Apologies for the lateness of this chapter – it's raining outside and my arthritis is playing up. I know, I know; 16 years old and she has an old person's disease – how screwed up am I?
Just a word of warning; I'm on vacation in the sticks until the 25th (of July). That's three weeks! Please, promise me you won't forget about my story :( No doubt you'll be too busy watching the second POTC movie, fantasising about Jack and Will, as I will be doing. However, it would really make my day if I came back to find I had 100 reviews. I think I would remain happy for the rest of the year, no, my entire life. I'll try to update during the holidays, but no promises – I have no internet connection. On the plus side, it's 3 uninterrupted weeks of me typing up more of the story, and maybe a few quick one-shots as well. Okay, so that's a bit of a consolation prize, but it's something.
The ship was a translucent white, coated in a light frosting of ice that made it shimmer and glisten against the dark night. Almost luminescent from its frosty gleam, it was as if the whole ship had been painstakingly carved from ice; even the sails held a transparent sheen. Icicles hung like sharpened needles from the yard-arms and spars, and clung delicately to the lines and rigging. The ship was both beautiful in its fragility and menacing in its ethereal appearance.
The ship was now close enough for the crew to make out its name: The Drifting Maiden. While the rest of the crew shrunk back in fear and repulsion, Jack allowed himself the satisfaction of a small smirk. He had finally tracked down the Drifting Maiden, and now all there was left to do was draw out its cursed crew members. Just to see if the legends are correct, Jack thought He had a score to settle with this ship… The damned vessel seemed to be intent on taking the Black Pearl by force, and doing so without revealing a single crew-member on deck, much to Jack's annoyance. Somehow, the ship was being controlled and manipulated from below deck. Or perhaps - being a cursed ship - it required no other commands than to wreak as much havoc, bloodshed and revenge as possible.
In eerie silence she came about and presented her cannons, icicles snapping off and cannons rolling stiffly to their ports. Jack has still not yet ordered his crew to draw their cannons, and he was certain they were too stupefied and shocked to carry out his orders anyway. Even the most hardened of men were so awed and horrified by the sight of the Drifting Maiden they were just going to stand there like stunned mullets and let themselves be slaughtered where they stood. Now Jack finally understood why the Drifting Maiden had found it so easy in the past to board and massacre entire ships, and leave so much destruction and carnage in her wake.
It was in the eerie silence that Jack first heard it. Initially, he dismissed it as the wind beginning to pick up again, whistling through the sails and whipping around the ship. Then he began to make out a distinct repetition; a pattern, a tune. He thought perhaps somehow the Drifting Maiden, seemingly crafted or encased in pure ice, was responsible for emitting some sort of faint humming from its frozen hull. The humming grew shrill and piercing – almost unbearable in its rising magnitude – until most of the crew kneeled, doubled over in pain, clutching or tearing at their ears, trying to block out the agonizing wails and screams that penetrated their brain, echoing and reverberating until they felt they would surely go mad.
My… Bonny… Where…is my….Bonny? … Bring…back my Bonny… bring him back…to me…
Jack sunk to his knees as the song drifted around him, each word stabbing like knives, burning into his brain. As his pain increased, he felt the words grow stronger, becoming more potent, more forceful, more demanding every time they were uttered, drawing strength from his agony. The words were meant to torture, to tease.
J…Ja...ck… Jack…Jack…JACK!
At the last word, a splitting pain shot through Jack's brain, the flash behind his eyes and the pressure in his skull almost blinding him. Through his agony, he looked up at the Drifting Maiden, determined to at least face his enemy like a man of honour and pride before it killed him. I shouldn't have followed it, Jack thought in despair as he saw the ominous open cannon-ports of the Drifting Maiden – so wide and hollow and pitiless. Jack had played with fire, and as a consequence, he got burned by the sparks. He just thought it was unfair his crew had to suffer under their captain's folly. He glanced up at the cursed ship one more time, as the pain erupted once more behind his eyes. He felt almost as if the ship was watching him with dark, soulless eyes, mocking him behind its frozen façade. Through the dimming of his mind, he could make out two burning red flickering embers, until he realised it was the ruby-red eyes of the figurehead leering out at him. As he gazed into the corpse's malevolent eyes, he felt the pure evil burning into his very soul, feeling the drop of his stomach and the jump as his heart skipped a beat. The eyes seemed to sparkle in recognition and derision.
There you are, Jack…
The spell was broken as a faint boomed echoed faintly through the silent yet still-pouring rain. The Drifting Maiden had discharged only one cannon –one shot – intent on only one person. Jack. The scene seemed to slow down as the silvery-white cannonball barrelled through time and space. Jack saw the cannonball shatter each and every drop of rain, saw each turn and spin and revolution as it meticulously, painstakingly hurtled towards him. His dark eyes widened in fear and surprise, reflecting and replicating the image of the oncoming cannonball.
Is this the end for our roguish, charming, lovable hero? Just as one hero is saved, another is placed in peril.Ah, the life of a pirate. I know this is a really horrible cliff-hanger to leave you all with, especially if I may not be able to update for another three weeks. So don't forget me between now and then:) …(threatening) or Jack's wellbeing may be adversely affected…
Shadowicewolf – Hope you have fun at camp! I love camps… the only time and place where you're expected and encouraged to play up…lead people through poison ivy bushes, place horrible creepy-crawlies in various people's treasured possessions…good times…On the other subject you mentioned, despite this story's apparent minute popularity on I doubt publishers in the real world would ever consider printing a 16-year-old's pathetic tribute to Pirates of the Caribbean… it would be nice to be published one day, but realistically, I don't see it ever happening to me - not in this lifetime anyway.
Lonaargh – I think you jinxed me; just as you say I update quickly, I'm not able to update for three weeks. Oops…!
DCoD – Confrontation time, indeed it is. At the risk of spoiling the cliff-hanger, the next chapter's an anti-climax really. The Black Pearl is already badly damaged, and somehow she needs to limp to Tortuga, so she can't really afford to take on heavy losses in a full-frontal sea engagement with the Drifting Maiden.
Pebbles1234 – You're too generous with your reviews; you make me blush. I am not worthy; I don't deserve your kind words… Onto another subject: you wrote more to your story! Yay! Which makes me happy:D