Captain Jack Sparow and I: A Pirates of the Caribbean Fanfiction

Chapter 14: Leverage

Chapter 14: Leverage

"And then that's when I acquired my ship once more, finding Hector soon after in Tortuga, having lost the Queen Anne's Revenge. We both knew what we wanted - the Semper Stone - and agreed to work together to find it. Clearly he, erm, took my ship so I really doubt he was after the stone after all," Jack says, pondering for a moment, "filthy pirates."

"Indeed," I say. Jack sits on the ground cross legged after dictating an hours long story of some of his adventures.

"Now, you have to tell me what happened in the room" Jack says, pointing his blackened finger.

"I said I would tell you if the story you told me is believable. I'm not giving you my end of the deal if your's is not valid. How do you expect me to believe you encountered zombies and mermaids?" I argue. I'm still not willing to tell him about what the Commodore did to me. I don't want Jack to do something crazy that will eventually result in disaster.

"Hey!" He says with a raised voiced. "I've told you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Why won't you tell me what happened in the room?"

"Because!" I exclaim. I feel myself about to lash out at Jack for constantly asking, but I can't hold in my anger. "Because you wouldn't like what you'd hear! Now stop asking me!"

I move towards the wall, the furthest part of my cell from Jack, and turn my back to him. I hide my face in the corner, avoiding his gaze. I just want to turn around and tell him I'm sorry for yelling, but I can't. I don't want him to see the tears flowing down my cheeks. I don't want him to know about what happened. He'll do something crazy, something that will change the Commodore's mind about setting him and the crew free.

"I'm sorry, Cathy," Jack speaks softly, "I just don't want you hurt."

"And I don't want you hurt" I reply softly.

"Hey," Jack said, pressing his face against the cold iron bars, "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. No one can hurt me, love." I could hear his smile disappear in his voice. The way his voice deepened gave it away. He backs away from the bars and shuffles back to the wall in his cell and stays silent. I don't want to talk and he respects that, and the silence that lasts for hours doesn't make the situation the slightest bit awkward. He's just there, and him being there reassures me that everything will turn out fine in the end. I know it won't, but I like the idea of a perfect life.

The empty bottle of glass rum continues to roll across the floor, back and forth with the rhythm of the ship. It's hollowness and glass exterior creates that unique echoing hum as it rolls along the wooden surface.

I look up and turn my head to the direction of the noise. It's Jack, laid back against the wall of rotting wood, looking down at his hand. His white sleeve partially covers the object filling the palm of his hand. I can almost make its shape out, which is hard considering the dim lighting of the candles in this dark room.

"What are you doing?" I ask him.

He looks up at me, that wide grin plastered on his face and gold tooth shining in the candlelight. "We can't stay here forever," he says. His gaze reverts towards the wall of the ship, rotting as rays of sunlight seeps it's way through the gaps. He uses his arms to find a surface on the wood that's hard enough not to snap in half when pressured. I peer through the gaps in the bars. What on earth is he doing? In a few minutes of pulling and knocking, Jack pries one sturdy wooden plank free from the ship, letting it fall in his arms. Steadily, he manouvers the plank so that one end is inserted into a gap in the bars. "Given the circumstances," he says as he positions himself on the other end of the plank, "and with the right leverage, the hinges of the door will lift free. Something a friend taught me years ago."

"You're joking," I mutter in awe. Sure enough, as he pressures his weight onto the end of the plank, the other end lifts the bars of it's metal hinges. With a sharp clang, it slams onto the floor. Jack repeats the same trick onto my metal cell door and just as easily as before, it lifts free off its hinges and slams onto the ground.

"You... you are a genius," I say to him. Jack takes off his hat and bows like a gentlemen, and I grin. He extends his arm and helps me get back up on my feet - an action harder than I thought it would be after sitting cross-legged for several hours.

"Best be on our way. Someone would've noticed the clamour we just made," I say. As if coming on cue, a naval officer makes his way down the steps with his weapon held up to his eye level.

"Oi! Get back in your cells!" He orders, waving his weapon at our faces. A rather amateur officer, I can tell. In one swift movement, I grab hold of the end of his gun and jab him in the eye. Writhing in pain, he collapses onto the ground both hands clutching his face. We step over his groaning body with his weapon held tighly in my arms.

"Ahem," Jack starts, "I think it's best for me to be armoured with the gun, don't you think?"

I raise my eyebrows at him and the corner of my mouth rises to form a smirk. "After all we've been through, you really don't think I can handle a gun?"