"The fuck's the matter with you?" he heard Anne ask him
"You know what the matter with me is" he replied in annoyance
"Ahh for fuck's sake, Jack" she protested, yet she did not leave his side
The ship was headed North-East and Jack was resting his elbows on the railing, staring into the eastern darkness, as he still felt the sun warming his back. The crew had been restless as the news of the return of the English had arrived and they had kept being restless for the whole journey. It was no wonder though, as most of them were such recent additions that they had not witnessed the past's events, while the old ones who did were gladly retelling the story, with significant embellishments, to bolster their own deeds and to amuse themselves at the reactions their story telling stirred. The only exception seemed to be Mark, who now stood proud right next to them. That little one cherished every word he heard about the fights of the past, every word he heard about Charles Vane, about James Flint, about Edward Teach. He was eager to ask nearly everyone about them, hoping he would get to hear a previously forgotten story about them, only to be disappointed by finding out from Jack or Anne that half of them were invented.
He heard Anne sigh and he did not need to turn around to know that she was staring at the back of his head, waiting for him to voice something encouraging or useful. He had always been a man with a plan in mind, so it was no wonder that everybody had that expectation of him. The latest days, however, he only had an ideal in mind, yet only some vague idea about how to actually reach it. He did not worry though about the lack of clear paths ahead of him and he did not expect the world to draw out his path for him.
"You know, Anne" he began speaking after his thoughts had settled "The day has twenty four hours … "
He was sure that his words always got through to her, even if she always acted as if she despised all metaphors and his efforts at romanticising the world. He knew her soul, he knew how her tough shell had been synonymous to survival all of her life, so much that it was now fused into her personality. Perhaps if she had had an easy life, she would have let herself enjoy the smaller things more openly.
"And everything happens during the hours of day, under the sunlight … " he calmly went on
"Sails!" he heard a yell from up in the crow's nest
As Jack looked through the spyglass he spotted the four-ship convoy that he was looking for and recognised the Royal Fortune, though he did not know precisely who the three consort vessels were. The crew could now relax as they were only about one hour away from having reached, unharmed and unbothered by any English warship, the fleet that they intended to join.
"And under the dark and quiet hours of the night, people find rest and closure … " he went on, a little more optimistic
"I still don't like him" Anne growled
Her aggressiveness betrayed her fear, a fear that only he could smell on her, born out of the fact that most pirates looked down upon having a woman on ship and the fact that Bartholomew Roberts had previously refused to take on any irishman onto his crew. Joining Bart would imply following his leadership and his rules, a feat which he did not take in easily, yet Jack figured that the infamous captain would not refuse to accept Jack Rackham's help, along with his own two ships, simply because he had a condition to it. A condition of accepting an irish woman on crew, which would have been easily accepted by any sane captain, given the circumstances, apart from the very proud Bart. Even when faced with the possibility that they might have sailed there for nothing, Jack would not give up his one and only condition.
He turned around to witness Anne and Mark quietly chattering, a matter which had curiously been growing in frequency.
"But the most beautiful part of the day" he continued, interrupting the two's whispers "a beauty seen in unison by just about everybody, everywhere … is the sunset!"