The sleep I got was little. How did those princesses do it? I thought I
might suffocate! I'm going to have nightmares for a week.
Bloody fluffy bed spreads and mattresses.
Other then that my time at the Commodores was quite enjoyable. He pampered me. Too bad for him I'd be off as soon as I could ensure my dear dreadful father was dead.
Poor Norrington, with my being gone, he'd have no point in being around, and messing up other pirates lives. At lease whilst I was here, he had a good purpose to be around.
The first problem I ran into was this: the dress Norrington had so firmly insisted I wear.
One it was frilly.
Two it was lacy.
Three the sleeves only went to just below my elbow.
This presented me numerous problems.
One it was very annoying.
Two I had quite a few "battle wounds" more commonly known as "play fight scars" to account for.
Three: two lovely brands that could most definitely give up my real identity.
One the pirate brand I so sneakily covered up last night.
Two, the infamous sparrow flying over the water before a setting sun. This mark was given to all in the sparrow blood line at birth. My father has one just like it. ONLY Sparrow's hav'em. I have one. NO ONE must see it.
I resolved to cover it, by folding my arms.
The gallows we crowed. So- many a person wanted to witness my fathers final downfall. I didn't blame them.
From what I heard he ALWAYS got away. Not this time, no, not this time.
There he was. Upon the platform. Waiting....
Waiting for death- I suppose. Or maybe that ever-coming help that always saves him at the last minute. Waiting.
I was waiting... Waiting for that blast executioner to get and ease my worried mind. What if again he managed to escape? No. It wouldn't happen! I was here. I would stop him.
I was starting to get hot. Not only did I have a massive dress on but I had my good old swash-buckle clothes on underneath. Just in case. And that knife strapped to my leg. Only for emergencies.
I stood with Norrington. I was pale that day, suppose it was from lack or air because of the god forsaken dress, everyone else thought it was because of what Jack had done to me. What he ALMOST did to me.
The Commodore tried to comfort me... I was not satisfied. People were talking; they didn't think Jack Sparrow would meet his end today.. But he had to. Norrington assured me that the executioner would arrive soon.. But I was stuck listing to people talk. It was making me sick.
I began to fidget. In effort to calm me down Norrington grasp my right hand... and I let him. I did myself in.
Why he was examining my hand, I know not. But he saw them. That was all I needed to understand. He saw them. He almost through me across the out door hall.
"YOU!" He shouted, turning a dangerous shade or maroon. "You filthy, lying, law-breaking.. How did you do it? Drag them in on your plan? You PLOT?"
"No!" those realistically fake tears rolling. "You don't understand!" I didn't think it would work... He came closer.. All he wanted was proof.. My wrist.
"Pirate!" He yelled, catching Jack's attention as well.. That glint in his eyes; Jack would fall, I realized, if I fell too.
Norrington stopped. his eyes glued upon my wrist. The TATTOO!
The craziest laugh I had ever heard came from Norrington on that day. He laughed or ever, all the while never letting go of that painfully tight grip on my wrist. Once or twice he'd pint between me and Jack. So he knew what that sign meant.
"Why?" What the single word he could must for the moment.
"Because I HATE him." Short and simple.
"Of all the elaborate plans you could from WITH him..." He shook he head. "How did I not see it? The Turners.. Jack.. a simpering young women.. Beautiful, but scared. who wanted to visit her terror in the night. It was all planned." Honestly if this had been planned, this wouldn't have happened. "To get Jack out of something. or to get him in it.. You really are family."
Jack stopped gnawing at the ropes... his fool-hardy plan to escape whilst all attention on me and Norrington.
The turners stopped.. They had been still from the start really..
Most of all, I stopped.. My tears; my heart; my breath; I stopped- dead.
"What?" came an interested voice form the platform.
"You used your own daughter.. Smart. or stupid."
"I.. I- don't have a daughter."
"Oh yes you do!" he dragged me up to the platform and shoved my wrist under my father's nose.
"I have a daughter?"
Bloody fluffy bed spreads and mattresses.
Other then that my time at the Commodores was quite enjoyable. He pampered me. Too bad for him I'd be off as soon as I could ensure my dear dreadful father was dead.
Poor Norrington, with my being gone, he'd have no point in being around, and messing up other pirates lives. At lease whilst I was here, he had a good purpose to be around.
The first problem I ran into was this: the dress Norrington had so firmly insisted I wear.
One it was frilly.
Two it was lacy.
Three the sleeves only went to just below my elbow.
This presented me numerous problems.
One it was very annoying.
Two I had quite a few "battle wounds" more commonly known as "play fight scars" to account for.
Three: two lovely brands that could most definitely give up my real identity.
One the pirate brand I so sneakily covered up last night.
Two, the infamous sparrow flying over the water before a setting sun. This mark was given to all in the sparrow blood line at birth. My father has one just like it. ONLY Sparrow's hav'em. I have one. NO ONE must see it.
I resolved to cover it, by folding my arms.
The gallows we crowed. So- many a person wanted to witness my fathers final downfall. I didn't blame them.
From what I heard he ALWAYS got away. Not this time, no, not this time.
There he was. Upon the platform. Waiting....
Waiting for death- I suppose. Or maybe that ever-coming help that always saves him at the last minute. Waiting.
I was waiting... Waiting for that blast executioner to get and ease my worried mind. What if again he managed to escape? No. It wouldn't happen! I was here. I would stop him.
I was starting to get hot. Not only did I have a massive dress on but I had my good old swash-buckle clothes on underneath. Just in case. And that knife strapped to my leg. Only for emergencies.
I stood with Norrington. I was pale that day, suppose it was from lack or air because of the god forsaken dress, everyone else thought it was because of what Jack had done to me. What he ALMOST did to me.
The Commodore tried to comfort me... I was not satisfied. People were talking; they didn't think Jack Sparrow would meet his end today.. But he had to. Norrington assured me that the executioner would arrive soon.. But I was stuck listing to people talk. It was making me sick.
I began to fidget. In effort to calm me down Norrington grasp my right hand... and I let him. I did myself in.
Why he was examining my hand, I know not. But he saw them. That was all I needed to understand. He saw them. He almost through me across the out door hall.
"YOU!" He shouted, turning a dangerous shade or maroon. "You filthy, lying, law-breaking.. How did you do it? Drag them in on your plan? You PLOT?"
"No!" those realistically fake tears rolling. "You don't understand!" I didn't think it would work... He came closer.. All he wanted was proof.. My wrist.
"Pirate!" He yelled, catching Jack's attention as well.. That glint in his eyes; Jack would fall, I realized, if I fell too.
Norrington stopped. his eyes glued upon my wrist. The TATTOO!
The craziest laugh I had ever heard came from Norrington on that day. He laughed or ever, all the while never letting go of that painfully tight grip on my wrist. Once or twice he'd pint between me and Jack. So he knew what that sign meant.
"Why?" What the single word he could must for the moment.
"Because I HATE him." Short and simple.
"Of all the elaborate plans you could from WITH him..." He shook he head. "How did I not see it? The Turners.. Jack.. a simpering young women.. Beautiful, but scared. who wanted to visit her terror in the night. It was all planned." Honestly if this had been planned, this wouldn't have happened. "To get Jack out of something. or to get him in it.. You really are family."
Jack stopped gnawing at the ropes... his fool-hardy plan to escape whilst all attention on me and Norrington.
The turners stopped.. They had been still from the start really..
Most of all, I stopped.. My tears; my heart; my breath; I stopped- dead.
"What?" came an interested voice form the platform.
"You used your own daughter.. Smart. or stupid."
"I.. I- don't have a daughter."
"Oh yes you do!" he dragged me up to the platform and shoved my wrist under my father's nose.
"I have a daughter?"