Compass to Flint's Treasure

Chapter Seven: Honesty

Laròn listened for Jacks footsteps to become faint before putting the red leather book back on the table and quickly opened it. Laròn struggled to focus on the pages as everything was swirling from too much rum. She was looking for figures but only saw words. It was a journal. Anne's journal. Laròn was disappointed but let her curiosity get the better of her. What was Anne writing that made her become so melancholy? She flipped to the last entry and pulled the candle a bit closer:

'Every time I close my eyes I see her face. She's bewitched me. I never thought I could care so deeply for another, least of all a whore who makes it her business to scheme men out of their hard earned savings. She could very well be scheming me and I don't think I'd care. I love her. It pains me to look Jack in the eye. I avoid him as best I can until I can go home to my true love; my whole heart, Max. Jack saved my life and I suppose I feel as though I am obligated to be by his side, but what kind of life is that? That's not love. That's duty. I do feel sorry for him. I know he truly loves me, that he'd risk life and limb for me. I honestly feel he'd give up the sea for me. It's unfortunate I can't return his affections.  I believe I could truly give up piracy for Max. Once I get my share of Flints treasure I shall spirit Max away, somewhere remote where we can live out the rest of our days together.'

Laròn closed the book as a tear welled up in her eye. She felt so sorry for Jack. He loves Anne so deeply. This would break his heart. The thought made Laròn more nauseous than she already was from the rum. Laròn wiped the tear from her eye as she felt herself drifting off. She leaned back on the bench and laid across it. With her eyes closed, she had the horrible drunken sensation of falling down continuously. She heard the door open but kept her eyes shut. She was too out of it to entertain anyone. She heard them close the door behind them. She heard the sound of a drawer opening and closing. She heard footsteps drawing nearer as she felt their presence right beside her. She felt a blanket being draped along her body. The footsteps made their way to her head as they gingerly lifted Laròn's head and placed a cushion beneath it. The footsteps moved quietly to the other corner of the room next to Jacks desk. When the room was completely quiet and still for a few moments, Laròn opened her eyes. She slowly lifted her head up and looked across the room. The only light was the moon from the big windows. She could see Jack sleeping in a hammock next to his desk. She wondered where Anne was. Did she send him away from where they'd normally sleep beside each other? Laròn lowered her head back down and drifted off to sleep.

Before Laròn was aware of the sun on her face streaming in from the large windows, vomit exploded out of her mouth as her body lunged sideways. Her eyes burst open as she continued to wretch on the ground next to the bench. "Anne!" Jack jumped awake. "Nope," Laròn managed to heave. Jacks eyes fluttered as he made his way to his feet, "sorry, forgot where I was." Jack moved quickly for the door and called out, "Mark! Fetch a pale and mop!" Jack headed back over to the large window, "water's very choppy today. Must be a storm out there somewhere." Laròn sat back on the bench taking deep breaths as the ship bobbed up and down. Mark walked in with a mop and bucket and immediately began mopping up the vomit. Laròn double took at Mark. Clearly Mark was a woman in men's clothing. When Mark finished mopping and took off, Jack walked over and handed Laròn a cup of water. "Mark huh?" Laròn asked between gulps. "She goes by Mark some of the time, other times she's Mary," he answered. "What's with you and the female crew? Do you go port to port collecting female pirates?" Jack chuckled, "the common thought amongst pirates is that it's bad luck to have a woman on your ship. I find them to be more cunning, ruthless, and brutal. I think they're more afraid of being outdone by a woman. I personally don't mind that. I've never met a pirate with more violence and rage than Anne. It's really a sight to see when she goes off in battle." Laròn listened to Jack go on about Anne but in her mind she couldn't stop thinking about Anne's journal entry. She was torn between wanting to tell Jack the truth, and minding her own business. It wasn't her place o tell him. It hurt Laròn's heart to listen to Jack practically spouting sonnets about this woman who had no intention of loving him in return. He spoke of her with such pride. It was beginning to make Laròn's blood boil. That anger swiftly changed to anxiety. Was she mad because of Jack and Anne's unfortunate situation? or was she getting upset because she was jealous of Jacks affection for Anne? The thought made her swallow hard and clam up. "Would you like to play a game?" Jack asked, snapping Laròn out of her fear induced trance. "Oh, um, what kind of game?" she asked. "Do you like Liars Dice?" He asked. "Sure," she answered. Jack walked over to a chest next to his hammock and rifled around. He pulled out a beige sack and kicked the chest closed and walked back over. He dropped the sack on the table in front of Laròn and said, "I'm aware that you'd most likely wretch at the smell of rum right now, but how would you feel about ale?"  "Sure," Laròn nodded as Jack headed out to grab some. Laròn pulled two wooden cups out of the sack and counted out the dice for each of them. Jack came back in and poured them both some ale. He took his seat in front of her as the began to play. They laughed and swapped stories. It seemed that all of Jacks stories involved Anne. She was by his side through everything. How could she intend to throw him away? The more Laròn heard of their adventures together, the sicker it made her feel. Every time Laròn's ale got low, Jack was quick to pour her more. The more they drank, the less they paid attention to the game and just talked. Jack leaned across the table and took Laròn's hand, immediately causing her heart to skip a beat. He pulled her hand toward him as he examined her rings, "this is stunning! I imagine this belonged to the governors daughter?" "Uh..yes. That's right," Laròn stuttered. Jack opened has hand really wide and compared it to hers, "you have the smallest hands I've ever seen on a grown woman. I mean no offense of course." "I take none," she chuckled. Jack noticed her hand shaking. He glanced up at her and saw the nervous look on her face. He slowly let go of her hand and sat back. He took another sip of ale. Laròn took a few more sips of hers. "I should go check on the crew," he cleared his throat. Laròn just nodded. He stood and grabbed his cup to finish off the last of his ale and set the tankard back down. He turned to leave and Laròn quickly leaned across the table and grabbed Jack's hand. She winced as she immediately regretted doing it but it was a knee jerk reaction. He turned to her. "I read Anne's journal," she timidly stated. He glanced at the book on the table, "well I hope it was entertaining." He began to walk toward the door as she shouted, "there's someone else!" He turned to her again. "What do you mean?"
"She's in love with someone else."
"You're lying" he turned to leave, becoming agitated.
"A woman named Max"
He turned back and glared at Laròn. "Show me." Laròn opened the book and skimmed to the recent pages and points. He walked over to her at the table and read the lines to himself as Laròn followed along until a tear hit the page. Laròn looked up to see Jack with tears in his eyes but wearing an expression of anger. Laròn tilted her head with an empathetic expression. Her heart broke for him. She reached her hand up and wiped a tear from his cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered. He slammed the book shut and turned to leave. He stopped at the door, "I knew something was going on..." he began. "...but I just thought they were fooling around. Hell, when the brothel had a really good day even I fucked Max. Anne knew about it. It was okay... we both knew we could fool around because we always came back home. Our love was strong enough. No one else mattered to us but each other. But for her to say she loves that whore...that she wants to have a life with her instead of—" he stopped short. "What am I doing?" He turned toward Laròn, "why the fuck am I talking to you? Why the fuck do you care? What is this?? I am your captor! You are my prisoner! You're only alive to give me that fucking compass and if you do not deliver, I will throw you to my men! I've had enough fucking betrayal! My captain and best friend betrayed me, now my woman betrays me! Save your fucking tears because If you think putting on a show pretending to give a shit about me is gunna inspire me to spare you well you can stop dreaming and save the act. I don't want it." Laròn, with tears streaming down her face stood face to face with Jack, "I wanna hit you so bad right now," she said through gritted teeth. "PLEASE! Do it! Give me a fucking reason!" He spat back at her. She just held her stare. He turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Laròn dropped down into her seat, held her head in her hands, and wept.