Buried Secrets, Forgotten Tales
Chapter One
Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, The Black Pearl, Captain Jack Sparrow, or any of his crew that I mention.
Captain Jack Sparrow stood at the helm of the Black Pearl, surveying the scene. His crew were scurrying about on the decks, rather like parasites on a piece of dead meat, he thought to himself.
"Low'r the port and starboard anchors!" He bellowed suddenly, above the noise of the sea.
Several members of his crew looked at him quizzically. Jack wasn't having this; he was the Captain for God's sakes, they were supposed to do what he said immediately. "I SAID LOW'R THE PORT AND STARBOARD ANCHORS, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING LOT, OR I SHALL MAKE YOU WALK THE PLANK!" He roared.
It was an empty threat, and the crew knew it. What's more, Captain Sparrow knew they knew. However, it still served its purpose. Although they wouldn't be made to walk the plank, the Captain could easily make them live on ship biscuits for the rest of the week, and seeing as it was only Tuesday, that was to be avoided at all costs.
"Aye Cap'n!" They jumped to it, scrambling over each other to get to the anchors.
"Both of 'em?" Asked Joshamee Gibbs, the Black Pearls Quarter Master and Captain Sparrow's First Mate.
"Aye," replied Jack, "We can't go anywhere in a storm like this ere one." He adjusted his hat, the rainwater that'd been collecting on the top of it, cascaded down in front of his eyes, he ignored it, watching, as first the port, then the starboard anchors splashed into the water, not that you could hear the splash over the roar of the waves, but Jack knew it was there.
Mr. Gibbs nodded, it made sense, but that still didn't explain why Jack was doing it, he usually did exactly the opposite of what was logical, and he thought that one of Jack's favourite past times was sailing in ridiculous weather conditions.
Jack strode down the steps towards his cabin, pausing to look down at the churning sea below. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Nothing like a good ol' storm, eh?" He said to Mr. Cotton as he passed.
Alright for some, Cotton told himself, but when you have to stand around in this torrential rain, the novelty wears off pretty quick.
"Shiver me timbers!" Was his parrots reply. Jack had no idea what in the blazes the parrot was on about, then again, no one ever did. But it was best to go along with it, as he'd seen the damage it could do with its blasted beak, he still had the scars to prove it… Fortunately for the parrot, it could fly, so when Jack made him walk the plank, it didn't really have much of an effect.
"Stop this standin' around!" Jack yelled at his crew, "Do something useful! Scrub the decks the lot of ye."
The crew didn't really see the point in this. It was pouring with rain, so the deck was going to get a wash whatever way you looked at it.
"Cap'n Sparrow, sir." A crew member, named Kursar piped up, leaning on the handrail that bordered the steps to the lower decks. "Is there any point, 'tis rainin' aft'r all."
"My good man," Sparrow put his arm around Kursar's shoulders and leant on his crew member. His extravagantly outlined eyes were wide, and his was voice heavily coated in sarcasm. "The rain doesn't clean this 'ere deck, does it?" He didn't bother waiting for answer, "It just washes the dirt around, so get scrubbing, savvy?"
Kursar nodded, and grabbed the nearest mop and pail, glad to be out of the Captains clutches.
The Captain watched the crew for a second. That was more like it; they were actually working. Now that made a change.
Jack was grateful for the warmth of his cabin. He sat back in his chair, swigging rum from a tankard in his hand. The swell of the sea pitched The Pearl back and forth; most people would be throwing up all over their boots by now. Not Jack Sparrow, he'd long since gotten used to a good storm, and he wouldn't have thrown up over his boots anyway, he'd acquired them from a navy captain, and they were far too nice to be vomit stained.
Outside the sky was pitch black, and much to Jack's disgust, he couldn't see anything through the numerous windows in his cabin. Several flickering lanterns illuminated the cabin, and Jack had to satisfy himself with listening to the roar of the sea, and the deafening claps of thunder. Occasionally the odd strike of lightening would light up the sky, letting Jack fully appreciate the amazing waves that the storm was creating.
His thoughts drifted to the crew. He'd long since let them below decks. It wasn't really deck-scrubbing conditions. Far too cold. Only Mr. Gibbs and Anamaria were still out there, on watch duty. Jack couldn't have anyone sneaking up on them in the dead of night. However he was secretly glad that he was where he was. A warm, well lit cabin, and plenty of rum. That was the beauty of being a Captain… All the gold in the world wouldn't get him out there tonight, especially in that sea. He figured the temperature must be below freezing.
Joshamee and Anamaria had drawn the short straws and were on watch duty, in the freezing night air.
Joshamee was slightly worse off; standing in the Crows Nest, in the middle of a raging storm, was not the best place to be.
Anamaria was standing at the base of the mast, waiting for a call from Joshamee. If a situation arose, she would be the one to raise awareness elsewhere on the ship.
Joshamee was finding it impossible to keep his balance, let alone keep watch. The ship was being pitched backwards and forth by the unforgiving waves and it was almost impossible to concentrate.
Joshamee was about to give up, after all, what self respecting pirate would want to attack them in the middle of a storm? He raised the Captain's telescope to his eye (he didn't have his own, and Jack had been generous enough to lend his), held his lantern aloft, and gave the ocean one last quick check, just to be on the safe side.
It was then that he saw the flash of white in the water below. It could've been a piece of cloth, or a shirt, but it definitely wasn't a threat. He looked down again, this time there was no mistaking the humanoid form a little way off from the boat.
"MAN OVER BOARD!" He yelled down to Anamaria. He didn't know why he did it, the man below certainly wasn't a threat to them, even if he was miraculously still alive.
Anamaria couldn't believe her ears, was something finally happening? She sprinted along the weather deck, slipping on the wet boards, and flung herself down the stairs to the lower quarters. "CAPTAIN!" She bellowed, skidding to a halt outside Jacks cabin. She hammered on the door with her fist, "Jack! JACK!"
Jack begrudgingly heaved himself from his chair, and walked to the door. Whoever was bothering him better have a good reason. He yanked open the door, "Ah… Anamaria. Have you come to ask me what I'd like for dinner? If so then…" His voice trailed off when he saw the look she was giving him.
She grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the stairs.
"As much as I like this sudden display of affection," Jack started, "Couldn't we continue this inside?"
She whirled around, "Snap out of it! There's a man overboard!"
"Man over board! I told Gibbs he shouldn't drink on his shifts..." Needless to say, he was surprised to see his First Mate standing on the deck. He opened his mouth to say something…
"Cap'n!" Mr. Gibbs called to him, "Ov'r 'ere!"
Jack was at his side in an instant, he squinted in the dim light of Mr. Gibbs' lantern, then spotted a speck of white among the black of the ocean below.
"Can't you deal with this Joshamee…?" He paused, eyeing Gibbs, "On second thoughts…" He started stripping of his coat, throwing at his First Mate, then his pistol, compass and hat. "I want you to throw me a rope, savvy?" Then he swallowed, diving into the icy water…
The cold hit him like a tonne of bricks. He tried to ignore it, searching for the white he'd seen. There. He swam towards it, even with his athletic ability and swimming skills, he had a hard time of it; the current was certainly very strong.
His eyesight had grown accustomed to the dark, and he managed to grasp hold of the person on clutching the drift wood. He thought it was a woman, but he could've been wrong, after all his brain didn't seem to be functioning properly. Maybe it was the cold, but more likely, the rum.
Joshamee threw a rope to Anamaria, who tied it expertly to the side of the boat, and dropped it over the side down to Jack.
By that time, the other crew members had come to see what the fuss was about. Anamaria called them over, telling them to pull on the rope when she gave the word.
Jack was tiring quickly; he had to swim in freezing waters, during a storm, towing another person. The odds were stacked against him. 'You're Captain Jack Sparrow!' he told himself, seeing the rope being lowered into the water. He grabbed at it, but the wind whipped it out of his reach, teasing him. He tried again, no luck. On the third try, he grasped it, tying it tightly around his waist, which was easier said than done, seeing as he still had to keep hold of the person whom he'd braved the waters to save in the first place.
"HEAVE!" Anamaria yelled, and simultaneously, the crew pulled, heaving Jack and his passenger from the water. They landed on the deck with a thud.
Something cracked, and Jack prayed it wasn't the deck. He had enough on his plate without emergency repairs. He loosened the rope, and stood up. He was exhausted, what the hell had he been thinking! He was a pirate, not a lifeguard. He was going soft. He blamed Gibbs, if he hadn't have seen anything, he could still be warm and dry, and probably drunk right now. But he was soaked to the skin, freezing cold, and had never felt more sober in his life. That was probably down to the cold he reckoned, either that or someone had poisoned his rum…
"You lot!" He signalled to the crew, "Get 'em below deck." He pointed at the unconscious person lying on the deck. It's bloody cold up 'ere." Then he had a thought, "And someone," he paused, spinning on his heel and eyeing the crew, "bring my hat!"