Oh-oh! Sorry people, but I should have researched into their stop in Jamaica. Port Royal is actually in Jamaica, so Jack could have easily paid Will and Liz a little visit…Let's just pretend Port Royal isn't in Jamaica! Imaginations, people, we have imaginations, don't we?

Chapter 7

As Ruth huddled under Jack's desk, her hand tightly wrapped about its heavy leg, she brought her knees up under her chin, which were sliding from beneath her as the ship occasionally rocked like a buoy caught in a large wave. She could clearly remember the last time she had experienced an attack: aboard her ship to Port Royal, and had hoped that she would never hear a sound as horrific as a gunshot or a cannon after that. Unfortunately, those noises rained from above only hammered and beset the ship.

She tried desperately to push her overwhelming shock away, but knew that it was impossible, knowing that members of Jack's crew, even Jack himself, could be slaughtered as she sat there.

Thoughts of possible, horrific futures knotted her stomach more tightly than the bucking of the ship, and she tried to retrieve her faith in Jack. Why shouldn't she trust his skill? He was, in fact, one of the most fearsome pirates in the Caribbean. She closed her eyes and tried to fight back tears. She didn't know if she could bear being transferred to yet another pirate ship, and the chance that they were as merciful as Jack was as slim as a thread…

It was indeed selfish to dwell on thoughts like these, when Jack's life could be in sheer jeopardy. She felt a tear roll down her cheek as she imagined Jack doubling over from a gunshot, or the cold pierce of a sword…

Jack was legendary, she thought, as she chased away the morbid side of her imagination, and was used to experiencing attacks of this nature. It was highly unlikely that he would be defeated. Or so she hoped.

After only several minutes of cowering from beneath the table, she felt a sudden urge to migrate into the dangerous atmosphere of the deck. She could no longer tolerate her intense feelings of helplessness as she sat cowardly curled up in a ball like the pill bugs she used to observe as a child.

She squirmed carefully from under the table, but with still a firm grasp of the leg. Now, she still sat, but without the protection of the desktop above her, and she peered with narrowed eyes at the doorway. There was no way she contribute to protecting the ship, for she possessed no weapon of any sort…or experience defending her self for that matter.

As the shot of another cannon filled the air, Ruth covered her ears and retreated into the darkness under the desk once more. It was going to be a long day.

………………..

The sudden quiet around her was so beautiful, that she thought that it was actually the sound of a choir of angels signaling the soundlessness. A moment passed, and a feeling of dread returned as she realized that it could be Jack's crew that was silenced.

Then, shouts of victory sounded from above, and Ruth released a sigh of relief when the cries were directed toward Jack Sparrow and his beloved Black Pearl. Ruth scrambled from the desk, fearing her position now considered obsolete, and ridiculous now that the danger had passed.

Minutes later, the door opened with a swing, and in swaggered Jack, a triumphant grin upon his face. As he stood there, panting, sweat clearly glistening off his face, he stared at her as if expectant of a cheer, and spread his arms widely, as if presenting himself in a rather majestic, proud manner. Moments passed.

"I am perfectly capable of waiting for my applause, love."

Ruth stood motionless, her hair tousled and her shock only slightly worn off, taking in his almost conceited stance, until a rather large spot of blood on his left arm caused her eyes to widen.

"J-Jack," she stammered, bringing up a shaking hand to point to his arm, "Your-your arm, it's…"

Jack looked over his right shoulder and brought his arm up, and not even a gasp escaped him as he discovered his wound.

"Ahhh…" he said baring his teeth in pain, "now that ye mention it, love, I thought I felt somethin' there." Ruth rushed to his side.

"Oh, Jack, let me…just let me see it," she said, fighting to grab his arm, which he swung this way and that teasingly in order to avoid her taking it. He sighed exasperately, and finally slowed his arm as her large, cherubic eyes bore into his, "Alright then, but don't exaggerate it, love…it's really just a scratch. Trust me, love, I've encountered too many of these-"

He pulled up his sleeve and revealed a small, though painful-looking bullet wound. Although the bullet seemed to only skim the surface of his flesh, and thankfully didn't enter the skin, the wound managed to exert a steady flow of blood.

"Jack," she whispered shrilly, placing a hand over her mouth, "How can you just brush this off as a scratch?"

"Because…" he looked off into the distance for a second, a confident smirk alighting his face, "Well, because I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, love."

Ruth rolled her eyes.

"Well," she retorted to this, "Would the brave, valiant pirate captain happen to know where one can find a rag?"

Jack laughed, and his mischievous grin returned to an affectionate smile; a smile that he rarely expressed until Ruth came aboard, "There's no need to fret, love," he said, his voice rolling into a short laugh, "I've had to treat many of these types of wounds, including those, much, much worse…"

Ruth nodded, and inclined her head downwards as her neurotic behavior became clearer and clearer to her, "I'm sorry, Jack," she began softly, but then brought her head up, "I just…I just couldn't imagine if something had, well if something had happened to you, and…" Her eyes suddenly became glazed with oncoming tears, and she sniffled, looking away.

"Ruth…" Jack murmured as a look of concern drastically altered his features, "I –I didn't mean to frighten ye, pet. Ruth, it's fine, love, I'm just fine."

Ruth walked over to the sofa, and plopped down upon it halfheartedly, burying her face in her hands as she began to cry. "I'm so pathetic, aren't I?" she managed force from her mouth in between her heavy sobs.

"No, no, no, no, Ruth, don't say that," he replied, quickly making his way to her side, "I'm sure you're just a bit shaken up because of the attack. Ye have been through one before, haven't ye?" he said as he sat down beside her.

She shook her head, her gentle waves of hair falling into her face and covering it as if in shame, "Yes, but I could never adjust to that breed of danger, Jack," she said with voice taut with emotion.

"I'm sorry ye had to suffer, Ruth, and if there's anything I can do," he paused to take in her troubled look, "…you're really quite shaken up now, aren't ye?" he said as he gazed upon her trembling, form, her eyes strangely emotionally void from shock.

She nodded, and she hiccupped as her sobs loosened.

"Well, this has me thinking back to when you first arrived, Ruth," Jack began, "and how terrified you were at your possible fate aboard my ship," he began, "I remember very well of my words to you; I told you that I will serve as a, well – well as a guardian, but whatever term you'd like to use for my role, I will do my best to protect you, and see you to your new arrangements…and even when it's clear now that we'll be together for longer than I expected, I'm still determined to remain faithful to that commitment."

Ruth smiled softly, her eyes starting to return to their bright nature, and she wiped away the damp trails on her cheeks left behind by her tears, "Thank you, Jack," she said, "You don't know how much those words mean to me."

…………………

As the moon above the ship seemed to glow with pride, as if it had overthrown the sun itself for that glorious place in the sky, Jack's crew merrily celebrated the victory of the Pearl as pirates usually did: by drinking large amounts of rum and performing wild jigs to sea chanteys. Ruth, on the other hand, migrated as far away she possibly could from the frivolous bunch, and stood at her favorite place at the front of the ship, with only breathtaking view of the ocean to keep her company.

Until…

"Do you know of any constellations?"

Ruth turned to none other than Ben, and greeted him with a welcoming smile, "To be quite honest, no, not really," she said with a laugh.

"Oh…"

"Do you?"

"No, not really, either," he replied, laughing himself.

The two stood as many do at a railing when they plan to remain there for a while, by leaning against it by folded arms to preserve some comfort standing. They both allowed their words to linger away and dance on the meandering breeze like the faint melody of drifting music, and took in the music from behind them: the words of the sea chanteys and the drunken voices that accompanied them. When the song ended, they both burst into laughter.

"They sound like a bunch of fools, don't they?" Ruth said between giggles.

"Yes, like a pack of wild monkeys," Ben replied, which only made the two laugh harder at the thought of the intoxicated monkeys waving mugs of rum and singing to sea chanteys.

When the humor had finally worn off, the young pair looked out to the ocean, hypnotized to the moonlight dancing off its inky surface.

"Ben?" she asked, desperate to break an oncoming silence.

He looked toward her, his eyes bright with curiosity, "Yes?"

It was now Ruth's turn to turn her eyes away uncomfortably as she reconsidered her question, biting her lip with apprehension, "I believe that since I answered a rather personal question that you asked me earlier, it's your turn to answer something that may be a bit awkward."

Ben grinned, "Now, now, don't fret, Ruth…I'm an open book, if you will," he replied to this.

Ruth nodded, "Alright then, Ben," she said, now with a new confidence, "What are your…origins, I suppose. Were you always a pirate?" she inquired, accenting the last word with a stronger air of curiosity and a cocked eyebrow.

Ben looked back at the glistening face of the sea and ran a hand nervously through his thick red hair, "Well, Ruth…no, I mean, I wasn't always a – well a pirate. In fact, I originated from a rather comfortable lifestyle."

Ruth nodded and gazed at him, expectant of the rest of his speech.

"About several months ago, my father and I were traveling to Martinique to visit my relatives, and The Black Pearl ambushed our ship. It was really quite unexpected, and of all pirate ships to run across, it had to be Sparrow's…"

Ruth suddenly looked upon her question with regret.

"But you see, my father actually works for the East India Company, and Sparrow held a grudge against him. Jack almost killed my father, but I intervened. I made a hasty deal with him: I vowed him five years of service upon his ship in exchange for the survival of my father."

Ruth gasped, "Five years?" she exclaimed, "Was there not any other way you could negotiate this?"

Ben gave her a rather bleak look, and sadly shook his head. Ruth could not help but consider the chance that Ben's father could be on the hunt at this moment, ruthless in his search to retrieve his son. Then again, Jack would have been aware of this possibility, and also of his uncanny way of slipping through the authorities' hands like sand…

Ruth softly touched his arm, "Ben, I…I 'm so sorry that you were placed in that situation…that was so brave of you."

Ben smiled softly, "He was my father, Ruth."

Another silence blanketed them for a moment.

Finally, "I suppose that's why my spirits were lifted at your presence, Ruth," Ben said his eyes shining with a beautiful light of hope, "I feel that I can relate to you in some respects."

Ruth smiled, "Yes, I now feel that I can connect with your feelings of uncertainty and fear…I mean, not so much of Jack, but of this environment – this vast, unpredictable place that's open to so many dangerous possibilities. It scared me, Ben. During my first few days here, I felt a great fear, which was quite hard to shake off, of another attack...and I knew that it would happen sooner or later, and today just happened to be that day."

"Did you fair well?" he asked.

"If you consider shock and fear fairing well," she said with a nervous laugh, "but don't worry about me, Ben, I think that I'll be fine."

The two then proceeded to discuss unrelated matters in order to condense an emotional tension that lay thickly in the air. They spoke of the weather, the workings of the ship, and even debated the name of a certain species of fish until Jack's orders of curfew blared across the ship, and they bade each other goodnight.

"Please forgive me," Ruth said before they went their separate ways, "For recovering your old memories," she said, "It must have been difficult to speak of situations of that nature…"

"Don't be sorry, Ruth…" Ben had replied, "I should be expressing more of an apology to you for bringing up your father's death."

"Well, Ben, I know that you never intended to sadden me, and I never intended to sadden you," Ruth said in quite a calm manner, "Our apologies are both sincere. Why don't we leave it at that?"

………………….

As Jack shooed his stumbling crew to bed before they could cause a real ruckus, he couldn't help but now notice Ruth and Ben seemed to try drawing out more time from their curfew to speak to one another. At first, Jack had felt annoyance at this slight disturbance to their schedule, but now looked upon it with amusement.

He also could not help but wonder if the two held more than a friendly relationship…Jack pondered the choice to ask her, and a grin pulled at his lips as he thought of her possible reaction to this.

Finally, Ruth began to make her way to the cabins, weaving through the drunken crew, and smiling gently toward a strangely sly-looking Jack. A gentle uneasiness washed over her, as it was possible he thought differently of her conversation with Ben.

As she stopped in front of Jack, her smile slightly faded, "Is something wrong?" she asked in a somewhat mockingly innocent voice.

"No…no, not at all," he answered her, and turned to descend into the cabins, trying very hard to purse his lips and suppress his laughter.

………………….

Ben gazed at the pair as they made their way to the cabins, and narrowed his eyes in a strange suspicion at Jack before making his way to bed, a disturbing thought lingering in his mind like a stubborn stain upon clothing.

Uh-oh!

What is that Ben thinking of? You might already have your assumptions but we'll have to wait until Chapter 8! Wait until Chapter eight. Wow, I'm a poet and I don't even know it…sorry guys, I'm just happy to finish this chapter.

The story should pick up the pace after this point, but I really hope that these chapters have been a good read for everyone.