Jack Sparrow doesn't love anyone.
Not anyone alive, if his dear departed mother counts. She's more a story anyhow, a sweet round face above his in the cradle; a couple of games and an apron string that cut itself when he first saw the ocean. Was he a whore's son ? Or a mermaid's ? Doubtful. She was surely more like one of the countless ones he's entangled himself with and then forgotten; a smattering of good and bad women sighing at their windowsills for the moon, or a man like it. She knew a few songs and taught them to Jack, and he'll sing them until he dies. That's as good a monument as one gets on this earth.
Elizabeth knows a few songs like that. It would be worrisome if he could remember why. When she appears on the ladder before him, she sways a long moment at the top, wincing in the sunlight. She listens to him singing.
"Per'aps my love may die in misery
and his boots be battered by the sea;
though my love's deceit is plain to see
how I wish that he'll return to me."
It goes on like that for a while, and does not get any better; neither grammatically or dramatically. But Jack has a good voice, a simple one that's suited to a simple story. He finishes with a flourish, and takes his hands off the wheel to sweep a bow.
Her amusement is plain on her face, like everything she feels. She's honest as the sun.
"That's a woman's song, Jack."
"Aye."
"I'll speak no ill of your reputation," she grins, and swings her long limbs into a tangle on the deck, "seeing as you're already taking care of that."
"You want it done right, you've got to do it yourself." he chides, and offers to let her steer. She stands up and regards it like a dangerous animal. "Come on, come on, woman. What did I just tell you ?"
"It's your ship." she says blankly. "It's the Pearl."
"If last night's made you stupid, I'll never forgive myself." he snarls, and grabs her hands. Before she can withdraw and slap him, he wraps her fingers around the wood and lets go. Nothing happens. Her relief is evident. For a while, they stand together, him leaning on the rail, telling her directions and making fun of her rigid posture until she swears at him fiercely and relaxes.
The Pearl cuts on through the water, sleek as a panther and twice as gentle. The rest of the crew runs here and there, tying off ropes and lazily shucking potato peels at one another; Gibbs is trying to finish the same story for the third time that day, and nobody's letting him get to the good bit. It is so average, so mundane, that Elizabeth forget where she is for a moment, and then Jack smiles at her and the warmth between her thighs returns.
"I, uh- it wasn't very ladylike of me." she sputters, apropos of nothing; but he nods.
"Good for you." he says, and pats her on the back. He swings a leg over the ladder and she nearly releases the wheel.
"Where are you going ? I can't do this all day !"
"Can't you ?" he says, and disappears; and she hates it when he's right.
Hours later, when her feet cannot hold her and her arms are bone-weary; as she's handing the ship over to Anamaria, who looks fresh as a daisy and twice as sharp, somebody yells "Land ho !"