I love my reviewers. :)
Lonaargh--Glad ya like it. Here's Chapter 5! (And your grammar was fine...I would have never known you weren't a native English-speaker.) Thanks for reviewing!
From that day on, life was beautiful. Difficult at times, but it never ceased to emanate the absolute beauty of love. They spent months at sea, only stopping when it was absolutely necessary. It wasn't as much the "pirate life", as they spent most of their time at sea lounged on the decks with half-empty bottles of rum as opposed to commandeering anything, but it was a beautiful sea life nonetheless. And it was this life that became their ultimate downfall.
It was October. The night winds were gusty and chilling, even in the warm Caribbean waters. Jack, seated on the deck, leaning against the mast, ran his fingers over the rim of the empty bottle next to him. Stella, a few feet away, lay sprawled against the rail of the ship. (It was a boat, really. "Ship" was merely a term of endearment.) Stella, the more detail-oriented of the two, looked to the sky and turned to Jack with a jerk. "Are we on course? Because..."
"And what course would that be?" Jack asked.
"The course to..."
Jack cut her off, with an intoxicated, incomprehensible mumble. "We have no course....My only course is by the guidance of the stars in your eyes, by the daylight that lingers in your arms..." Jack mumbled and attempted to come to her side, but failed, sliding down about halfway through his journey.
"And I seem guided by the fact that you have had entirely too much rum tonight!" Stella joked. "Come now--"
Jack cut her off again. "Really, why do we really need a course to follow? When there's so much ocean unseen, why take the path taken before?"
Stella paused, actually considering that there might be something to his ramblings. "You're quite right. But what if we didn't know where we were, and had run out of food?" She was almost amused that she was debating him in this state.
"Aye, I don't know. I suppose we'd have to pack a lot of rum!" Jack rolled over on his back to view the sky. After a moment of silence, he rolled back on his side towards Stella. "I much prefer the view over here," he said, smiling. He looked at her intently until his eyes felt so heavy he could look no longer. His face molded to the rocking wooden deck, and he fell asleep.
The next morning, Stella awoke abruptly to cannon fire. She quickly pulled her back from the mast to see what was going on. On the way up, her foot caught on Jack's heavy arm and she turned back. She bent down and gently shook him, attempting to awake him as nicely as possible. He did not like being awoken, and she knew this. "Jack, Jack, please wake up, there's something going on, come on." This failed to wake him, so she tried a bit louder. "Jack, JACK. WAKE UP." Still nothing. "JACK. SOMEONE STOLE THE RUM!"
"WHAT THE BLOODY 'ELL!" Jack's arms flung to the air as he jumped up.
"Jack, the rum's fine. But I heard cannon fire. Close cannon fire, too." Stella said sternly.
"Oh, that's good. I mean, it's not good, we need to check it out sufficiently so we can go back to sleep."
Jack and Stella carefully looked out over the rail, and were able to make out a rather large ship coming their way. Jack went to one of the benches on the deck below, opened it up, and pulled out a very rusted telescope. He brought it up quickly, then looked out towards the oncoming ship. "Bloody 'ell. Iago," he murmured nervously.
"Iago?" questioned Stella, "The same Iago that threw me out of a boat?"
"It was a ship. The very same ship that's coming very rapidly towards us, so if you would please start adjusting the sails to allow us to get away?" Jack commanded quietly.
"Get away?" Stella repeated, rather surprised. "As in not fighting them?"
"Stel, when you're on a small boat with two people who have nothing to fight with but rum bottles, an unloaded pistol and a rusty sword, it is not the opportune time to exact your revenge on a crew of fifty men, savvy?" Jack commented with his usual quick sarcasm.
Stella reluctantly went for the sails, but she knew that at the pace the ship was moving at, there would be no escape.