bringmethatnpc | (no subject)

(no subject)

Everything in Panama City had gone mostly according to plan, a rare happenstance for the pirates in this motley crew, and the more superstitious among them spent the first few days on board their new vessel debating whether this meant good luck or bad, fair wind or foul.

The Spanish ship they'd stolen isn't large or particularly pleasing to the eye, being in need of some new paint and wood maintenance, but it's seaworthy and swift before the wind, and most importantly, well-stocked for a long voyage.

And a long journey to Singapore it will be.

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Gibbs lies awake in his hammock, bottle at hand but not feeling any form of sleep, rum-aided or not, coming to him. Everything has been going well so far, which can only mean that there is much to go wrong when the passage is made and the ship gains a day.

He climbs out of the hammock and begins to walk about the cramped quarters, humming an old shanty to himself.

Elizabeth doesn't sleep near the crew. She stays close to Tonks, in the cabin, and away from Will, though nothing would suggest that her fiancé would wish to string his hammock beside hers anyway, and not just because he has long been concerned with propriety.

They aren't talking. It's as much her fault as his, she knows, if not more so, and as the days and nights begin to blend together, she avoids the eyes of the crew and keeps more and more to herself, a task which proves easiest at night.

Sitting on a formerly neat pile of cordage and sail cloth, back to a wall, Elizabeth hears the light humming and draws herself further into the shadows until only the tips of her boots are showing. She watches Gibbs approach, waiting until he is much closer to say:

"I do not know that tune."

Gibbs is momentarily startled by Elizabeth's voice. But he knows that a ship's bowels tend to hide things. Things far worse than Miss Swann. So he's almost glad to see her.

"It's about Captain Kidd, God rest him. I learned it back in my navy days, when I fought against the brethren. I suppose some things stick with you.

"I see I am not the only one awake tonight."

Raising an eyebrow, Elizabeth gives a perfunctory nod.

"It's too fine a night for sleeping," she hedges, eyes silently daring him to question why she's spending it below deck. "Captain Kidd. Do you believe the legends of his lost treasure, Mr. Gibbs?"

It's said with a small smile, just visible in the dim light.

Gibbs gives a small laugh. "Of course not, Miss Swann. I never knew a pirate who could leave a treasure in its hiding spot for long. All that nonsense about buried pirate gold is something we started telling each other to explain why none of us ever has any money. Whatever Kidd had, his men would have spent within days of his passing.

"And if it's a fine night, why are you down here?" He's sharp enough to wonder.

"Not all treasure is easily spent," she remarks, fingers lifting to her neckline as if searching for the piece of Aztec gold that used to hang there.

Sharp, yes, but perhaps not wise enough in the ways of women to recognize the danger in pursuing certain topics when a vague response has already been given. Elizabeth, eyes narrowing, shoots him a sidelong glance and purses her lips.

"I thought I might enjoy some solitude," is her waspish response, which is as close as she's going to get to admitting she thinks Will is top side. A sigh, and her expression softens. "But truthfully I was growing a bit bored."

"Guess used to it, lass. It's a very long way till Singapore, and boredom will set in for all of us. Though given the alternative..." Gibbs sits on a barrel and chooses to refrain (for now) from his hour's supply of rum. "Despite her name, the Pacific can be anything but dull. So I'm hoping for a good deal of it."

Interest banishes quiet indignation, and Elizabeth shifts on the sail cloth, watching him as she pulls her knees in close to her chest.

"You've sailed this way before?"

"Not this route - I'd never been in Panama before, since the English aren't exactly welcome - but I've come around to this sea a few times, with Jack and with the Navy. When I was about your age, I pulled the unfortunate task of serving on a ship sent to show the flag to the Pacific. We went dwon past Tierra del Fuego, across to Australia, and then back. Took over a year, and when we weren't caught in gale, we did our best not to roast." Strange that there seems a tiny glint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Best to avoid journeys that long if you can."

"I think it would be rather nice to see the world and all her vast oceans," Elizabeth replies. Her chin tilts up in a familiar and wholly unconscious gesture. "You must have had some adventures between gales and roasting in the sun."

Strange that her tone is cajoling and the look she gives him is faintly hungry, as if she's prepared to hang on every word should he choose to share another story.

Gibbs has proved himself an exemplary font of piratical knowledge. And even though this particular journey took place while he was in the Navy, Elizabeth hopes it will segue into others. He does like to talk, after all.

Ah, the innocence of youth. She really believes all the lies - or would they call it propaganda? - and all the tall tales. But then, he's told his share of such stories. And it's not that often when a young woman asks him to regale her for a while.

"I've had a few, but not many in that part of the world. Though there was that one random meeting with a French ship of the line when we were coming home. We were nearing Tierra del Fuego, knowing we would be in a colony in a matter of weeks, and suddenly, there we hear a cry from the crow's nest! The lad had spotted another ship. Well, we were sure the King hadn't sent anyone else in this direction, so we leapt to stations. And sure enough, the lad sees the hated tricolor!"

Not all of them -- certainly nothing involving sea turtles -- but fact or not they are certainly entertaining, and this is still the same girl who has made something of a study of pirates. She eats up his stories, regardless of whether or not she chooses to take them with a grain of salt, in much the same way she has been watching Barbossa with the eye of a keen student.

"Was there a fight?" Eyes wide, she leans forward, battles at sea being something of a pressing interest. "Or did you each give the other wary berth?"

"We came very close to firing. They veeered off at the last moment. Some of us thought they were looking to ram us. Which would have been a rather unusual and worthless tactic, since cannons are much better at causing damage. It was quite the scare.

"And then they turned, and we finally turned our spyglasses on the ship. That was when we saw the problem. Most of the crew was dying or dead, and a handful of men as thin as rails, as pale as ghosts despite the hot sun, where doing their best to keep the ship afloat.

"It was then that one of the Frenchmen signaled as best he could. And waved the white flag." All the years later, the shock at this, and the horror of the sight of the emaciated men, still rings in Gibbs' voice.

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