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Challenge: Drinks
June 15, 2005

By Lorraine
June 18, 2005

~ Boat Drinks ~

"A double ration of grog for the men, Mr. Gillette," Commodore Norrington said as he blew on his chapped fingers and resolutely clasped them behind his back once again. "What on earth is Sparrow thinking, running through the North Atlantic at this time of year?"

*

"Gibbs, how much rum do we have left?" Jack asked as he rubbed his cold hands together and thrust them back into his pockets.

"About four barrels give or take."

"That's barely enough for a week! What the hell is Norrington thinking, chasing us all the way up here in the bloody winter?"

By Serra
June 18, 2005

~ A Matter of Taste ~

He spat a mouthful of liquid over the railing of the Dauntless, not caring if the crew saw him.

Bloody tea.

He never understood how anyone could bear to actually swallow the stuff. If brewed properly, it was, at best, tasteless. If brewed by a member of the King's Navy, it tasted -- to him, at least -- like old dirt mixed with even older sweat.

He returned his gaze to the island, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the signal fire, and smiled in spite of himself.

Rum -- now there's a REAL drink.

By Felaine
June 18, 2005

~ "Drink Up Me Hearties, Yo Ho!" ~

Barbossa shot the innkeeper through the heart. It was his fourth of the evening.

"What possesses these idiots?" he raged, "trying to tell us water is rum. I've drunk enough tonight to float the bloody British Navy an' still I feel nothing."

"It's these storm clouds we've been in since we left the treasure island.'' Pintel tried to soothe his captain. "We've all felt a touch daft. But look, they're breaking up. It's near bright as day in the street."

"Let's try one more tavern, Hector," Ragetti urged. "I can feel our luck about to turn. Maybe we'll pick up the luck he dropped." He kicked the dead man.

Laughing together, they stepped through the doorway and into the moonlight.

By Jenthegypsy
June 18, 2005

~ Passing Time ~

They sat beneath twin palms, staring out at the vacant blue vista. Jack nudged her linen-draped leg with the near empty bottle.

"Your turn, Miss Swann. Give over or take a swig."

She shot him a withering glance that ricocheted off some bit of shine woven into his impossible hair.

"The deep blue sea," she said, eyes scanning the horizon once again.

"Doesn't count. Can't use the word sea or ocean." He dropped the bottle into her lap. "Drink up."

She took a mouthful of the vile liquid, one step further from her goal of getting him drunk.

"The briny deep."

"The Caribbean," Elizabeth countered quickly, setting the bottle down between them.

"No proper names, luv. Here you go. Down the hatch!"

"Stop making up rules as we go along!" She would have moved away from him in a huff, had she been able to convince her legs that it was possible. Instead, she took up the bottle again.

Her outburst went un-noted.

"The bounding main." The words were automatic, his attention focused on the place where the Pearl had disappeared from sight several hours earlier. The unguarded sadness in his eyes caused her heart to ache.

"I don't want to play any more, Jack," she murmured, pressing the bottle into his hand. "Drink?"

"Eh?" Shaking his head slightly, he turned to look at her, eyes bright once again. "Finally, Miss Swann! One would think you had never played at word games before! That would make it my turn, I believe?"

By Pendragginink
June 19, 2005

~ Last Drink Before Dying ~

He hated waking up in gaol; hated it even more than waking up in Tortuga, face down and naked on the dock. Finding oneself in a cell wasn’t the worse that could happen. A cell and prison weren’t the same thing, really.

He had been in ‘gaol’ of a sort, until he turned pirate and only in and out after that. A gaol wasn’t just a bars and chains, disgusting decor and little creepy crawly things. A gaol was the taking of his…..freedom.

It wasn’t the dying that he minded. Not really. He had faced death before and all things considered, lived a good life, for a pirate: he had done only those things he had been willing to do and most all the things he thought he wanted to do, except one. How many men could claim that, he wondered.

This cell wasn’t the worst he had been in, actually. He had a bench and a window, so the stench wasn’t too bad. He was hungry of course. Understandable, really. One can’t expect the navy to waste perfectly good weevils and swill on a man they are just going to hang in the morning.

Thirsty, now. Aye, he was thirsty enough. But not for water. Water he had, with a dead mouse floating in it, true, but it looked like today’s mouse and he had drunk from far worse. Thinking of rum was unthinkable. Bloodthirsty, ah, yes, there was the thing. It wasn’t the noose he minded, it was dying before his betrayers and not getting back …….”I know those guns. It’s the Pearl.”
Sparrow flew to the window, eyes gleaming in the darkness.

I’m coming, my girl.

But his thirst only increased as he drank in the sight of her in the moonlight.

By Geek Mama
June 19, 2005

~ After Dinner Drinks ~

“Da, can I have some o’ that?”

Jack, who’d been in the midst of the first delightful sip, choked and coughed, eyes watering. When he’d recovered, he said, irritably, “Bloody hell, Imp! No! Yer barely seven: wouldn’t appreciate it, anyway!”

Tom scowled. “Maybe I would. You do, an’ everybody says I’m…”

“…a chip off the ol’ block. I know.” Jack frowned down at his little son, and had to acknowledge the truth of this. Too clever by half. And as for looks…

“Please, Da?” Tom made play with wide eyes and a familiar pout.

Jack’s own eyes narrowed. He said, finally, “Your mother’d have me hide, Tom. Kill-devil’s not for young lads, no matter whence they’ve sprung. But what say you to this?” He lowered his voice, and Tom leaned close, eagerly. “I’ll make you a half-cup of grog—well-watered, mind!—but from now on, while we’re here, you’ll stay out of our room in the mornings—no more breakin’ in without leave.”

“But…but Da!” Tom said, dismayed. “You’d both stay abed ‘til noon if it wasn’t for me!”

O, blissful thought!

Jack drawled, “Aye, well, your mother needs her… rest. As do I. So that’s the bargain. What say you, young Sparrow? Do we have an accord?” He held out his hand.

After a moments’ hesitation, the little hand closed on Jack’s. “Aye. We do,” said Tom, as they shook on it. Then, he wheedled, “But could you not make it a full cup? I’d sleep later, myself, like as not.”

Jack laughed, and his eyes gleamed as he ruffled his son’s dark hair. “Like as not, you young scallywag! All right, a full cup.” More water and lime won’t hurt him. “But remember: this is just between us two. Savvy?”

An answering gleam and a flashing grin. “Aye, Da, I savvy!”

By Melusina
June 20, 2005

~ Windfall ~

The smell of the coffee brewing was heavenly. They'd been at sea for four months, chasing pirates, becalmed, and chasing pirates again, and their coffee had been gone for weeks. But the Devil's Bride had been carrying an unexpected treasure: several barrels of coffee beans. Strictly speaking, James shouldn’t have been interfering with any of the cargo before it had been inventoried for the crown, but the king would never miss the contents of the pirate captain's private larder, and James and his crew deserved some small treat for their efforts.

No, in this wealth of treasure, the king wouldn't begrudge a handful of coffee beans. In addition to the coffee, the ship had been filled to the brim with Spanish gold and silver, and a cask of sapphires the exact color of Cecilia's eyes. James couldn't even begin to calculate the worth of this prize, but surely his share would be more than sufficient to purchase the townhouse he'd had his eye on. Cecilia's father was more circumspect than Swann; he would want concrete proof that James could support Cecilia before he'd agree to the marriage. But even Strand couldn't argue with this fortune.

A week back to Port Royal, less with fair winds. Then James would make haste to ask Strand for Cecilia's hand. Perhaps Swann could even arrange for James to have one of the sapphires for a ring.

Groves came up to the quarterdeck, bearing coffee for them both, and beaming with satisfaction. He would sail the prize home and make captain at last. Treasure and joy enough for all of them, not to mention this excellent coffee. James closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to sit in his own dining room, sipping coffee across from his wife. Treasure and joy indeed!

By Zwarte Parel
June 21, 2005

~ Made for a Woman ~

"...and he was _drunk_, I tell you. Anne and I were shocked to see it." Frances Walker's voice had dropped confidingly as she spoke to Elizabeth.

"Oh, really?" Elizabeth feigned interest. "So what did you do then?"

"We ignored it, of course. But if a man cannot hold his liquor, one has to wonder about his character," said Frances in smug tones.

"Indeed," agreed Elizabeth. "Quite."

"More tea?" offered Anne Howe, gesturing at Elizabeth's empty cup.

"Thank you," said Elizabeth. She repressed a sigh as she lifted the delicate china to her lips, wishing for a gill of rum instead.

By Erinya
June 22, 2005

~ To Freedom ~

To Freedom

The forge-fire has burnt low in his absence and the smithy is full of shadows; one of which clears its throat loudly as he turns to latch the door.

He whirls, sword in hand. "Who's there?"

"Well, there's no call to try and skewer me like that," says the shadow, sulkily. "I rather thought you'd be pleased to see me."

"Jack? Is that you?"

"Who else?"

Who else indeed. "What are you doing here?"

"Why, I'm here for the wedding, o' course! Wouldn't miss it for the world, you know--"

"Are you mad? You could be hanged!"

"I won't be, though," says Jack cheerfully. "Last time was an anon...anomo...well, it won't happen again, anyway. After all, I am Captain Jack Sparrow." He claps Will on the back. "So! You'll be tying the knot in the morning, will you? How are you holdin' up?"

"Me?" Will frowns, surprised. "Tomorrow I'll be married to the woman I love. I'm fine. I'm better than fine. I'm--I feel wonderful--"

Jack shakes his head, setting beads and trinkets swinging. "'S not what your face said when you trudged through that door, my friend."

"There's nothing wrong with me." Will busies himself with stoking the fire, feeling Jack watching him keenly. Then he remembers how queasy he's been all day, and allows, "Well, I suppose I am a bit nervous..."

"Course you are! An' I don't blame you. Perfectly natural sentiment." Will first saw that brilliant, devilish grin on the deck of the Dauntless, some time ago; it glitters in the light of the reawakened flames, and bodes no good whatsoever. "Lucky I got here when I did. I know just what ye need."

"A good night's rest?" suggests Will, hopefully.

"No, no!" Jack flails, horrified. "That won't do at all." He throws an arm round Will's shoulders. "What you need, lad, is rum. And lots of it. What say you to the Cat and Fiddle, eh? Delightfully friendly ladies there, and all lasses love a bridegroom--"

It is Will's turn to be horrified. "Jack!"

"C'mon. We'll drink to your last night of freedom, mate. You'll feel much better for it, I promise you."

"But I couldn't possibly--"

Jack is already steering him out the door. "Now, now, I'll have none of that nonsense. You surely can, an' I'll see to it that you have a good time doing it--savvy?"

~.~

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