Ok ok ok… I'm going to add a chapter. I hadn't planned on spending this evening writing but I have to keep going or I will lose interest. Can't let my friends and other fans down.
I have gotten some speculations from various people as to whether or not Elizabeth is really there, and who she really is. I'm just going to tell all of you… You have to read the story.
And now … on with the tale …
Chapter 3: Revelations
"Oh please," she huffed, glaring furiously at him. "The Kraken came back too soon. They needed some distraction for it in order to get away." She flounced a few yards down the beach and plopped back down into the sand. She had the bottle of rum in her hand and took another generous swallow. Hearing Jack start running towards her, she corked it hurriedly and slipped it away before he reached her. As dark as it had gotten, Jack had missed where she hid it.
"Curse you woman," he growled with a strangled voice.
"Been there. No fun really," she muttered in return.
"Well, perhaps you should be a mite more careful about how you treat a man's rum." He sighed heavily. He wasn't about to try wrestling her for it. He was certain that as infuriated as he was with her that he would easily snap her in two. He shook his fists at her, snarled, and stomped on down the beach. He, too, landed into the sand, wondering if he could get tired enough to sleep. It wasn't as if he had anything to drink to ease his way into that blessed unconsciousness.
Suddenly, what she had just said sank in. His head snapped her direction and he gazed at her figure in the darkness. He shook his head, incredulous.
"So, they threw you to the Kraken? Whose idea was that? Why would they do that? " he fired at her. He knew they were all pirates, at least all save the eunuch, Will, but still, he had a difficult time believing they could be that heartless.
Unless …
He stood up, and slowly swaggered his way back over to her. He peered at her through the gloom, a sardonic smirk playing at the edges of his eyes. He wanted her to see how amused he was at what he assumed was her fate. He crouched down in front of her, leering into her face.
"Someone saw you kiss me, didn't he, missy?" he murmured with a viper's stare. "He saw how much you enjoyed it, how much you savored a little taste of Jack, eh? He thought that he might as well renounce you and your little pirate fantasies, because you finally got what you wanted … eh, Lizzie?" At this point he was gazing into her dark eyes, glancing every now and then pointedly at her lips. He heard her breath quicken. "He was so appalled by your little attempt at a last minute tryst that he literally threw you overboard?" At this point, she was leaning way back, pulling away from him, yet fighting to not show … was it fear?
"It was nothing like that you scabrous, pox-ridden, foul-smelling, egotistical lout," she shrieked at him as she pushed him away from her. As he was barely balancing on the balls of his feet as he loomed over her, he fell backwards, sprawling into the sand, sending it up into a small dust cloud. His laugh rang out, his glee apparent. She stood and kicked some more sand on him. He held out his hands, waving away the sand, but the whiter teeth in his grin glared through the night.
"The virgin sacrifice!" he chortled wickedly wrinkling up his nose in a cross between a smile and a sneer. "How fitting is that!" He wrapped his coat around him and lay back on the sand staring up at the starless sky. He continued to snicker as he worked out his aggressions imagining the sight on her face when they decided to eject her from the boat. He could almost see the panic and outrage written on her face as she was thrown unceremoniously into the jaws of the beastie that had just taken his own life. Much like the outrage he had seen just before she shoved him into the sand. Oh, he was going to enjoy needling her about that!
He found himself slipping off to sleep, and welcomed it, cocking his hat over his face so he couldn't see the disturbing sky. He heard Elizabeth a little ways off, sniffling dejectedly as she made herself comfortable, waiting for daylight. He drifted dreamlessly for a while, a little disconcerted with the motionless soundless beach. Just before he sank into slumber, he heard Elizabeth whisper quietly, "We must get out of here before we go mad." He agreed wholeheartedly, but wondered if going mad had not already begun. He also thought that maybe going mad would be preferable to being all too aware of where they were. Either way, he decided to let it wait till morning.
He felt a little trickle of drool escape his lips and dampen the sand underneath his cheek. The resulting clot decided to adhere itself to his beard and cause another annoying itch on his cheek. He reached up to scratch it, carefully trying to avoid the sore spot that had been plaguing him a good while. He knew what caused that spot, and knew that the other symptoms he had been having were from the same reason. He had already decided that since it had probably been a whore that had given it to him, whores were going to be the only thing he would endeavor to dally with in the future. Not that he'd even wanted to visit one lately, especially within the last couple of years. He hadn't even enticed Ana Maria into his cabin when she was on board serving with the crew of the Pearl, although they had had a fling or two in years gone by. Nice girl that Ana Maria, but a little too tough for his tastes. He'd avoided trying to get into her breeches, for the same reason as he had sought whores for his release. It couldn't have been any other excuse, really.
He rolled over and sat up, wiping his patchy beard vigorously. He straightened and smoothed out the braids dangling from his chin. He felt to see if his beads were still there, and was relieved to find they were. He had thought himself quite clever for assigning the green to the right braid, starboard, and red for the port. No reason for others to forget that he had the sea in his blood, not that his whole garb, swagger, and lingo didn't scream the fact to everyone he met.
He ran his tongue over his teeth, and realized that they felt odd. No morning after scum. For that matter, the sore spot seemed to be nothing but a scar. He checked his hands and clothes, and frowned. He just seemed … clean. Not comfortably, shabbily, filthy. If this was some more Hellish tortures, he wasn't amused. He hadn't realized before how much he enjoyed having little hiccups in life. It proved he was indeed alive.
Just then he realized something was a little off. His head jerked up, and he squinted around, searching. He realized he was, once again, quite alone. And once again, the footprints in the sand headed down the beach, but this time he saw no end to them.
For whatever reason - surely nothing he could have said or done - Elizabeth had left him … again.
