Chapter 3: Games and Songs

Waves beat against the ship's side, spraying seawater in Cherise's face. Half an hour in her cabin proved to be uneventful, boring, uninteresting, monotonous, and many other adjectives she had time to come up with, so she soon carefully exited it, arriving thus on the main deck. She's gotten quite a few stares from the pirates at first, but no one bothered enough to approach, question, or shove her back into her cabin, so Cherise decided to remain there. They soon lost interest in the young woman, which provided her with just enough freedom to somewhat satisfy her curiosity in peace. Jack seemed too busy being infatuated with his boat – ship – to really mind as she cautiously strolled on the Pearl.

The pirates, overall, defied her expectations. It was even somewhat irritating. The stories she's been told left out the major methods of spending time, really – adjusting the sails, cooking, coiling lines, general housekeeping…or bo...ship-keeping. She even let a slight smile cross her face – they almost seemed like good, honest sailors!

Cherise stopped at the thought. Oh, so they kidnap you, injure you, and plan to use you – good, honest sailors, no doubt! What do they need to do to you before you recognize them for what they are, feed you to the sharks or other sea life of their preference?

And yet she could recognize the all-too-familiar motions of tightening the lines, and swabbing the decks. She watched her father do it so many times; Cherise did it herself plenty. What, really, was the difference, aside from the unconventional collection of what they desired?

It's all the difference in the world. Stop thinking like this. Your fa-

"Miss Cherise? If ye've got nothing t' do, ye'r more than welcome to help me down with th' grub."

She jumped at the voice, but managed to regain her posture and turn. Judging from his comparatively cleaner appearance, this was the cook. He was middle-aged, with skin that was probably white at some point, bald, but with bushy eyebrows and earnest eyes. Reason told her to decline, and remove her person from the deck altogether, barricade herself in the cabin and recite Hail Mary's that she was not yet dead. Cherise's upbringing, however, did not provide her with the option of refusal where help was requested, and before reason really had a say in anything, she found herself accepting the invitation.

To please reason (which actually had no say in anything as of late, she noted), she mentally kicked herself all the way down to the kitchens.

But the common task of food preparation rejuvenated her, and she found herself in a light mood, joking with the pirate. Perhaps it was an island of sanity for her, a ground to stand on in the generally ridiculous turn of events. Her marketplace-taught voluble manner of speaking slowly returned after a day of reticence. As they waited for the "grub" to boil, they kept talking, and she couldn't believe how easy it was to simply communicate with him. After a bit of a break on the conversation, Martin – for that was his name, she learned – spoke.

"Don't ye be mad at our Cap'tain Jack, lass. 'e's doing what's best for everyone..."

Cherise stared at him, quiescent.

Martin continued, "Mostly." She raised a brow. "…Almost entirely." He continued attempting to salvage whatever point he was failing to make, eyes searching something on the wall. "…Overall."

Cherise pitifully smiled and decided to relieve the man of the tedious task of making points. "Your grub seems to be boiling, sir."

He sprung up, uneasily. "Me grub's boiling, thanks lass!" Cherise, though, allowed herself to truly smile as she began setting up the plates, faintly wondering why and how she missed them earlier, and whether it would be a good idea to fix that little oversight.

As men were settling down in the galley, Cherise grabbed a plate with some food and and went up to the main deck. Jack was no longer at the wheel – she speculated he either went with the crew or was spending quality time with maps and rum in his cabin. Feeling a little freer, she perched up on one of the crates, and ate in the lamplight, plate in her lap. The evening breeze conveniently blew her hair from her face (for once). Cherise's eyes found comfort in the deep, dark vastness of the ocean; the rocking of the ship calmed her. Absent-mindedly, she began humming to herself.

"Nice tune yer' spinnin there, miss."

Cherise turned to find a pirate grinning at her.

"Tell me, kind sir, is it in the pirate rules to keep sneaking up on people? Because I don't think I've encountered any of you yet in another manner."

He gave a hearty laugh, gold glinting in his mouth. "Depends. We're rarely expected-like. Wouldn't make them good pirates if we were, eh?"

Cherise considered. "True..."

"Hey, you're the 'un who helped Martin with the food t'night, right?" She smiled and nodded, remembering the little bickering she initiated over the amounts of spices. "Thanks, lass, it was much better! Never knew ya could get the flavor outta that stuff. Lord knows Marty never could." He laughed again, clapping her on the back. But what was meant as a friendly gesture pretty much propelled her off the crate; it was evident that pirates didn't deal with the other half of the world's population enough.

"'Ey Glim! Don't you kill 'er just yet, what are we gonna eat?" another pirate ran over and yelled, raising hands at the first. The first – apparently, Glim – seemed rather flabbergasted at the lightness of her body, but tried to defend himself nevertheless. Lying on the ground and having two pirates tiff over her, Cherise suddenly found the situation extremely funny. Their confusion over her small giggling and shaking mass further fueled her laughing fit, until they themselves joined in. She was soon hauled up and pushed over to a circle of men playing a game under the lamplight. She found some amused stares, some respecting ones, and a few hidden scowls, but nothing rivaled her surprise at their game.

"Liar's dice!"

"Aye. You know it?"

"I used to play it all the time as a child!" Cherise paused at their looks. "No offense." Some laughed.

Glim gestured to a spot beside him. "Want t' join then?"

"But I have nothing to wager."

"Ah, sit yer down. We'll think of somethin'."

Jack returned to the deck, cradling a rum bottle. But before he made it to his cabin, jeers and hoots coming from a circle of his men captured his attention. He leaned back and squinted to see what the commotion was about, and raised a brow when he took in the scene. Cherise had her hand on a cup, and was staring piercingly at Fetter, who returning a stare, albeit a more worried one. Only problem was, Cherise already had someone's bandanna and a string of beads on her neck that was clearly not hers before. Jack directed his gaze to the side, briefly considering an intervention, but thought better of it and disappeared into his cabin. The situation was intriguing enough as it was – a woman aboard, winning at their own games. Gibbs must be considering voodoo by now.

Half an hour or so later, Jack was drawn to the deck yet again by the shouts and laughter, which definitely increased. He cracked open the door with the back of his hand and saw Fetter with a crowd behind him…looking up at the crow's nest. So did Jack. The doorframe allowed his sight only the view of the hem of a light blue-violet cloth tauntingly linger on the netting; then it disappeared upwards.

"…Oh bugger."

Cherise was more than halfway up when she felt that her muscles weren't taking the climb too well. Wind tousled her hair rougher than down on the deck, and she found it hard to see, not to mention enduring the chill. She threaded one arm through the netting to steady herself, and wiped her palms on her dress. Females really shouldn't sweat, it's unbecoming. Her fingers were already aching due to the unfamiliar movements, and Cherise found breathing harder and harder. She looked at them to check for bruises; luckily, there were none yet…oh, but the ground seemed so far away now…She tightened her grip.

"COME DOWN THIS INSTANT, MISS DEFALOIS!"

"Jack?"

True enough, he was standing with the hooting crowd; his tricon hat and glinting trinkets made him hard to miss. He said something to Fetter, and they seemed to argue for a while – well Jack was probably questioning Fetter's birth, or so it seemed from his wild hand movements and Fetter was trying to defend himself. Probably a lost cause there, Cherise thought, and turned her attention to the crow's nest. Okay, if I just gather all my strength…I can do this.

"…-to allow her such…CHERISE, STAY RIGHT THERE!"

"MAKE UP YOUR MIND!" she hollered back.

Cat-like, Jack easily covered a few meters of the netting before she even felt the netting shake. Just as she was about to reach for the next rope, a hand covered hers, something she would've considered affectionate had it not happened very high above ground, and in a rather safety-compromising situation. She looked at him; Jack's deep chocolate eyes betrayed his tanned face and showed hints of amusement, as much as he tried to keep his countenance neutral and a little bit condescending. Cherise suddenly felt warmer, as if the pirate radiated the heat of the very sun.

"We're coming down now, dearie, and you're staying down."

Quickly finding her scattered wits, she retorted.

"…No!"

"…No?"

"I have to reach up there," she pointed up helpfully, her hand escaping his. Jack withdrew his hand as well, giving it a hardy noticeable, curious glance before placing it as his hip.

"Bloody hell, luv, if you truly want your spectacular view, had you not the wits to try in daylight?"

Cherise looked at his patronizing smile for a second, confused. "Oooh, it's not for the view," she smiled. "I lost. This was the wager."

Jack looked thoughtful for a few moments. "…Yes, we're coming down right now."

"But I have to…"

"Why?" he demanded with sudden fire in his eyes, the wind disarraying his hair, making it fly about his face chaotically. He looked almost supernatural, exotic, against the dark, star-laden sky and the Pearl's palpitating black sails. "You've neither the strength nor the fortitude to make it! Now I'm sure my crew will gladly think of something that will keep your limbs intact, luv", he said, patting her back. His hand had none of the brute force of Glim, but it stayed firmly on her back, almost supporting her. She felt his body heat through the fabric of her dress, and wondered how he got so close. It was almost…comforting.

Looking right into his dark eyes, she spoke, "I agreed to it! Promised. Whenever I give my word, I keep it, Captain."

His expression softened. Apprehensively, Cherise stopped minding her grip. What will he…

Jack, seizing the moment, wrenched her from the netting. She shrieked as her hands left the ropes, and grabbed out for anything – or anyone - that would prevent her fall. With an arm firmly around her waist, Jack positioned her away from the netting, so that the only thing she could hold on to was him. When he felt her arms grip his waist – a little bit tighter than necessary, he found himself thinking, - he carefully made their descent. It was a little bit harder, but his movements, even if they were slower, never lost their fluid felinity and his grip was never uncertain. He silently thanked the deities that Cherise never made it to the very top, or this would've taken even longer. He peered at her tense form and allowed himself a smile. If only you've seen the chary flames in ye presented me with in your eyes, lass. But she didn't see the smile. In fact, Cherise kept her eyes closed the whole way down. When she felt her feet touch the boards of the deck, she immediately opened her eyes and pushed Jack away. The crew, still crowding around the mast, fell silent.

He sighed. "Admirable, dearie, very admirable. A sure way to the heavens." He brought his face near to hers, so that she could feel his breath. "Sure and quick. Now do me a favor and don't engage in activities that would result in dead bodies mucking up me deck, savvy?" And again, with a pat on the back, he disappeared into his cabin.

Some time later, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, the games had ceased and most of the crew was asleep. Cherise propped her elbows against the sturdy wooden railing of the Black Pearl and gazed out to the calm sea. Serene waves, rising and falling, constant and unpredictable.

'What lies beyond the surface?' she mused. 'Are there mermaids, singing their longing songs to the moonlight? Dreadful sea monsters, lying satisfied in their caves from tonight's dinner? Unspeakable treasure, long lost and forgotten... What wonders hide in these depths?'

She sighed and began to hum a gentle melody she knew from long ago, as if from a dream. Quietly it spilled over the waves and melted with the moon's reflection, carrying to the horizon. Suddenly, she jumped as two arms collapsed wearily on the rail beside her. "C-captain... I-I..."

"Beautiful, she is. The sea."

"...Beautiful indeed."

They stood for a moment in silence, watching the wind rock the waves.

"Can't sleep, luv?"

Cherise paused. "No, not really. I was... thinking."

"Wonderin' what the sea holds? If it hol's a piece of yourself?" He looked at her, his piercing eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Yeah... that's exactly what I have been afraid to ask."

He nodded knowingly. "Men search all their lives for somethin' right 'n front of their noses. Some never find it. It ain't easy as it looks."

Cherise gazed pensively into the distance before allowing herself to scrutinize the Captain's face. Charcoal-lined weary eyes, he had the look of a man who's been to the end of the world and back. "And you, Captain, have you found what you are looking for?"

For a moment, a kind of hesitation crept over him, only in the minutest ways gracing his features – had she not been so good at noticing things, she would've looked right past it, but his eyebrows furrowed momentarily and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. A few moments passed before he spoke. "Sometimes it's not about finding what you're looking for but about the looking itself. Maybe what you're really looking for is the looking, and in that way I guess you could say I've found what I was looking for, but..." He smirked (somewhat bitterly, Cherise thought, but decided not to mention it). "Once you find what you are looking for, you start wonderin' if there's something more you ought to be looking for, for if something more can be found, then it is certainly worth looking for, aye?"

"Definitely."

The captain turned his head, somewhat amused and somewhat surprised that she had followed all of that. Most people didn't. She held his gaze challengingly and he couldn't help but smirk even wider. "Y'know, for a lass, you're somewhat clever."

Cherise smiled and bounced into a somewhat comical curtsey. "I guess I'll take that as a form of distorted compliment."

He chuckled and tipped his hat slightly. "You'll need that, for tomorrow we be makin' port in Tortuga."

"Tortuga?" Her face instantly molded into dumbfounded astonishment.

"Aye, Tortuga." He winked and before she could bombard him with questions and objections, turned and walked briskly back to his cabin, ignoring her "buts" and "heys."

Cherise folded her arms. Insufferable buffoon. Unknown to herself, she smiled in a strangely affectionate way at the words.

Turning back toward the sea, she stared into the moonlit distance. The waves rocked, constant but ever-changing. The moon, even, could not penetrate into their mystifying depths. Jack was right; life was a journey, not a destination. The miles one would have to swim to get to the floor of the sea probably held just as much, if not more, than the bottom itself. She hummed quietly. If only one could know what to look for and where to find it. And suddenly, as if from within herself, words she never learned started attaching themselves to the melody.

"Far beyond the sun-scorchéd shore

Where the em'rald waves implore

In the calm of moonlight's gaze

There the sea nymph plays..."

She sung quietly and absent-mindedly, largely unaware that she was even singing words, but Jack watched her intently from the doorway of his cabin with apprehensive bewilderment. His eyes were wide and his brows deeply furrowed, mouth slightly agape in alarm, for he recognized that song. Surely it cannot be, he told himself. Every pirate knew the song, but Cherise was not a pirate, and furthermore, the words...

The words held the deepest secrets of the sea. The words had been lost for hundreds of years.

The implications of this were, frankly, too vast.