The Truth about Tortuga
---
A/N: You're right. Jack's bullet holes are on the RIGHT side of his chest. RIGHT. That's what I meant. We apologize.
A/N II: Special thanks to Vee17, McTurtle, and misspresh for the reviews. You guys are the best!
A/N III: Vee, I don't know, are the lips metaphorical? Are they just a figment of his imagination? Are they simply an intangible creation of his heat-oppressed mind? The answer is no, but whatever. Just read on. All will be answered soon.
---
Evening twilight. The sweet bouquet that was Tortuga was not in its usual grace, and the intoxicating odor of alcohol amidst a fury of fists was not as strong as usual. The air was dense and, with the shortage of action, was allowed to fall upon the town like a blanket.
"Cap'n?"
Bootstrap's soft voice came from behind. It did not matter where. Bootstrap stood somewhere behind him. Not in front. Not beside.
"Cap'n," he said again. "Cap'n. Something's not right."
"Yes."
"Something's wrong."
Jack only nodded. This was the trouble with Bootstrap. Seemingly, he felt the need to repeat every thought in every sentence structure grammatically possible. Perhaps it was in order to stress the importance of his words. Perhaps he was prematurely senile.
"I can feel it."
"Yes, yes." The latter, Jack thought, was the more convincing reason.
"It's not normally like this, Tortuga."
Silence.
"It's different tonight."
Silence.
"I -"
"Can I ask you something?" The Captain turned around to face his crew, each with some horrifyingly ominous feature to boast of. Pintel's eye looked as though it would literally pop out of his head with a strong gust, for one. The Captain, however, faced the most normal-looking man of the crowd with a certain disgust.
"Something wrong, Cap'n?" Boostrap's black hair was slicked back in a style that seemed to suggest status above the rest of the Black Pearl's men. His features were distinct and handsome, and his facial hair was groomed and tidy.
"Something wrong?"
"Yes, Bootstrap, as a matter of fact. Do you remember our time in Singapore?"
Bootstrap stared at his Captain. "Yes. Yes, of course."
"And what did we agree we were going to do with you in Singapore if you didn't stop talking?"
Silence.
"Sorry, Cap'n. I thought that was only applicable in Singapore."
"Right, and now that you know it's not, be our guest." Jack smiled and nodded. A tilt of his head gave the crew permission to laugh.
"All in favor?" came Barbossa's high, booming voice, managed between mouthfuls of apple. It was his fetish. Always there was the pounding question of what desperate but terribly entertaining measures his First Mate would resolve to if all the apples aboard the Black Pearl should, say, mysteriously disappear.
"Aye," came unanimously.
"I should think you'd like to keep your tongue for your woman's sake, savvy? She'd like that."
"Understood. Won't 'appen again, Cap'n."
"Oh good." Poking and prodding at Bootstrap was common source of fun, but it never failed to please. The tense atmosphere was lifted, and the men began to laugh and speak loudly amongst themselves. Jack made his way across the dirt road that was Main Street in long strides. Given, Tortuga was terrifyingly boring without public lust and demonstrations of the extremities of alcohol consumption.
The Faithful Bride was, really, an oxymoron in Tortuga. Men and women willing and capable were rarely willing and capable of remaining true to their marital vows, and there was no better place to break one's marriage vows than inside the Faithful Bride itself.
It seemed as though the entire population of Tortuga (those willing, capable, and seemingly of age) had been jammed into said bar, minimizing their public demonstrations of lust in order to accommodate the space limitations. Yet, Tortuga deserved commendation for its underestimated attention span as a woman clumsily climbed atop a table in the center of the room, provoking drunkenly enthusiastic applause.
"I -"
A glass mug drops, shattering. Drunken laughter.
"I'd [inaudible] [inaudible] -"
Curses come. A fight has broken out in the back corner.
"- song -"
Laughter follows thunderous chatter.
"- for [inaudible] - special."
"I can't hear a bloody word she's saying," Jack leaned over to his First Mate, who nods in accord, and who then gestures towards Bootstrap Bill Turner, sitting behind the two men.
Bill had a most unusual look on his face, one usually reserved onboard the Pearl for nights wasted before barrels of rum during which he claimed to be having a conversation his dead mother and on his way to a pony ride. There was nothing else in his eyes but a short woman mouthing words passionately in a chaotic bar. Inaudible as she was, she was an angel, as her brown hair grazed her bare shoulders and fell down her back like a -
"Bootstrap."
Jack Sparrow knew it would not be much use. Bootstrap William Turner would remain fixed on his love for the remainder of her performance, after which they would retire to a room to express their unfaultering willingness and capability to become the only faithful bride and groom of Tortuga to one another.
Pitiful as it seemed, Jack understood. Esther's audience steadily increases each night, and her power to distract the able and willing men of Tortuga from their usual fights on the streets and bring it inside the bar lies not only on her face and body. She had an air of innocence, simplicity, and seemed to offer hope and tranquility in the face of desperate need. Ruined, handicapped men visited the Faithful Bride. Pirates who have sold themselves to a lifetime of pillaging and plundering visit to see a last shred of purity.
But Jack Sparrow was not a sold soul. With a pat on Barbossa's shoulder, he made his way to the dark stairs behind the bar. Black, creaking, they led him to where his heart and soul truly rested.
---
Next chapter:
- A black hallway
- Bare legs
- Red lips (So yes, they are literal)
---
A/N: You're right. Jack's bullet holes are on the RIGHT side of his chest. RIGHT. That's what I meant. We apologize.
A/N II: Special thanks to Vee17, McTurtle, and misspresh for the reviews. You guys are the best!
A/N III: Vee, I don't know, are the lips metaphorical? Are they just a figment of his imagination? Are they simply an intangible creation of his heat-oppressed mind? The answer is no, but whatever. Just read on. All will be answered soon.
---
Evening twilight. The sweet bouquet that was Tortuga was not in its usual grace, and the intoxicating odor of alcohol amidst a fury of fists was not as strong as usual. The air was dense and, with the shortage of action, was allowed to fall upon the town like a blanket.
"Cap'n?"
Bootstrap's soft voice came from behind. It did not matter where. Bootstrap stood somewhere behind him. Not in front. Not beside.
"Cap'n," he said again. "Cap'n. Something's not right."
"Yes."
"Something's wrong."
Jack only nodded. This was the trouble with Bootstrap. Seemingly, he felt the need to repeat every thought in every sentence structure grammatically possible. Perhaps it was in order to stress the importance of his words. Perhaps he was prematurely senile.
"I can feel it."
"Yes, yes." The latter, Jack thought, was the more convincing reason.
"It's not normally like this, Tortuga."
Silence.
"It's different tonight."
Silence.
"I -"
"Can I ask you something?" The Captain turned around to face his crew, each with some horrifyingly ominous feature to boast of. Pintel's eye looked as though it would literally pop out of his head with a strong gust, for one. The Captain, however, faced the most normal-looking man of the crowd with a certain disgust.
"Something wrong, Cap'n?" Boostrap's black hair was slicked back in a style that seemed to suggest status above the rest of the Black Pearl's men. His features were distinct and handsome, and his facial hair was groomed and tidy.
"Something wrong?"
"Yes, Bootstrap, as a matter of fact. Do you remember our time in Singapore?"
Bootstrap stared at his Captain. "Yes. Yes, of course."
"And what did we agree we were going to do with you in Singapore if you didn't stop talking?"
Silence.
"Sorry, Cap'n. I thought that was only applicable in Singapore."
"Right, and now that you know it's not, be our guest." Jack smiled and nodded. A tilt of his head gave the crew permission to laugh.
"All in favor?" came Barbossa's high, booming voice, managed between mouthfuls of apple. It was his fetish. Always there was the pounding question of what desperate but terribly entertaining measures his First Mate would resolve to if all the apples aboard the Black Pearl should, say, mysteriously disappear.
"Aye," came unanimously.
"I should think you'd like to keep your tongue for your woman's sake, savvy? She'd like that."
"Understood. Won't 'appen again, Cap'n."
"Oh good." Poking and prodding at Bootstrap was common source of fun, but it never failed to please. The tense atmosphere was lifted, and the men began to laugh and speak loudly amongst themselves. Jack made his way across the dirt road that was Main Street in long strides. Given, Tortuga was terrifyingly boring without public lust and demonstrations of the extremities of alcohol consumption.
The Faithful Bride was, really, an oxymoron in Tortuga. Men and women willing and capable were rarely willing and capable of remaining true to their marital vows, and there was no better place to break one's marriage vows than inside the Faithful Bride itself.
It seemed as though the entire population of Tortuga (those willing, capable, and seemingly of age) had been jammed into said bar, minimizing their public demonstrations of lust in order to accommodate the space limitations. Yet, Tortuga deserved commendation for its underestimated attention span as a woman clumsily climbed atop a table in the center of the room, provoking drunkenly enthusiastic applause.
"I -"
A glass mug drops, shattering. Drunken laughter.
"I'd [inaudible] [inaudible] -"
Curses come. A fight has broken out in the back corner.
"- song -"
Laughter follows thunderous chatter.
"- for [inaudible] - special."
"I can't hear a bloody word she's saying," Jack leaned over to his First Mate, who nods in accord, and who then gestures towards Bootstrap Bill Turner, sitting behind the two men.
Bill had a most unusual look on his face, one usually reserved onboard the Pearl for nights wasted before barrels of rum during which he claimed to be having a conversation his dead mother and on his way to a pony ride. There was nothing else in his eyes but a short woman mouthing words passionately in a chaotic bar. Inaudible as she was, she was an angel, as her brown hair grazed her bare shoulders and fell down her back like a -
"Bootstrap."
Jack Sparrow knew it would not be much use. Bootstrap William Turner would remain fixed on his love for the remainder of her performance, after which they would retire to a room to express their unfaultering willingness and capability to become the only faithful bride and groom of Tortuga to one another.
Pitiful as it seemed, Jack understood. Esther's audience steadily increases each night, and her power to distract the able and willing men of Tortuga from their usual fights on the streets and bring it inside the bar lies not only on her face and body. She had an air of innocence, simplicity, and seemed to offer hope and tranquility in the face of desperate need. Ruined, handicapped men visited the Faithful Bride. Pirates who have sold themselves to a lifetime of pillaging and plundering visit to see a last shred of purity.
But Jack Sparrow was not a sold soul. With a pat on Barbossa's shoulder, he made his way to the dark stairs behind the bar. Black, creaking, they led him to where his heart and soul truly rested.
---
Next chapter:
- A black hallway
- Bare legs
- Red lips (So yes, they are literal)