Greensleeves
Elizabeth peeked through the dingy curtains, only to see two lieutenants join the marines who still loitered in front of the whorehouse. "Leave them on," she repeated, with none of her earlier salaciousness. "There's nothing for it but to brazen it out."
She pulled on her coat, and with a put-upon sigh, Jack took up the razor. In a few short minutes a young dandy and two brightly clad doxies exited the establishment arm in arm, smelling strongly of spirits and cheap perfume.
All would have been well, if Elizabeth hadn't suddenly recognized Lieutenant Gillette and cried out in surprise. He furrowed his brow, clearly trying to place the gentleman before him.
"Do I. . ." he started, but never finished, for Jack stumbled ostentatiously, landing in Gillette's arms.
In the time it took Gillette to disentangle himself from Jack's embrace, he'd identified Elizabeth. "Miss Swann!" he growled, reaching for his pistol.
Jack dropped all pretense and flashed a golden grin. "Looking for this?" The pistol was pointed at Gillette's heart. "Now then, Lieutenant. . .Gillette, is it? We mean you no harm -- we're just tryin' to get back to our ship. . ."
"And out of these clothes!" Will added, sotto voce.
"What say you call your men off, and we'll all live to play this game another day?"
At Gillette's bitter look, the marines dropped their weapons.
Jack gestured with the pistol. "Won't you walk with us, Lieutenant? It's not that I don't trust you, but I'd hate for any of your men to get the wrong idea."
They left Gillette standing on the dock, shaking his fist and cursing. Perhaps Jack had gone a bit far, taking Gillette's uniform and making him wear the dress, but the green was quite fetching with the Lieutenant's red hair.