This is a longish drabble, 350 words, set just before the beginning of
tessabeth's In the First Year of their Acquaintance, an A/U Jack backstory that I've borrowed quite a few times. If you haven't read First Year, you should do so immediately, it's superb.
I started writing this a while back, for the 'Discover' and 'Shock' prompts at
blackpearlsails, and finally finished it. I'm having no trouble keeping up with
mini_nanowrimo this year! Many thanks to
hereswith for beta reading.
~ Discovery ~
Captain Tobias wants the aft pump checked and it's black as pitch down here in the bilges, the lantern shining but feebly. Bill knows his way among the shadows, yet it's as well he ain't a superstitious man. There'd been some noise that wasn’t the scurry of rats, and now, as he works, he'd swear there are silent eyes upon him.
When he's finished, he takes up the lantern, turns, and gives a start – "Jaysus!" There’s the eyes, not five feet away, wide and dark in the dirty, pale face of a stripling – a stowaway.
"Not Jaysus, thanks, John's the name," the lad says, with a nice blend of humor and diffidence. He cracks a lop-sided grin, and though Bill thinks Bloody cheek, it’s all too appealing.
Bill resists, though, and says gruffly, "Another stowaway, and four days out of Nassau! You're determined, I'll say that."
"It was important. The captain'll need time to get to know me. Appearances can be… deceiving."
There’s rueful laughter in his eyes and he spreads his hands. Bill looks him over. He's young, but maybe not too young. On the thin side, but well knit, wiry and not too tall. His hands aren't those of a seaman, but they look strong and capable enough. He's filthy, of course, anyone would be, hiding in the bilges for four days, but his shirt and breeches are old and shabby, too, and his shoes non-existent. John Stowaway's seen some hard times lately. And yet there's something about him, something in that face – a face too pretty for a lad's, save for the strong jaw line, faintly edged with patchy fuzz. Something that speaks of strength, and wit, and a fire for life.
A lock of the longish, almost black hair drifts. The lad uses one hand to brush it back, and there's those eyes again.
Bill permits himself a chuckle. "Well, son, you may be right. And if the captain don't just throw you in the brig to rot 'til the next port – or straight to the sharks – I'd say you might have a chance with him."
~.~
I started writing this a while back, for the 'Discover' and 'Shock' prompts at
~ Discovery ~
Captain Tobias wants the aft pump checked and it's black as pitch down here in the bilges, the lantern shining but feebly. Bill knows his way among the shadows, yet it's as well he ain't a superstitious man. There'd been some noise that wasn’t the scurry of rats, and now, as he works, he'd swear there are silent eyes upon him.
When he's finished, he takes up the lantern, turns, and gives a start – "Jaysus!" There’s the eyes, not five feet away, wide and dark in the dirty, pale face of a stripling – a stowaway.
"Not Jaysus, thanks, John's the name," the lad says, with a nice blend of humor and diffidence. He cracks a lop-sided grin, and though Bill thinks Bloody cheek, it’s all too appealing.
Bill resists, though, and says gruffly, "Another stowaway, and four days out of Nassau! You're determined, I'll say that."
"It was important. The captain'll need time to get to know me. Appearances can be… deceiving."
There’s rueful laughter in his eyes and he spreads his hands. Bill looks him over. He's young, but maybe not too young. On the thin side, but well knit, wiry and not too tall. His hands aren't those of a seaman, but they look strong and capable enough. He's filthy, of course, anyone would be, hiding in the bilges for four days, but his shirt and breeches are old and shabby, too, and his shoes non-existent. John Stowaway's seen some hard times lately. And yet there's something about him, something in that face – a face too pretty for a lad's, save for the strong jaw line, faintly edged with patchy fuzz. Something that speaks of strength, and wit, and a fire for life.
A lock of the longish, almost black hair drifts. The lad uses one hand to brush it back, and there's those eyes again.
Bill permits himself a chuckle. "Well, son, you may be right. And if the captain don't just throw you in the brig to rot 'til the next port – or straight to the sharks – I'd say you might have a chance with him."
~.~
no subject
Date: 2009-11-13 07:00 am (UTC)"strength, and wit, and a fire for life" That is Jack--he just vibrates with life, a tuning fork kind of reasonance. What a sweet sweet view of him, dirty, at a real disadvantage and yet....how could you deny him? You've made me feel quite joyous with this.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-13 07:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-13 09:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-13 02:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-13 11:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-13 02:33 pm (UTC)Me, too! There needs to be a Jack&or/Bill recs page, I think.
I'm so glad you liked this. Thank you very much for commenting!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-13 02:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-13 02:41 pm (UTC)Very true. Thank you for reading this one, and commenting!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-13 05:58 pm (UTC)(should have known, shouldn't I, that you'd find it hard to resist writing him in to a young Jack fic)
no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 05:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-13 10:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 05:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 02:27 pm (UTC)Oh lookie how you've captured him in just a few quick words - fire for life - yup, that's our boy. Something truly wonderful about him sitting in the bilges for four long days, awaiting his opportune moment. *smiles*
no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 02:57 pm (UTC)