Forgive me no more

Chapter 3

A few hours later, when they had come through the storm without any serious damages to ship and crew, Jerry took the girl to his captain’s cabin. Once inside, he let go of her and retreated, closing the door behind him. Jack sat in his chair, his feet (which were still stuck in the heavy boots) resting on the charts scattered on his desk. His hat lay draped on an empty bottle of rum, the full one dangling loosely in his right hand, which was pointing at a less comfortable chair opposite to him. “Take yer seat, luv, we gotta talk.”
Pale and lightly swaying, she attempted vainly to smooth her hair with both palms before she rather tumbled than sat into the assigned chair. Apparently, she had not yet completely recovered from the storm, had not yet regained her balance. Tired as she was, she did not even try to maintain her former defiance, but simply nodded.
“Firstly, I’m overly curious about the purpose of yer journey across the endless ocean.” Jack clasped his hands around the bottle and leaned back further. There was a relaxed smile on his lips as he regarded her, waiting for her to start speaking.
“I do not think this is any of your concern, Captain Sparrow.”
“Great. Wouldn’t have changed anything, after all.” He waved his free hand in front if his face as if pushing the subject into a far corner of the room. “Now, I left them freshwater sailors a lil note ta deliver ta Port Royal, which me figured ta be yer destination, ta instruct this plight of a commandant whata do next. Uhm, -” he interrupted himself to take a closer look at her pale features.
“Am I bein’ uncivil notta provide ye witta drink, aye? Well, a drink?” He half-heartedly offered her the bottle, stretching out his arm halfway across the desk. Her eyes fixed on the golden liquid swashing inside the bottle.
“It’s rum, isn’t it?” she prompted, shaking her head at his answering nod. “Thank you, but no. Some water would be sufficient.”
“Oh damn ye and yer bloody special needs.”, he mumbled into his beard, his head dropping in resignation and, at the same time, hiding his small smile of relief. “Gibbs!” he yelled the next instant, making her wince in shocked surprise. Tapping his fingertips against the wood of the armrest, his gaze locked with hers, his dark brown eyes telling her nothing less than 'Look what I’m doing for you'. Some moments elapsed before the door opened with a creak, and Gibbs stuck his head into the room.
“Cap’n?”, he queried.
“Mate, would ye kindly get a cup of drinking water for our lady?”
Just a minute later, she held a not-so-clean cup of freshwater in her hands and sipped slowly.
“Right, where was I?” Holding the neck of the bottle, he let it circle in the air, trying to recall where exactly he had stopped. Intently following the movement of the liquid, he seemed to be utterly captivated by the way the light made it sparkle in the various nuances of gold and copper.
“Ah, aye. Got it. That stockfish of a commandant’s gotta deliver a certain amount ta that island I named, where we’ll exchange them goods. Since the 'Gorgeous'‘s considerably slower than me Pearl, we’ll be there first, an’ if he brings more ships ‘n such, means if he doesn’t stick ta me instructions, we’re off again, an’ ye gotta spend some more time with me. How’s that?” As soon as he had finished the sentence, Jack once again leaned back into the chair, a self-satisfied smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. He guided the bottle to his lips and took a deep gulp.
“As long as this farce is over soon, Captain, it sounds fine to me.”, she answered, keeping her eyes focused on the cup of water.
“Don’t ye be so rude, luv,” Jack chided, “see, ye a’ready got used to the 'Cap’n', don’t be surprised if ye, at the end, feel deeply sorry for havin’ ta leave me.”

The brig was cold. Cold and dark. There was just a small oil lamp, its light illuminating the small cell insufficiently. Though the mate, Gibbs, had brought her some blankets, she just couldn’t warm up or even think of sleep. Desperately, she tried to call memories of her home back into her awareness. Evenings she had spent in front of the chimney, reading or drawing, the warmth of the bright red flames engulfing her, just weeks ago. Relaxed, joyful hours spent with her girls. She had closed her eyes tightly, had pulled the covers around her shoulders, and still the feeling wouldn’t return. Yes, memories and pictures, but the feeling, the reassuring feeling that meant safety, was gone, swallowed by the unrelenting sea that was life.
Maintaining her composure had cost her all her strength and pride, and now that they were spent, she had nothing left to protect her from the dawning realization that she had to face this jeopardy all by herself. Despair was beginning to touch her heart with icy hands. No one had ever prepared her for being alone. Her life had been meant to be a calm one, with parents and husband taking care of her, solving the troubles before they could reach her. Now there she was, surrounded by iron bars and damp wood, the movements of the ship, pushed up and pulled down by the waves, turning her stomach. Bit by bit, she felt the warmth leave her cheeks. Had she had a mirror, she would have gazed into a pale face, dark rings beginning to form under her eyes. Countenance, she vainly tried to pull herself together, but there was nothing she could hold on to. For the first time in her life, she was (and felt) alone. Never had she dared to expect this new chapter of her life to take this course. Hadn’t he promised? Hadn’t her father promised that he had seen to everything to ensure a safe journey? He had. And yet, she was here. She had never experienced fear or sorrow, and suddenly there was nothing else - but fear and sorrow of what was about to come. Footsteps on the wooden stair leading to the brig tore her out of her grievous musings. Abruptly, she straightened her back and used a corner of the blanket to wipe the tears from her eyes. When Gibbs reached the grille, she was leaning against the back wall, looking at him, her face bereft of every bit of uncertainty or dread.
“Miss?” Gibbs peered through the bars. “I’ve got some more blankets for ye. And, uhm, managed to get some food and fresh water.” Hugging the thick rugs against him with both arms and balancing a mug and a bowl on top of them, he tried to smile at her sympathetically.
“Do you? That’s quite an act of friendship, now is it.”, she replied lackadaisically, keeping her eyes half closed. “But if I still can trust my eyes, you’ve got both hands full of whatever you wanted to get me to make me feel better, so there’s no way you can possibly open the door without putting all of it onto the ground, and clumsy as you look, you won’t be able to do that without spilling the water and spreading the food on the floor. If you’re really good at what you’re doing, you will also dunk the blankets into the mess you’ve made. Which leads me to the question: why are you here, if none of these goods will ever reach me?”
“Whoa.”, the man exhaled. “No need to bite, missy. After all, I’m here for you. Make you more comfortable and such, -“ Celine pursed her lips and made a low, but still audible snorting sound.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You aren’t doing this for me, no, you’re doing this just for your own sake, old man. Either to soothe your own guilty conscience, or to mitigate the punishment all of you will receive for sure, meaning that you’re either less conscience-proof than all the others, but more egoistic, or that you’re just more calculating, and still as selfish. Now, it’s your turn. Which kind of a man are you?”
Enough’s enough, Gibbs thought angrily. The Captain had been right, perhaps she really deserved a lesson like this.
“Well then, since I don’t want to be worse than all the others, I’ll just leave you alone then.” He shrugged and turned back to the narrow stair leading up onto the deck. Just in time to capture a distinct look of affright crossing her features, he turned to cast a quick glance back at her. The next instant, she stared straightly at him, daring to stay any longer, or even, heaven forbid!, return and thus let her know of him witnessing her weakness.

“Well, mate?”
“Just as you said, Cap’n.”
“Try again t’morrow, Gibbs. Might be just as in Morocco, where they ask ye three times if ye wanna eat somethin’ an’ accepting before the third time’s considered as being impolite.”
“Wasn’t aware of that, Cap’n.” Jack Sparrow nodded knowingly.
“Obviously not, Gibbs, obviously not. Never noticed ye didn’t get as much as me? No? See, that’s when greed leads to the contrary of what it desires, gettin’ less instead of the most.” Lazily, the pirate leaned against the rail, supporting his weight on his elbows.
“I wonder, Cap’n, if ye’d say no three times if they offered ye rum.” Gibbs took a similar posture, his eyes scanning the horizon unconcernedly.
“Bloody hell, Gibbs. O’course not, but that’s where I’m lucky, mate.” Patting the older man’s shoulder, he pushed himself into an upright position again.
“There’s no rum in Morocco.”

When eventually ‘the end’ had approached, Jack’s prophecy of her feeling sorry emerged as an empty prophecy. She did not feel sorry in the least. Two weeks she had had to spend on the Pearl, and the bigger part of the time, meaning as soon as she had left Jack’s cabin the day she got captured, she was refusing to talk to anyone. Not that anyone minded (apart from Gibbs, who had come to like her due to a trace of parental feelings). Jack had to admit he was glad she didn’t use these weeks to prove how difficult a person she was. The exchange itself went without troubles for both sides, the 'stockfish of a commandant' was reliant he would get the chance to settle this debt one day, the currency then being pirate blood.
Although Jack had a hard time wondering why the British officer had paid the ransom so willingly, his crew had eventually managed to make him drop his plans of further research on the matter. They were too relieved as well as too happy about the outcome of this episode to risk discovering possible shady sides of it. Nonetheless, Jack never got rid of this nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, telling him that, once again, he had gone too far.