-1A/N: I guess I forgot the disclaimer in earlier chapters, so…I don't own anything. And thanks for the reviews, guys. More J/E to come. Peace.
3. What Kind of a Pirate Are You?
After weeks of sailing, the Island of Lost Souls loomed before them in the dark. Only a few pinpricks of light in the distance indicated there were even structures on the island, it lay so well hidden within the rocks. Elizabeth could feel a lump of fear in her throat as she stared at the forbidden island; this was an adventure she had to go at alone. None of the other crew would pass as servants of justice in Her Majesty's government.
"Are you sure about this?" asked Gibbs, thinking the lass crazy to want to go this alone, but at the same time unable to doubt her steadfastness. She seemed so sure of herself and her plan, how could anything go wrong? Easily, but the old seadog didn't want to think about that.
"As sure as I can be," she answered, patting her jacket pocket where the fateful letter rested. "This has to work. Extinguish all the lights, give no indication of your presence. They have extensive cannon here, and will fire without warning. If I'm not back by dawn, you should go."
"Leave you behind?" The entire crew seemed unhappy about the idea of leaving her behind. More and more, she seemed one of them, woman or not.
"You have to look out for yourselves, now don't you?" argued Elizabeth. "If they spot you up at the prison and you haven't already got a move on you'll be done for. Savvy?"
The crew watched Gibbs row Elizabeth ashore, hoping against hope she would come back alive with Jack. She would make a good captain herself, some thought, the way she put the crew before herself. Gibbs and Elizabeth sat silently, mesmerized by the rocking motion of the boat. The dingy seemed such a small, insignificant vessel compared to the sea's angry waves. Elizabeth hadn't realized the sense of security she felt high up on the Pearl's decks, until down on the water. But even the Pearl was a mere toy to the unfathomable depths of the sea.
"Be careful, lass," cautioned Gibbs as Elizabeth climbed out onto the rocky shoreline with a lantern.
"I will, and you as well. Remember, if dawn comes, you have to go, whether we're here or not."
Gibbs nodded his head. "I hate to leave ye, but if you insist."
"I do."
Gibbs waved, and Elizabeth climbed the rocks to her goal, the prison of the Island of Lost Souls. She was equipped with a cutlass and pistol borrowed from Jack's cabin, where she'd taken up residence at Gibb's insistence, a knife, a lantern, and the letter tucked safely away in her jacket. She hoped it would be enough.
After much climbing, tripping, stumbling, and cursing, she finally reached the compound. The guard may have shot her, if not for her authoritative bearing. After spending all her life amidst Her Majesty's Royal Navy, Elizabeth knew how to carry herself as though she were a person of great import. Most of the time in the Navy, it was nothing but pomp and lie.
"Who goes there?" shouted the guard, unnerved. Visitors were rarely seen there, especially not so late at night. She knew they'd arrived at the island late, and didn't have too terribly much time before the sun would rise. Time was not on her side.
Pulling her hat low, she answered in a deepened voice, "Lieutenant Brian Mott, on behalf of Commodore Norrington. It is imperative I speak with the warden."
Elizabeth flashed the letter to the guard, displaying the telltale red seal. She'd stolen the Commodore's ring herself to forge this letter, stating her need to speak with the pirate Jack Sparrow for reasons of security of the realm.
The guard dared not argue with the Lieutenant, he seemed so confident. He simply took the newcomer inside the compound, and to the Warden's office. "Wait here, the Warden will be in shortly."
Her heart thundering, Elizabeth nodded in consent, choosing to stand. The Warden had decorated his office with all manners of weapons, and other tools of destruction, even torture devices. She eyed a cat-o-nine tails warily, hoping the dried blood on its tassels wasn't too new. The thought of Jack enduring such things made her lightheaded for a moment, and sick in her stomach.
"A bit late for visits, isn't it?" asked the Warden, obviously perturbed. He was fully dressed, but obviously with haste; his shirt was wrinkled, a few buttons not in place, and his wig seemed just slightly askew.
"I apologize for the hour," said Elizabeth, taking on the most haughty air she could, so characteristic with the officers on Port Royale. "But I'm afraid I come with urgent business. Commodore Norrington has send me to speak with the pirate Jack Sparrow, it's a matter of security." She handed the letter to the Warden, who read it cursively, wrinkling his nose.
For a moment, Elizabeth feared he wouldn't buy her story, until he tucked the letter in his pocket. "Very well then, Brigham here will escort you to the pirate. Good luck getting a straight answer out of him, he's a crafty one."
Elizabeth nodded in thanks, and strode off with Brigham, who led her through the maze-like prison. She took careful note of the twists and turns, so she and Jack's escape would hopefully go smooth and without incident.
" 'Ere he is, sir," said Brigham, waving at a dark cell with his torch. A form lay curled in the corner, sleeping, albeit uncomfortably.
"Will you please wake the prisoner?" asked Elizabeth.
As the guard stepped forward to do so, she took advantage of his back turned, drawing her pistol, and bringing the butt down on his head with all her strength. The guard crumpled at her feet with little sound, solidly unconscious. She took the torch and extinguished it in a bucket nearby, depending on moonlight to extract the ring of keys from his belt.
Finding the right one, she swung open the gate and entered the cell. "Jack, wake up," she whispered urgently, crouching down to shake his shoulder. Suddenly, she found herself on her back, her own knife at her throat with Jack's weight pinning her to the floor, his lips curled back in a snarl, revealing his gold capped teeth. She felt fear course through her veins, suddenly experiencing what it felt like to be on the fiercer side of Jack's pirate nature. Her hat fell back, allowing her golden hair to spill out around her, and the snarl dissipated into an expression of surprise. "What the bloody hell…" the knife lowered from her throat, and Elizabeth sat up on her elbows.
"Is that any way to treat your rescuer, Captain?"
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, backing off of her to crouch at her feet.
"Breaking you out. Gibbs is waiting with the boat, to take us to the crew and the Pearl."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Jack didn't hand her back her knife, but tucked it away in his own sash.
"We have to hurry, I told the crew if we weren't back by dawn to leave us for their own sakes."
Jack's nose wrinkled. "Leave us behind? What kind of pirate are you?"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and dragged the guard into the cell, propping him against the wall. "You've got to make up your mind, Jack. Either I'm a pirate or I'm not."
She looked to Jack, noting his quiet stare. "Yes?"
"Love, you're more pirate than you know. We just have to rough some edges up a bit."
"Rough my edges later, then. Right now we have to run."
I'll rough your edges any time you want, love, Jack thought to himself, following Elizabeth out of the cell and through the maze of the prison. It wasn't until they'd made their way well down the hill that loud shouts emitted from the prison, quickly followed by gunfire zinging by them. The pair quickly took cover behind some rocks, wincing as bullets striking around them send rock chips flying. Jack took a moment to gaze at Elizabeth again, her eyes vigilantly watching the darkness for danger.
She'd taken to her men's dress again, of which he'd taken a liking to over time. It was nice to see her slender legs, not obscured under voluminous folds of a dress. But it was hard to beat the neckline of most of her gowns…hard to beat indeed. He vaguely wondered why she hadn't decided to stay out of his life by now, after rejecting him for married life with Mr. Will Eunuch Turner. Who knew what the bonnie lass was thinking? She was unpredictable, erratic, temperamental…God she was beautiful.
The pair managed to make their way through the rocks to the dingy where Gibbs waited. "It's about time," he shouted, looking at the horizon, where it had just begun to get lighter.