Chapter 3: Pearl
"It's not funny," Jack said with the faintest hint of a frown as he looked up at Bootstrap Bill's smirking face. "Stop laughin'." He started drumming his fingers on the table of a small tavern in Hastings, Barbados. The atmosphere in the sturdy wood building wasn't one you'd generally expect in a tavern-no one was ugly drunk. Sure, most of the men inside the tavern were narrowly walking the line between nearly-sober and nearly-dead, but none of them were getting into fist fights or yelling for strumpets. There was a lot of laughter, and just a bit of smoke, as the men lazily spent their meager pittance on a few drinks and cigars.
Bootstrap took a deep breath, as if trying to prepare himself to plunge into very cold water. Once his smirk was gone, he calmly said, "An' yer sure ye aren' joshin' me, Jack? This doesn' sound like ye a' all." He glanced around the room curiously, liking the atmosphere in here somehow.
"Would I joke abou' somethin' like this, William?" Jack retorted rather snappily. Sighing, a look of forlornness in his eyes, he picked up his flagon of rum and took a large swill while his left hand continued drumming the table.
"Ye look like a los' dog," Bootstrap said seriously as he eyed Jack carefully. "I think yer tellin' the truth." He winced slightly as Jack put his mug down on the table a bit harder than occasion warranted. "Wha' does she look like?"
"She 'as blue eyes, abou' the color o' the sea af'er a storm, wiv hair the color of spun gold," Jack said with a sickening sigh. "A very curvy body, in all the right places, an' a mean temper. Abou' five inches shorter'n I am, bu' lips as red as fire." He smiled dreamily.
Bootstrap was torn between disgust and sympathy as he watched Jack talk of the woman he'd met yesterday. Bootstrap had the sneaking suspicion she wasn't just another strumpet. "Well, did ye talk t' 'er?" he asked gently after a moment of silence.
"Aye, I talked t' 'er," Jack said, a frown appearing on his face. His whole countenance seemed to darken. "'Er name is Meagan, an' she's the daughter o' the local Reverend. Hardly 'ad anythin' t' say t' me a' all." The sound of his drumming fingers grew louder and louder as he tried to vent his frustration without drawing attention to himself in the curious tavern.
"I see," Bootstrap said sorrowfully. That explained why Jack was so on edge. It had taken more than a few drinks to get him to open his mouth and talk about what was bothering him, but Bootstrap had long ago learned patience was how you learned anything about Jack Sparrow. Patience and a lot of rum. A Reverend's daughter would never find a pirate a suitable match. "Jack, boy, maybe this is fer the bes'," he said optimistically.
"'Ow can it be for the bes'?" Jack asked sadly, picking up his mug again and finishing off the last of his third glass of rum. His left hand was almost hitting the table in frustration as he continued drumming his fingers.
"Jack, I know it doesn' seem like it now, bu' lovin' one woman an' lovin' the sea jus' don' mix." Bootstrap hoped to be getting his point across admirably well. "If the woman won' e'en talk t' ye, there's really no poin' pursuin' a relationship."
"Wha'?" Jack asked incredulously, the smile on his face disappearing in an instant. He looked like Bootstrap had just insulted him. "Ye think tha' I can't get 'er t' talk t' me?"
"No, Jack, tha's not it at all," Bootstrap insisted, slightly alarmed at how quickly Jack had changed his mood.
"There's no use in lyin' t' me, William," Jack said a bit bitterly. "I can tell. Ye think tha' I don' 'ave a chance wiv 'er, don' ye?" Jack really didn't know why he was acting like a teenaged boy, jumping at anything that could be considered an insult in the slightest way and wanting to rip someone's throat out. The drunken chatter ceased, the air seemed to make one's hair stand on end (which is called a piloerection), and everybody turned to look at Bootstrap and Jack,as though they could sense something was coming.
"Tha's not wha' I think," Bootstrap said quickly, painfully aware of all the stares headed their way. "I jus' think tha' ye don' wan' to try an' devote time to one woman. The sea is a cruel mistress, as ye've said t' me before." He seemed very uncomfortable with all the stares directed at himself and Jack, and he started shifting his weight from one leg to the other, giving the appearance of squirming under pressure.
Jack sighed, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. He was aware that there were people looking at him and Bootstrap curiously, but he didn't mind people looking at him; he'd lived with it most of his life. What he did mind, however, was the fact that he and Bootstrap stuck out like like a daisy in the midst of a dozen roses, and he suddenly felt the pirate brand on his arm sting. It would not be good if they were discovered to be pirates. "I suppose yer right," he conceded, stifling his anger like he would squash an annoying beetle. The tension suddenly released, the other denizens of the tavern stopped looking at the two and started drinking their alcohol, the atmosphere back to what it had been before, though a few people continued sending skewed looks towards the two.
"Glad ye see it tha' way, Jack," Bootstrap said with a relieved sigh, no longer shifting his weight uncomfortably. The fairly tall man did not like being the center of attention at all. Made him terribly aware of how much he looked at a pirate. Ever since seeing the brand on Jack's forearm, Bootstrap had become paranoid that he'd be caught and marked the same way, not realizing that the P would be burned into the skin on his forehead. Jack, through a bit of good luck, happened to have a friend in India who'd convinced the guards to put it on his arm instead.
Jack truly didn't see it that way. As a matter of fact, he planned to woo the girl just to spite Bootstrap, completely forgetting about Bootstrap's unhappy situation at home in England. It had been two years since he'd gone and retrieved his friend, anyway, so its no surprise he didn't remember Lauren, especially since he didn't want to remember her. "Aye," he said a bit coolly, putting his mug to his lips again and nearly finishing off the rum. He sighed and stood, paying for both himself and Bootstrap and swaggering his drunken way out of the bar.
Bootstrap was not daft-he realized that Jack was completely smitten with the girl. And he'd noticed how Jack hadn't finished his rum. This only happened when Jack happened to get some sort of plan running around his mind like a caged cougar.
Feeling rather silly dressed in normal clothes and with his hair pulled back like any respectable man's would be; Jack was waiting for someone to open the door to the Parish in Hastings. He'd managed to learn that Meagan's last name was Kent. It hadn't been all that hard to determine exactly where she lived, seeing as pastors of the day usually lived near the church or even in it, and Reverend Kent happened to live in the Parish. That little tidbit of information had only cost Jack a mere shilling-something he'd been more than happy to fork over to a small boy who'd cockily claimed he knew everything about Hastings. At one time in Jack's life, he'd offered to give tours of his home town in an attempt to earn enough money to get himself a sword to practice with. Of course, once his father had found out, Jack had expected a sound beating. Surprisingly, Richard had actually approved of Jack learning how to fight 'like a man', and had even enrolled him in some simple fencing classes.
The oak door slowly opened, and Jack found himself suddenly face to face with the object of his affection. Never before in his nearly twenty-five years had Jack seen someone so perfect (at least in his mind) or so beautiful. As she blinked to adjust her eyes to the beautifully streaming sunlight that rested upon her shoulders and made her hair shine like gold in a treasure chest recently brought into the light after years of being buried below the sandy shore of some ill-forsaken island. Feeling very unsettled, yet trying to sound cool and unconcerned, Jack said a simple, "Good afternoon, milady."
Meagan glanced Jack over quickly, wondering where she'd seen him before. There was something she couldn't place about him. As a matter of fact, she'd seen him a week ago; drunk as any man could ever get and whistling and singing and making lewd comments towards her. She'd let her temper flare towards Jack, and had nearly slapped him across the face after helping him get to a tavern to sleep off the alcohol he'd consumed. Being the daughter of a minister made it so Meagan felt obligated to help the less fortunate, and Jack had been completely wasted by six in the evening that night. She was wearing a simple cream dress which seemed to make her wide blue eyes even that more noticeable. "Good afternoon," she said pleasantly. "I'm sorry, sir, but my father is currently busy with one of the parishioners. You'll have to come back later."
Jack couldn't help but notice how beautiful and mystifying Meagan's smile was. She seemed to have a slight overbite, but her teeth were surprisingly white and straight. To Jack's ears, her voice sounded almost like gentle bells swaying in the breeze, and he wouldn't have been surprised in the least bit if she had a stunning soprano. Jolting himself back to reality, Jack reached into his pocket to produce a beautiful gold necklace with a single pearl at the bottom. "Well, actually, milady, I found this on the street and I wondered if perhaps someone living in yer household dropped it." The pearl at the bottom glistened irresistibly in the sunlight, the mother-of-pearl coating seeming to change into several pale colors all at the same time.
Meagan's eyes widened in surprise as she surveyed the necklace for a moment. The faintest hint of longing was visible in her eyes as she looked back at Jack, shaking her head slowly. Her hair, which happened to be in loose ringlets, bounced enchantingly over her creamy shoulders. "Alas, sir, but I've never seen such a necklace in my life. I'm afraid it must belong to someone else."
Jack frowned slightly, still holding the necklace temptingly. Of course he knew it wasn't her's. This was some crazy scheme to get her to actually look at him. "Well, milady, I've already been to all the houses up and down this street, and nobody claims tha' it belongs t' them."
"That is a shame, sir," Meagan said, her blue eyes developing a stronger look of longing and slight hope in them. "It is a very beautiful necklace."
"Aye, it is," Jack agreed, eager to establish common grounds with the fair woman. "Unfortunately, I 'ave no use for anythin' as fine as this, so I suppose I'll jus' 'ave t' put it back on the street."
Meagan slowly shook her head, glancing up into Jack's dark brown eyes with a slight look of alarm in her blue eyes. "Kind sir, I might be able to take the necklace and have my father, the Reverend, report it to the congregation. Mayhaps someone will claim it."
"I suppose I could do tha'," Jack said with a thoughtful voice. "Bu' there are many in this world who would claim to own the necklace fer their own gains. Perhaps I should just give it to you." He smiled faintly. "Unless yer father has instilled in ye such ideas tha' it is improper t' receive a gift from a total stranger."
"Well, he does say that," Meagan said with a tone of regret in her silky voice. She smiled suddenly, extending her hand to Jack. "I'm Meagan Kent, sir."
"Jack Sparrow," Jack said as he likewise extended his hand, gently grasping Meagan's smooth hand and shaking. "Now, I suppose yer father couldn' object to ye gettin' a gift from someone ye know, eh?"
"I don't think he'd object at all," Meagan said with a rueful smile as Jack handed her the beautiful necklace. She glanced back up at Jack. "Thank you, Mister Sparrow, for giving me such a beautiful trinket. I feel in your debt. Would you object to a walk in the park in an attempt for me to repay such kindness?"
Jack looked as though he was considering the offer, though he was truly ecstatic his plan had worked. Daniel had been very negative towards his idea, saying that it was a shallow attempt that Meagan would see through. And perhaps she did, but Jack was grateful she was still considering him as a possible suitor. He grinned one of his famous grins, slowly nodding his head. "Aye, that sounds like a good sort of repayment, Miss Kent. I'd be more'n 'appy t' go on a walk in the park wiv you." Jack hadn't completely forgotten the rules of proper behavior the past eight or so years he'd been a pirate.
Meagan smiled and laughed lightly. "I'll just go and inform my father and get my wrap, Mister Sparrow, and we can be off." Though it was very warm in the Caribbean, Meagan happened to be wearing a semi-improper dress at the moment. It was showing off her shoulders. Now, this sort of dress was fine in the evening at a dance or something, but for the early afternoon, fashion-sense demanded she cover her milky shoulders up. Not to mention, she needed to keep her skin from seeing the sun.
"I can hardly wait, Miss Kent," Jack said in response, his dark eyes carefully absorbing her appearance at the moment. Visions of getting married to the beautiful girl were running amok in his head, very much out of place for his usual train of thought when he met any woman. As she turned and left, Jack felt strangely sad, as though her appearance lifted his spirits much higher than they'd ever been lifted before. Something about Meagan reminded him of his sister, and Jack could remember the one time he'd ever considered the possibility of marriage. He'd been sure that the only girl for him would have to remind him of his twin sister, Jodi. And Meagan seemed to have the same teasing spirit just waiting to surface. Not to mention her sharp anger, which Jack happened to find incredibly attractive. Many women of the day were far too meek for Jack's liking; which was mostly due to the amount of time he'd spent with very vocal strumpets. Cultured and refined women seemed to think it was better to look pretty than flaunt their intelligence or even use their voice. Silly ideas, at least to Jack, but the sad truth. Women were thought more of trophies than actual human beings in many men's minds.
Meagan appeared a few moments later with an impish smile on her face. "Well, Mister Sparrow, my father seems to like the idea of me spending time with someone, so he was more than willing to give me permission." She was now clutching a pale blue shawl, her long fingers playing with a few tassels on the end.
"Well, tha's good," Jack replied, smiling and offering his arm to Meagan. She quickly put her hand through his after putting her shawl on. "I'm not from around 'ere, Miss Kent, so I'm afraid ye'll 'ave t' lead the way," Jack admitted as he helped her to walk down the stairs towards the cobblestone streets.
"Well, Mister Sparrow, perhaps I should give you a proper tour of Hastings another day. However, today I really must insist we see the park. The flowers are in bloom, and tomorrow there is some sort of function that will make the park very loud and not somewhere where I'd like to go. Father said that they've caught a few pirates, and there will be a hanging." Meagan smiled slightly and the two began walking towards the park, Jack thinking that perhaps some of his crew had been found doing something they shouldn't be. He tried to keep an optimistic frame of mind, for there were other pirates in the Caribbean. It wasn't too hard not to worry about it, for Meagan was very adept at keeping his mind on other things.
Alteng-I happen to live in Utah, and we'd laugh at an inch of snow too. And it is a bit surprising, but this is one of the times when my whole not paying attention to what I've said before happens to shine through. Pleased to notice you noticed that it doesn't make much sense. And I had to ease up on Barbossa, as you've pointed out. He'll eventually be a fairly like-able character, having grown out of his whole teenager-ish way. And Matthew...well, we'll learn more about him later. And I shall add Ragetti and Pintel...no worries. A few things have to happen first, that's all. Though, I don't think I'll be able to represent them nearly as well as you can.
Daisy- Perhaps you should bug me about it, then...say something like, "Have you been working on your chapter, or have you been wasting your free time doing something unconstructive like looking at the boards?" Guilt happens to work on me rather well, especially when I've got ideas to write about. This chapter is only, er, four days late. Much better than three weeks late...and a ski mask would sound like fun. Make it easier to rob a bank or something.
starwarsfreakford13-Thank you once again for all of your support. It is difficult some times to keep writing, because I start thinking that nobody reads my work. Tis people like you who keep me writing.
sunkist3208- When are you not hyper, Whitney? And they were on their way home from England...had to pick up Bootstrap, and Matthew still lived there, in South Hampton...and ideas are good. I'd give you a cookie if you told me about it, actually, if you can still remember it. I keep having problems with the whole time line as well...keep confusing myself.
DragonHunter200- Well, at least this is sooner than the last time I updated...and the next update, I hope, should be next Monday. If it isn't next Monday, it will be next Saturday, seeing as I'm going to a camp. And thanks for leaving your sentiments! I'm glad you thought it was original-actually it was an attempt to make myself want to write...didn't work too well. But I'm very familiar with being cold, so it was easier to write about...and well, I'm babbling so I'll stop typing. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks for all your support!