Sinking with the Titanic, Rose ends up on a ship with the pirate Jack Sparrow and a sea goddess' diamond heart. When she tries to free the cursed Will Turner things get complicated, but falling for a dishonest pirate on rum withdrawal is an even wor...
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Rose did not lose any time. Jack had drowned and it was her fault; she had insisted they save the sailors, but she would not let him die. The Captain of the Dutchman must not take him. There were ways to deal with drowned persons; she could do this!
First she must turn him belly down. While fighting to roll over the heavy body, Rose tried to recall more in detail the pamphlet she had received from the beach patrol in Atlantic City last year, when she and her mother had visited relatives there. There had been pictures of the lungs and heart, with descriptions of how it all worked and how breathing could be restored with the Prone-Pressure Method of Artificial Breathing. Always curious and interested to learn new things, Rose had memorized the simple steps.
"Move back!" she yelled over her shoulder. "Give me space!"
But to her surprise all the sailors had gone; she was not even in the small dinghy anymore. This was another boat, with a larger deck and a different color. Here there were only Jack and her – and Captain Turner and his crew, who had lined up behind him, respectfully holding their hats in their hands.
"You can't take him." She moved to straddle Jack's thighs. "He's not dead yet."
"His heart has almost stopped," said Turner.
But Rose did not listen. She placed her hands flat on Jack's back under his shirt, her thumbs meeting at his spine and her fingers spread out like eagle wings over his lower ribs. Then she moved her body forward and pressed down, using her own weight to give momentum to the action. A gush of water flowed out of his mouth, and she leaned back, relaxing the pressure to allow air to be sucked back into the now empty lung. Then she repeated it; press down – relax – press down – relax.
Soon she had a steady rhythm going. This was easy! No more water came out, but still she saw no sign of breathing.
"Miss Dawson... This is pointless." The captain spoke in a sensible voice.
"Shush. You're distracting me. Go to the Barnacle – your wife wishes to see you about sword forging."
Press down – relax – press down – relax.
"Forging?" He sounded surprised, but thankfully he did what she asked and left.
Good. She hated having an audience when she was busy.
Press down – relax. Why would Jack not move? He had not been down for many minutes. How could he be so far gone in such a short time? She wanted to shake him, tell him to stop pretending.
Press down – relax. Press down – relax. Just when she was beginning to like him, too. Even though he was dead (but he wasn't! Not yet!), he looked beautiful. He had such a finely chiseled face, almost aristocratic with that straight nose and jawline. Press down – relax. Press down – relax. The thick bump on his forehead disfigured it slightly though, where the falling mast must have struck him. Was that why he had drowned? Was he unconscious because of the hit? She wished there was a doctor around to tell.
