Categories > Movies > Pirates of the Caribbean
The storm had finally passed. Hours, days it seemed, they had ridden the maddened waves that sent the Black Pearl pitching fore and aft. The wind had howled, the rain beat down, huge waves washed over the side to drench cargo and crew. At long last, the sun was beginning to filter down through the thick clouds in thin, silvery slits. On the horizon, the sea flowed calm and smooth. Jack gave a sigh. Clear sailing, at least for the moment.
"Damage!" he called out.
"Not bad Sir, all things considerin'," Gibbs piped up. His clothes streamed water onto the deck as if he'd been thrown over the side and his mutton chops lay dark and flat against his jowlish cheeks.
"What'd we lose?"
"The mainsail's been torn, but not badly. We can have it repaired inside an hour or two. The foremast is cracked near the top, looks as if it took a blast of lightn'n but that won't do no harm. We'll just have to saw it short."
"Very good, anything else?"
"Lost no cargo save a coil of rope and a few cannon balls," Anamaria put it, climbing the stairs to the helm, water squelching loudly in her boots, her hat brim drenched and sagging in her face. She flipped it back, spritzing both Jack and Gibbs. "We've lost no men, but have taken on a good deal of water. The pumps are being manned now."
"Good," Jack nodded, trying hard to focus on what she was saying.
"If that'll be all, Sir," Gibbs, red-faced, saluted and hastily dismissed himself. Anamaria watched him go, an eyebrow quirked.
"What's the matter with him?"
"Poor man is overcome, Ana," Jack stated, gingerly taking her shoulders and turning her so she no longer looked over the rail towards the deck but faced him.
"By what?"
"...Beauty," he finally managed, teeth clenched in a strained grin against the urge to drool.
"Beauty?" she echoed blankly.
"It isn't that I'm not enjoying the view, but it wouldn't be fair to the rest of the crew." Hurriedly, he shrugged out of his coat and carefully draped it over her shoulders, doing his best not to let his fingers come in actual contact with her. Anamaria's already dark cheeks colored slightly.
"You would pick the day of a hurricane to dress casual," he muttered, smiling, with a shake of his head to which she scowled and swatted his hat down into his face.
"Touché," he remarked, rightening the tri-corn. "Mr. Gibbs!"
"Sir!"
"Has the Quartermaster's jacket been located?"
"I have it, Sir," he answered, puffing up the stairs, water-logged calico over one arm. "Here y'are."
Anamaria snatched the jacket and made to remove the coat Jack had hung on her shoulders.
"No, no, leave it," he told her, clamping his hands over her shoulders to keep the coat where it was. "Go in my cabin, change, then you may return my jacket."
She rolled her eyes. "Men."
"Yes, Love, we are men. So please, do us a courtesy and try to be as un-distracting as possible?"
She shook her head but retreated into the cabin, Jack's over-large coat dripping water down around her ankles. Once safely closeted from sight, both men let out their breath.
"I'm going to have to speak to her about acquiring a bodice..." Jack mused to himself. Gibbs only rubbed his head in frustration.
"I told you it was bad luck to have a woman aboard!"
"Damage!" he called out.
"Not bad Sir, all things considerin'," Gibbs piped up. His clothes streamed water onto the deck as if he'd been thrown over the side and his mutton chops lay dark and flat against his jowlish cheeks.
"What'd we lose?"
"The mainsail's been torn, but not badly. We can have it repaired inside an hour or two. The foremast is cracked near the top, looks as if it took a blast of lightn'n but that won't do no harm. We'll just have to saw it short."
"Very good, anything else?"
"Lost no cargo save a coil of rope and a few cannon balls," Anamaria put it, climbing the stairs to the helm, water squelching loudly in her boots, her hat brim drenched and sagging in her face. She flipped it back, spritzing both Jack and Gibbs. "We've lost no men, but have taken on a good deal of water. The pumps are being manned now."
"Good," Jack nodded, trying hard to focus on what she was saying.
"If that'll be all, Sir," Gibbs, red-faced, saluted and hastily dismissed himself. Anamaria watched him go, an eyebrow quirked.
"What's the matter with him?"
"Poor man is overcome, Ana," Jack stated, gingerly taking her shoulders and turning her so she no longer looked over the rail towards the deck but faced him.
"By what?"
"...Beauty," he finally managed, teeth clenched in a strained grin against the urge to drool.
"Beauty?" she echoed blankly.
"It isn't that I'm not enjoying the view, but it wouldn't be fair to the rest of the crew." Hurriedly, he shrugged out of his coat and carefully draped it over her shoulders, doing his best not to let his fingers come in actual contact with her. Anamaria's already dark cheeks colored slightly.
"You would pick the day of a hurricane to dress casual," he muttered, smiling, with a shake of his head to which she scowled and swatted his hat down into his face.
"Touché," he remarked, rightening the tri-corn. "Mr. Gibbs!"
"Sir!"
"Has the Quartermaster's jacket been located?"
"I have it, Sir," he answered, puffing up the stairs, water-logged calico over one arm. "Here y'are."
Anamaria snatched the jacket and made to remove the coat Jack had hung on her shoulders.
"No, no, leave it," he told her, clamping his hands over her shoulders to keep the coat where it was. "Go in my cabin, change, then you may return my jacket."
She rolled her eyes. "Men."
"Yes, Love, we are men. So please, do us a courtesy and try to be as un-distracting as possible?"
She shook her head but retreated into the cabin, Jack's over-large coat dripping water down around her ankles. Once safely closeted from sight, both men let out their breath.
"I'm going to have to speak to her about acquiring a bodice..." Jack mused to himself. Gibbs only rubbed his head in frustration.
"I told you it was bad luck to have a woman aboard!"
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