Hooked on a Feeling

Chapter 5: Harry Hook

I haven't been this close to anyone in a long, long time. The life of a pirate comes with no shortage of opportunities for companionship, sexual or otherwise. I've had many an opportunity to go below deck with plenty of my own crewmates, as well as those from other ships who dock in the dead of night near the Jolly Roger. One particular offer comes to mind, a gorgeous and downright mean lady named Red Handed Jill. We were both well drunk off of crude ale, the kind of drunk that leads you to find the taste of said ale to be more than tolerable. Jill brought out the brash side of me. We took turns tossing old bottles of the side of the ship and then playing like we were sword-fighting with the jagged edges. She tripped over a bundle of rope at some point and fell into me, slashing open a large gash on my left forearm. I remember that I swore and poured the rest of a half-empty bottle over the cut, the burning doing only a bit to bring me back to awareness. When I looked over at Jill, she was sobbing softly. She gripped my injured forearm with an unsteady hand and brought her lips to the cut, planting sloppy kisses on it. My blood ran down her chin, diluted by the tears that were now flowing freely.

I pulled her in gently, both of us collapsing against the knotted wooden bulkhead somewhere on the port side of the ship. I remembering a storm was brewing, so the water was growing more restless the further we got into the night. Our fall to the ground was less than graceful, and I was not unaware of the stringing of my arm.

"Arry, Arry Ook." Jill's drunken slur only made her Cockney accent thicker. "Arry, I think we ought to do it. I fink we ought to fall in love and run away togetha. Wot say you? I could be like one a those Auradon folk, maybe even get me a dress." I stroked her hair with my good hand, my hooked arm rendered useless as it had somehow become stuck in a knot in the wood.

"I say ye! I say let's do it! What more could a lad like me want from this life but his own ship and a strong captain to guide 'im?"

Jill let out a snort. "Wot's yer da gonna say about you jumpin' from one lady cap'n to anotha? Anyway, Uma'll neva let you out her slimy tentacles." My face twisted. I didn't like to hear any talk against Uma, even by such a respectable pirate as Jill. And I didn't like her crack about lady captains either. A good captain is a good captain, point-blank, and Jill was notoriously one of the fiercest around. I was suddenly uncomfortable seeing her like this, defenses down. She brought a hand up to my cheek, clumsily stroking it. With her fingers dancing in my hair I suddenly felt the wave of anger wash away from me. I yanked my hook from the wood and slung that arm around her, trying to avoid drunkenly impaling her shoulder. When her lips met mine I could taste my own blood lingering on her tongue, salty and metallic. Jill was everything I could imagine wanting in someone, but even with my inhibitions nearly dissipated, something about it felt wrong.

"Arry, Arry. Kiss me Arry."

"Jay, I- Jale. I mean, Jill, Jill." I stammered, catching the wrong syllable a millisecond after it rolled off my tongue. I expected her to recoil rapidly, but she pulled away gently instead. Her eyes were still shiny with tears and she patted my chest, gazing up at me. She smiled, continuing to exhibit more softness than I could've ever dreamed her capable. "'E's gone Arry. E's one o' them now. You gotta let 'im go." She continued patting my chest halfheartedly for quite some time before dozing off in my arms. I let my head fall to the side, my mouth half-buried in her hair, which was tangled and riddled sporadically with braids and feathers. We fell asleep that way and both woke to sharp kicks to the side from my crewmates.

"Harry looks like he hooked another one, eh? Makin' the rounds is he?" They cackled, naturally assuming that Jill and I had been fumbling around on the deck in an intoxicated sexual escapade. I would have assumed that too. It seemed far more plausible than the truth.

Lost in a memory, I had allowed my sword to fall a bit, giving Jay just enough room to duck aside and punch me square in the stomach. I double over, swinging my sword at his feet. He swiftly jumps over it, and before I can process, he is behind me. He digs the sharp toe of his boot into the back of my knee, and I buckle. Just before I hit the ground, he catches my good arm, pulling me to face him before I land flat on my ass. He then plants a heel on my chest with one foot, kneeling down and knocking my sword out of reach.