Chapter 4: Savvy?
Disclaimer: WHAA! I don't own "Pirates of the Caribbean", I'm afraid ((sniff))
A/N: Yesh! I got it done!
Thanks as always to La Flamingo for critiquing (I have been honored to be a Grasshopper/Cricket-in-Training under you, Mighty Master Cricket ;D), and to all my reviewers. You guys rock! (And so does Captain Jack Sparrow)
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Four days, out of a hopeful fourteen.
And there was already stirring confusion and people reeking havoc.
Ana Maria had agreed that half of her crew would be in charge of her ship, while the rest, she, and Jane ran the Black Pearl. They would save Jack, or at least try to. She thought it would work out, until they eventually found a little something she hoped they wouldn't.
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Thud. "I must find him."
Thud. "I must find him."
Thud. "I must find him."
Jane had been repeating this phrase for over fifteen minutes now while throwing a crew member's small dagger into the post rhythmically. But this could still not satisfy her.
The moonlight glistened onto the Black Pearl's legendary deck, it's soft, yet bright halo over watching the girl's every move. Eerie silence floated in the sea and on board as the young pirate continuously interrupted it. She took no notice to the stealth aboard Ana's Maria's ship; she was far too busy being captured in her own problem and thoughts.
"I must--"
Yellow glowing light coming from Ana Maria's cabin instantly caught Jane's attention. But why? Ana Maria was aboard the Black Pearl right now, not there.
Jane cautiously crept up over to the Peal's rugged railings, trying to obtain a better observation point. The light flickered every now and then as dark shadows crossed its path. Soon afterwards, there was a sudden crash coming from inside.
If only they had anchored a little closer!
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"Well lookie 'ere." Smug, one of Ana Maria's more un-loyal members of her crew, had decided to start venturing through her cabin, just to look at it, and maybe find something that was steal-worthy for him. Under his torn, worn-out cap, his short and curly, unwashed hair was carefully hidden. The hair belonged to an old, thin face that had not been shaved in ages, what left of his teeth was disturbing yellow, his clothes smelled putrid; the very look of the man would make you want to step back a few feet. But he was unfortunately very clever, especially when it came to rummaging through things that were not his own.
Soon enough, drawers were on the floor, papers were crumpled up and out of place, and eventually the captain's overstuffed velvet chair came occupied by an unworthy occupant.
"Where would she 'ave it?" Smug groaned, propping his filthy elbows up on the desk in front of him. He sniffed, rather frustrated that he was not able find it already.
"Bong. Bong."
Startled, the crew member jolted out of his chair, grabbing his stolen pistol in ready defense.
It was Ana Maria's round, ornate oak clock, doing its duty to be remindful of the time. It had already hit the twelve o'clock mark. That clock had been there for ages, as far as he knew. Stolen many years back, apparently.
Smug cocked his head, gave it a thought, and walked cautiously up to the clock. "Now, yer one place I 'aven't looked." He carefully lifted off the clock from the wall.
"Well, lookie 'ere!" the pirate grinned. The little piece of muslin came into grasp of his callous fingers. He had found exactly what he was hoping for:
The other piece of the map.
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Only a few minutes had passed by before Jane witnessed a thinly built figure coming out of the cabin. She ducked down quietly, looking through the open spaces of the railings, trying to discover the intruder without revealing herself.
The lights were unfortunately unlit, thus she found it nearly impossible to tell exactly who it was, except by a dim figure line, thanks to the moon above.
What was that? Some sort of parchment, maybe? It was hesitantly stuffed into the person's jacket before he intruder hurriedly went down below deck.
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Five days, out of a hopeful fourteen; already ahead, already coming closer to Port Royale.
Norrington had put John to kitchen duty only four days ago: he was to wash the dishes, help out the over-weight cook who couldn't speak properly, and scrub down the floor and counters.
"A 'ole lot o' gruelin' fun." as the cook liked to call it.
Still… that map would not leave John's thoughts. It pestered him every moment, especially at night, when he knew he could simply go down and ask that pirate more about it, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Jack never had answered him that night; he kept on staring at the floor. When the boy prompted Sparrow about it, the pirate looked up at him, muttering "It's none of your business, boy. Off you go." And that was the end of it. Just like that. No more true conversation pursued, even if he had be sneaking in food for Jack since they first met.
But why did this conversation of this map make Jack so suddenly solemn? Surely there was much more to the story than belie—
"Turner! Get over 'ere, boy! You've got yer chores to be a doin' now. Up to it!" the cook yelled as soon as he entered, a harsh scowl and a deep frown plastered on his cheeky face. He found John sitting there on the grimy kitchen floor, staring straight at his navy blue hat he had been holding, half-heartedly cleaned cooking utensils and a scrubbing brush lying beside him.
"Yes, sir." John muttered, slowly getting up from the floor.
The cook still kept eyeing him, even as the boy started to continue washing the plates and cups. John's heart thumped against his chest, hoping the cook had something different in mind than to stick around.
Did he know something, maybe? Something that he thought John knew? Or was he just thinking that this new kid wasn't doing his job, and he ought to keep a look out for him to make sure he did?
The cook eventually left after a period of fifteen minutes, but not before he gave a few grunts and a warning. "Mind yer chores, boy. Wash those dishes clean, ya 'ear? Or I'll be givin' a few words to de Admri'l."
John whipped into action. He walked up to the door; made sure the cook had truly left, and quickly begun preparing Jack's dinner.
Once done, he made his way back to the door, tray in hand.
"You've must to be joking." A huff voice came from right outside the portal.
John rolled his eyes and halted in place. He listened intently, his back pressed up against the wall.
The talking continued. The person was obviously with someone else, as it turned into a passionate argument.
Were they? No, they must've been the same people who he had overheard talking about the map, but why….
Shock instantly grabbed hold of John's body as he eavesdropped on every word. This could not be possible!
Instantly his thoughts came back to Jack—now he had something to barter with.
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What a bloody mess he had gotten himself into now. Good work, Jack. Good work.
The infamous pirate was still in that horrible little prison of his, fed on only mangy scraps and dreadfully salty water.
That's what he hoped Norrington believed right now, anyways. Yes, he was still in that small, smelly holding that he had been first place in, but, with the help of a young Mr. Turner, the food was a little better than what that scum bag of an Admiral had planned.
Though his stomach was settled, his fears were not. His only daughter was still on the Black Pearl, with no means of hope. Maybe she was already dead. He obviously didn't know for certain. It killed him to think of her and what may have happened already.
And that map… that dreadful map didn't help much in smoothing out his complications, either.
Ah! Just as he had foreseen!
There came down John, his treasured hat placed square on his head to hide his glaring eyes, holding a small tray with Jack's 'humble' order: Some clean, boiled water, delightful soup, crackers, and, of course, a sweet green apple.
Time to be Jack again, Sparrow.
The pirate shot up from the floor, providing the boy a huge smile. He slid his hand through the open sections of the barrier, waiting to be handed the food. "Ah, right on time! …Now to find a way to get it though these bloody bars again."
The boy offered no words or movement in return. He stood there like a stake, still carrying the tray.
"Boy?" Jack prompted.
John growled in his throat, took a deep breath and exhaled it deeply. A frown curled on his face. His eyes, though not easily seen, squinted into a nasty scowl. "You can't keep doing this, Sparrow. We can both trust each other, and you know it. There's something you know and something I know; both pieces of information could be vital to us." Then he replied angrily, "In other words, Sparrow, you need to talk, or I may never be able to help you find your freedom again."
Jack, taken only somewhat aback by the youth's words, stopped his ignorance—but only inwardly.
The pirate shrugged, trying his best to reach for the apple. Finally he was able to grasp and take it, and then sit down on the hay floor again to start chomping on the thing. "Alright then," Jack said after he took a rather large bite. "So what do you know, that you think could be so vital to us, eh?"
John clung to the bars, now sick of Jack's every move. He gently pressed his face up against the barrier, whispering "No, Sparrow. You tell me what you know first, then I'll tell you what I know," he then slightly cocked his head, giving a small hateful smirk. "Savvy?"
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O, I like this chappy. ;)
As always, reviews are much appreciated. –Ancient Egyptian Dreams