Still smarting from Will's barb about the indignity of wearing a baptism gown, Jack looked on in undisguised disgust as the warden slid their food bowls through an opening at the bottom of the bars. Tentatively Will picked up his chipped and cracked unadorned clay-bowl filled with some form of congealed substance previously unknown to mankind.
"'S yer last supper, so I'd enjoy it, if I was yer." The warden grinned through broken and missing teeth.
"Care to join us then?" Jack remarked casually.
The warden's grin faded. "No."
Jack settled back in his cell, pushing the bowl back through the flap it had come from, "More's the pity." Jack conceded, then rolling his eyes and threading his hands through the bars, grabbed Will's wrist to stop him trying to attempt something stupid. Which, in this case, was sampling the gaol food. Straining through the bars, Jack grimly grabbed the bowl from Will and turned it upside-down. He held it aloft for several seconds. The congealed gloop did not budge from the bowl. The warden looked on in barely-disguised interest, but didn't appear surprised at the supper's reluctance to part company with the bowl. Probably because the warden was also the gaol's chef-in-residence, so he knew exactly what was in the thick soup-like broth. Jack turned it the right-way up again and regarded it through the bars. Then he threw it at the warden. The bowl clanged resoundingly against the cold steel criss-crossed bars, then rolled away. The mush remained firmly set in the bowl, undisturbed by neither the forces of gravity, nor the forces of Jack.
"You know, of all the gaols I've frequented, that has got to be the worse last supper I've ever seen." Jack told the warden conversationally. The warden didn't know whether to look outraged that Jack had thrown food at him, or apologetic about the quality of the food.
"Oh really? 'Ow many last supper's 'ave yer 'ad?" The warden asked, for want of a better reply. Jack looked up at the ceiling for a moment, apparently deep in concentration.
"Thirty-two." The warden frowned in displeasure. He wasn't used to getting cheek from the prisoners. What he was used to was people begging and grovelling for their lives at his feet. Little did he know Jack wasn't being impertinent; he was telling the God's honest truth.
"Well, consider this yer last, last supper." The warden snapped, ascending the stairs once more and slamming the heavy iron door shut in finality.
"It seems you won't have to wait six days for the Devil to claim your soul," Will remarked lightly as he kicked the bowl around with his feet, "He's set the date for tomorrow morning."
"William, William, William. You're forgetting one thing." Will glanced over at Jack warily.
"What?"
"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy."
By the time midnight had occurred, Will was beginning to think that being Jack Sparrow was not going to be enough to save them.
"Jack." Whispered Will, several moments after the blinding light from upstairs filtered through his bars, waking him. If that hadn't been enough to rouse him, the noise from an extremely intoxicated, extremely raucous drunkard being dumped into a cell three down from their own achieved the task.
Jack cracked open a tired eye. "What?"
"I fail to see how being Captain Jack Sparrow is going to help you out of this scrape."
"Will?" Jack asked.
"Yes." Will replied, waiting for some smart, pert and astute answer from the incarcerated Captain.
"Shut-up."
At one o'clock, Will still couldn't sleep. He looked over at Jack's prone figure in contempt and wonder. Jack was lying spreadeagled on the hard stone ground, fully clothed in boots and all, his tri-corn hat pulled down over his eyes, deep in slumber. While Jack may be well versed in this kind of scenario, Will was finding sleep particularly elusive, seeing as this was supposedly his last night on earth before his date with the hang-man's noose tomorrow at sunrise.
"Jack." Will began, prodding Jack awake through the bars.
"Mmm…" Jack acknowledged Will without moving.
"Run this by me again; how exactly are we to escape in less than four hours?" There was a deep sigh issuing from underneath the captain's hat.
"Mate, I'll elaborate for you. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, the most dastardly, notorious, handsome pirate this side of the seven seas. As soon as word gets out that Captain Jack's in the local town gaol, d'you know exactly how many lasses - young and unfortunately hideously old - are running down to the brig with a set of keys, food, marriage certificates or anything else so that I will be freed of the fated gallows? And how many lads are running round with a wooden cutlass and half a stick of dynamite to blow me out of me cell so that I may take them on as an apprentice pirate? Give it a few hours, you'll see." He finished, settling back down and preparing for sleep.
"We only have four hours to work with!" Will exclaimed, dearly wishing he could throw something at the pirate captain's head.
"Will, m'boy?"
"Aye, I know, I know; 'shut-up'."
"Smart lad."
At one-thirty, the iron door that led to the underground prison cells in the gaol creaked open loudly, the reverberating screeching noise sounding like a thousand finger-nails being drawn down a blackboard. Jack was awake immediately; Will had never gone to sleep.
"See?" Jack whispered to Will, "What did I tell you." He smirked, "No-one resists the charm of Captain Jack Sparrow."
The figure, a black silhouette against the golden-yellow candle-light from upstairs, slowly descended down the steps, the form looking decidedly feminine. Jack was right, Will admitted reluctantly, one of his whore's to the rescue.
"Will?" The female voice whispered, standing in front of his cell seeming unsure of herself. Both Jack and Will sat up straighter. Who was this? There was the sound of a match being lit, and then …
Sometimes, I am so wholly evil I scare myself. What a cliff-hanger – hehehe. Who is Will's rescuer? Stay tuned, and tune in next update. Incidentally, a lot of people seemed to take to the idea of Jack rigged up in a moth-eaten yellowed lacy baptism gown, a look of pure disgust over his face. Sometimes I really wish I could draw well, because some images are just so ridiculous and funny they can't be done justice in a description of mere words…
Oh, lookie, the weekend; enough time to answer reviews. And may I take the time to thank-you all for your continued support and continuos reviewing, both new reviewers and old. Big chocolate chip cookie and tall glass of cold milk (what else goes so well with cookies?) for hippolytos, who left my inbox very full, and me very surprised and happy.
Hippolytos – I don't mind that you want more interesting and action-packed chapters. I never said I didn't want constructive criticism (bad use of double-negative there), and I can see where you're coming from with that suggestion. I don't mind at all; it makes me try harder to write a better and more enjoyable chapter :) And such fascination with Norrington. I'm determined to put him in the story now, since everyone's shown such interest. So, him and Anamaria have to be worked into the plot somehow. And Jacquelyn Sparrow wants her name mentioned somewhere… Oh, and I haven't totally abandoned Alex, but Jack needed some roguish time to act like the lovable rogue he is. And go easy on him about his escaping – the poor soul had only been in prison (awake and conscious) for about two hours – that's the trouble with being a famous Pirate Captain; such pressure to perform :) And thanks for noticing the chapters – I was beginning to think as a rule of thumb that no-one read the chapter names (I myself am often guilty of doing so in my rush to read the chapter's text.)
Remy Le Fay – I would give my right arm to somehow get Jack in a lacy baptism gown – Disney people take note: put it into the third movie somehow, and I will… bake you a batch of my famous chocolate chip cookies or something (I actually can cook, you know).
DCoD – I wouldn't exactly call Jack's escape 'grand.' And (spoiler alert for next few chapters) he actually puts saving his soul on the wayside for a moment; debatably for matters that may not be entirely selfish and self-motivated. And now you made me feel guilty about leaving Alex on the Black Friday… any man who falls behind gets left behind…although it's been proven that rule is more of an actual guide-line… I won't let anything too bad happen to her, but yeah, she definitely needs a hug about now. I'm going to regret asking this for appearing like a technology illiterate fool, but what in hell's gravy-boat is LMAO?