(no subject)

[bringmethatnpc]

The deck of the Black Pearl is full of activity as the crew hastens about, making ready to set sail. Whether hauling lines or hoisting sails, securing the longboats or tying down nets, everyone has work to do and is busily seeing to it.

Everyone, that is, save Will Turner, who is still lying unconscious on the deck.

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[try_corsets]

She grimaces, looking down and to the side.

"Norrington took it to draw them off," she explains, voice riddled with disbelief.

[turned_captain]

That traitor.

Will lifts a hand from the deck, towards her. They can take this moment together, and worry about the chest later.

[cleverparasol.livejournal.com]

Elsewhere--

"You're pullin' too 'ard!"

Sorry to interrupt the tender moment.

[gotmy-eye.livejournal.com]

Tugging at the longboat, "You ain't pulling 'ard enough!"

This don't sound familiar at all.

[pirate_jack]

Jack is striding across the deck away from this, a surprisingly thoughtful look on his face.

In his arms, he's cradling his jar of dirt. Closely.

[bringmethatnpc]

Gibbs catches up to Jack, not taking note of the jar just yet. He's noticed something else.

"Where’s the Commodore?" Funny how it's still the Commodore. You can take the man out of the Navy, it would seem...

[pirate_jack]

He doesn't break stride as he continues on his way up to the quarterdeck.

"He fell behind," Jack tosses back, as he passes.

[bringmethatnpc]

"May prayers be with him." There is a tiny part of Gibbs that once respected James Norrington.

So tiny, in fact, that it can be sqaushed like a bug.

"Best not wallow in our grief," the man says with a smile as he follows in Jack's wake, up to the quarterdeck, where Cotton is at the helm. "The bright side is, you’re back, and made it off free and clear."

[bringmethatnpc]

FWOOM.

Which is, of course, the exact instant the water explodes into foam off of the Pearl's port side.

The Flying Dutchman rockets to the surface to land alongside her with a thunderous crash, water streaming from her as she pulls even with the Pearl.

[bringmethatnpc]

Gibbs sees the monstrous craft, and (rather than cussing himself for putting a jinx on them) crosses himself and does something that comes naturally these days...

"Lord alive, deliver us."

[pirate_jack]

He stands frozen for a second, but only that. With a confident gesture, he brushes Gibbs aside and strolls forward, jar of dirt cradled in the crook of his arm.

"I'll handle this, mate."

Jack's grinning when he saunters up to the port railing, raising the jar of dirt overhead as he calls out,

"Oi! Fish-face!"

He continues moving along the edge of the quarterdeck, shouting,

"Lose something? You--"

It's about at this point he hits the stairs. Literally. Jack goes sprawling.

[bringmethatnpc]

The captain -- and jar -- tumble down the stairs to the deck with a clattering thud, and the entire crew winces en masse.

[pirate_jack]

"Got it!"

Jack's hands shoot up first, showing the unharmed jar to the crew of the Dutchman.

He's nearly laughing as he clambers to his feet, and there's something wildly triumphant about the look in his eyes as he grins defiantly at Jones.

[bringmethatnpc]

This is the best defense of Jack Sparrow: a bottle of sand.

A bottle. Of sand.

Davy Jones eyes him and his jar dubiously, far from impressed -- until, suddenly, realization strikes, and his eyes fly wide.

They were already here when Jones arrived.

And Jack, it's possible, could have found the key.

[pirate_jack]

The relief is flooding through him, nearly overwhelming, and he's never felt so alive as he does here in this moment, sauntering along the deck of his Pearl and knowing that she's safe, that he's safe, that they're all safe--

"Come to negotiate, eh, have you, you slimy git? Well, look what I got. I've got a jar of di-irt, --"

He's practically caroling it in a sing-song fashion as he taunts Jones, intoxicated with the moment.

[turned_captain]

Will glances at Elizabeth.

Sometimes Jack's strange even by Captain Jack Sparrow standards.

[try_corsets]

Elizabeth glances at Will, one eyebrow arched.

Jack is... unique.





Perhaps the sun and stress are getting to him. There's daft, and then there's daft.

[pirate_jack]

"-- I've got a jar of di-irt, and guess what's inside it?" he finishes triumphantly, holding his jar high overhead.

Jack's bright smile is practically beatific.

Jones's... isn't.