Summary: jack stranded on that godforsaken spit of land the first time and his promise to the pearl.
Disclaimer: Don't own it The Mouse does.
Warnings: mild swearing
notes: feedback is love even if you thought it was poorly written I'd like to know.
Jack had lost count of the number of times he had traced and re-traced his steps around the godforsaken spit of land he now found himself stranded on; it really wasn’t all that big.
Of course, he knew the reason he was here, Barbossa.
“Traitorous pox ridden son of a Tortugan whore” Jack bellowed off into the horizon.
He had taken great pleasure in declaring Jack as the ‘Governor’ of the accursed island after thrusting his previous captain’s cutlass at its owner, making said owner overbalance and carry off a somewhat clumsy dive. Only to have him swim to his untimely demise doomed to starvation, madness, and conch shells.
Yesterday was the first time Jack had seen his trusted first mate sail away with his one true friend helpless to aid him. It hurt; it really did worse than being gut stabbed with a dull blade or having your heart eyes and liver gouged out with a rusty spoon, seeing his Pearl his lady love sail away without him
“Ouch, bugger” Jack cursed.
Conch shells had been stabbing and slicing at his feet all day threatening to turn them into a bloodied mess; Jack regretted taking off his boots and laying them down before he went for his search, his quest, his distraction.
In an act of barley controlled frustration, Jack jumped up and down on the sand covered ground. He was really quite surprised to find the ground bounce and creak in a most interesting way under his weight.
Dropping to the floor he scrabbled away at the sand till it revealed a rusted, worn iron ring handle. A handle for a hidden cache, Jack heaved the trap door up and over, revealing a shallow pit of wonders.
Inside stacked up in numerous barrels and bottles of dark, stomach burning nectar besides unimportant cases of water, dried meat and fruit. They dazzled and shimmered in the newly revealed sun, the amber continence of heaven calling to the marooned pirate tempting, luring. Who was he Captain Jack Sparrow to resist their pleas for consumption?
“Rum” Jack eyes glittered and widened in pleasure.
He grabbed an armful and sat on the beach
“I’ll get you back my Pearl.”
Jack lifted up his rum bottle and poured some into the ocean a tribute to times past, a promise of events to come and vengeance quenched like a painful thirst. A prayer to the finest lady of the ocean to just this once, trust the word of Captain Jack Sparrow.
“I swear it.”