342 Days Before
"Drink up, me hearties, yo ho/Yo ho, yo ho/A pirate's life for me," Jack sang aimlessly to himself, his eyes glancing up from his compass to the glittery, endless sea in front of him. The budding smirk on his face stretched into a massive grin. Closing his eyes, he emptied his mind just long enough to remember the last time he stood on this deck, held this helm, guided her through squall and squalor with such practice it was like a memorized dance. You're home, he thought, blinking at the fact he didn't know if he was talking to himself or to his Pearl.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"No, I don't think so." He half-turned towards Anamaria, her arms folded across her chest. "The next line goes 'we're beggars and blighters and ne'er-do-well cads,' and after a few lines here and there it just goes back to the chorus."
"My ship, Jack!" She stomped over to him, her hand raised above her head, tensing, her fingers curled like talons. "You promised me a ship. I'm not staying and serving under you, so you can forget any 'aye aye, sirs' coming from me."
"So I did promise you a ship," he said. "And I gave you one, a big one."
"It's destroyed!"
"I can't help it if you were careless with it after I gave it to you. If I just up and give you another one, what will you have learned?" He patted her head like it was a child's, only for Anamaria to step into him and ball up her fist. He caught it right before it collided with his eye. They spun around into the helm, the pattering of the crew's footsteps surrounding them, followed by the cocking of several pistols. Waiting for her to lower her arms, he watched her exhale and wiggle out from between himself and the helm. Smoothing her blouse, she glared at the crew, each one still with their pistols pointed at her.
"Fine. We're not too far from Port Royal. It would be an easy swim right to Commodore Norrington…"
"I'm having a thought, Anamaria." He whistled over for…he would have to learn some of their names…to take the helm. Rushing down the steps, he caught up with her. Taking a brief second to glance back at the helm, his eyes lightened. Even coming down her steps felt as natural as breathing. "This ship hasn't really done any honest pirating under me command for ten years."
"Your point?"
"Well, that information combined with the information that the late Barbossa did manage to earn the Pearl an even more infamous reputation than she already have would imply if we were to conduct a bit of piracy right now, say, at the first ship we sighted, one might find the most prudent thing to do would be for you to claim the ship and I claim the spoils within the hold, eh? What say you to that?"
"Fifty percent of the hold," she said, holding her chin in her hand, some shrewd calculation in her mind.
"Seventy-five."
"Sixty."
"Done." He held out his hand. "Although sixty percent does take more arithmetic than me just commandeering all of it. Oh well. No one ever drowned in their own sweat. Snap to, lads! You know how this works. Once we're within range, hoist the colors."
Running back up the steps to the helm, he narrowed his eyes at the sea, suddenly hungry, eager, ravenous—like a predator emerging from a hibernation cave, all too willing to reek vengeance on the smaller animals that had stayed awake all winter. Some of the water sprayed onto his face, the wind picking up, billowing down the sails.
"Jack! Ship sighted starboard side," Gibbs said, his smile crooked in conspiracy. "Balener from the look of it. Ha! Them gun holes are painted on! Have a look."
Jack took the spyglass and focused on the two-mast ship passing over the horizon line towards them. It was a Balener, all right, smaller than the Pearl and weapon bluffing. It certainly wouldn't qualify as a harrowing saga to tell at the pubs, but it would do. It was most definitely larger than her last ship, whatever the bloody thing was called.
"Have a look." He took a smug stance watching her find the ship. "Fair compensation for the Pudgy Mon as I see it."
"Jolly Mon."
"Hoist the colors and ready the guns. Haul on the main brace."
"Cap'n, hadn't we wait?" Gibbs asked.
"I've waited long enough."
It was surreal, the men clamoring down to the guns, waiting for his signal. The others remaining on deck kept one hand on their swords, the other one busy readying the ropes to swing across. It was the calm before the storm, Jack knew, preparing to sense the overwhelming emanation of gunpowder. The deck of the other ship was in plain sight now, the men aboard it scurrying every which way, probably wondering where the one musket for emergencies only rested.
"Fire," he ordered, his eyes wide and exhilarated.
"Fire!"
"Fire!"
The ship rumbled while the earsplitting sound of sheer piracy penetrated the whaling vessel, its sails tattering by the second. The crew scattered after each thunderous pounding, their frantic voices ringing in Jack's ears. Through the ashen smoke, he spied the name in bold green letters on her side. The Semele. Fitting, he smirked, wondering if the mother of Dionysus appropriately carried rum in her hold. His men boarded her, their pistol shots piddling in comparison to the deep cannons of the Pearl.
Maneuvering down to the railing, he took hold of one of the ropes, the scratchy braided wires scraping against his newest scar, an angry slit running vertically across his palm.
"Makes ye feel alive, don't it?" Gibbs grinned next to him, gritting a dagger in his teeth.
Smiling, Jack swung onto the Semele, noting the swelling number of her crewmen underneath him, abandoning ship, preferring the long arm-pulling swim back to Port Royal to being at his mercy. Oh yes, it does make one feel alive. Landing with both feet flat on the deck, he gripped his pistol and sauntered up to the quarter deck. A few men sprinkled here and there, broken harpoons were the only obstacles in his path.
"Are you the captain?" he asked to a wiry elderly gentleman with spectacles disappearing behind a hawk-like nose.
"Y-yes, sir."
"Ah! Captain Jack Sparrow, pleased to make your acquaintance." He held out his hand, palm and wrist wrapped in lace, two rings on his long bony fingers. He flipped it over and then back when the captain hesitated. "Is something amiss?"
"You're a pirate," the captain said, puffing the sentence out from between dried lips, his eyes darting down to Jack's pistol.
"A trifle matter, mate, especially in the way of negotiation." He reached for the cowering form's shoulder and flung his arm around it. "I'm in a hurry to dispense a young woman, and you know what they say about having one of those onboard, and the best and most utilitarian method of doing so is to sack this ship and let her have at it. That's where you come in. You call off your remaining men, the ones who have yet to jump ship, and take one of the longboats."
"You don't want to cut out my tongue?"
"What? I already got a man like that. He's…" Jack looked out into the chaos below for Cotton, locked in combat with a crewman. "It's not important right now."
"We don't have to run around the deck while you poke us with the tips of your swords?"
"Who has time for that?" Jack began to consider himself the savior of this unfortunately loquacious man who might have talked his way into being keel-hauled or a marooned had he been sacked by someone else. "We'll just go collect your crew, lower you down, and call it a deal, square after that, savvy?" The old man nodded and ran down to his huddled crew, surrounded by armed pirates.
"This was really most obliging of you, Captain Sparrow," Captain Archer called up from the longboat, weapon-free with the rowers already paddling away from the ship.
"Not at all, my good sir. I would be grateful for a little touch of a torture story once you find land, though, something along the lines of thumbscrews and boiling in oil, eh?"
"Oh, oh, yes, will do! Ta ta."
Jack waved and turned back to find Anamaria inspecting the shrouds.
"Oy! Something not to your liking? It's twice as big as your last one at least."
"But not bigger than the Interceptor," she said with a knowing eyebrow. "You were lucky that was the one you'd promised or I wouldn't have gone out on such a fool's errand." She tossed back her hair and smirked at him. "But it's not your fault, I suppose. The Black Pearl was cursed at the time. There was no way of beating her."
"Nor is there now. Fastest ship in the Caribbean, that."
"Ha!" Anamaria snorted, making her way towards the captain's cabin. "That's what that girl said about the Interceptor and I'll tell you, she nearly staved off the Pearl. Had it been an even match to start we might have come out on top with her daft strategies. Jack?" She edged closer to him. "The lad…no talk of joining your crew, was there?"
His arm wrapped around her waist.
"I ain't ever heard tell of you fancying a lad of any kind, even one as close to a girl as William Turner." So it had been Miss Swann's fault the rudder, tiller, and brig of the Pearl were filled with holes. Typical. He stifled a laugh and a fleeting sense of pride, taken aback by the sudden sensation of fingertips on his neck.
"Well, one such as William Turner could make someone like me consider switching teams," she purred, running her fingers down his throat, down to just beneath his shirt. "So could a man that gave me two ships."
"So now it's trivial that your first one is gone." He said it with a pouty tone but cupped the back of her thigh that was entwining with his own. This would be different, he thought, wondering when the last time Anamaria had been with a man was. "Had you come to that conclusion an hour ago we could have already done this in my cabin." He cocked his head over at the anchored Pearl and then began to leave a trail of kisses down her jaw. "Would have already had you undressed…uninhibited…and…" He paused to give a lingering kiss to her lips, tasting the sea salt on them. "Undone by now."
"Undone?" Her spider-like fingers danced down to his belt.
"Utterly. Had we started an hour ago there would have been nothing left for you but to scream out and collapse on my bed."
"Really?" She broke away from him to fiddle with the doorknob to the cabin, even that action erotic to him right now. "You wouldn't have petered out in fifteen minutes?"
"Open that door and we'll find out," he grunted, the pacing of his breathing beginning to speed. At last the door opened, revealing a shadowy, sunless cabin, the only light a few lanterns hung up against the bulkhead, giving off a faint amber light. It complimented her caramel skin, allowing him to see each thick eyelash, that feline mouth.
Kicking the door shut, he lunged at her, kissing her while his hands pressed against the small of her back, pushing her up towards him. It had been longer than usual for him, his fingers cradling the delicate skin on the back of a woman's neck, the tips embedded in her hair. Working the buttons of her blouse, he tilted his head to kiss her eyes, forcing her backward to the bed, thoughts of who would be on top running through his mind, both scenarios pleasant.
On her back, shirt open and splayed out at her sides, Anamaria's eyes closed, her hands, though, still busy with his belt, undoing the buckle and letting the heavy, inconvenient ornament clang to the floor. She sprang back up, sitting on her knees, allowing him to slip her trousers off her slender legs. The anticipation of her undoing each button on his shirt was a delicious torture.
"So where underneath all the tattoos and scars is your chest?" she asked with her hand on her hip, snorting a mock disappointment.
"I don't know. I'll settle for yours." Jack dropped down and tongued her torso, reveling in parts he had not tongued on anyone for too long. Bending her backward to lie on the bed, he straightened himself out on top of her, nibbling on a nipple until he heard the wanton groan every woman purrs out when she's ready. Apparently it didn't matter to some of those women who was doing the prep work, he mused, relishing the fact he was representing all males around the world with what he was about to do. Of course, he thought in spite of himself, he probably wasn't the very first man ever…oh, definitely not the first, he sighed, savoring her warmth…but he might as well have been.
"Jack."
Smiling at the familiar sound of his name whispered inches below his face, he leaned down and sucked on her throat, tasting the sensitive skin that stretched over her muscles like a drum. Bloody hell it felt so good, those limber legs twining around his waist, those long arms sliding up his own. Kneading her, he closed his eyes and just felt, felt her writhe and buck against him, listened to ragged breathing and the folding sound of tensed fingers scraping against sheets.
"Are you game to moving around a bit?" she asked, the words hissing out of her, like she would lose all control if she slacked her mouth. He could feel her pushing up on him. Opening his eyes, he grinned at the devilish, daring eyes.
"Yours for the taking," Jack said, gathering her up in his arms and rolling over with her. Anamaria hovered over him, the vertical lines on her stomach begging for him to take hold of them and keep her steady.
"Wind in the sails! Wind in the sails!" Cotton's parrot squawked, its wings giving out a small spasm. Cotton gave it a pat and picked up a discarded piece of hardtack off the deck. His fingers prepared to jerk back, they brushed the smooth beak as they fed it.
"Aye, that's the right idea!" Gibbs smacked his back and leaned against the railing of the captured ship. "I can see it now—t'won't be but half a day's journey to Tortuga from here, a week, maybe to Mexico. Wouldn't be too much of a stretch to reach Florida, either. Mark my words, this is the beginning of a new age." Provided Norrington wasn't already out to sea following them, he thought, but it didn't seem likely. He would have already caught up to them. And if Jack wasn't worried, there was no reason for him to be.
Grunts. Growls. Screams. That was the order of how the female creature uttered his name as she climaxed and to Jack, there was no prettier sight in the world than a girl's eyes half-closed but rolling back into her head, her eyebrows arched up in ecstasy. It fueled his own, it did, so satisfied with himself that he was the bringer of so much pleasure. All he had to do now was keep doing what he was doing, close his eyes, and breathe in her moans. This Anamaria was different, but not so different, from all the others—truly a feisty beauty, to be sure. That acerbic tone, that athletic figure…
The way her hair curled into little waves while it cascaded down her shoulders. The way she hitched up the skirt of her shift just enough so those thin but shapely legs could catch some sun…the way that her sweat made her give off a glow. The way moonlight and flames accentuated the entirety of her.
Those eyes locking in on his, simultaneously pleading and dreading a kiss…the way she had holed up the rudder, tiller, and brig of the Pearl…
Gasping, he convulsed on the sheets before going limp, his eyelids nothing less than leaden weights.
"If this is how you christen every ship you give a girl, it's a wonder there aren't more woman commodores out there," Anamaria sighed, prying herself off of him and curling up against his chest.
"Don't know enough women pirates," he grunted, exhaling. Ungrateful, he scolded himself as his palm rubbed down her shoulder all the way to her hip. Gorgeous girls like this don't come along every day and you pictured someone else anyway. Reviving the old tradition of penance, Jack tilted her chin up and kissed her, savoring as much of her tongue as he could. After this, every conquest would take place on the Pearl, too many strumpets acting the part of St. Thomas and needing to see the holes in the sails and the battle wounds before asserting the much-talked-of ship was real. So real, he thought to himself, and now that his Pearl was reunited with him, there would be no stopping the two of them. Nothing and no one he wanted would dare stand a chance.
"You're thinking of all the hearts you're going to break," Anamaria said with a hearty laugh.
"Not all treasure is silver and gold."
A/N: A Balener is a kind of ship, fairly large, and predominantly seen in the Mediterranean around this point in time. It's not an error; I just wanted it to stick out so badly it seemed like it was begging to be sacked. I don't own POTC.