A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone!
Chapter 14: The Azores
Elizabeth followed Jack reluctantly to his cabin, holding the malodorous bottle of rum between finger and thumb. Perhaps the gruel stuck all over it rotted somehow, she mused, keeping it at almost arm's length away from her.
Upon reaching his cabin, Jack opened the door for Elizabeth and allowed her to enter the room first. He shut the door behind him and walked to his desk, setting both bottles down. It was then that he noticed her manner of handling her bottle of rum. She set it down on the desk, and wiped her fingers on her breeches.
"Wot's wrong, luv?" he asked. "I assumed that by you sayin' you wanted rum, you actually wanted to have some."
"I do," she replied. "It's just—this bottle smells revolting."
"Have you not smelled stale gruel before?" Suddenly his eyes grew wide. "Its odor is… vaguely similar to this odor, actually…Not that th' bottle was in proximity of such a substance, o' course. Many other things can smell just like that."
Elizabeth nodded. As if she was going to dig through rotten food to find a bottle of rum. Ha, indeed.
He held out a hand, immediately rendering her confused.
"Here, lemme clean it up for you. Wouldn' want a little gru—generic smell of rot— to spoil th' best drink there ever was."
He grabbed the red and white cloth tied about his waist and used the end of it to wipe the lumps of gruel off of the bottle.
"How did you ever survive childhood without the best drink there ever was?" she asked.
"Wot are you talkin' about? I can't remember when rum was not for th' takin'."
She was taken aback.
"You mean—your parents allowed you to drink rum?"
"Did you not notice my father, Cap'n Teague, at th' meeting o' th' Brethren Court? I don't recall seein' 'im drinkin' anythin' but rum."
She remembered the man who had played the guitar and had staggeringly opened the book of pirate code. Yes, she could believe what Jack had told her.
Within a few moments, the bottle was again in front of her on the desk, cleaned of the gruel.
"Alright then, Lizzie. Drink up, me hearty, yo ho." He flashed her a dashing smile, uncorked his own bottle, and tilted it against his lips. She stood immobile, watching his Adam's apple bob up and down as he downed the contents of a bottle.
She uncorked her own bottle and lifted it tentatively to her lips, allowing for a tablespoon of the strong substance to run across her tongue. It hadn't yet gotten to the point when she could swig the substance, for it still burned a good deal when going down.
Upon finishing half the bottle, Jack looked up at Elizabeth, who had managed to drink about two shots' worth of the substance, enough to subtly heat her innards.
"Would you like to sit down?" he offered, pulling up a chair for her.
I hope he doesn't expect me to drink this whole bottle, she said. I'm already nauseated enough every morning. No need to give myself another reason for sickness tomorrow….
Jack sat across from Elizabeth at his desk, watching her eyes dart about the room nervously.
"Wot's wrong, Lizzie? You seem troubled."
"No, I'm fine," she told him, giving him a little smile, and then eyeing the bottle as if it was an adversary. "I think I'm just tired."
"Ah. It has been a long day," he said, "but we shall be arriving in just a few hours."
A strange look came over her face for only a fleeting second. Now that they were close enough, he could tell Elizabeth of his problem with the Azores. It wasn't because he didn't trust her; no one was trustworthy, not even himself; he simply knew that Beckett would try to drag the answer out of her. And, well, if Beckett knew, he would try to stir up things. Beckett's meddling could make things very bad indeed for him.
He leaned towards Elizabeth across the table, putting his hands on her own.
"Lizzie," he said, dead serious.
She stared at him, wide-eyed.
"My reasoning for not tellin' you about my problem wiv th' Azores was not because I don't trust you." He bit his tongue. In all honesty, he didn't trust her, but that wasn't the major reason he had refrained from telling her.
Her eyes got a little wider and she looked at him with keen interest.
"I have th' problem wiv the Azores because, well… a former lover lives there," he stammered, though very quietly.
"Who is this… lover?" Anything was possible with Jack Sparrow, really.
"A girl I loved durin' a short period o' my youth. A real spitfire she was," he whispered, a tinge of excitement in his voice. "'Course, she'd slap me if she knew I was callin' her a girl."
"Did she die?"
He put his finger up.
"That I do not know."
"How long has it been since you've seen this girl?" she asked cautiously.
"I dunno. Couple o' decades by now, I'd think."
"Wow," Elizabeth said, her voice remaining low but definitely laced with excitement. She hadn't realized Jack was quite as old as he was revealing.
"Why did you leave her if you loved her?"
He frowned, and then looked at Elizabeth, his frown fading as he spoke.
"It's jus' my nature, luv. I cannot be tied down for very long to any one thing. Prob'ly why I relate so well to th' sea. Constantly on the move… restless. I am wot I am."
"Doesn't love change people, though? I never thought I'd be tied down, but here I—"
He laughed heartily.
"Tied down you mos' certainly are not. Look at you know; sailing th' seas wiv pirates. Temptation tuggin' you in directions you hate to follow, yet you cannot help yourself."
"I have not been unfaithful," she said, a squirm of uneasiness passing through her with the resolute-sounding statement. That was not entirely true. Actually, in her heart of hearts, she had told an absolute lie. She had been unfaithful, and she had enjoyed it.
"You can't help who you are, Lizzie," Jack said soothingly. "Don' try to make excuses for your thoughts an' actions. It's against human nature to remain wivout temptation, wivout strayin', for ten long years, at that."
"Easy for you to say," she said bitterly. That poor woman, left all alone on an island in the middle of the ocean. She probably loved him too. Why did he not take her with him?
"Now, now; tha's not fair. I revealed somethin' to you that you an' only you… an' I, of course… know. You can't go aroun' usin' me words against me, now."
"Of course. I'm sorry," she replied. "But why didn't you take her with you?"
He shifted uncomfortably, remembering.
"Ha, a girl—a woman on a ship o' the Royal Navy," he said, squirming. He let out a fake yet realistic-sounding yawn.
"Wait—" she said, looking insanely curious, "you were in the Royal Navy?"
"More time for that story later, luv," he said quickly, realizing he had again divulged too much. "We should really get some sleep," he added. "It'll be a long day tomorrow, an' an early morn as well."
She sat there for a few more seconds, her expression indignant. He refused to budge on revealing more, even though she pouted. She left with this new piece of information about Jack, and felt better about his treatment of her, though feeling worse about his character.
Jack tossed and turned in his bed that night. So… once I get to the Azores, I must tiptoe around Pico Island. There's no telling what's goin' to happen once we arrive. At least my appearance is completely different from th' days of yore…. She shouldn't be able to recognize me…. An' as well as that, I've switched to th' opposite side o' the law.
"Land ho!" Gibbs yelled, crisp and clear in the still-dark hour before dawn. A crescent of sunrise had appeared on the horizon, barely illuminating the mountainous expanse of land that lay before them: the Azores islands.
Jack stumbled out of bed, rubbing his eyes fervently in an attempt to see in the near-darkness. Failing miserably to move around his cabin without stubbing a toe or two, he finally lit a candle, put on his clothes and boots, and made his way to the quarterdeck.
Elizabeth heard Gibb's yells with increasing volume as he moved about the ship, alerting the crew to prepare to make port. Surprisingly, this morning, the nausea was barely noticeable. She pulled out the ginger root from under her pillow and took a bite just in case, chewing thoughtfully. Maybe it was already helping her. Somehow she'd have to inform Beckett of the early plan without anyone else seeing. This was going to be more difficult than she thought.
The tired-looking crew emerged on deck several minutes after the first calls of Gibbs had been announced. They began taking positions at their respective stations, watching a barely-awake Jack stand at the helm, eyelids heavy with sleep.
When Elizabeth arrived on deck, Beckett was already there, ready to start the day. Unlike everyone else, save for Gibbs, he looked wide awake. Makes sense, being as he slept all afternoon yesterday, she mused. He was wearing his frockcoat, which made sense, being as there was quite a nip in the air. Not enough to see their breaths, but enough to shiver if inappropriately dressed. I wish he'd remove that outer layer. Jack and Barbossa will never see the lash marks on his shirt. They may very well assume I did nothing to him yesterday. I definitely did something to him yesterday; that's for sure….
Soon the ship had docked at the main port on Pico Island. Elizabeth and Beckett watched as the crew furled the sails and prepared the ship for a decent time spent at this new destination. The crew was already feeling pangs of hunger, and wanted to explore the island as soon as was possible.
Elizabeth watched Jack disappear below deck for a short time. She grabbed Beckett by the shirtsleeve and he followed her as if already aware of this development, as they went down the ladder on the larboard side of the ship so they could slip away from the crew and the captains to take care of business. For some reason, he removed his frockcoat and threw it onto main deck, heading down the ladder only wearing his slightly tattered shirt, breeches, and boots.
Beckett followed behind Elizabeth closely as she crept down the ladder on the hull, leaping over to the dock as quietly as possible. As she watched him he did the same, landing quietly on his feet. The ship loomed so high above them and so near to the dock, that if they ducked they might be able to escape the dock unseen. It was barely daybreak so the docks were still rather dark, and they stole away under the cover of darkness, their shod feet padding ever so softly on the boards of the dock.
They were able to steal away from the docks without a problem, hearing the occasional shouts from Barbossa and Jack fading from earshot, and soon entered the settlement of Lajes do Pico.
At this hour, Lajes do Pico was devoid of all activity. Not a soul walked about the abandoned cobblestone streets. All shops had their doors shut, "FECHADO" written on large obvious signs in the darkened windows. Gas lamps eerily illuminated the old brick buildings with their picturesque balconies,
"What is the language spoken here?" she asked Beckett, who was a few strides ahead of her.
"Portuguese," he said quietly. "We will have to be quiet, so as not to arouse suspicion. The townsfolk are very suspicious of foreigners."
"What townsfolk?" she said, chuckling and looking about her at the bare streets. He shot her a look of irritation, and she fell silent.
Would he punish me if I do not stay quiet? she mused. Suddenly her thoughts fell. Bloody hell; I'm not supposed to think these sorts of things…
Once Beckett and Elizabeth reached the first row of buildings, they ducked into a vine-covered alleyway between two rather large brick shops overlooking the docks.
"So… do you remember how to get to this doctor?" she murmured, anticipating their arrival.
He mumbled off into space, his voice changing tone to one of a strange longing.
"I'll never forget… and 'this doctor' is called Dr. Serpa," he muttered, seemingly to himself. He was frozen in place, staring off into the distance.
"Alright then," she whispered, poking him in the shoulder to get him to return to reality. "Where do we go first?"
"We have to go past three rows of buildings running parallel to the docks. Once then, we follow a yellowed cobblestone street until it turns to dirt, which requires that we move easterly."
"How can you remember something so well from so long ago?" she questioned, amazed at his recollection of detail.
"Like I said, he was a good doctor. Changed my life," Beckett replied, his voice distant.
"Really."
He saw her looking at her and realized he had divulged more than he had wanted.
"Let's go," he said hastily. "They'll be wondering where you and I went off to," he added.
"Alright."
Beckett and Elizabeth moved silently through the streets, which were devoid of people so early in the morning. Only every couple of gas lamps was lit, the others casting eerie shadows in the slowly rising sun.
Once they had made it to the cobblestone street, Beckett recognized familiar landmarks. Elizabeth watched him staring up at a run-down cottage as they approached its section of the street, curls of smoke emerging from its chimney. The building was made of crudely laid brick, curtains draped in all the windows, extinguishing any possible light coming from inside. Mercer had mentioned the windows couldn't be locked, he mused. Ignorant fools. He stared at it intently as he walked by the home, never taking his eye off it until they had passed it by. She didn't even want to ask what his problem was, because he'd never tell her.
There's where she lived. More than likely her family still lives there. Her parents… her child. They probably still wonder every day what happened to her….
He wasn't about to let himself become upset over this notion. This unrequited love and its tragic ending. He saw Elizabeth looking at him quizzically, but she refrained from asking him the questions he expected would come flying anytime soon. Once they had passed the cottage, Elizabeth looked forward again, staying silent….
Thank you for minding your own business, he mused, looking at the back of Elizabeth as she continued to walk down the street.
Beckett and Elizabeth began to jog as the realization hit that more than likely Jack and his crew would be searching for them, wondering where they disappeared.
Right across from the doctor's is the embassy for the British Royal Navy, he recalled, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips. It was my crew that had established it there, being as we all needed a place to stay whilst healing, yet also needing to be close enough to the doctor. Hopefully it's still poorly marked….
Suddenly Elizabeth recognized the sign by the doctor's home, Dr. Serpa, which also happened to be his office, for when he wasn't making house calls. She took off rather quickly in its direction, causing Beckett to also speed up, trotting along as he had not done in years.
"I see it! Finally I'll know what's wrong with me!" she said, almost with glee.
"Sounds pleasant," he replied sarcastically, attempting to keep up with her.
She skipped to the door and rapped on it rather loudly. Beckett stood next to her, immediately pulling his hair out of the ponytail. Elizabeth looked at him strangely.
"What in the world are you doing, Beckett?" she said.
"Please, call me Cutler," he replied, giving her a warm smile. It shocked her to think that she had gotten close enough to him to be able to call him by his first name. She gave him a big genuine smile, happy that they were now on first-name terms. Strange timing, but ah well…. I guess it is appropriate, though, being as we shared that… moment, yesterday….