Ad Infinitum
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Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
2,426
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
2,426
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: We do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. We do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 3 – Amor Fati
****
Chapter 3 – Amor Fati
****
hey put in at Old Harbour, nestling the Pearl in an obscure cove, close to the mouth of the bay. The crew that Jack had picked up in Tortuga was not keen on sailing anywhere near Port Royal, not the most popular place among pirates, since the recent rash of hangings. In the end, only eleven would make the trip, including Jack and Gibbs. Fortunately, one of those eleven was AnaMaria, recently widowed, and ready to put her brief life on shore behind her. She was one of the few Jack could trust enough to leave with the Pearl, as he and Gibbs made their way by boat to Deadman’s Cay.
The cay itself was nothing but a spit of sand and mangroves, sitting at the mouth of Port Royal’s harbor, where the remains of several pirates swung desolately in the breeze. Their tarred and gibbeted bodies served as a gruesome reminder of the price of piracy, to those aboard the passing ships entering and leaving the busy port.
It had been almost a month since the pirates, including Elizabeth Swann, had been hung in chains, enough time for the pirate hunting fervor to die down and life on Port Royal’s waters to return to its normal routine. The fleet had dispersed, the ships deployed to where pirates had been reported to be lurking. Even with only a minimal number of ships in port, the area bristled with a naval presence, enough to warn away the most stanchworth of pirates.
For Gibbs, it was a frightful trip, his body still bearing the marks of his recent encounter with the King’s men. A superstitious man under normal circumstances, returning to the scene of his botched execution, to retrieve the corpse of one not so fortunate, was more than fool’s folly – it was disaster waiting to strike.
Jack brushed away his protests with an impatient wave. “Bullocks. There is a worse curse awaiting us if we do nothing.”
As Gibbs could not think of a curse worse than certain capture and death, he did not venture to ask Jack to elaborate. Suffice to say, his nerves were on edge the entire passage along the rugged coast. It did not help matters that a thick fog blanketed the area, lending an ethereal atmosphere to the surrounding rocks and shore. A bad omen to be sure.
Jack begged to differ, seeing the fog as a most opportune occurrence, concealing their arrival at the small cay, muffling their oars and grate of keel against sand as they pulled their boat ashore. There was little fear of discovery, though – the guard assigned to patrol the area was sitting safely at anchor, waiting for the fog to lift, before making its daily rounds. The cay itself was quite desolate and deserted, uninhabited except for the swaying corpses in their iron cages.
It was difficult to recognize the body of Elizabeth Swann, the ravages of time and tide having taken their toll. It was a gruesome sight, not for the fainthearted. Whoever had tarred the body had left the face uncovered, perhaps out of deference to her gender. Regardless of the reason, the gulls had feasted freely. Both eyes were gone, and chunks of missing flesh exposed a cheekbone, stark white against the remaining putrid flesh.
After a brief glance to determine they had the right corpse, Jack threw a canvas shroud over the gibbet, while Gibbs hacked at the rusting chain with a boarding axe. Another blow broke through the cage, and the two men hurried to wrap the body in the canvas sheet, tying the bundle with ropes before placing it carefully in the bottom of the boat. They needed to move quickly – the sun beginning to burn off the remaining tendrils of fog from around the island.
Jack turned and gave the remaining pirates a brief salute. “Sorry, mates,” he murmured before climbing into the boat, careful not to step on the bundle lying there.
Gibbs swallowed and rubbed his throat, taking one last, fearful glance at the gibbets, before taking up the oars, and muttering, “There, but for the grace of God go I.”
Jack glanced quickly over at his quartermaster. “Not so sure if grace had anything t’ do with it. Heard you dropped like a stone when the rope broke.”
Gibbs winced, his bruised ribs a constant reminder of his less than graceful plummet off the yardarm into the bay. Apparently, he’d sunk like a stone, the 32-pound shot tied to his feet helping matters along. After only a cursory look around, he’d been declared “dead,” the book of life officially closing on Joshamee Gibbs.
Elizabeth had not been so fortunate, he reflected, glancing down sadly at the crumbled bundle at their feet. Jack had kept his own counsel about the entire affair, approaching the task at hand with dogged determination, and copious amounts of rum. If he was mourning Elizabeth, he was not letting on.
“Poor lass,” Gibbs said aloud, shaking his head. “Don’t care what they say, she didn’t deserve t’ die like a dog.”
Jack’s eyes flicked at Gibbs and away, shrugging one shoulder. With a flutter of hands towards their burden, he said in a philosophical tone, “Choice, not chance, determines ones destiny.” His face hardened. “Elizabeth made her choice long ago.”
The remainder of the trip was made in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. For Elizabeth, there were no more choices to be made.
****
Chapter 3 – Amor Fati
****
hey put in at Old Harbour, nestling the Pearl in an obscure cove, close to the mouth of the bay. The crew that Jack had picked up in Tortuga was not keen on sailing anywhere near Port Royal, not the most popular place among pirates, since the recent rash of hangings. In the end, only eleven would make the trip, including Jack and Gibbs. Fortunately, one of those eleven was AnaMaria, recently widowed, and ready to put her brief life on shore behind her. She was one of the few Jack could trust enough to leave with the Pearl, as he and Gibbs made their way by boat to Deadman’s Cay.
The cay itself was nothing but a spit of sand and mangroves, sitting at the mouth of Port Royal’s harbor, where the remains of several pirates swung desolately in the breeze. Their tarred and gibbeted bodies served as a gruesome reminder of the price of piracy, to those aboard the passing ships entering and leaving the busy port.
It had been almost a month since the pirates, including Elizabeth Swann, had been hung in chains, enough time for the pirate hunting fervor to die down and life on Port Royal’s waters to return to its normal routine. The fleet had dispersed, the ships deployed to where pirates had been reported to be lurking. Even with only a minimal number of ships in port, the area bristled with a naval presence, enough to warn away the most stanchworth of pirates.
For Gibbs, it was a frightful trip, his body still bearing the marks of his recent encounter with the King’s men. A superstitious man under normal circumstances, returning to the scene of his botched execution, to retrieve the corpse of one not so fortunate, was more than fool’s folly – it was disaster waiting to strike.
Jack brushed away his protests with an impatient wave. “Bullocks. There is a worse curse awaiting us if we do nothing.”
As Gibbs could not think of a curse worse than certain capture and death, he did not venture to ask Jack to elaborate. Suffice to say, his nerves were on edge the entire passage along the rugged coast. It did not help matters that a thick fog blanketed the area, lending an ethereal atmosphere to the surrounding rocks and shore. A bad omen to be sure.
Jack begged to differ, seeing the fog as a most opportune occurrence, concealing their arrival at the small cay, muffling their oars and grate of keel against sand as they pulled their boat ashore. There was little fear of discovery, though – the guard assigned to patrol the area was sitting safely at anchor, waiting for the fog to lift, before making its daily rounds. The cay itself was quite desolate and deserted, uninhabited except for the swaying corpses in their iron cages.
It was difficult to recognize the body of Elizabeth Swann, the ravages of time and tide having taken their toll. It was a gruesome sight, not for the fainthearted. Whoever had tarred the body had left the face uncovered, perhaps out of deference to her gender. Regardless of the reason, the gulls had feasted freely. Both eyes were gone, and chunks of missing flesh exposed a cheekbone, stark white against the remaining putrid flesh.
After a brief glance to determine they had the right corpse, Jack threw a canvas shroud over the gibbet, while Gibbs hacked at the rusting chain with a boarding axe. Another blow broke through the cage, and the two men hurried to wrap the body in the canvas sheet, tying the bundle with ropes before placing it carefully in the bottom of the boat. They needed to move quickly – the sun beginning to burn off the remaining tendrils of fog from around the island.
Jack turned and gave the remaining pirates a brief salute. “Sorry, mates,” he murmured before climbing into the boat, careful not to step on the bundle lying there.
Gibbs swallowed and rubbed his throat, taking one last, fearful glance at the gibbets, before taking up the oars, and muttering, “There, but for the grace of God go I.”
Jack glanced quickly over at his quartermaster. “Not so sure if grace had anything t’ do with it. Heard you dropped like a stone when the rope broke.”
Gibbs winced, his bruised ribs a constant reminder of his less than graceful plummet off the yardarm into the bay. Apparently, he’d sunk like a stone, the 32-pound shot tied to his feet helping matters along. After only a cursory look around, he’d been declared “dead,” the book of life officially closing on Joshamee Gibbs.
Elizabeth had not been so fortunate, he reflected, glancing down sadly at the crumbled bundle at their feet. Jack had kept his own counsel about the entire affair, approaching the task at hand with dogged determination, and copious amounts of rum. If he was mourning Elizabeth, he was not letting on.
“Poor lass,” Gibbs said aloud, shaking his head. “Don’t care what they say, she didn’t deserve t’ die like a dog.”
Jack’s eyes flicked at Gibbs and away, shrugging one shoulder. With a flutter of hands towards their burden, he said in a philosophical tone, “Choice, not chance, determines ones destiny.” His face hardened. “Elizabeth made her choice long ago.”
The remainder of the trip was made in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. For Elizabeth, there were no more choices to be made.
****