility toward her!" Rebecca's voice rose to a shout, as it always did when concerning Annabelle.
Norrington could feel the migraine seeping into the frontal area of his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wondered what he could do it avoid the oncoming fight.
"I brought her into this our home therefore she is my responsibility. How many times must we go through this?" He asked, feeling his resolve slipping.
"She's a servant, James! Not a member of this household! How is she any more your responsibility than the rest of the 'hired help'?"
"Rebecca, I do not have time for this!" He shouted abruptly. His wife looked momentarily startled before her face fell back into that angry scowl.
"Of course you don't! You never do unless it's to chase after that girl!" Rebecca angrily spun around and allowed him the view of her tense back. "Well go on then! Leave me here, alone!"
Norrington found his anger fading and wanted to reach out and draw his wife into his arms. But she, with all the fury in her petite body, stalked out of the room, slamming doors and startling every maid in the house. Schooling his features, he turned and walked the opposite direction to where his eldest was waiting outside. James didn't bother questioning his father for details, the rigid lines in his posture said enough. Instead he focused on the task at hand.
"Where do you propose we go to find Sparrow?" James asked, keeping his voice low.
"If there's one thing I learned during my time spent with him, it's that Mr. Sparrow was never one to keep a low profile and he's known to frequent certain ports. One in particular more than the others." Norrington grimaced at the mere thought of setting sail to such a place.
"Where is this port, father?" James asked.
"Tortuga." He said, cringing as if the word itself tasted foul.
James looked at his father in surprise, then smiled. "You know. if mother ever finds out where we're going..."
"If you are as intelligent as you would have me believe, son, you will do well to make sure she never does."
James gave a short laugh, following his father to the carriage waiting just beyond the gate.
After twenty minutes had passed, Annabelle found boredom creeping into her system. She wasn't supposed to leave the inn, let alone her room. She couldn't even go downstairs to the bar, not that she particularly wanted to. It wasn't like her home with the NOrrington's, where she had a number of chores to do every day. Or even working at Gibb's tavern. She had nothing.
Annabelle could feel the urge to go exploring growing stronger. Despite the apparent danger of being unfamiliar with Tortuga, she was eager to walk the streets and watch the people. It was something she'd done as a child. Since she spent the majority of her time with her mother rather than playing with nearby children she would often sit and absorb the world around her. Even as a child she was fascinated with people. Then she'd later barrage her mother with questions.
"Who are they, mama? What are they doing, mama? What's that, mama?" She'd ask seemingly all in a row.
"Blazes, child! Don't you ever tire of asking such questions?" Her mother would tease her, pretending to be tired of answering them all. But Annabelle knew otherwise.
Annabelle had been restless since she'd entered Gibbs' rundown tavern. She was growing impatient. It was her first time leaving Port Royale in years and here she was, forced to stay in her room until Gibbs would lead her off to whatever it was he had planned. In the back of her mind she understood that it was only for her protection and her safety. But she wasn't entirely focusing on that.
She was too busy focusing on her utter fascination with Port Royal's polar opposite. She began pacing in her room, looking from the door to her window and back again. She fidgeted on one foot to the other.
Technically Gibbs had no control over her. She could very well leave and he couldn't stop her. Annabelle immediately felt guilty about such thoughts. This man was willing to risk his own neck just so she could find her father. He'd offered to look after her wellbeing. And this is how she chose to repay him? She shook her head, willing the guilt to leave her. Unfortunately, it didn't. Shaking her head ruefully, she wondered just what kind of pirate she would be if she was too afraid of breaking the rules.
All the pirate blood in my body pales in comparison to the years spent being a proper maid. She thought
A few angry shouts had diverted Annabelle's attention from her thoughts. It sounded like two men violently arguing in the room across from hers. Knowing she should ignore it, her curiosity got the better of her and she cracked the door open to try and get a glimpse of what was happening. She noticed the door was slightly ajar and only one person could be a seen. It was haggard looking man, well beyond the days of his prime, cowering against the wall. She heard the sound of glass hitting the wall and the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking. Annabelle's eyes widened.
"I swear, I don't know nothin! I did me part, as promised! I don't know nothin' please, don't kill me!" He begged in a strained voice with tears falling down his face. Whoever he was talking too terrified him.
"You failed me one to many times, Jonesy. If I remember correctly, and I do, you had one bloody job to do!" The mystery voice began in a soft, calm tone before escalating into a near shriek.
"I did my best, I swear it!"
"Do you have any idea, all the trouble I've been put through because of you?! No, of course not! You're just as useless as a crippled hound, aren't you? And you do realize what happens to them."
She thought about closing the door and pretending that she was ignorant of anything outside her own room when the man turned and locked gazed with her.
His stare betrayed his fear and silently pleaded with her for help. It was a look that made Annabelle's stomach churn. Then something in his eyes changed. His eyes became hysterical, frantic. Annabelle had the feeling that if he wasn't at gun point that he would have barreled out of the room straight for her.
"I think you've wasted enough of my time." The other man said, back to his calm unflappable tone.
Thoroughly shaken, Annabelle forced her arms to close the door with a resounding click but not before she heard the last words of a desperate man.
"Wait!! I can fix it! I know where--!"
A shot...
...the sound of a body tumbling to the floor...
...then silence.
A pair of boots could be heard walking down the corridor and fade into the distance.
Annabelle remained frozen against the door, feeling guilty for something she knew she couldn't have helped. And yet the man's eyes wouldn't leave her. There was something in his last looks that made her feel exposed.
She slowly backed away from the door, the backs of her knees hitting the lumpy mattress. She sat down, trying to calm her nerves. The harsh reality of Tortuga had given her a swift kick to the stomach and she fought hard not to vomit. Gibbs was right.
Just what had she been thinking? Could she really live like this?
What upset Annabelle the most was that for some reason, she kept seeing her mothers face instead of his, the last look she had before dying. Why she saw that was beyond her reasoning.
It was another hour before Gibbs had come knocking on her door. The sound made Annabelle leap from her bed to the floor, vaguely wondering if it would be wise to slide under her bed and hide. The part of her mother that still lived within her was disgusted by that idea.
"Time to go, lass."
Annabelle sighed in relief. It was only Gibbs. After a few moments she allowed herself a small smile. Whoever that strange man was, he was long gone. And he had nothing to do with her.
Grabbing her hat and coat she threw them on, before gathering the rest of her valuables and stepped outside to great Gibbs.
"Tuck that sword into your belt, missie, and pull your coat around it. It's a nice blade and someone other than me just might like it a bit too much." Annabelle nodded and did as she was told.
"Who are we going to meet?" She asked as they made their way down to the inn's bar.
"An old friend of mine by the name of Twigs, friend of your father's too. Since he does business with him often, he's one of the few people to know where we can find him." Gibbs replied, pushing his way through the crowd of drunken customers to a small table in the back, relatively secluded. Once there, they both took a seat, Annabelle tugging her hat lower over her eyes.
"I spoke to him earlier, he's agreed to teach you a thing or two about sword play." Gibbs added, already nursing a mug he snagged from a wench walking past.
Annabelle looked at him sharply.
"You said you wanted to learn how to fight, missie. He can do a better job than I can." Gibbs remarked before she could question him.
"Will this delay our efforts to find my father?" She asked.
"You can't expect to learn anything in one day. Besides, we'll be staying here a while." He replied in a tone that made Annabelle stare at him intently. Was there something he wasn't telling her? Deciding to leave it be for now, she looked away and into the crowd.
"I...saw someone killed today." Her voice going quiet.
Gibbs looked at the girl beside him, remembering that she wasn't used to this kind of lifestyle.
"It's not as uncommon as you think, missie." He replied softly. She strained to hear him over the noise.
"I know. I just didn't expect to see it again." Annabelle bit back the lump rising in her throat and surprised both Gibbs and herself by taking a deep swig of his rum. Coughing, she handed the mug back to him, still having trouble with the burning sensation going down her throat.
"You had better get used to it. I daresay looking for your father...you're going to see more of it. It's best not to have a weak stomach." He replied in a way that seemed terribly blunt, callous, and caring at the same time.
Trying to shake the images out of her head, she turned to him with another question.
"What sort of name is Twigs?" She asked curiously.
"It's what people used to call him when he was a boy because he was nothing but skin and bones. They used to say he was a few twigs put together. When he got older and entered the "business" he took the name. Says he don't want people to know his real name." Gibbs explained, drinking the last of his rum. Annabelle wanted to ask what Gibbs meant by the word "business" but she figured, at this rate, she'd find out sooner or later.
It wasn't much longer before "Twigs" made an entrance to the bar. Annabelle immediately noticed that without trying to, this man stood out from the crowd. He was taller than most of the room's occupants and so thin that he looked almost emaciated. He had straggly dirty blond hair tied messily at the nape of his neck and a scruffy beard to match. He made his way over to a bar wench, leaning down to speak with her before he was pointed in their direction. His dark eyes locked directly on her as he made his way over to their table. Annabelle looked away, meekly.
She ventured another look at him as he sat down with a hearty greeting from Gibbs.
"So this is the surprise you brought me out here to see, Joshamee?" He asked, jerking a thumb in her direction, "Don't see what so special?" He turned and faced her fully, heavily scrutinizing her. Annabelle frowned in return. This man was going to teach her swordplay? Annabelle found herself wishing it was Gibbs instead, even if he could barely use both of his legs.
"Once I tell you what I know, you'll think otherwise. And didn't I tell you never to call me by my first name?"
Annabelle listened silently as Gibbs revealed who she was. She had been expecting a reaction close to Gibbs. Instead, he merely stared at her as if he thought she had spun an elaborate lie and somehow dragged Gibbs along for the trip. After giving her another hard stare (to which she glowered, annoyed) he continued conversing to Gibbs, ignoring her all together. Annabelle wasn't too surprised. Something in his posture screamed distrust at the girl across from him. At the moment she didn't care. Her only interest was hearing news of Jack Sparrow. However, the two decided to speak on lighter subjects, catching up on lost time. Annabelle sighed, looking around the room.
Eventually, her eyes landed on a table where a group of men were playing a game of cards, using their daggers and pistols to try and intimidate the other players. A man with a red scarf and scars decorating his bare forearms caught her eye and sneered. She lowered her eyes and looked away, back to Gibbs and his strange friend.
Somewhere, in a dark corner, a man nearly choked on his drink, eyes glued to the back of the dark skinned woman dressed in men's clothing. He trembled with anxiety, hardly believing his luck. He jumped up from his chair, knocking over a few others in the process and dashed out of the room, unnoticed.
AN: Wow! So glad to get this chapter out! It finally took me some time but I've got some momentum again. I won't make promises about updating soon but I promise, I haven't given up! Reviews always welcome. Anlei