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A Pirate's Life

by Brandy
August 6, 2005

~ Awakening ~

The glow from the early morning sun begins to spill through the open window. Elizabeth slides out from under the strong arm that holds her and slips into her favorite dress, the fine Chinese silk soft and welcome on her skin. It was a gift from her Captain, who insisted that some things just don’t grow out of a girl raised on lace, afternoon luncheons, and tea parties.

The ship is silent; no one is awake. The deck is cold and damp under her bare feet.

She doesn’t wonder about what the day will hold just as long as after today comes another, and after that one, another, and another, and another, each one hers, each one an adventure.

A new day has begun.

*

~ A Matter of Opinion ~

“It’s the way the sea rocks,” he tells her. “That let’s you know how she’s feelin’.”

Closing her eyes, she tries to feel the sway of the ocean, but Jack knows she’s trying too hard. He takes her slender shoulders and presses her body into his so that she can feel his rhythm, as natural as his breath.

She melts into it: the movement, the peace. Herself, Jack, the ship, and the sea, all moving in one unified harmony.

“You feel that?”

She nods.

“She likes ya.”

Elizabeth smiles. Without ever noticing it, he lets go of her, replacing the warmth of his touch with the feel of his salty, cracked lips brushing gently against the smoothness of her own.

He whispers in her ear, “I’m inclined to agree with her.”

*

~ Trousers ~

“Now there will be no laughing, Mr. Sparrow.”

Jack peeks through the fingers that cover his eyes and lets out a quick chuckle.

She frowns.

“You don’t like it?”

Elizabeth, clothed only in an oversized white shirt and trousers far too big for her slender waist, turns around doubtfully, giving Jack a full view.

“I suggest you stick to dresses, love. My knickers do nothin’ to flatter yer figure.”

A hint of playfulness flickers through her eyes.

“Then let’s take them off.” she purrs as she walks to the bed where Jack lays.

He was thinking the exact same thing.

*

~ Foreplay ~

“No, no. You hold it like this, love.” He takes her hand in his, molding it to fit the handle of the sword. “Tight thumb and fore finger. And,” rough hands massaged her palms, “Loose palms.”

Jack picks up his own weapon and turns to face her. After a last glance at his pupil he nods approvingly. “Aye, now have a go at me.”

Elizabeth lunges, full strength and concentration on the task before her, expecting Jack to parry. But he doesn’t move an inch, and she strikes him with the dull side of her blade.

Jack falls to the ground, his face contorted in an imitation of pain. “Me arm! Why, you devilish woman. To strike the one you love.”

Her foe now beaten, Elizabeth sheathes her sword in the thick leather belt that hangs loosely from her waist, the weathered hide contrasting from her fine silk dress.

“And to think,” she smirks, “That was only the dull side.”

*

~ Drinking Games ~

Below decks, they sit in the ship’s galley. She wonders how he had ever convinced her to play a drinking game Sure, Jack swore it was popular in all the taverns, but Elizabeth can tell the rules are being made up as they play. And all for Jack’s favor, nonetheless.

She swallows the last mouthful of rum for bluffing an answer to Jack’s last trivial question. He claims sheer ignorance is worth at least three swigs.

But now it’s her turn: “Who was your first love?”

Jack shakes his head. “No questions about love, love.”

“Only if it endangers one or both of our feelings, but I don’t see how this would hurt anything. And that’ll be a swig for stalling.”

He eyes her but swallows. “You.”

“And another for lying, you scallywag.”

“Girl named Charlotte.” He finally answers with a sigh. “She worked on the docks when I was younger ‘n tryin’ to stow away on ships.”

“What were you running away from?”

“That’s a question not ter be answered ‘ere.” The glint in his eye tells her the response is deeper than any game. “Besides, I believe it’s now my turn. How many whores does it take to light a candle?”

She takes a swig, deciding one for silence was better than three for ignorance and another for lying.

*

~ Myths and Legends ~

They stand on the deck, both leaning against the railing as the setting sun melts into the horizon. The ocean spray carried on the evening breeze lingers on Elizabeth’s face, but she isn’t bothered; to her the wind and the water are two physical proofs of the ever-elusive freedom they both seek.

“It’s beautiful, ain’t it?”

Leaning into him, she lays her head on his shoulder, and nods, her blue eyes lingering on his tanned skin. The last rays of the setting sun cast a magical glow upon it so that he seems to be cast out of bronze.

Absentmindedly, her fingers twirl and twist the coarse hair of his goatee braids.

“Hard ter think,” he continues, “people thought all the power of the sun lay in the ‘ands of that Apollo fella’. A single man.”

He senses the question in her gaze, but she is content to listen as he explains.

“When you’v devoted yer whole life to becomin’ a legend, you find out which bloke’s story stood the test ‘f time. Those Greeks knew how ter tell a good tale.”

She laughs and closes her eyes, drifting away into the legend that had become her, their, lives.

The last sliver of light disappears. All that remains is the darkness, their love, and the sea.

~.~

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