Pirates of the Caribbean: Fate Intervenes

Returning for a Moment

 The crewmembers scurried around, hurriedly setting things up and cowering under the direction of Commodore Teague. Any shadow aboard was scorched by yet another lantern, adorning the vessel and giving it a glow like a floating, fiery star. The long-tables were pulled out across the deck and I wasn't allowed to lift a finger; after all was set up, most of us commenced to mingling around with our beverages while Cockeyed Samson and a few others stayed below and prepared the last of the salted meats and fine food from our latest plunder.

Lucious sat with some mates, singing and playing his lute alongside Nathaniel's lyre and roaring out the familiar tunes I'd grown up around. I weaved my way around this grand festival which was my treat, transitioning from having pleasant conversations to being whirled around in slippery circles and jigging to the melodies of piracy.

Though I hadn't allowed myself to feel much lingering disappointment on such a jubilant day, I'd felt a brisk tinge of sorrow when I'd given a toothy grin and furious wave toward Jack, only to receive a curt head-bob and eye-dart in return. He'd done the bare minimum what could be called courtesy, before seeing no use in even approaching me in conversation. Even on my special day.

Did I offend him?

Still, as I kept my grace, I couldn't help but gaze over heads occasionally to place a glance upon him. I watched his slender frame leaning against the wall of the quarterdeck, radiating apathy towards all who approached him in conversation. As much anger as his lack of consideration stirred within me, all rage was extinguished by the nervous feeling he gave me in my stomach and cheeks. He'd grown considerably taller than I'd ever imagined him, being a whole head higher than me. His dark, mopped hair swept across his forehead and teased at the top of his ears. His eyes were bombarded by straight, bristly, black lashes that I envied. His eyes. He looked down his straight nose at the rest of us, with his beautiful hazel eyes that now bore a calloused shield I had not seen in his childhood. I could only imagine what he'd endured at such a young age on the seas, and it was evident that he was distancing himself from the rest of us, purposefully locking away his emotions.

He was so handsome.

Upon passing him, Lucious had grabbed me by the arm to whisper in my ear about the man called Billings, a crewmember who'd come aboard a mere moon ago. It had been obvious to all of the crew that he glanced at me a bit too favorably, and the comments he oftentimes made towards me made it no better.

"The cad be watchin' ya, lass. Go below decks and spend a time with your good Captain. It'd be a cold day in hell that ol' Samson'd let that man near you."

"Aye, sir," I said politely to my old friend, planting a kiss on Lucious's cheek before scampering across the deck. I was trying to be brisk with my movements, glancing left and right as I neared the trapdoor. However, I was not as observant as I needed to be...

I felt clammy fingers grope at my waist from behind and had no time to writhe away before I was abruptly pinned against the wall and looking into the dreadful face of the man Billings. He wasn't taller than me by any large amount, and his frame was flabby and weak, but nevertheless, he was a man and his hold on my arms was impenetrable. His pinched, pointy features cowered close to mine, and his stale breath slipped through his teeth and caused me to turn my face away.

"You look all the more lovely each day, my dear," His sick, animated voice made my stomach feel rancid.

"And you, sir, resemble a bilge rat. Have you no honor? Let me be." I shook myself, trying to move away to no avail and receiving only sick laughter in response.

Right before tears shattered my cheeks, I saw a figure spin down the quarterdeck stairs and saunter towards the two of us with the utmost flamboyance.

"Oi, you there," Jack Sparrow addressed Billings, stepping towards the wall which I was trapped and leaning against it on his elbow. "How's the weather?"

"Just fine," Billings had palpable irritability as he darted furrowed brows toward Jack. "Now how about you let us be, boy?"

"You know, I could do that." He feigned contemplation, touching a finger to his lip. "And I think it would be hard to argue that the lovely Miss Olivia Stafford is anything short of irresistible, but I think you're going about this a bit wrong, mate." He radiated calmness, gesturing with his hands and letting his guard down, acting as I'd always imagined him. Blossoming within the fear I felt was excitement that the boy I once knew was not all lost.

"And who's to say that she isn't enjoying this?" Billings sneered.

"You know, that is a compelling question, for sure..." Jack hoisted his stance from the wall and took a step closer to Billings, who did a poor job of feigning bravery. Jack towered over the stubby man and seemed to have a determination about him that was non-negotiable.

"...however, knowing the fair maiden in question, I'd dare to argue that the odds of that are rather slim. She tends to favor a tall, magnificently talented breed of fellow." Jack said whimsically, standing tall and tipping his head up gallantly. I had to force away an eye roll. He was helping me, after all.

"You fancy her..."

"Her? I could care less about her, mate. However, I do care about my fingers. And if anything happens to this young girl and I did not intercept, my father will certainly chop them to bits. So if I were you, mate, I'd scurry along."

Though Jack seemed reasonable and careless, the tone of his voice was utterly frightening. Our opponent slinked backward, chuckling nervously.

"Till next time, lass," He wavered before disappearing back into the crowd.

I let out a breath, turning towards Jack and trying to get a look at his eyes.

"Oi, am I glad to see you, mate," I exhaled, but met a glance that was once more void of emotion. He'd returned back to his shell, looking past me.

"You're quite welcome. I may not always be so kind as to save you from situations which you put yourself in." Before I had to ask what he was referring to, he gave a disapproving glance down the length of my body.

I fumed indignation.

"Well, excuse me if I didn't want to wear a burlap sack on my special day!" I stormed away, hoping with every fiber of my being that I'd left him as upset as he'd left me, only to see him scaling back up the stairs and finding refuge in the silence of the Crowsnest. My Crowsnest.

There was nothing wrong with my dress. It was tasteful, beautiful... 

I was indignant.