I need to give HUGE thanks to jedipati for offering to be my beta, and betaing this chapter for me. You've got to check out her oneshot The Worst Feeling; it's the most creative perspective on the lifting of the Aztec curse you'll ever read.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates!
The sea cradled its lovely prize with a mother's hand; untangling her hair and letting it stream up about her peaceful face. It moved her limbs in a heartbreakingly graceful dance as it set her ever so lovingly on a bed of flawless white sand–
Like a merman, Mr. Smith swam fiercely down to her side. His arms circled her tiny waist and he gracefully surged upward, pushing off that disappointed sand.
In seconds, he broke the water's surface and blew like a whale in the sun; the girl's head a weary weight on his shoulder. He began to swim arduously for the dock, but her weight dragged him under. Kicking, suspended in the murkiness, he released her and without a second's hesitation grasped her bodice and wrenched it clean open with a dull rasp. He shoved the dress' sleeves off her cold arms then dragged her up once more, leaving her gown to sink into a school of minnows.
Wondering if they were going to be the first to confront a tragedy that would be remembered for decades, Murtogg and Mullroy rushed off of the Interceptor to meet Mr. Smith as he paddled up to the dock. Panting, he lifted Elizabeth's weight to their worried hands, then clambered slowly out, gasping for breath.
The Marines set her gingerly on the wood planks, kneeling on either side. Pulse racing, Mullroy pushed a limp clump of dark hair from her blue lips with a shaking hand. "Not breathing!"
"Move!" Mr. Smith bowled them both aside and kneeled over her limp form. To their horror, he produced a heavy dagger. Before they could stop him, he rapidly slashed the front lacing of her corset and yanked the whole pink thing off her. He tossed it into Murtogg's shocked arms.
She gasped a lungful of air. She choked. Rolling half over, she violently began to cough water onto the planks.
The Marines let out sharp breaths.
"I never woulda thought of that," Mullroy said, wishing his heart would slow.
Mr. Smith looked up at Mullroy as water dripped down his narrow nose. "Clearly, you've never been to Singapore."
He looked back Elizabeth. Trying to regain her breath, she gaped up at him, and their eyes met.
What a lovely brown. And the lashes are first-rate, darling. The invitingly generous lips would be just as nice when blood decided to reach them again...but Smith was no idiot; he knew he should retreat before the arrival of her general-issue male protectors.
But before he could move, he saw it.
Elizabeth was still trying to come to terms with waking up in her undergown with the strangest human being she had ever seen hovering above her. She was relieved when the man's piercing gaze shifted, but she did not like the way it narrowed on what had diverted it. Unable to move, she waited as he reached down, and then stiffened when he plucked up the medallion from where it lay on its chain by her sleeve.
He looked back at her with his strangest expression yet, curiously menacing. "Where did you get that?"
Feeling unprofessionally vicious, Commodore James Norrington clattered up with his Marines, unsheathing his new sword. He shoved its glinting tip before Mr. Smith's face. "On your feet."
That arctic voice was definitely not to be ignored. Mr. Smith stood, hands half-raised.
"Elizabeth!"
She jumped at her father's breathless voice, looked around, and shrank at the sight of surrounding Marines who were trying unsuccessfully not to look at her indecency. Then Governor Swann burst from their midst and pulled her quickly up to himself.
"Are you all right?" His voice quivered as he pulled his overcoat around her shuddering frame, shutting away her thin white under gown from sight.
"Yes–yes, I'm fine." She tucked the medallion into her bodice with numb fingers, gaze straying to Mr. Smith.
As Governor Swann tightened the overcoat about her, he suddenly looked at Murtogg. When his eyes found Murtogg, they found Elizabeth's mangled corset. And they went murderous.
Alarmed, Murtogg threw down the feminine thing and pointed at Mr. Smith.
The Governor's dagger glare fastened on the dripping man. "Shoot him!"
"Father!" Elizabeth's icy hand grasped her father's arm. "Commodore." Her dark eyes captured Norrington. "Do you really intend to kill my rescuer?"
Commodore Norrington, lips tight, bowed his head and lowered his sword. His Marines lowered their muskets.
Mr. Smith turned to Elizabeth. Smiling, he bobbed once, hands prayerfully together. Norrington, jaw set, sharply sheathed his sword. "I believe thanks are in order." He extended his hand.
Mr. Smith hesitated, his smallest fingers up in the air in a dainty manner. Then he gingerly slid his hand into the Commodore's.
Norrington yanked Mr. Smith forward and whipped back his drenched sleeve. He gazed knowingly down at the pink scar in the shape of a P on Smith's wrist. "Had a brush with the East India Trading Company, did we, pirate?"
Mr. Smith winced. Shock roiled through the group, and suddenly he was again the focus of many musket sights.
Governor Swann was completely flabbergasted. "Hang him!"
With pleasure. "Keep your guns on him, men," Norrington ordered. "Gillette, fetch some irons." He pushed the pirate's sleeve up further, revealing a fine tattoo of a bird soaring over before a blazing sun. "Well, well. Jack Sparrow–" he shove-released the pirate's hand "–isn't it?"
The pirate fidgeted. "Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please."
Norrington smiled mockingly as he looked over the harbor. "I don't see your ship, Captain."
"I'm in the market." The pirate squinted his dark eyes. "As it were."
Murtogg spoke up. "He said he'd come to commandeer one."
"I told you he was telling the truth," Mullroy gloated.
Jack Sparrow gave Murtogg a victimized look that somehow managed to be dangerous at the same time. Murtogg swallowed.
Eager to please, Mullroy grunted as he bent and picked up everything but the pirate's coat from the dock. He presented the pile to the Commodore. "These are his, sir."
It was Mullroy's turn to get a look from Sparrow. He fidgeted.
Norrington picked up the pirate's pistol, a wicked gleam coming into his eyes. Jack Sparrow lifted his hands unhappily.
"No additional shot nor powder," Norrington crisply tossed the pistol to his other hand, then replaced it on the pile. He snatched up a worn, elegant little box and opened it. It gave a tiny creak. "A compass that doesn't point north," Norrington continued, smiling at Jack Sparrow, who lowered his eyes.
The new commodore then pulled the pirate's sword halfway from its scabbard and inspected the length of steel. He smirked. "And I half expected it to be wood."
Jack smiled a smile of pain as Norrington announced, "You are without a doubt the worst pirate I've ever heard of."
Jack smugly raised pointed forefingers. "But you have heard of me." He smirked back. Incensed, Norrington grabbed Jack's arm and jerked him roughly away through the Marines.
Elizabeth was shocked. She did not like this mocking, icy Commodore Norrington at all. Before she could think too hard about what she was doing, she bravely threw off her father's coat and stalked after him. Governor Swann scurried after her, the discarded garment held out before him. "Commodore, I really must protest." She came up beside Norrington, shivering in her drenched underclothing.
"Carefully, Lieutenant." He barely gave her a glance, choosing instead to closely observe Jack Sparrow's shackling. The pirate stood dejectedly near the foundation of one of the massive cranes, surrounded by tense Marines.
Indignant anger closed Elizabeth's sore throat. Before Governor Swann could shove his coat over her shoulders, Elizabeth planted herself in front of Norrington and faced him fiercely. "Pirate or not, this man saved my life."
Norrington's brow creased as he looked at her pale face. He wanted nothing more than to get her out of sight and save her the humiliation she had to be feeling, but part of him was impressed. "One good deed is not enough to redeem a lifetime of wickedness."
"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Jack growled.
"Indeed." Norrington's voice was frosty. He avoided Elizabeth's gaze, wishing her father would at least attempt to reason with her. But Governor Swann seemed to be at his wit's end, unable to meet his daughter's blazing eyes, and when the Marines stepped back from a manacled Sparrow, he looked relieved, as if everyone could go home now and all would be well.
It was not to be.
"Finally," the pirate muttered as he lunged up behind Elizabeth. The circle of his bound arms descended over her head in an instant he had her trapped against him, manacle chain to her neck. She barely had time to gasp before he was backing her away. In one extremely deadly moment of uncontrollable emotion, musket muzzles came up and outraged eyes sighted down the barrels–
I'm almost sorry t'have to do this, sweetling…though between you an' me, I doubt you'll find yourself six feet under tonight–
"No, no, don't shoot!" the Governor cried, and the moment passed. The muzzles came down, and Sparrow was pinioned by a dozen glacial glares. He didn't mind.
"I knew you'd warm up to me," he told the growling group, eyes obsidian-hard. He halted. Elizabeth's bare heel landed lightly on his toe then was quickly gone. "Commodore, my effects, please." He raised a finger. "And my hat."
Hands clenched, Norrington struggled with himself, almost unable bear the sight of the clever pirate, while the Governor's eyes were desperate upon him.
"Commodore!" Jack Sparrow tightened the chain. Norrington whirled and grabbed the pile of effects from Mullroy.
"Elizabeth, it is Elizabeth, isn't it?" Sparrow murmured.
She was too angry to even shiver. "It's Miss Swann!"
His lips brushed her flattened hair; his breath warmed her ear and cheek. "Miss Swann, if you'd be so kind." She was silent, teeth clenched. "Come, come, my dear, we don't have all day."
Norrington stepped up to Elizabeth, and, with apology in his eyes, piled Jack Sparrow's things into her arms. She caught them clumsily, grabbing for the pistol, but the pirate was faster. He deftly snatched the weapon, captured her shoulder in an iron grasp, and then wrenched her around to face him.
His face was only inches from hers and his wet sash pressed into her middle. His voice scathingly soft, he said, "Now, if you'll be very kind."
As she understood his request, Elizabeth's jaw slid minutely forward, and color returned to her face in a wave of pink. Seething, she looked down at the pile she could barely hold, and Sparrow looked down at her with admiring approval, happy to keep her close with his arms about her shoulders.
Elizabeth took the pirate's worn hat first, and slapped it onto his dark head. Then, her sparking eyes meeting his, she arranged the sword belt in her hands and pressed close, cheek against his shoulder, to reach around. He grinned over her slender shoulder at Norrington, who could barely restrain himself to an eye roll. The Governor was pale.
Elizabeth quickly retreated as far as he would let her and began to fasten the belt with trembling fingers.
"Easy on the goods, darling."
The belt rasped as it was pulled viciously tight. "You're despicable," she spat.
"Sticks and stones, love," he replied evenly. "I saved your life, you save mine, we're square." She went white; he whirled her around. Holding held her close with one arm loose over her shoulder, he felt her stiffen when he pressed the muzzle of his pistol to her jaw. He began to back them both away.
"Gentlemen!" he addressed the tightly wound pack stalking him; "m'lady," he murmured. His voice rose. "You will always remember this as the day that you almost caught ...Captain...Jack...Sparrow!" He lifted his arms and gave Elizabeth a brutal shove. With a cry, she careened right into the arms of the Commodore and her father. There she collapsed. The entire group of men was thrown off-balance. As they all shouted, flailed, and tried not to skewer one another on their bayonets, Jack Sparrow shoved the pistol into his belt, turned, and grasped the nearest rope.
The Marines were clattering, fumbling toward him, but Jack was kicking loose a wood belaying pin. He suddenly was yanked straight up into the air, his toes escaping a Marine's fingers by centimeters. As he shot upward, those below discovered the counterweight that was making his ascent possible, and they lunged to avoid the cannon-like mass of metal, which smashed down and through the quaking dock, sending up a salty fountain. Shouting, two unlucky marines tumbled into the gaping hole before they could catch themselves.
Jack reached the underside of a crane arm with a bump, level with the spars of the Interceptor's main topgallant yard. He desperately grasped the nearest rope, jolting loose the lock on the crane's swivel mechanism, which caused the whole monstrosity to rotate at a quickening rate, ropes hissing.
Everyone below stared as Jack flew round and round, yelling, his body almost horizontal. The Governor, clutching Elizabeth, cried, "Now will you shoot him?"
"Open fire!" Norrington bellowed, and the Marines eagerly filled the air around Jack Sparrow with deadly pieces of lead. He yelled again in a panic, then he saw the second crane, which stood not far away from the first.
He swung like an ape to the second crane's arm, his feet slamming onto the arm as he let his rope go. The first crane still twirling behind, he teetered back and forth as bullets continued to scream past.
"On his heels!" Norrington bellowed. The Marines lowered their muskets and ran for the upper level of the dock.
Jack acted quickly to take advantage of this respite. He slid to the tower of his crane, pressed his wrists together, threw the resulting loop of manacle chain over another rope, and caught the loop as it swung around.
Then he shoved off.
He slid down the rope, soaring over the dock toward shore like a great pelican. The rope ended before the dock did and, releasing his chain loop, he hit the planks running. Behind, the Marines knelt together and resumed fire. Once ashore, Jack veered and ran up a sturdy bridge and past two traumatized pedestrians who ran with their arms over their heads. Boots pounding, arms flailing in a practiced manner, Jack repelled bullet after bullet with his manacles and managed to reach the other side of the bridge and cover.
The Marines ceased fire and charged after him.
Norrington and Gillette emerged on the upper level just in time to watch them leave through the wisps of musket smoke. Green eyes murderous, the Commodore snapped, "Gillette. Mr. Sparrow has a dawn appointment with the gallows." He turned on his second-in-command. "I would hate for him to miss it."
Gillette nodded to Murtogg and Mullroy, who ran off with him, leaving the Commodore to stand and glare.
Elizabeth sloshed up beside him, fuming. He glanced at her, and then focused on her face to keep from blushing. "Elizabeth," he managed, "are you–"
"Yes, I'm all right, I'm fine!" she exclaimed. "Go capture him!"
He hesitated for a breath, then hurried off. Elizabeth quietly watched him go. Her father came up behind her, winded. He draped his coat over her shoulders. "Here, dear," he said faintly, patting the coat, "you should wear this."
She shivered. Then she tore her eyes from the gathering fog and pulled the coat tightly about her. "Thank you, Father. And let that be the last of your fashion advice, please."
Port Royal was not called the 'wickedest city in the world' for nothing. Here, hooligans of every sort were a commonplace phenomenon; therefore, only the legendary ones caused any sort of stir. And Port Royal was definitely stirred up today. On this day, women chattered excitedly and locked their doors; men frowned and donned an extra dagger or two, and children brandished sticks in make-believe duels, arguing over who got to play the most clever of swashbucklers ever to stalk the Caribbean: Jack Sparrow.
For Jack Sparrow…the Jack Sparrow was running around Port Royal. The word spread like wildfire.
So did angry Marines. As the hazy morning turned into afternoon, the glaringly red-clad men were everywhere, clattering about brusquely with their muskets. Their superiors waited at the fort with maps of the city, receiving report after report: Nothing found. Nothing found. Nothing found.
"Search up the stairs!" On the seedier side of town, a troop scrambled into a small alley and up the steps at the back, setting chickens and a mule protesting, passing a grimy man who was wringing a rag. "Find him men!" Their footsteps receded, leaving an uneasy street filled with only the chickens' indignant clucking.
Squashed between the gray doors of a barn and an elevated passage, a deep alcove held a life-sized blacksmith sculpture in its mossy shadow. One of the forgotten metal man's mighty arms brandished a sledgehammer at the ready, while his other hand held a narrow, pointed metal strip to an anvil.
With a soft ringing noise, the metal strip slipped out the back of the sculpture's loose fist, and Jack Sparrow peeked out past the blacksmith's dull brown arm, warily holding his sword up like a stick.
He boldly stepped into the light and nimbly descended the steps, only to freeze at the bottom and curse the limitless British troops as he stared at the troop trotting past the alley, flashing muskets held erect before them. In a rush, he turned on the conveniently placed barn doors beside him, shoved at a small pass-through door; he scrambled inside when it opened. Just as quickly, he shut it.
A worn sign hung motionless over the doors. On it was painted an anvil, tongs and hammer, all above the lettering J. Brown.
What do you think?