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Dark of the Moon (10/?)
More Dark of the Moon. Profuse thanks, as always, to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hereswith. The rest of the story is here.
Trepidaciously, Letty followed behind Jack Sparrow, ascending the dim stairs up toward the light of an incongruously sunny and warm day. As he emerged before her, onto the black deck, into the fresh, breezy air, he turned and offered her a hand up the last steps. She took it, too readily.
“The captain won’t bite, lass. I promise.”
She glanced up to find laughter in his eyes, and flushed but did not smile.
Climbing up to stand beside him, she glanced around, nervously. There were a few men visible, the majority going about their duties, a group playing at dice in the waist, one grey-beard sitting in the sun near the bow, carving something. It was a very different scene from the previous night, when the ship and its crew had seemed like something out of a terrible nightmare. A vision of her poor husband being sliced open flashed across her brain, and she gasped for a moment, swaying.
Her hand was let go, and her arms caught firmly. “Letty!” Jack gave her a slight shake.
Recalled to the present, she quavered. “I forgot, for a little. When you were brushing my hair.”
His hands tightened. “You won’t forget. Trust me. And I’m sorry for it.”
She frowned, for she saw that he was quite serious for once and she could not help but think it odd that he, a pirate, would feel so. But she finally took a deep breath, and nodded.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
“Jack!”
Letty turned to see a man approaching, warm sympathy on his handsome face as he met her eyes. He was a little taller than Jack Sparrow, a little older, and far less piratical in appearance. Why, his shirt was quite obviously homemade, a sort of teal blue with black embroidery around the cuffs!
“Are you going to introduce me?” he asked Jack.
“’Course! Letty… er, Mrs. Granger, this is William Turner, esquire, known as Bootstrap Bill aboard the Pearl. He’s quartermaster here. Found me that dress you’re wearin’ actually.”
“It looks very well on you, ma’am,” said Mr. Turner, with a slight bow.
Letty knew this was untrue, but bobbed a curtsey anyway, eyes cast down.
“Reed’s cleaning the cabin,” Jack Sparrow said. “You havin’ a bite with us, Bill?”
“No, still accounting the swag – begging your pardon, ma’am. I’m sorry you lost your husband last night. Not to mention having to bunk in with this young varmint.”
“Eh?” said Jack, sharply. “None o’ that sauce, Mr. Turner, if you please.” Letty was startled at his tone, but her protector’s lips seemed to be holding back a smile.
“No sauce, just the plain truth,” averred Bill. “You tell me if he doesn’t treat you properly, ma’am, and I’ll have words with him.” He winked at Jack, nodded to Letty, and took himself off.
“Hmmph.” Jack scowled. “You’d think occasionally he’d remember I outrank him now.”
“You’re old friends?”
Jack laughed shortly. “Aye. Too old. Still sees me as wet behind the ears, when the truth is I’ve been on the Pearl near as long as he has. We’ve been through a bit, ol’ Bootstrap an’ me. Stories that’d curl your hair.” He eyed her. “But those are for later. You all right now? Shall we repair to the Great Cabin and enjoy a convivial meal with the finest captain in the Caribbean?”
“Is he?” asked Letty, somewhat startled at this encomium.
“Aye, he is. Until I make captain, of course.”
Letty couldn’t help being amused at his certain air. “Does he know of this plan, to step into his shoes?”
Jack Sparrow raised a brow. “Of course, lass. Now come on.” He took her hand, his own very warm and strong around her cold one. “Right this way, an’ steady as she goes.”
*
TBC
hereswith. The rest of the story is here.Trepidaciously, Letty followed behind Jack Sparrow, ascending the dim stairs up toward the light of an incongruously sunny and warm day. As he emerged before her, onto the black deck, into the fresh, breezy air, he turned and offered her a hand up the last steps. She took it, too readily.
“The captain won’t bite, lass. I promise.”
She glanced up to find laughter in his eyes, and flushed but did not smile.
Climbing up to stand beside him, she glanced around, nervously. There were a few men visible, the majority going about their duties, a group playing at dice in the waist, one grey-beard sitting in the sun near the bow, carving something. It was a very different scene from the previous night, when the ship and its crew had seemed like something out of a terrible nightmare. A vision of her poor husband being sliced open flashed across her brain, and she gasped for a moment, swaying.
Her hand was let go, and her arms caught firmly. “Letty!” Jack gave her a slight shake.
Recalled to the present, she quavered. “I forgot, for a little. When you were brushing my hair.”
His hands tightened. “You won’t forget. Trust me. And I’m sorry for it.”
She frowned, for she saw that he was quite serious for once and she could not help but think it odd that he, a pirate, would feel so. But she finally took a deep breath, and nodded.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
“Jack!”
Letty turned to see a man approaching, warm sympathy on his handsome face as he met her eyes. He was a little taller than Jack Sparrow, a little older, and far less piratical in appearance. Why, his shirt was quite obviously homemade, a sort of teal blue with black embroidery around the cuffs!
“Are you going to introduce me?” he asked Jack.
“’Course! Letty… er, Mrs. Granger, this is William Turner, esquire, known as Bootstrap Bill aboard the Pearl. He’s quartermaster here. Found me that dress you’re wearin’ actually.”
“It looks very well on you, ma’am,” said Mr. Turner, with a slight bow.
Letty knew this was untrue, but bobbed a curtsey anyway, eyes cast down.
“Reed’s cleaning the cabin,” Jack Sparrow said. “You havin’ a bite with us, Bill?”
“No, still accounting the swag – begging your pardon, ma’am. I’m sorry you lost your husband last night. Not to mention having to bunk in with this young varmint.”
“Eh?” said Jack, sharply. “None o’ that sauce, Mr. Turner, if you please.” Letty was startled at his tone, but her protector’s lips seemed to be holding back a smile.
“No sauce, just the plain truth,” averred Bill. “You tell me if he doesn’t treat you properly, ma’am, and I’ll have words with him.” He winked at Jack, nodded to Letty, and took himself off.
“Hmmph.” Jack scowled. “You’d think occasionally he’d remember I outrank him now.”
“You’re old friends?”
Jack laughed shortly. “Aye. Too old. Still sees me as wet behind the ears, when the truth is I’ve been on the Pearl near as long as he has. We’ve been through a bit, ol’ Bootstrap an’ me. Stories that’d curl your hair.” He eyed her. “But those are for later. You all right now? Shall we repair to the Great Cabin and enjoy a convivial meal with the finest captain in the Caribbean?”
“Is he?” asked Letty, somewhat startled at this encomium.
“Aye, he is. Until I make captain, of course.”
Letty couldn’t help being amused at his certain air. “Does he know of this plan, to step into his shoes?”
Jack Sparrow raised a brow. “Of course, lass. Now come on.” He took her hand, his own very warm and strong around her cold one. “Right this way, an’ steady as she goes.”
*
TBC
no subject
I love that word. Don't know if it's really a word or not, but it fits Letty and the situation perfectly, so it's a word now.
Well-done Bootstrap entrance, the homemade shirt and unpiratey (now I know that's not a word) appearance in contrast to Jack. It presents the relationship and both their characters very well.
Felaine
(borrowed your icon without permission, as you can see; love it)
no subject
I picture Bill as looking like Will except with loud shirts (a
You are certainly welcome to commandeer the icon! I love that one, too, though I don't use it that often.