The Dawn
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Het - Male/Female › Jack/Elizabeth
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
2,215
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Het - Male/Female › Jack/Elizabeth
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
2,215
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Dawn
One
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Jack gradually came to consciousness because of a scent, a new and different scent. As he examined the strange sensation in his drowsy and sleep-filled brain, he was filled with joy, for he recognized it as the fragrance of his Lizzie. Her back was aligned with his chest and belly, her head across his arm, while his other arm was tenderly wrapped around her middle, and as he became more aware he could feel the warmth of her hand on his.
He opened his eyes to see, in the dim grey pre-dawn light trickling through the shuttered windows, the shape of her head, only inches from his nose. He had never known such a wonderful feeling. He closed his eyes again, and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the bouquet that could only be hers, and buried his face more deeply into her curls. He remained that way, snuggled against her, and offered a silent prayer of gratitude to whatever gods watched over him.
His inner captain, though, made him pull away from her warmth and extricate his arm from under her neck as the Pearl summoned him. Regretfully he looked back at his new bride, feasting his eyes on the sight. Finding his breeches on the floor where he’d dropped them the evening before and the shirt across the room, he began to dress. The vest, belts, sashes, boots and armaments all were fitted into place, and the hat clapped atop his head as he quietly opened the door, pausing for a moment to once again gaze upon the wondrous vision in his bed.
With a completely serene expression on his face, Jack stepped onto the deck of his ship, taking in the air of the sea. The Pearl was in the midst of the open ocean, gently rocking on the slight swells, and the early morning mists gave the entire scene a mystical quality. This was the time of day Jack loved the most. The last nightwatch helmsman on duty at the wheel acknowledged the Captain with an “All is well” sign, so Jack turned toward the fo’c’s’le, pausing to blow out the flame in several of the lanterns as he climbed the steps. This was his morning place—his moment of solitude before a day filled with God-knew-what. He loved the morning, loved to watch the sun gradually emerge from the ocean, loved to watch the ever- changing color as the light increased, loved the feeling of hope it created within him.
And this morning was entirely different. This was the dawn of the rest of his life—as a husband, as a married man. He briefly looked at the new silver band on his left hand—a ring bought yesterday afternoon in a Tortuga market, and smiled to himself as he envisioned Lizzie’s face when she slipped it onto his finger before the befuddled rector of the Anglican church. The ring he had just placed on his intended’s finger was identical, woven of fine silver wire in some far off place. Nothing grand, nothing impressive, but of all his various beads, charms and jewels, the most important one he wore. Jack looked back at the place on the horizon where the light was brightest, and waited for the first sliver of sun to appear, and the dawn of his new life.
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Jack gradually came to consciousness because of a scent, a new and different scent. As he examined the strange sensation in his drowsy and sleep-filled brain, he was filled with joy, for he recognized it as the fragrance of his Lizzie. Her back was aligned with his chest and belly, her head across his arm, while his other arm was tenderly wrapped around her middle, and as he became more aware he could feel the warmth of her hand on his.
He opened his eyes to see, in the dim grey pre-dawn light trickling through the shuttered windows, the shape of her head, only inches from his nose. He had never known such a wonderful feeling. He closed his eyes again, and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the bouquet that could only be hers, and buried his face more deeply into her curls. He remained that way, snuggled against her, and offered a silent prayer of gratitude to whatever gods watched over him.
His inner captain, though, made him pull away from her warmth and extricate his arm from under her neck as the Pearl summoned him. Regretfully he looked back at his new bride, feasting his eyes on the sight. Finding his breeches on the floor where he’d dropped them the evening before and the shirt across the room, he began to dress. The vest, belts, sashes, boots and armaments all were fitted into place, and the hat clapped atop his head as he quietly opened the door, pausing for a moment to once again gaze upon the wondrous vision in his bed.
With a completely serene expression on his face, Jack stepped onto the deck of his ship, taking in the air of the sea. The Pearl was in the midst of the open ocean, gently rocking on the slight swells, and the early morning mists gave the entire scene a mystical quality. This was the time of day Jack loved the most. The last nightwatch helmsman on duty at the wheel acknowledged the Captain with an “All is well” sign, so Jack turned toward the fo’c’s’le, pausing to blow out the flame in several of the lanterns as he climbed the steps. This was his morning place—his moment of solitude before a day filled with God-knew-what. He loved the morning, loved to watch the sun gradually emerge from the ocean, loved to watch the ever- changing color as the light increased, loved the feeling of hope it created within him.
And this morning was entirely different. This was the dawn of the rest of his life—as a husband, as a married man. He briefly looked at the new silver band on his left hand—a ring bought yesterday afternoon in a Tortuga market, and smiled to himself as he envisioned Lizzie’s face when she slipped it onto his finger before the befuddled rector of the Anglican church. The ring he had just placed on his intended’s finger was identical, woven of fine silver wire in some far off place. Nothing grand, nothing impressive, but of all his various beads, charms and jewels, the most important one he wore. Jack looked back at the place on the horizon where the light was brightest, and waited for the first sliver of sun to appear, and the dawn of his new life.
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