AN (8/16)-I have one more week of summer vacation left. And I don't know if I'll be able to update as frequently this school year-I've got AP English; which should be much more difficult than the English class I had last year in which I could write almost the entire hour and half. I got halfway through this chapter and realized I didn't like it...so, I'm starting fresh today.
Chapter 7:Advice
Water was pouring down from the skies, pelting man with such ferocity it made the skin sting in thousands of places. Of course, Captain Jack Sparrow could not feel the small pebbles of water as they made his kohl run down his face. He did not notice the bright flashes of lightning, nor quake as the loud thunder reverberated through the wood on the Black Pearl. Strong winds of nearly five knots whipped his hair into his face; the trinkets tied to his braids leaving small, yet deep, scratches across his cheek. And Jack couldn't feel a thing. There was no emotion on his face; it almost seemed like he was a statue made of fine marble, chiseled to have a blank face by some odd artist with the inability to express any emotion on his creations.
Numerous attempts had been made to try and get Jack out of this curious state. Each one had fizzled out like Chinese firecrackers that had been shoddily constructed. Jack would either just ignore the member of his crew trying to get the silent statue to speak or he would lash out at them. Daniel had tried three times. By the third attempt, Jack had nearly ordered the redhead to be whipped for insubordination. Which was odd; usually Jack and Daniel got along quite famously. The only members of the crew who hadn't at least tried once in the past week were Bootstrap, Matthew, and Barbossa. However, it really didn't seem that odd that they hadn't tried. After Jack nearly ordered Daniel's whipping, the rest of the crew decided they didn't want to try anymore. And who could really blame them? Jack would probably talk when he was ready to talk. Either that, or go insane. Only a select few actually knew why he was acting so out of character; the rest were just getting sick of a captain who didn't say anything.
The storm worsened as Jack stood next to the helm, mindlessly staring out at the horizon. He could see objects and people, but his mind didn't process what they were. There was an odd glossiness to his dark brown eyes, making them almost look like minute mirrors. It seemed like Jack wasn't even in his body. Or, if he was, he was trapped inside his own mind, only occasionally coming out to yell at people who wanted to help him through this ordeal. He hadn't even noticed the flow of his crew trying to help him had abruptly stopped when he'd struck Daniel across the face.
As the winds picked up, nearly reaching a fervor, Jack suddenly felt his shoulder get cooler as his wet clothes pressed down to his skin and a curious weight was there. His eyes lost a great deal of their curious sheen as he turned slightly to try and see who was trying to annoy him this time. As the rain dripped off his beard's two braids, Jack's eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't Daniel again. It was Hector Barbossa, his first mate. If it had been anyone else, Jack probably would have yelled at them, maybe even threatening to hit; but something about Barbossa seemed to placate that angry streak he'd been feeling of late. Which was odd; Barbossa usually made Jack rather uncomfortable. He turned all the way around, letting go of the helm and just noticing that the sails were lashed to keep them from tearing in the great winds. The rudder really wouldn't have made much of a difference as to the direction of the Pearl in the wind-swept ocean.
Barbossa was watching him analytically with his blue eyes, seemingly trying to figure out what was bothering his captain. He had no idea that Jack's heart felt as though it had been sliced in two with a cutlass. "Cap'n," he said finally, nearly yelling to be heard over the loud wailing winds and crashing of the sea against the hull of the Pearl. "There's no point in stayin' out during a storm like this one."
Jack blinked twice, more of the odd haze in his eyes disappearing. He glanced around, suddenly aware of how much the rain hurt as it pelted his face and how cold it was when the wind whipped his drenched clothes around. He sighed softly, his statuesque demeanor slowly melting. "I suppose ye be right," he said finally, nearly five minutes later. It was probably the fact that Barbossa had refused to move that had softened him the most.
"Why don' we 'ave a drink t'gether, then?" Barbossa asked a few moments later, clearly surprised that Jack had responded at all. "Ye'll catch yer death out 'ere in the storm." Odd how this statement didn't seem like motherly advice when issued from Barbossa's often chapped lips.
Jack slowly nodded, putting one foot slowly in front of the other and walking towards the stairs that led to the galley. It was odd to see him walk during a storm like this. While everyone else aboard any ship walked like a drunken man, he appeared to be walking in a straight line. Probably the only time his gait resembled that of a normal person.
Barbossa followed the dripping Jack down the polished stairs (which were only polished because they were constantly in use) and into the galley. As Jack numbly sat down on a rough wooden chair, he pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked a small chest. Spirits were off limit to the crew except during times of celebration. If the crew had access to the whiskey and rum inside the cabinet, the alcohol would be gone in a day and the crew would laze about for about three to compensate for it. Not a very efficient way to run a ship. Instead, the crew drank grog-a mixture of water and rum. It was more water than rum; for if the crew could actually get drunk off of grog, it would lead to lowered productivity levels. Barbossa grabbed a bottle of rum and a bottle of whiskey, hastily locking the cabinet again as Snide Shaine, Stout Sam, and Kaman gave the cabinet a longing look. He hastily shooed the crew members inside the galley out, commanding them to clean their cabins before he inspected them. As they scurried out, Barbossa sat down across from Jack and put the bottle of rum in front of his right hand. Something seemed to strike him as odd, and he asked, "Where'd ye get the ring?"
Jack looked as though he'd been stricken as he glanced down at the ring on the index finger of his right hand. There was, in fact, a new addition to his overall look. The silver and green ring he'd given Meagan now resided on his finger. She'd given the square ring back to Jack that horrible night in Hastings, and Jack felt like he was reliving the whole ordeal again. His left hand went to his cheek, rubbing it softly. "Got it in Hastings," he answered finally, avoiding the probing stare of Barbossa like the Black Death. Of course, the plague hadn't really been as devastating as it had been in the Middle Ages, but it was still a deadly killer. Any disease could potentially wipe out Jack's entire crew. Ships were havens for diseases, they were the perfect place for the germs to multiply and infect people due to the close quarters and oft-times inadequate food.
Barbossa didn't do anything as he absorbed that information. It was clear that something that happened in Hastings was bothering Jack, and that it had something to do with the ring. It was only obvious that some woman had spurned him rather badly-there was no other reason that seemed to fit the symptoms he was having. "I take i' tha' the lady ye gave tha' to gave it back, eh?" he finally asked a few minutes later after having a large drink of his whiskey.
Jack nodded, suddenly looking rather angrily at Barbossa. "How did ye know that?" He knew that somebody had to have lead Meagan to his room-he'd never told her he was staying at that tavern. And he'd narrowed it down to the only people who had known where he was-Barbossa, Bootstrap, Matthew, Ragetti, and Pintel. But Ragetti and Pintel didn't really seem to have the mental capacity necessary to do something so ruthless. They were bumbling fools, and from what Jack had cared to notice about them, they really knew nothing about sailing. Always getting into potentially dangerous situations. Jack couldn't think Bootstrap would do something like that to him-Bootstrap was his closest friend. Matthew was still a mystery to Jack, so it could've been him. But he suspected Barbossa the most.
"Jack, ye only made it obvious," Barbossa hastily replied. "There's only really three times in a man's life tha' 'e gets so despondent-when 'e firs' sees someone die, when 'e firs' kills someone, an' when 'e firs' loses the love o' his life." Barbossa smiled faintly. "Don' get mad a' me, Jack. I know wha' yer goin' through. Bu' there isn' any woman on this earth worth any more heart ache. Tis been a week."
Jack frowned, really wanting to punch Barbossa at the suggestion that he should forget about Meagan. Just thinking her name again made his heart want to burst. "I can be morose as long as I wan' to," he said coldly. "Don' tell me wha' t' do! Ye really don' know wha' I'm goin' through."
Barbossa frowned, taking a deep drink from his bottle of whiskey. "Jack, don' be such a self-centered man. Jus' because ye think tha' I don' know women exist doesn' mean tha' I 'aven' been in love." Barbossa spoke the word love with just the faintest hint of derision, looking rather disgusted at whomever had decided that love existed.
Jack calmed down slightly, giving Barbossa an incredulous look. Though he hadn't realized it, Jack really did think that Barbossa didn't realize women existed. He kept to himself when they went to port. "When were ye in love?" he asked shortly, figuring that Barbossa would never tell him.
Barbossa sighed softly, his blue eyes, with just a hint of yellow around the irises, full of a faraway look. "It was years ago, Jack," Barbossa finally said. Frowning, he looked Jack directly in the eyes. "What I say does no' leave the galley, is that clear?"
Jack nodded slowly. "Crystal clear. I won' tell a soul wha' ye'll tell me, on pain o' death." He smiled slightly to show he was serious. Actually, the whole idea of Barbossa telling him about his past seemed rather enjoyable. Yet at the same time, Jack didn't want to know. He liked trying to solve mysteries, and often made up stories about people to explain the way they acted.
Barbossa nodded. "Good. I don' wan' any of the crew t' know that I was once very much like ye are." He sighed softly, drumming his fingers on the table. Jack couldn't help but notice how dirty the man's fingernails were as he cocked his head to listen. Barbossa frowned slightly, continuing. "Well, Jack, I fell in love wiv a woman when I was abou' twenty three. She 'ad joined the same ship I was on at the time, though she was disguised as a man. 'Er disguise din' fool me a' all, but I din' mention the fact she was a woman to anyone else because I was so smitten wiv 'er. We courted for a while, in secret. Bu' then she revealed to the captain tha' she was a woman." Barbossa took a long drink from his whiskey, nearly finishing it off.
"Wha' 'appened?" Jack asked as Barbossa swallowed. He certainly hadn't expected something like this from the older man with stringy brown hair.
"Well, 'e fell in love wiv 'er, she fell in love with him, and I was completely forgotten about. The captain lef' the ship, bought a new one, an' invited me an' the woman t' join his crew. We both did, though the woman got a higher position than me." Barbossa frowned, wondering why he'd told Jack so much as it was.
Jack gave Barbossa a look of sympathy. "Well, a' leas' someone din' betray ye," he said softly. His mind was busy storing the information that Barbossa had given him. For a brief moment, Jack had the suspicion that Barbossa had loved his mother...but he'd immediately thrown that thought out of his mind. His mother wouldn't have ever given someone like Hector Barbossa serious thought. She probably came into the story a few years later-Calico Jack had always liked having more than one woman aboard.
"Someone betrayed ye?" Barbossa asked, throwing aside his unusual aura of recounting his past. "Wha' 'appened?" He looked at Jack sympathetically, finishing off the last of his bottle of whiskey.
Jack sighed and grabbed the bottle of rum in front of where his left hand was now residing. He opened it and quickly downed half of it before replying. "Well, I go' meself really drunk one night. Invited a strumpet an' was 'avin' a good time. Bu' someone wen' an' tole Meagan abou' the whole thing, and she came t' me room an' saw me at a rather inopportune momen'."
"Ah," Barbossa commented. No wonder Jack had been so angry the past week. It was obvious that one of the crew had to have done it-no one else would've known where he was staying. "I wasn' e'en aware tha' ye were seeing anyone," Barbossa candidly said a few moments later to dispel any thoughts that he'd done it from Jack's mind.
"I know," Jack said heavily. He frowned, downing half of what was left in the bottle. "I really think tha' it was William. Bu' I don' wan' t' think tha'. 'E's me bes' friend, an' I jus' can't believe 'e'd do somethin' so underhanded."
Barbossa nodded. "Aye, I know. But it probably was 'im. I don' think tha' anyone else realized ye were seeing someone seriously." He sighed softly, though there seemed to be a bit of a spark of what could inaccurately be described as gladness in his eyes.
Jack frowned, glancing at Barbossa with a saddened look. "Ye were supposed t' tell me it wasn' 'im. Now I'll 'ave t' confront 'im, an' tha' won' turn out well a' all." He angrily set the bottle of rum back onto the table, glancing down and watching the contents slosh around.
"Perhaps 'e jus' thought he was doing what was best fer ye, Jack," Barbossa sagely said. "He doesn' seem t' like 'is marriage t' tha' Lauren woman a' all. Maybe 'e wanted t' save ye from wha' 'e thought was a mistake." The older man shrugged, glancing down at his bottle of whiskey and wishing it would refill itself.
"Perhaps," Jack replied, moodily picking up the bottle and taking another drink of whiskey. It was true that Bootstrap was less than happy with Lauren. Jack had only seen him write her two letters the past few years. Unlike his brother-in-law, Matthew, who was constantly bragging about his wife and children, Bootstrap would only bring up the topic of Lauren and his son William if perturbed to do so. If he was drunk enough, Bootstrap would talk about his son. But he never did like to say anything about Lauren if he couldn't help it.
"I'm fairly sure tha's the only reason he'd ever wan' t' hurt yer feelin's, Jack. Bootstrap is yer bes' supporter." Barbossa sighed softly, seeming a bit put-off by admitting this. "Besides, it probably is bes' tha' ye did leave 'er. As Calico Jack always said, "women are jus' a load of trouble. An' love is a fairy tale they make up in order t' keep ye around." Ye should follow 'is advice an' forget abou' this Meagan."
"I really don' wan' t' forget abou' 'er, though," Jack admitted softly. "She was the mos' perfect thing I've ever seen, an' I let 'er down." He started spinning his rum bottle around, watching the alcohol splash the sides as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Not that there was much left in the bottle, but the little bit still in there was enough to slosh around like waves on a very turbulent sea. The pitching of the Pearl had lessened somewhat during Jack and Barbossa's conversation, though the small leak near the door was still letting water through in a fairly steady stream.
"Jack, there be no sense in beatin' yerself up. Wha's done is done. If she couldn' accept the fac' tha' ye've sowed yer oats wiv someone else before, then she obviously wasn' the girl for ye. Yer a pirate, Jack, an' ye couldn' stay faithful even if ye wanted to. It wouldn' 'ave worked out in a million years." Barbossa glanced earnestly at Jack, wishing he could impart some of the knowledge he'd slowly gained over his life to the saddened captain.
"Yer probably right," Jack finally relented. He knew it was true-as real as his love for Meagan had been, he already found it to be fading. And he'd only been away for a week. Even if they hadn't been in a fight, Jack doubted he could've stayed loyal to her. If he'd married her, he would've eventually tired of life at land, just like Bootstrap. Perhaps the gangly pirate had done him a favor, but Jack really just wanted to be mad at him.
"Of course I'm right," Barbossa replied. "I've seen it all before. Many a fine sailor gets it in their 'ead tha' they need t' marry someone. An' more than 'alf of the time, 'e ends up leavin' 'er for months or years at a time t' answer the call t' his true love, the sea." He sighed, slowly standing up and putting the whiskey bottle in a small rubbish bin by the door. Oddly enough, the rubbish bin was nearly full of water as Barbossa noticed another leak. "Ye know, Jack, we migh' 'ave t' do an overhaul o' the Pearl again. She's a very old ship, an' tis been quite a while since the las' one."
Jack nodded, still deep in thought. He supposed that what Barbossa had said was true. His first love was of the sea. And he decided that any woman who'd take him away from the sea wasn't for him. "Aye, we should. Probably before we go t' Asia, eh?" Chuckling slightly, Jack finished off the last of his rum and stood up. Of course, the idea of going to Asia had just struck him as a rather good idea. It would help him to get his mind off Meagan if he went somewhere with completely different customs.
"Probably," Barbossa replied, rather surprised to hear Jack say that. He smiled faintly, however, as he noticed that Jack was determined to act more like himself. This was very good, for the crew had started to slack a bit. Not to mention the fact that Barbossa almost felt like a father-figure. This was a rather odd feeling for the pirate, but he happened to slightly like it.
DragonHunter200-Don't worry, I gave Jack a slap from each of my loyal reviewers for treating Meagan that way. And this isn't the last of her that we'll see. But I'm giving away too much...sorry for taking so long. Had a bit of a case of writer's block.
Daisy-Well, maybe you shouldn't distract me so much. Or, perhaps you should poke me. Then I'd work on my chappie more often. Makes my replying rather slow, if you didn't notice today. And I'm glad Jack ish single again. Someone that hot shouldn't be tied down to one girl.
sunkist3208- Poor Whitney and the whole starting school a few days before me. I know how you feel. But you shouldn't give up hope on updating before Wednesday. I know you can do it! And thanks for your support! I wouldn't be able to keep it up without reviews...
Alteng- I don't know...but that is a rather good question. I suppose Jack was too wasted to realize that the door was unlocked. At least, I think that would be his excuse. And it was rather cold of Bill. But you've got to remember-Jack was marooned and Bootstrap wasn't. There must've been some fallout some time. And I hope you liked my portrayal of Barbossa this time. He seems to always be changing his character in my mind.
Rachel Sparrow- Well, perhaps Bootstrap is a bit of a hypocrite. Hopefully Barbossa's thoughts can somewhat clarify why Bootstrap did what he did...unless it was Matthew. Well, it wasn't Matthew. But it could've been...and thanks for the review!
Aliana Archer- I've been wondering where you disappeared to...but thanks for discovering my sequel! And thanks for the loverly review. But Barbossa won't stage that coup for quite a while yet...
Jack-No one else here is Jack. This is my response to you. And I'm glad that you caught the whole emerald eyes. Actually, in the first draft, she had brown eyes the color of a coconut tree...thank you immensely for the review!