Savvy-Rum-Drinker: Wow! *blushes* What can I say to a complement like
that! ;)
A/N: As I planned it, this story won't be including Jack for much too long of a time so I'm trying to decide whether or not I should stick an extra Jack-only chappie in here. The one problem is that I don't have any idea what it would be about!
=======================================
The people of Port Royal soon forgot their strange new guests, and as Wilde and his men did little to disturb the peace they were left primarily to their own devices.
The sailors took immediately to wandering about the town, especially the marketplace, and lingering in doorways and the mouths of alleys. At any scene of revelry or nearly any place they were not wanted, they had a habit of appearing, much to the disgruntlement of Port Royal's neighborly citizens. The strangers never caused any trouble insomuch as being caught in any brawls or indecent crimes, and for as much as the people disliked them Wilde and his men roved safely and gave no one a chance to put them away. Consequently, since they were not liked they could be ignored if anything else. And so they were.
Elizabeth, for her part, had seen enough sailors to last her a lifetime. From the haven of the Governor's mansion, seafaring men had always been somewhat of a novelty and had held a very large place in Elizabeth's heart as a sort of fantastical breed. Now, living down ' i' the docks' had led her to taste the rather unpleasant reality of life among the sailors, and since her capture by pirates three years hence every notion of romanticism had been stripped from her adolescent dreams of the sea. Elizabeth had heard some gossip concerning Wilde and his men. She had swiftly labeled them as ill-begotten miscreants, and had been one of the first in Port Royal to forget their presence.
Now as she crossed through the busy market square completely involved in shopping she was unaware that she was being watched by one of the very men who's birth she had insulted and whom she had unfairly christened with a belittling title. Elizabeth walked slowly up and down the long row of carts that were laden with poultry, fish, and myriads of fruits and vegetables, pausing every now and then to thump her hand over the tough rind of a melon or to test the weight of an egg in her palm. All the time the sailor watched her from his post at the far corner of the square.
Then suddenly, he disappeared.
No one noticed his absence for whether he wished for invisibility or had been given it irreprehensibly by business-minded townspeople, he had achieved it to some end.
Elizabeth was still laboring over a case of tomatoes, trying hard to tell if they were good when Wilde arrived with the sailor who's subtle presence had graced the square only moments ago. Their eyes were on Elizabeth.
Wilde stood watching her for some time, his dark reptilian eyes flickering over her, taking her in. Finally he motioned for his companion to lean in for a question.
"What's her name?" he asked. The other man shook his head.
"I don't know."
Wilde reached out and grabbed the brown jacket of a passing gentleman. Pulling him aside the Captain motioned toward the figure of Elizabeth by the vegetable cart.
"Pray forgive my asking but I wish to know the name of yon fine lady there," he explained. The gentleman – a fat, priggish, comedically dignified dandy – shaded his tiny eyes with his hand and surveyed Elizabeth for a moment.
"That's Mrs. Turner," he told Wilde matter-of-factly, turning to face them.
"Mrs. Turner?"
The brown-jacketed individual arranged his waistcoat with a dignified air.
"The same. Husband is Will Turner the blacksmith."
The sailor next to Wilde whispered into the Captain's ear, "Must be that tiny shop we saw..."
"Thank you," Wilde interrupted glibly. To the dandy, "Do you know Mrs. Turner?"
"No," replied the latter in a bored tone. "That she doesn't associate much is all I see."
"For your time," Wilde said calmly, laying a silver piece in the man's palm.
The man stared at it and became instantly friendlier.
"Oh I see. Much obliged. Name's Tom Gellig if you need ever know anything again about the Port or it's citize- "
"Be on your way." Wilde's tone was sharp. With a glance into the narrowed eyes Tom Gellig gave a hasty nod and did as the Captain had bid him.
"They're all rats, these locals," said Wilde quietly as the dandy disappeared in the crowd. Beside him his companion said nothing. Wilde turned to him finally.
"Go and fetch Caleb," he said, "And see if you can give the fellow at the Smithy some orders, maybe – for a sword or something." A small smile flashed sneeringly over his features as he added, "Oh and Derk; give him Hell, ...and my regards." Sep made a small bow and sauntered off, grinning like a coyote all the while.
"There's always a husband," Wilde remarked grimly to himself.
Caleb Sutthing sat in the Boar's Head Tavern pouring over a tankard of ale. He was a huge man with massive shoulders, thick arms and legs, and a chest like a barrel, strapped ignominiously into a waistcoat that looked nicer than him. Caleb had a meaty face edged with uneven patches of a badly shaven beard, all bristly around his chin, and did not succeed in making him look more manly more than to emphasize the baby roundness of his face. He sat silently peering out of squinted eyes from underneath the brim of his hat – one hand curled protectively around his drink, and the other resting on his breech-covered knee.
The atmosphere in the Boar's head was very alive. The place was settled with small groups of loafers and resting fishermen, most of them already drunk. Caleb was surrounded by members of his ship's crew, not participating in their conversation, but keeping his ears open to it and grinning occasionally at their ribald humor. From behind the counter, the barman eyed the group suspiciously.
The front door burst open and the lanky sailor Derk stepped through with a swagger.
"Gimme a pint," he ordered the barman. The barman wiped his hands on his apron and filled a mug until the froth spilled over the top before sliding it in Derk's direction.
Derk grabbed the drink and took a long swig. He flicked a coin into the barman's palm and took a seat emphatically on the bench opposite Caleb.
"Oy, Caleb," he growled. Caleb eyed the other sailor narrowly as the latter drank again.
"What's the order?" he asked.
Derk swallowed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
"I got mine straight from the Cap'n hisself," he replied with a delighted grin. "We was in the Square, keeping watch on this lady, Cap'n gets it in'o his 'ead to know her name."
Caleb grunted as a sign for Derk to continue.
"I don't knows this, so we pulls a fella' o'er an' aks him wots the lady's name. 'E says its 'Mrs. Turner'."
Caleb grunted again.
"Misses?" he asked.
"Yeah." Derk nodded hastily. "She's a misses. Wall, Cap'n ain't none too pleased, so 'e aksed wots 'er husband's name. The fella says its Will," he leaned in closer with a grin, "...Will of the Blacksmithy."
"And the Captain said?"
"'E says to give him an order – for a weapon, you know. 'Give him my regards' says he," Derk smiled and Caleb laughed a harsh, throaty laugh.
"So, says I; let's give 'im the Captain's...regards."
Derk leaned back and finished his drink with a satisfied flourish.
A/N: As I planned it, this story won't be including Jack for much too long of a time so I'm trying to decide whether or not I should stick an extra Jack-only chappie in here. The one problem is that I don't have any idea what it would be about!
=======================================
The people of Port Royal soon forgot their strange new guests, and as Wilde and his men did little to disturb the peace they were left primarily to their own devices.
The sailors took immediately to wandering about the town, especially the marketplace, and lingering in doorways and the mouths of alleys. At any scene of revelry or nearly any place they were not wanted, they had a habit of appearing, much to the disgruntlement of Port Royal's neighborly citizens. The strangers never caused any trouble insomuch as being caught in any brawls or indecent crimes, and for as much as the people disliked them Wilde and his men roved safely and gave no one a chance to put them away. Consequently, since they were not liked they could be ignored if anything else. And so they were.
Elizabeth, for her part, had seen enough sailors to last her a lifetime. From the haven of the Governor's mansion, seafaring men had always been somewhat of a novelty and had held a very large place in Elizabeth's heart as a sort of fantastical breed. Now, living down ' i' the docks' had led her to taste the rather unpleasant reality of life among the sailors, and since her capture by pirates three years hence every notion of romanticism had been stripped from her adolescent dreams of the sea. Elizabeth had heard some gossip concerning Wilde and his men. She had swiftly labeled them as ill-begotten miscreants, and had been one of the first in Port Royal to forget their presence.
Now as she crossed through the busy market square completely involved in shopping she was unaware that she was being watched by one of the very men who's birth she had insulted and whom she had unfairly christened with a belittling title. Elizabeth walked slowly up and down the long row of carts that were laden with poultry, fish, and myriads of fruits and vegetables, pausing every now and then to thump her hand over the tough rind of a melon or to test the weight of an egg in her palm. All the time the sailor watched her from his post at the far corner of the square.
Then suddenly, he disappeared.
No one noticed his absence for whether he wished for invisibility or had been given it irreprehensibly by business-minded townspeople, he had achieved it to some end.
Elizabeth was still laboring over a case of tomatoes, trying hard to tell if they were good when Wilde arrived with the sailor who's subtle presence had graced the square only moments ago. Their eyes were on Elizabeth.
Wilde stood watching her for some time, his dark reptilian eyes flickering over her, taking her in. Finally he motioned for his companion to lean in for a question.
"What's her name?" he asked. The other man shook his head.
"I don't know."
Wilde reached out and grabbed the brown jacket of a passing gentleman. Pulling him aside the Captain motioned toward the figure of Elizabeth by the vegetable cart.
"Pray forgive my asking but I wish to know the name of yon fine lady there," he explained. The gentleman – a fat, priggish, comedically dignified dandy – shaded his tiny eyes with his hand and surveyed Elizabeth for a moment.
"That's Mrs. Turner," he told Wilde matter-of-factly, turning to face them.
"Mrs. Turner?"
The brown-jacketed individual arranged his waistcoat with a dignified air.
"The same. Husband is Will Turner the blacksmith."
The sailor next to Wilde whispered into the Captain's ear, "Must be that tiny shop we saw..."
"Thank you," Wilde interrupted glibly. To the dandy, "Do you know Mrs. Turner?"
"No," replied the latter in a bored tone. "That she doesn't associate much is all I see."
"For your time," Wilde said calmly, laying a silver piece in the man's palm.
The man stared at it and became instantly friendlier.
"Oh I see. Much obliged. Name's Tom Gellig if you need ever know anything again about the Port or it's citize- "
"Be on your way." Wilde's tone was sharp. With a glance into the narrowed eyes Tom Gellig gave a hasty nod and did as the Captain had bid him.
"They're all rats, these locals," said Wilde quietly as the dandy disappeared in the crowd. Beside him his companion said nothing. Wilde turned to him finally.
"Go and fetch Caleb," he said, "And see if you can give the fellow at the Smithy some orders, maybe – for a sword or something." A small smile flashed sneeringly over his features as he added, "Oh and Derk; give him Hell, ...and my regards." Sep made a small bow and sauntered off, grinning like a coyote all the while.
"There's always a husband," Wilde remarked grimly to himself.
Caleb Sutthing sat in the Boar's Head Tavern pouring over a tankard of ale. He was a huge man with massive shoulders, thick arms and legs, and a chest like a barrel, strapped ignominiously into a waistcoat that looked nicer than him. Caleb had a meaty face edged with uneven patches of a badly shaven beard, all bristly around his chin, and did not succeed in making him look more manly more than to emphasize the baby roundness of his face. He sat silently peering out of squinted eyes from underneath the brim of his hat – one hand curled protectively around his drink, and the other resting on his breech-covered knee.
The atmosphere in the Boar's head was very alive. The place was settled with small groups of loafers and resting fishermen, most of them already drunk. Caleb was surrounded by members of his ship's crew, not participating in their conversation, but keeping his ears open to it and grinning occasionally at their ribald humor. From behind the counter, the barman eyed the group suspiciously.
The front door burst open and the lanky sailor Derk stepped through with a swagger.
"Gimme a pint," he ordered the barman. The barman wiped his hands on his apron and filled a mug until the froth spilled over the top before sliding it in Derk's direction.
Derk grabbed the drink and took a long swig. He flicked a coin into the barman's palm and took a seat emphatically on the bench opposite Caleb.
"Oy, Caleb," he growled. Caleb eyed the other sailor narrowly as the latter drank again.
"What's the order?" he asked.
Derk swallowed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
"I got mine straight from the Cap'n hisself," he replied with a delighted grin. "We was in the Square, keeping watch on this lady, Cap'n gets it in'o his 'ead to know her name."
Caleb grunted as a sign for Derk to continue.
"I don't knows this, so we pulls a fella' o'er an' aks him wots the lady's name. 'E says its 'Mrs. Turner'."
Caleb grunted again.
"Misses?" he asked.
"Yeah." Derk nodded hastily. "She's a misses. Wall, Cap'n ain't none too pleased, so 'e aksed wots 'er husband's name. The fella says its Will," he leaned in closer with a grin, "...Will of the Blacksmithy."
"And the Captain said?"
"'E says to give him an order – for a weapon, you know. 'Give him my regards' says he," Derk smiled and Caleb laughed a harsh, throaty laugh.
"So, says I; let's give 'im the Captain's...regards."
Derk leaned back and finished his drink with a satisfied flourish.