Disclaimer: Much as I would wish it, I do not own Pirates or any of it's lovely characters.Gibbs doesn't seem to be the subject of many stories, which is a bit sad as he seems to be quite interesting. The lyrics Gibbs sings were not written by me, but everything else was. This oneshot is about...

Waiting

It was night. Off the coast of a country under Turkish rule, miles out to sea was a ship just as dark as its surroundings and seemingly at home. If you had been there no telling why you would be, but if you were you would be able to hear a low voice singing:

"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest-"Gibbs walked across the main deck in a sort of dance. "yo,ho,ho and a bot'le of rum..."he finished the line with a long gulp from his trusty canteen.Time for another verse,"Fifteen men of 'em good and true - 'yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! Ev'ry man jack could ha' sailed with Old Pew..."

Singing never hurt anyone and he found as many other sailors had, it was a way to pass the time when you were beached ,suffering from a lack of wind, or just waiting.
There was no knowing when Jack would return or how. You never could tell with Jack Sparrow.

"Ten of the crew had the murder mark..." Gibbs took another gulp and leaned on a siderail looking towards land. There wasn't much to see.Black and grey was all there was to it. Fog and dark."Yo ho ho and a bot'le of rum..."
Where is he? He sighed and walked across the deck to the port side and scanned what he could see. "With a yo-heave-ho! an' a fare-ye-well...Hm.Hm...and a sudden plunge in the sullen swell...Who writes these songs?"

"With sightless glare and their lips struck dumb..." Gibbs continued to sing, but this was the third go around of the same song so he chose his favorite lines instead of going through the verses in order. "...while we shared all by the rule of thumb, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!"

"See him?" Gibbs turned around and looked down it was Marty, one of the Black Pearl's shorter crew members. Gibbs shook his head, "No, but do you know any other songs?"

"I think you've sung all of them twice except for..."

"The one with 'a pirate's life for me...' "sighed Gibbs.

"Yeah."

How many times had Jack tried to teach it to them? Although, all of those times he had had more than his share of drinks-he could be forgiven. What self respecting pirate would sing that when in possession of all their mental abilities? I suppose that would be me...

"Why not?" shrugged Gibbs. Together they started the song:

"We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot..."

A bell. A distinct, sharp ringing that traveled from the Turkish prison cliffs all the way to the Pearl. Miles of sea and fog, yet the sound could be heard.

Bells. He took a look at the watch-glass. The last grains of sand were pouring into the bottom. He turned it over and struck the ship's bell. One more hour and his watch would be over.

"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest...yo ho ho and a bot'le of rum," Why not? He continued his made up steps to the song. "Drink and the devil had done for the rest...yo ho ho and a bot'le of rum…" When Jack boarded the waiting would be over.

Waiting. He had waited before in worst conditions. It was worst when a ship was at sea with not a flutter in it's sails, when the sun seemed to be so high, so hot, without it's friend the breeze. It was worst when you were sick of the sight of everyone on board, of the smell of salt, tar, the moving of what was beneath your feet. It was worst when you ached for green, for sand, for dirt, for land.

Yes, he had waited many times in worst conditions, but that didn't mean he had learned to like the wait.