a

Daring Rescue, Daring Escape
Being a novelized version of Elizabeth's rescue from the sea and that bloody corset

by Honorat Selonnet
First Post: July 17, 2005

Chapter Three: To Contend with the Sea

Unaware of the forces moving in these waters, Jack Sparrow searched for any sign of the woman he was trying to rescue.

There! There she was. Jack could see her in the dim light on the sea floor. He altered course slightly and swam down beside her. She was naught but a girl, he realized, slender and ominously still. Good. He would have the best chance of hauling her to the surface if she was light weight and not fighting him. Hmmm. Not so good. He might already be too late. It was a long way back to air, and she had already been under water too long. Well, he shrugged mentally, he certainly had to try. Maneuvering to her side, Jack scooped the girl up in his arms. Kicking off the sandy bottom, he headed for the surface as swiftly as possible.

Too soon, it became clear that this task was not going to be as easy as it had at first seemed. He had never had to struggle so hard to swim. It was as if he were hauling an anchor up without benefit of a windlass. His lungs burned for air, but the light was still too far away. Fish darted around him, and he wished he had gills. He began to think he wasn’t going to make it.

Just let the girl go, the voice in his head told him. What is she to you? You aren’t telling me you’re going to die trying to save some silly wench who doesn’t know enough not to tip over a wall and fall off a cliff? No! He told the voice. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, and he would not lose this battle. He would not let the girl go.

But he was slowing down, the powerful strokes of his legs growing erratic and weaker. The surface and its precious air were still too far away. Let her go, tempted the voice. She’s probably already drowned. You’re wasting this effort on a corpse.

Jack’s leg muscles were on fire. His arms were on fire. His lungs were on fire. Suddenly rage flashed through him.

With each painful kick, he vowed: He. . . Would Not. . . Let. . . The Sea. . . Win. . . Today!

The sea would get him on his own terms or not at all. And he was not ready to go today. And he would not let the girl go. With his last ounce of reserve strength, he fought through the remaining yards of water.

Finally, Jack’s head broke the surface, and he was gasping for breath—great agonized gasps of air that filled his aching lungs. He had won. Jubilation filled him. But suddenly he was sinking again. He didn’t have enough strength left to hold the two of them out of the water. No! He had been so close. So close! The weight of the girl in her heavy dress bore him downwards again like dashed hope. The weight of her dress. The dress.

He was an idiot. Jack ceased to fight for the surface. Silently the man and the girl drifted down through the scintillating watery light towards the darkness of the sea floor. With fumbling hands, Jack ripped at the fasteners of the elegant, deadly garment.

Sorry love. I know you and I haven’t been introduced yet, but you’ll just be having to do a little strip here.

Good thing he had plenty of practice removing ladies’ clothing. At last he had the wretched thing off the girl. It slowly sank below them, as Jack kicked for the light. This time, when he surfaced, he was able to keep the girl’s head above water and strike out for the dock.

As Jack clambered up on the supporting beams of the dock gripping the limp and seemingly lifeless body of the girl over his shoulder, Murtogg and Mulroy pounded up. Jack was relieved to see them. He hadn’t been sure he had any strength left to lift the girl onto the planks. But between the two of them, they would manage to pull her off of him and drag her out on the dock.

“I got her!” one of them cried. And Jack felt the weight roll off his shoulders. For a moment he just clung there on the dockside, panting.

Mulroy bent over the still form and brushed damp strands of hair away from the girl’s lips—colourless lips, with a faint blue tinge. She looked like a pale, waxen doll. Jack felt an unexpected twinge at the sight. Was she still alive? The marine’s panicked voice jolted him into action.

“Not breathing!” Mulroy cried.

“Move!” Jack shouted, scrambling onto the dock and shoving in between the two officers. With experienced ease, he palmed Murtogg’s knife. Kneeling beside the girl, he slashed through the front lacings of her corset. Why in the bloody blazes women wore these torture devices was beyond him. It was no wonder she couldn’t breathe. Ripping the contraption out from under her, he tipped the girl onto her side and was rewarded when she began to choke out great gouts of seawater. She was still alive! He was Captain Jack Sparrow, and the sea had not won this round.

He tossed the ruined corset in Murtogg’s direction. The embarrassed man caught it gingerly.

Mulroy was all admiration. “I never would have thought of that!” he exclaimed.

Chapter 4

All our authors thrive on feedback. Email the Webmaster to have comments forwarded to the author.

a