Disclaimer: No explanation necessary.
Note: Wow! You guys are so wrapped up it this! I'm so excited! I hear what you are saying, but since there are only so many times these poor characters can leap off of moving ships, "Mine words are the ones we'll be trusting". . . Here goes!
Here's To Freedom (Chapter 18)
Elizabeth pressed the heels of her hands against her temples in an effort to silence the legion if mutants that were drumming furiously on her brain, but to no avail. She had been trapped on this floating asylum for a little more than three days, but the crew's incessant hollering and shouting had already driven her to the brink of insanity and back again. She wanted to go home.
With a frustrated sigh, she hurried through the dark hull, lined with drunken pirates, just passing the time . . . in the most boisterous and obnoxious ways known to man, and burst forth onto the main deck for some peace and quiet.
"Da, duh, dum da, deedle . . . and really bad eggs . . ."
"No such luck," she muttered, narrowing her eyes and looking over her shoulder to find Jack hanging over the wheel, looking semiconscious, at best. Turning on her heel, she walked over to him and said sharply, "Good evening, Captain."
Rolling his kohl-rimmed eyes, he motioned for another sailor to take the helm and replied, "If you say so, Miss Turner" before retreating to the bow to contemplate his circumstances . . . again.
She wasn't about to let him get away that easy, so she followed him up the creaking wooden steps to the railing where he stood, drowning himself in rum. She squinted against the dully lit fog that had immersed the vessel upon dusk's arrival and eyed his flask curiously. "Wait . . . isn't that Mister Gibbs' flask, Jack?"
He winced at her words and took another gander at it before emptying the worn leather pouch of its contents. "So it is. You always were a perceptive lass."
Resting her elbows on the polished wood, moist with the spray of the sea, she stared off into the darkening night and asked, "Whatever happened to him, anyway?" Elizabeth couldn't find anything wrong with her question until he responded with mere silence and refused to meet her eyes.
Shaking his head, he dropped his gaze to the whitecaps lapping at the keel of the Cara Mia and replied, "He's dead." Jack heard her gasp and felt her touch his forearm, but he ignored it. He didn't like the emotions it dredged up in him and he hardly ever spoke of the incident to anyone, but she deserved to hear the truth.
Raising his eyes to the sky, he held back the sorrow and elaborated on his admission. "We were in Curacao, I forget why, now, but we were there none the less. The men had just come off this huge raid with money to burn, but Gibbs refused to spend it, seein' as he'd been savin' up to send it to his boy back home, who was taking care of his mum."
"I had no idea he was a husband . . . a father," Elizabeth said, her heart heavy at the news of his passing. She almost didn't want to hear how Jack's story ended, hoping for him to crack a grin and say that it was only in jest and that Gibbs was really home with the ones he loved. It would have been easier that way.
"And a damn fine one at that, if you don't mind me saying so. Anyway, the joint we had been frequenting was held up by a bunch of amateurs with cutlasses and dreams of grandeur. They held him up and told him to hand over his purse. When he didn't, they shot him." Jack sighed sadly and trembled visibly as the guilt and horror plagued him once more. He hated this story. He really did.
Elizabeth stood in silence as tears rolled down her cheeks, unable to describe the disgusting sinking feeling that had taken root in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't recall a more terrible story, showcasing human nature in all of its flawed glory, than that which Jack had finished regaling her with.
"I'm sorry, Jack," she murmured softly, unable to even bring herself to look the man in the eyes again. She suddenly felt horrible about being so hard on him earlier. From the looks of things, he had enough he was killing himself for; more guilt from her was the last thing he needed.
Plastering a smile on his face, he replied jovially, "Ah, hell, you didn't do anything wrong, didja, luv. Life goes on, 'ey?"
"Jack," she began, "What exactly happened between you and Natalie?"
The captain, who had been mid-guzzle from another glass bottle, coughed and sputtered as her words allowed rum to seep into all of his insides, burning like a wild fire on its way down. His eyes watering from the sensation, he choked out, "For Jude's sake! An' you call me uncouth!"
Elizabeth eyed him with little amusement and added, "I know it's rather bold of me to ask, but I have to know. She's my sister."
Turning to face her, he rested his hand on his lower back and said, "That she may be, but she's a grown woman as well. That gives her the right to keep her business private." Shaking his head, he turned away and sighed under his breath, "No wonder why she left."
"Excuse me?!" Elizabeth said, quickly growing irate again. "What do you mean, Jack? You kidnapped her . . . remember?"
He gave her a sidelong glance and twitched his mustache, replying "Come on, luv. Does it really sound like me to take a hostage?"
Waving her arms wildly above her head, she cried, "You did it to me on the docks, are you completely daft?!"
"No, no, no," Jack said, "I never took you with me. Thank heavens . . . I wouldn't have lasted the week. Natalie never wanted to marry Charles, an' you kept pushing them together. She didn't want to let you or the governor down, so she left."
Elizabeth felt her heart come to a shuddering stop. So that was it. Not only had she caused problems with young Master Eaton, but she had also caused her own sister to feel trapped enough to flee her home for freedom.
It hadn't been too long ago when she too had favored adventure to parties, and deep down she still detested life in a cage. The only thing keeping her sane and obedient was Will. Just the thought that she had hurt Natalie so made her sick.
"I--I . . ."
Jack immediately held up his hands. "No, Miss Turner. I'm not the one you should be explaining this to."
She snapped her mouth shut, but sent him a genuine smile. "Thank you, Jack."
He furrowed his brow and spun about briefly, half expecting that damn monkey of the late Barbossa to be hanging there, screeching like the devil he was, but there was nothing but the night. "Thanking me? Whatever for? I didn't do anything."
"Thanks for taking care of Natalie," Elizabeth replied, brushing her hand across his cheek before turning to walk away. "Lord knows, the rest of us couldn't get through to her, but I'm glad somebody did. You made her happy, I just know it."
With that, she moved back down to the main deck, but called behind her, "I'm rooting for you, Jack."
* * * *
Natalie sat in a detached silence, sitting on a coil of rope beside the low wall of the Dauntless' starboard side. Her head sat heavily in the palm of her right hand, for after almost four days of sleepless nights and stressful days, she had grown incredibly weary. She spent most of her time on deck, away from her father, her fiancée, her soon-to-be father-in-law, and the commodore, seeking solace the peaceful harmony of the sea and sky.
In the distance, she could see the harbor lights of Port Royale, just tiny specks, growing a tiny bit bigger with each charging motion onward of the great vessel, and couldn't stop the painful tightening in her chest at the sight of it. This was home . . . but why didn't it feel that way anymore.
* * * *
See! That's why I didn't have them swim back to their respective ships, there's more to come . . . Stay tuned!
Note: Wow! You guys are so wrapped up it this! I'm so excited! I hear what you are saying, but since there are only so many times these poor characters can leap off of moving ships, "Mine words are the ones we'll be trusting". . . Here goes!
Here's To Freedom (Chapter 18)
Elizabeth pressed the heels of her hands against her temples in an effort to silence the legion if mutants that were drumming furiously on her brain, but to no avail. She had been trapped on this floating asylum for a little more than three days, but the crew's incessant hollering and shouting had already driven her to the brink of insanity and back again. She wanted to go home.
With a frustrated sigh, she hurried through the dark hull, lined with drunken pirates, just passing the time . . . in the most boisterous and obnoxious ways known to man, and burst forth onto the main deck for some peace and quiet.
"Da, duh, dum da, deedle . . . and really bad eggs . . ."
"No such luck," she muttered, narrowing her eyes and looking over her shoulder to find Jack hanging over the wheel, looking semiconscious, at best. Turning on her heel, she walked over to him and said sharply, "Good evening, Captain."
Rolling his kohl-rimmed eyes, he motioned for another sailor to take the helm and replied, "If you say so, Miss Turner" before retreating to the bow to contemplate his circumstances . . . again.
She wasn't about to let him get away that easy, so she followed him up the creaking wooden steps to the railing where he stood, drowning himself in rum. She squinted against the dully lit fog that had immersed the vessel upon dusk's arrival and eyed his flask curiously. "Wait . . . isn't that Mister Gibbs' flask, Jack?"
He winced at her words and took another gander at it before emptying the worn leather pouch of its contents. "So it is. You always were a perceptive lass."
Resting her elbows on the polished wood, moist with the spray of the sea, she stared off into the darkening night and asked, "Whatever happened to him, anyway?" Elizabeth couldn't find anything wrong with her question until he responded with mere silence and refused to meet her eyes.
Shaking his head, he dropped his gaze to the whitecaps lapping at the keel of the Cara Mia and replied, "He's dead." Jack heard her gasp and felt her touch his forearm, but he ignored it. He didn't like the emotions it dredged up in him and he hardly ever spoke of the incident to anyone, but she deserved to hear the truth.
Raising his eyes to the sky, he held back the sorrow and elaborated on his admission. "We were in Curacao, I forget why, now, but we were there none the less. The men had just come off this huge raid with money to burn, but Gibbs refused to spend it, seein' as he'd been savin' up to send it to his boy back home, who was taking care of his mum."
"I had no idea he was a husband . . . a father," Elizabeth said, her heart heavy at the news of his passing. She almost didn't want to hear how Jack's story ended, hoping for him to crack a grin and say that it was only in jest and that Gibbs was really home with the ones he loved. It would have been easier that way.
"And a damn fine one at that, if you don't mind me saying so. Anyway, the joint we had been frequenting was held up by a bunch of amateurs with cutlasses and dreams of grandeur. They held him up and told him to hand over his purse. When he didn't, they shot him." Jack sighed sadly and trembled visibly as the guilt and horror plagued him once more. He hated this story. He really did.
Elizabeth stood in silence as tears rolled down her cheeks, unable to describe the disgusting sinking feeling that had taken root in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't recall a more terrible story, showcasing human nature in all of its flawed glory, than that which Jack had finished regaling her with.
"I'm sorry, Jack," she murmured softly, unable to even bring herself to look the man in the eyes again. She suddenly felt horrible about being so hard on him earlier. From the looks of things, he had enough he was killing himself for; more guilt from her was the last thing he needed.
Plastering a smile on his face, he replied jovially, "Ah, hell, you didn't do anything wrong, didja, luv. Life goes on, 'ey?"
"Jack," she began, "What exactly happened between you and Natalie?"
The captain, who had been mid-guzzle from another glass bottle, coughed and sputtered as her words allowed rum to seep into all of his insides, burning like a wild fire on its way down. His eyes watering from the sensation, he choked out, "For Jude's sake! An' you call me uncouth!"
Elizabeth eyed him with little amusement and added, "I know it's rather bold of me to ask, but I have to know. She's my sister."
Turning to face her, he rested his hand on his lower back and said, "That she may be, but she's a grown woman as well. That gives her the right to keep her business private." Shaking his head, he turned away and sighed under his breath, "No wonder why she left."
"Excuse me?!" Elizabeth said, quickly growing irate again. "What do you mean, Jack? You kidnapped her . . . remember?"
He gave her a sidelong glance and twitched his mustache, replying "Come on, luv. Does it really sound like me to take a hostage?"
Waving her arms wildly above her head, she cried, "You did it to me on the docks, are you completely daft?!"
"No, no, no," Jack said, "I never took you with me. Thank heavens . . . I wouldn't have lasted the week. Natalie never wanted to marry Charles, an' you kept pushing them together. She didn't want to let you or the governor down, so she left."
Elizabeth felt her heart come to a shuddering stop. So that was it. Not only had she caused problems with young Master Eaton, but she had also caused her own sister to feel trapped enough to flee her home for freedom.
It hadn't been too long ago when she too had favored adventure to parties, and deep down she still detested life in a cage. The only thing keeping her sane and obedient was Will. Just the thought that she had hurt Natalie so made her sick.
"I--I . . ."
Jack immediately held up his hands. "No, Miss Turner. I'm not the one you should be explaining this to."
She snapped her mouth shut, but sent him a genuine smile. "Thank you, Jack."
He furrowed his brow and spun about briefly, half expecting that damn monkey of the late Barbossa to be hanging there, screeching like the devil he was, but there was nothing but the night. "Thanking me? Whatever for? I didn't do anything."
"Thanks for taking care of Natalie," Elizabeth replied, brushing her hand across his cheek before turning to walk away. "Lord knows, the rest of us couldn't get through to her, but I'm glad somebody did. You made her happy, I just know it."
With that, she moved back down to the main deck, but called behind her, "I'm rooting for you, Jack."
* * * *
Natalie sat in a detached silence, sitting on a coil of rope beside the low wall of the Dauntless' starboard side. Her head sat heavily in the palm of her right hand, for after almost four days of sleepless nights and stressful days, she had grown incredibly weary. She spent most of her time on deck, away from her father, her fiancée, her soon-to-be father-in-law, and the commodore, seeking solace the peaceful harmony of the sea and sky.
In the distance, she could see the harbor lights of Port Royale, just tiny specks, growing a tiny bit bigger with each charging motion onward of the great vessel, and couldn't stop the painful tightening in her chest at the sight of it. This was home . . . but why didn't it feel that way anymore.
* * * *
See! That's why I didn't have them swim back to their respective ships, there's more to come . . . Stay tuned!