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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 Seven: A Sparrow Flies Free

Jack submitted without a struggle to being shackled yet again in his speckled career. Really there was nothing else to do with the entire Fort Charles redcoat contingent aiming for his heart, or at least far more of them than he thought was strictly necessary.

He was experiencing the novel sensation of having a young lady defend him from a king’s officer. The girl he had rescued did not fit into the ordinary categories of gentlewomen he was familiar with. Except for a very few on the hunt for a sexual misadventure, the wellbred ladies he came in contact with invariably treated him to displays of contempt and disdain combined with equal amounts of shrieking and fainting.

This girl defied definition. Although she was manifestly a perfect innocent, she was not angry with him for stripping her down to her foundation garments. In fact she seemed sublimely indifferent to the fact that she was parading about in a single layer of fabric for all those rough military men to gawp at. Nor had she seemed afraid of him although she couldn’t have been manhandled by his like before in her life. He hadn’t expected to meet a well-bred young lady with a sense of logic.

The good commodore, however, was not impressed with her argument.

His eyes shifting watchfully between his captive and the girl, the man snapped, “One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness.”

The girl’s back was stiff with frustration, Jack noted. He eyed the commodore speculatively. Now mate that’s no way to address a beautiful woman even if you are under stress.

Furthermore, Jack felt compelled to point out the flaw in the commodore’s reasoning. “Though it seems enough to condemn him,” he retorted.

Besides, it hadn’t been a complete lifetime of wickedness. Most of a lifetime, granted. But he sometimes went practically days without doing anything extremely wicked. Every once in a while he even committed a good deed or two, though he tried never to admit it. And in this instance he was completely blameless. Hadn’t had the least opportunity to get into any wickedness at all, more’s the pity. And that one good deed was the biggest pity of all.

Norrington wasn’t impressed with his logic either. “Indeed,” the man responded coldly.

During this exchange, although he did not look at his arms, Jack could feel the weight of the chains being added. At least the lieutenant was efficient and dispassionate about his job. He’d experienced far worse. Jack knew to a hair’s breadth the familiar feel of cold iron on his wrists. Lady Fortune was an ice-hearted strumpet where Captain Jack was concerned. Nevertheless, he had always had a way with the ladies. They might slap his face until his ears rang, but they warmed up in his arms eventually.

The heavy length of chain that curtailed the movements of his arms had certain possibilities, he mused. The key was to keep that punctilious commodore from visualizing any of those possibilities. To that effect he deliberately kept his posture resigned, unthreatening, as beaten as possible. But within that slumped form, every nerve shivered, every muscle strained with tension. Behind lazy eyes, his mind raced inventing and rejecting plots. Let them believe they had captured Captain Jack Sparrow.

Jack prepared to put Fortune in her place.

It all happened so fast, Elizabeth wasn’t sure what had happened. One moment she had been defending her sodden rescuer from Commodore Norrington’s over-zealous sense of duty. The next, the pirate’s rough voice, like the grate of sea on cobbles, exclaimed in triumph, “Finally!” and she was seized in an iron grip with the bite of heavy chain across her throat. She gave a small cry of shock. Immediately, she was aware of the dangerous man behind her, the heat of his body, his disordered hair scratching against her cheek.

Her first emotion was a wild sense of betrayal. This man was supposed to be her rescuer. She had just been championing him. He was supposed to be a gentleman according to the stories. How dared he threaten her like this?

The sound of a dozen rifles being cocked split the silence that followed. Norrington made an abortive start towards Elizabeth, the boots of his men beating a rumbling scuffle on the stone pier behind him. But they slid to a halt in frustration as her father cried anxiously, “No! No! Don’t shoot!”

The pirate smiled madly at the man. Now old Curly-wig was piping a new tune. In a voice insultingly familiar, Jack breathed, “I knew you’d warm up to me.”

Transferring his attention to the harried naval officer, he demanded coldly, “Commodore Norrington, my effects, please.” His voice had that quality that carried orders to the topgallants in a gale wind. Then, pointing, he added quite conversationally, “and my hat.”

When this produced no effect, he hitched the chain a little tighter around the girl’s neck. She gave a strangled gasp.

Captain Jack Sparrow was now officially enjoying himself. Certainly he was still cornered by British troops—regular forest of bayonets there—but the situation had its bright spots. For one thing, he again had his arms full of this most astonishingly lovely girl. Of course, at the moment, she looked readier to bite him than to kiss him. Her entire body was quivering in outrage, but he wasn’t complaining. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin wet shift and took a moment to enjoy the view.

As an added bonus, the poker-stiff commodore was obviously sweet on the lass, and any further annoyance Jack could supply that pompous British ninnyhammer was rum sauce on the pudding. From the look on said commodore’s face, annoyance was a pale and colourless thing compared to the red rage he was in. Good. Jack glared menacingly at the roiling ball of furious marines his actions had halted and tightened the chain on his fair captive’s neck. He might have dragged that chain across the commodore’s own throat the way the man jerked convulsively.

“Commodore!” the pirate snapped in a voice of command and warning.

Grudgingly, Norrington turned to Mulroy who passed over the hat and baldric. He then held them out to Elizabeth, his jaw clenched. She met his eyes with mute appeal, and he cursed himself for having failed her a second time that day.

As Jack waited for this transaction to be complete, he bent close to his captive’s ear and addressed her in a sultry voice, “Elizabeth. It is Elizabeth isn’t it?”

Elizabeth, as Jack had already figured out, was not the type of female to scream and faint—well now that she was free of that dratted corset. Instead she got angry. “It’s Miss Swann,” she hissed at the pirate.

Ah ha! He’d always known he had good taste. It appeared he had kidnapped the daughter of the Governor of Jamaica. Excellent! His hands otherwise most fully occupied, Jack nudged his hostage in the direction of the proffered goods.

“Miss Swann,” Jack emended agreeably, “if you’d be so kind.” He nodded at the hat and belt indicating that she was to take them from Norrington.

Elizabeth shuddered with disgust when she realized that the pirate expected her not only to touch his filthy “effects,” but also to place them on his equally filthy body. She couldn’t believe she’d ever felt the least bit of sympathy for the man.

When she did not move, he snarled, “Come, come, dear. We don’t have all day.”

As James Norrington gently set the requested articles in Elizabeth’s arms, his eyes held hers in concern. He hated himself for being unable to prevent this from happening to her.

The minute Sparrow’s pistol was within his reach, he snatched it up and brought it to Elizabeth’s temple. She shrank from the sinister touch of the muzzle and heard her father’s inarticulate cry. She would not be afraid. But she could see no way out of doing as the pirate requested, so she let him shift her around until she was looking up into his thin dark face, weirdly framed by his knotted, beaded hair. His eyes were mad and dangerous, but his voice remained silky and intimate.

She had never been so close to a man’s body before. The pirate’s grimy rope-calloused hand still lay across her shoulder, the chain heavy on her back. His other hand gripped the butt of the pistol that kissed her cheek so coldly, but his smile burned like fire and she felt her face heat. She had never had a man look at her so. Not shy Will’s bashful adoration. Not Commodore Norrington’s ardent approval. Now she saw in this man’s lazily mocking eyes and his gold-glittering grin the fire unbanked. Not a tincture of chivalry or civilization. Not a taint of shame or fear. Pure, unabashed lust. He found her beautiful and a pirate takes his pleasure where he can get it. His husky rum-flavoured voice was a caress, like warm velvet against her ear, as if he were a lover rather than her captor, suggestive of a hundred forbidden things. “Now if you’d be very kind.”

Elizabeth glared into her captor’s dark eyes, refusing to be frightened, furious at him for humiliating her so. His eyes laughed back, admiring her in her fury, pleased that she was not afraid. While the governor watched in consternation, she jammed the pirate’s disreputable tricorn over his head, her whole face eloquent of outrage. Jack smiled seductively at her.

The sight of the woman he loved in the arms of that bastard pirate who was so obviously enjoying every moment of her touch nearly made Commodore Norrington ill. Before God, he promised Jack Sparrow would pay for this day’s work.

Jack grinned triumphantly at the man over Elizabeth’s shoulder until the commodore averted his head in disgust.

The pirate smelled, reeked really, of tar and sweat and rum and the salt tang of the sea. Elizabeth twisted up her nose as she roughly and unwillingly reached around the pirate’s back to clasp the other end of his baldric, an action that to her embarrassment brought her into even closer contact with the man. In her rage, she was perhaps rougher than was wise, but he merely cautioned her with an edge to his voice, “Easy on the goods, darling.”

Just for that she gave an extra hard yank to the belt. Take that bloody pirate!

What a little spitfire, Jack thought admiringly. Quite worth the unexpected dunking, perhaps even the chase he would soon be leading. Worthy even to dare wear cursed pirate gold about her slim ivory neck. Oh, but she hated him now.

Glaring up at him, she snarled at him, “You’re despicable.”

Accurate, if not very nice. Jack tilted his head and contemplated his lovely adversary, his arms still resting on her slim shoulders. “Sticks and stones, love,” he told her. “I saved your life, you save mine, we’re square.”

As fine as this little interval had been, it was time he was going. While the entire garrison of Fort Charles had been focused on his hostage, Jack had been rapidly plotting an escape route. Unfortunately, he was going to have to disappear around a corner he hadn’t seen around. But, unless he missed his guess, he would find scope for a magnificent departure on the other side of said corner. Forcing Elizabeth to turn her back to him again and keeping the pistol trained on her head, he addressed his audience in ringing tones, “Gentlemen!” He then bent his head towards Elizabeth and murmured in her ear, “M’lady.”

Gradually he began backing up, pulling Elizabeth with him. Elizabeth felt the strain in her neck as Sparrow’s chained hand pressed her head back. Her breath sounded ragged and loud. She wondered frantically what the pirate was going to do with her. Perhaps she was a little afraid after all. Commodore Norrington, her father, and the entire contingent of marines inched towards the two of them cautiously.

Head raised and eyes wild, the pirate delivered his parting lines in time to his deliberate steps backward: “You will always remember this as the day that you almost caught . . .” Suddenly he threw his chains up over Elizabeth’s head. “Captain Jack Sparrow!”

He shoved Elizabeth into the path of pursuit, which happened to be straight into the commodore’s arms, and dashed around the corner of the stone wall beside the dock. Really, Commodore Norrington ought to be grateful to him. He’d bet that stiff and proper gentleman had never had his arms around his girl before. And now Jack had even saved him most of the trouble of undressing her.

Ah ha! Just as he’d suspected. The mechanism controlling the great crane that was busy loading new cannon on the Interceptor was right there. While the tangle of military personnel and one wet girl sorted itself out, he grabbed ahold of the rope and kicked the latch free. The cannon, high in the air and still out of position, was suddenly free of its counteracting force. As it plummeted towards the dock, Jack was launched into the air towards the high arm of the crane.

A cluster of marines made a frantic grab for his legs to no avail. Their pursuit was violently interrupted when the great gun smashed into the dock directly in their path. Two unlucky redcoats didn’t manage to stop in time and crashed into the gaping hole in the planks. By then it was too late. Norrington, still holding Elizabeth, stood gaping, along with the governor and the rest of his men, as the whizzing rope slammed the pirate into the arm of the crane, and then flung him out in a great spinning arc as the crane began to turn.

At last, the sparrow flew free.

The End

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