...TanzFieber
More sun and more storms. More days and more weeks. Captain Jack Sparrow stood ever-impassively at the helm of the Black Pearl, his dark eyes roving over his working crew. Some were clambering up the rigging to hoist more sail before the stiff breeze, others swabbed the deck, and still others were heaving away at a cannon swinging from a block and tackle. Aye, they were hard-working buccaneers when he needed them to be, nobody could deny that... But where was the whelp?
Jack looked around some more, eyes even darting slightly aloft in search of the nine-year-old's agile frame. It was slightly unusual that she was out of sight and out of mind; especially since she had lately taken to stalking around behind him and making faces behind his back. Pestering fiend, she was undermining his authority as captain in the eyes of the crew, for all tried to avert their eyes and stifle chuckles at her antics. Perhaps the most annoying thing about it was that even in all of his cunning, he could not catch her in the act! She was quite the phantom menace, all innocence as soon as he whirled around.
Aggravating liddle beastie... No proper respect for authority at all! he thought to himself again, pushing away the nagging thought that he himself took pride in lacking that very same characteristic. Anyhow, the point was that he still could not find her anywhere, and that was slightly disconcerting. He peeked around his shoulder, half expecting her to be standing behind him, but she wasn't there either. Oh bugger it all...
"GIBBS!" Jack roared, watching the man in question leaving his post to trot obediently to the helm.
"Aye, Cap'n?" Gibbs saluted somewhat glibly.
"Where's the whelp? F'that girl is gettin' in the way or makin' faces again I swear on Davy Jones's heart I'll boot 'er off next time we put in. Savvy?"
Gibbs spread his arms placatingly at his touchy captain and pointed aloft. "Nah, Cap'n, she's up the mast workin'. Th'lass be pullin' her weight 'round here, same's any piratin' fiend aboard this ship... though she's nary more 'n nine years old."
Jack looked upwards for a few moments, and then turned back to his mate with an accusatory air. "Well I don't see her, Gibbs..." he drawled smugly, but the first mate only smiled back and continued to motion up the mast.
"Wit all due respec'... Yer probably not lookin' high 'nough, Cap'n... See? She's up there'n the royal yard wit a pitch bucket 'n brush."
The royal yard..? But that's th'very highest beam up the mast..! Jack shielded his eyes and tilted his head way back to see the entire length of the mast and then... "Bleedin' hellsteeth–!" He swore under his breath, for there she was: clinging to the highest spar more than one hundred feet above the rolling deck! "Th'whelp's completely mad"
Gibbs chuckled good-naturedly and shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Mayhaps yer right, Cap'n, but she won' listen a lick. Brave lidde mite, our Kelsea is; afeared o' nought and right dangerous with that mop handle o' hers… thank the fates she don' have a proper blade"
Jack had stopped listening to his mate and his own head was spinning as he watched the girl go about her task like a… like an undead monkey! One hundred feet above the deck—? Even he was a bit knock-kneed at such a height, although he would never admit it.
Brave liddle whelp indeed, he thought to himself rather grudgingly. She's every bit as crazy brave as meself, the voice in his head said before he could block it out. After all, wasn't the saying "Daft like Jack"..? The feeling, the one he wanted to squash with all of his conscious mind was definable now: it was pride. But no, he would definitely not be having such thoughts, so he immediately turned to take out his frustrations on the easiest target: Gibbs, in this case.
"Call th'whelp down, Gibbs. I'll not have the deck o' me ship dirtied if'n she slips and comes crashin' t'the floor— imagine the bloody mess!"
"As ye wish, Cap'n Sparrow…" the heavy-set first mate turned his face aloft and put two fingers in his mouth, letting out a shrill whistle. "Kelse! C'mon down, lass!"
Swaying high above the pair, the dark-haired little girl known as Kelsea stopped what she was doing and peered downward. "M'not finished, Mr. Gibbs!" She called back to the tiny pair below, wrapping her legs tighter around the beam as the Pearl seemingly tried to buck her loose.
"S'no matter, Cap'n Jack requires yer presence!"
Hearing this, Kelsea scrunched her face and sighed. Not HIM again... always tryin' t'ruin me fun, ol' stick inna mud… she thought somewhat mutinously, although she had already looped her bucket over one arm and begun clambering back towards the mainmast.
Captain Jack Sparrow… now there was a man who was truly a mystery to the young girl. He always seemed particularly perturbed by her, though as far as she knew she had never done anything wrong by him. Not only that, but she had been told many times not to bother the captain and all of the crew seemed reluctant to even mention him to her. She got the strange feeling that the reason he did not like her had something to do with her parents—she did not know what, because she had never known them and Mr. Gibbs was pretty tight-lipped about the subject. All the same, as young as she was, Kelsea still knew deep down that she and Captain Jack had some sort of common history that caused him to act strange…er around her.
The other thing was that everyone spoke reverently of him as if he were a living legend—told stories of his exploits with sea-turtles, whispered about where he had gotten particular scars, raved about how he had sacked many a port single-handedly. Not knowing whether the stories were true, all the girl could rely on were her own opinions of the man, and as far as she was concerned… he was very good at ruining fun and decidedly bad at taking jokes. Besides, it seemed to her that if he were half the witty, clever, and cunning pirate everyone claimed he was, then why couldn't he do so much as catch her making faces at him? Or perhaps he had, and that was the reason he wanted to see her. Deciding that she would just have to wait to find out, Kelsea set her mind to the dare-devil task of scaling down the mainmast to the deck.
Seemingly miles below her, the pirate and the crewman watched her descent in silence. Gibbs was proudly watching his protégé in all of her agility, and Jack was battling himself not to admire the same thing. Wanting very badly to look away, the captain removed his beloved hat and began dusting the non-existent dust from its corners. Meanwhile, Gibbs was still watching the girl he almost considered his own daughter with something akin to worry.
"Now watch yerself, lass," He warned in an unsure tone. "Th'lines can be a mite slippery…"
Kelsea, who was by now only forty feet above them, laughed aloud at her friend and shook her head. "Don' worry s'much, Mr. Gibbs… I never had a daddy an' I don' need one now!"
Jack heard these words and visibly winced before launching into a chorus of a pirate shanty underneath his breath to block out any more comments. "Rascals, scoundrels, villans, and knaves, Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho… Nah nah nah nah… and really bad eggs…" He mumbled to himself, his eyes still cast downwards. However, the next thing he heard was a frightened squeak from above and a strangled gasp from his left…
The girl had continued her monkey-like scampering down the ratlines without seeming to take any more trouble than it would to walk across the deck, but had gone astray by not heeding Gibbs's warning. She had reached twenty feet and was about to mock the man again for flapping his arms at her like a mother duck… when suddenly her hands slipped. In her teasing she had failed to notice that the lines were suddenly soaking wet, having been hit by ocean spray mere moments before. Her hands slipped and so did her footing and the next thing she knew, she was scrabbling at thin air and falling backwards towards the deck. Kelsea squeaked in dismay and closed her eyes, hearing the shocked intake of breath coming from below her.
Not having seen any of this happening, due to his infinite interest in the well-being of his tri-corne, Jack was just as surprised (if not more surprised) as the other two parties. As it was, he quickly glanced upwards and assessed the situation: the whelp was plummeting towards certain extensive injury or death, and Gibbs was standing there with his hands over his mouth doing absolutely nothing about it. Clearly he would not be saving her, then? Without having the time to think about his actions, Captain Jack Sparrow sprang forwards with a few surprisingly non-drunken steps and stretched out both arms.
"OOOMPH—!" All of the air rushed from two pairs of lungs as Jack managed to maneuver himself right beneath her in the nick of time. A meaty thud/crash heralded the abrupt meeting of the captain's chest with the girl and his back with the deck. All noise and activity seemed to stop, except for Gibbs who was galvanized into action. He ran over to where the two lay, his eyes wide.
"Kelsea—! Cap'n Jack—!" he managed to say, kneeling beside them as the rest of the crew ran to see what the commotion was.
Jack was the first to make any sort of movement or sound, opening his eyes and groaning loudly. "Bloody hell…" He grunted, his body throbbing incessantly. Worse though, was his left elbow, and as he thought to move it a yelp of pain tore from his mouth.
At the sharp sound, Kelsea also regained her wits and whimpered softly. She felt like she had been crushed by a loose cannon, all of the air gone from her small body. She made a few empty gasping noises before finally sucking in a mouthful of air and beginning to cough.
Captain Jack Sparrow knew his arm was most likely broken, and he was not thrilled about it. He used his good arm to lever himself to a more upright position, noticing new pain as he did so. At the same time he could not help but re-notice the girl who was clinging to his chest as hacking coughs racked her slight frame. The crew took in this very same sight with bated breath, the estranged father and daughter laying on the deck of the Black Pearl. Finally, Jack spoke.
"Are ye bad hurt, girl?" he enquired through gritted teeth.
Kelsea realized the situation and immediately coaxed her shaking limbs into pulling herself off of the pirate captain. "N-no Captain…" She could not bring herself to look him in the face… badly embarrassed and shaken by what had happened, and very confused as to why he had put himself on the line to save her.
"Good. Gibbs, see t'the whelp. I'll… I'll be in me cabin."
Gibbs wordlessly nodded his head and scurried forward to Kelsea's side whilst the others looked on mutely. Jack hauled himself stoically to his feet and, holding his arm with a grimace, limped through the parting crew towards his quarters.
Despite Gibbs's direction not to, Kelsea sat up and and reached for something forgotten on the deck. She gingerly lifted the smashed tri-corne into her lap and then glanced up at the receding back of the strange man who had just saved her life. She just couldn't understand it— The man didn't even like looking at her, let alone throwing himself in between her and the wooden planks of the deck!
Incidentally, Captain Jack Sparrow was wondering the very same thing through the haze of pain. What the blazes had prompted him into such a daft and heroic act? He didn't care for the whelp, after all… Or did he?