In The Nick Of Time

Chapter 3 gets a bit "pirate technical." Hope it's not confusing.

I cannot thank those of you who give your time to write reviews enough! DesiringPirates, Unknownsoldier and MoreSparrow (wow, what you said truly made me smile!), I am so very glad that I have not disappointed you! I’m wagering that most of us reading here at this website are also writers, and don’t reviews mean so very very much? I promise that I will be doing the same for those who have been so kind to me, as the only thing better than writing fics is reading fics! Here’s hoping that what you read from me plays in your mind like a movie, that’s what I strive for in my writing! Thank you again, and please enjoy CHAPTER 3!


Of all the bloody luck! Why was it that as soon as a woman stepped aboard onto a ship, she was deemed some sort of precious cargo, and thrown into the “safest place possible” as soon as a little shooting started? Elizabeth had about bloodied her knuckles against the iron grate of The Stalwart’s brig, doing her best to dislodge it from the floorboards, for she had to get up onto the deck, she just had to! She’d been so pleased to have been able to book passage to Tortuga on board the Stalwart, for she was one of the fastest ships. Elizabeth had just barely made it in time before the Stalwart left port. There hadn’t even been time to leave a note for her father or for Will, she’d just thrown caution the wind and gone with nothing more than the clothes she had on, just like Jack would have! The Stalwart’s captain was a fine sailor and a good man, too good, for he made certain that Elizabeth was comfortable, treated with respect by his crew, and he of course guaranteed Elizabeth’s safety. But what she wanted right now wasn’t safety, she wanted Jack!

It was nearly dawn when the sound of the first gun startled Elizabeth awake. She’d been sailing now for close to three weeks on open ocean, spending most of her time above deck, scanning the horizon for a ship with black sails. Jack could have been on the move from Tortuga, and perhaps he was heading their way? The many trade vessels the Stalwart had passed gave Elizabeth hope of encountering pirates…or at least, one particular pirate. And when the clamor rang out this morning, she’d been so excited, leaping from her bed and standing on her tiptoes to look out the tiny window in her cabin. The deck of the Stalwart had been filled with smoke, a rank smelling, foul smoke that choked her even though she was yards away from it. “Stink pots!” she’d said aloud to herself, a smile on her face and her heart racing as she reached for her dress to pull it on over her chemise and pantaloons. And then there was another booming sound from the guns of the attacking ship, and she again went to the window in time to see chain shot wallop the mizzenmast and splinter the spar to bits. Yes! The other ship was attacking the Stalwart’s masts! The Stalwart’s attacker meant to belay her, not sink her! These were pirates indeed that the Stalwart had encountered! Could it be Captain Sparrow and his crew?

She didn’t dally with lacing up her dress, simply threw it on over her head, modesty be damned if it were Jack about to board the Stalwart! There was hellacious noise, guns booming, men shouting, swords clashing and pistols firing. Without a thought as to what she’d do if they were being attacked by some other pirate band, Elizabeth flung open the door of her cabin and prepared to race outside, but the door bumped something and wouldn’t open all the way. She grimaced and was ready to shove it, when she noticed it was a foot that impeded the door, and then a hand reached out and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out into the ship’s corridor and down towards the ladder like stairs.

“Sorry your ladyship,” said a young, heavily armed sailor as he pulled her along. “Captain’s orders are to put you safely in the brig until this situation is handled.”

“What?” Elizabeth’s heart sank. “No! Let me go, please! Don’t lock me away!” She fought her attendant who followed his chivalrous captain’s orders to a “T.” She couldn’t deny the gesture was honorable, and well meant…honorable and well meant, the way her father was, the way Norrington was, the way Will was, but not the way Jack was! Had Jack suddenly found the Pearl belayed the way the Stalwart was currently, he’d have dragged Elizabeth out of her cabin and thrust a blunderbuss into her hands and said, “shot here, powder there, pull back on the trigger, savvy love?”

And now a battle raged above deck, above her head, and here Elizabeth struggled to find anything that might bust her way out of the brig. She started to kick at the iron grate, more out of frustration, for nothing budged it. Just then she felt the Stalwart begin to pitch and list to her port, waves of water bumped against her hull with sharp hisses. Whatever pirate was belaying them had thrown lines across and tied them and was now hauling the two vessels closer together. The pirate captain would be boarding the Stalwart soon, if he had not already stormed her with his crew, crossing the narrow expanse of water between the two ships on a wooden plank. Jack, if it were he, could already be standing on top of her! There was only one thing she could do now to be noticed, start screaming!

* * *

Jack had reclaimed the approval and faith of his crew mightily. The Stalwart was the seventh prize they’d taken since leaving port in Tortuga, and the Pearl had been so gorged with treasures they’d had to re-ballast her and dump two of her six pounders to keep her afloat. The Stalwart had not been hunted for treasure, for Jack and his crew were as rich as they’d ever been. The Stalwart was not a trade ship, nor a merchant vessel, she carried wealthy passengers, and Jack knew that meant her galley would offer some sumptuous alternatives to the leather like salt pork and weevily flour they’d been making due with on board the Pearl. He’d not been wrong, for the bilge of the Stalwart held two fat market hogs, three lambs, several chickens, a side of cured beef and many different spices. There were also crates of wine, which his crew had set about liberating, but not Jack, he’d keep his rum.

Jack was pleased, but not content. The men would be singing his praises, which was so much better than talking mutiny, and they’d all eat good for the next few days, they had lots of loot and calm seas, but Jack still felt like a part of himself was missing, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever find it again. He’d set a southern heading from Tortuga, heading in the direction of Port Royal, but not certain he’d make port there. Yes, it was agony to think how he’d loved Elizabeth and how she loved Will Turner, and it took more resolve than Jack even knew he had to push the constant thoughts of Elizabeth out of his mind. He was alive, but he wasn’t living, burying the loss he felt in sacking as many other vessels as he could, turning his pain into aggression, and in doing so, writing a new legend of his illustrious career as a pirate. Funny, he hadn’t been enjoying it the way he always thought he would have, the way he did before.

There was a time he could have counted on Elizabeth to have at least kept up with his legend in books and periodicals, if not to have her there, by some strange fate, to share the tales with face to face. But at their last meeting, when it had come down to him or Will, she’d chosen Will. And now, what good were tales and legends when he couldn’t share them with the woman he loved?

True, like Gibbs had suggested, they could sail for Port Royal and kidnap her, but Jack couldn’t bare having Elizabeth reject him again. Why he couldn’t bear it he wasn’t sure, since she’d always rejected him, beginning with the night they were marooned on that island, and then again when he’d proposed marriage. So it was that he’d not shown the best side of himself on that island with her, for he’d come off as a lecher…which of course he was, but a quick fling in the sand hadn’t been what he was trying to accomplish. It was his drunkenness that had made it out that way. Damned rum! Still, he’d recovered from that one, only to live through having her flatly turn down his offer of marriage aboard his ship a year later. So it was that again, he’d come off as a lecher, because he was, but it was his drunkenness that had made his proposal seem to be motivated by that which lay below his belt. Damned rum! But again, Jack recovered, only to end up on a cloud of bliss when Elizabeth had covered his mouth with hers, startling him in the most delightful of ways, and then securing him to the helm and leaving him behind as kraken vittles. That one was a bit tougher to overcome; it’s hard to deny the way a woman feels about you when she could so easily serve you up as a bloody hor’deuve to some bloody monster of the deep.

But still, the blow Jack couldn’t recover from was Elizabeth not trying to contact him after their last parting. He’d given her time, one month, two months, three, four, five, six, but there was nothing from her, nary a word. Feeling despondent, Jack put quill to parchment and wrote her a brief letter, but that letter did not say what he’d felt. He regretted that now. He’d tried so hard to hide his feelings for her in that correspondence, telling her of the weather, telling her of the latest siege, telling her where he expected to make port next, and then wishing her well. Some how he’d expected to see her after Elizabeth had gotten that letter, for it was by no accident he’d told her where he’d be. But how was anyone to have drawn any conclusions from the trite things he’d written to her? “Weather good, seas calm but may become rougher. Stole many pieces of eight a week ago. Heading for Tortuga. Keep yourself well, lass.—Jack.” If he’d had it to do over again he’d have written simply this: “If you cannot come to me, I will come to you. You are the sea upon which my heart sails. Make ready.”

Regardless of the words Jack had set down, or would not set down, he’d gotten no response from Elizabeth at all. That had sealed it as far as Jack was concerned. She’d chosen the whelp over him, and didn’t wish to see him again. Why go to see her? He couldn’t live through that rejection again, couldn’t bear to hear the words “go away, I thought I was finally free of you, Jack” come from her mouth should he be so bold as to kidnap her from Port Royal. That would end him. And yet, he’d headed his ship towards Port Royal, was about half way to a place he didn’t even intend to go to. Why? Well, perhaps he’d just sail around Jamaica, scanning the docks of Port Royal for Elizabeth, just to make sure her pretty, young face and slender, shapely figure wasn’t there on the docks waiting for him with bags packed. And when she wasn’t, he’d declare their acquaintance dead…again.

Oh bloody hell! There he went again, just after swearing he wasn’t going to dwell upon Elizabeth anymore, he got lost in thoughts of her. And why? Around him was a conquest! His crew was loading livestock and barrels of pineapples and bananas and other tropical fruits onto the Pearl. The opposition they’d faced aboard the Stalwart lay dead or dying. This should have been thrilling! It used to be! Oh, this woman! How was he ever to rid himself of her ghost? No, there would be no more of this, not today anyway.

Jack stood up straight, adjusted his hat and stepped on foot up on top a smoldering spar from the Stalwart’s main mast. He drank in the scene again; he’d done this, he’d chosen and chased the Stalwart, he’d swung onto her decks from the Pearl’s rigging lines, he’d lead his crew to more spoils. Yes, there was still some pride that managed to well up within him, and he smiled, raising a hand to smooth his mustache. It really was Elizabeth’s loss he told himself.

“Cap’n, sir,” interrupted Lejon feeling as though he was trespassing upon some personal moment of Jack’s.

“Aye?”

“The brig, sir.” Said Lejon simply, not wanting to say too much, for he knew not how his Captain would take the news. “There be a commotion.”