Fic: 'Harbinger of Doom'
Feb. 18th, 2008 03:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dwgmA little over 400 words for the current drabble challenge at Black Pearl Sails...
~ Harbinger of Doom ~
We’d just set our course east, out of the Caribbean – headed for Turkey of all places, though we didn’t know that, Jack kept it to himself for the longest time – when we ran into a plump little Dutch merchantman and Jack decided to take her, in spite of the Pearl’s near-full hold. She was an easy mark, and we soon had her laid by the heels, so to speak, her crew trussed up and locked in the foc’sle, our crew makin’ free of the hold and aft cabins. Jack found a few books and charts he liked in the captain’s quarters, though it appeared the man had an execrable taste in spirits.
“Nothing but Genever in there, Gibbs,” Jack said, as he emerged onto the deck. “Can’t stomach the stuff, meself. But what’s this?” He waved a hand forward, where some of the lads had just hoisted a stoutly built, heavy wooden crate up from the hold. “That’s some sort of artwork, if I know anything of the matter. Let’s have a look.”
It took some doing– Jack didn’t want whatever-it-was damaged, and told ‘em to take care opening it. They were finally able to loosen one of the panels and pried it up. Jack himself took his knife and cut the waterproofed canvas that covered the thing, and brushed aside the straw packing. There was a further wrapping of thick soft fabric about it, but you could tell what it was, from the shape.
“A bust!” says Jack. “Let’s see who it is. If it’s one of those old Roman fellas, it might be worth a fair bit.”
Well, it weren’t no old Roman. Jack slit the covering and it curled away from the marble, and it was the cold, white effigy of Cutler Beckett.
I disremember when I’ve seen an expression like that on Jack’s phiz.
“Throw it overboard,” he snapped, when he’d come back to himself enough to speak.
“But Captain—“ one of the lads helping us started to object, but Jack gives him a look and he changed his tune right smart. “Aye, Captain, right away.”
Jack and I stood and watched. They shoved it over and there was a mighty splash, and then it was gone, sinking fast into the briney.
“Good riddance to a bad piece of art, eh?” I said, trying for a lighter air.
Jack’s jaw worked some, but then he gave a sort of shudder, and took a deep breath. “Aye. Let’s hope that’s all it is.”
~.~
Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hereswith for editing!
~ Harbinger of Doom ~
We’d just set our course east, out of the Caribbean – headed for Turkey of all places, though we didn’t know that, Jack kept it to himself for the longest time – when we ran into a plump little Dutch merchantman and Jack decided to take her, in spite of the Pearl’s near-full hold. She was an easy mark, and we soon had her laid by the heels, so to speak, her crew trussed up and locked in the foc’sle, our crew makin’ free of the hold and aft cabins. Jack found a few books and charts he liked in the captain’s quarters, though it appeared the man had an execrable taste in spirits.
“Nothing but Genever in there, Gibbs,” Jack said, as he emerged onto the deck. “Can’t stomach the stuff, meself. But what’s this?” He waved a hand forward, where some of the lads had just hoisted a stoutly built, heavy wooden crate up from the hold. “That’s some sort of artwork, if I know anything of the matter. Let’s have a look.”
It took some doing– Jack didn’t want whatever-it-was damaged, and told ‘em to take care opening it. They were finally able to loosen one of the panels and pried it up. Jack himself took his knife and cut the waterproofed canvas that covered the thing, and brushed aside the straw packing. There was a further wrapping of thick soft fabric about it, but you could tell what it was, from the shape.
“A bust!” says Jack. “Let’s see who it is. If it’s one of those old Roman fellas, it might be worth a fair bit.”
Well, it weren’t no old Roman. Jack slit the covering and it curled away from the marble, and it was the cold, white effigy of Cutler Beckett.
I disremember when I’ve seen an expression like that on Jack’s phiz.
“Throw it overboard,” he snapped, when he’d come back to himself enough to speak.
“But Captain—“ one of the lads helping us started to object, but Jack gives him a look and he changed his tune right smart. “Aye, Captain, right away.”
Jack and I stood and watched. They shoved it over and there was a mighty splash, and then it was gone, sinking fast into the briney.
“Good riddance to a bad piece of art, eh?” I said, trying for a lighter air.
Jack’s jaw worked some, but then he gave a sort of shudder, and took a deep breath. “Aye. Let’s hope that’s all it is.”
~.~
Many thanks to
hereswith for editing!![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-02-19 06:51 pm (UTC)So anticipating a lovely bit of plunder in that so carefully wrapped box--he's a little like a kid on Christmas morning--and then...
Shudder, indeed! You convey so much with so little:
>The cold, white effigy of Cutler Beckett" does make him seem icily present in his likeness and the worlds in:
>I disremember when I’ve seen an expression like that on Jack’s phiz<
I love that it's told from Gib's pov, of course i like the relationship anyway, but I especially like your own take on it.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-19 10:00 pm (UTC)