The Turning Tide

[Daz]

As evening draws in over the docks of Tortuga I find myself amongst the drunken, bothersome men and women that sprawl all over the street, laughing loudly with pitchers of sticky liquid in their hands, spilling the contents all over the dusty ground. My dirty boots make their way through the crowd and although I’m being pushed from side to side by the commotion I barely notice – there has been too much on my mind recently to notice much at all aside from what is necessary.

The last ten years have been long, and while I kept myself busy through numerous voyages and whatever it is that I can find, after being on the Pearl for so long I’d almost forgotten the nuisance of work under any other captain. The foul, disgusting world of piracy isn’t at all a novel idea to me; it hasn’t been for a very, very long time now - though it certainly seems its worst when I’m not able to take control as I’m used to. I have to be a murderous wretch to get what I want now; otherwise no one will listen to a word I say without expecting something more. And in thinking about this new path in my life I realised what I had to do to get things back to a medium, somewhat liveable circumstance. I need the man that will listen to me without the threat of me slitting his throat, blackmail or castration. I don’t want to have red hands anymore; I want to feel that freedom again, even if it is just a little. And I know what I need to do to feel it, the hole in my darker life is getting bigger, and it’s almost swallowed me whole. There’s only one thing I know that can fill it and one ship I know that can get me there.

The tide is turning and there is nothing that I’ll allow in my way – I’ve been searching for him for about a month now, that’s all it takes to track down the scoundrel that is Jack Sparrow.

[Jacky]

It is a sad life indeed that has never breathed deep the sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga. A town filled with drunks, whores, lowlifes and other gutter-creatures, it is home to any pirate. No wonder that I find myself there time and again, admiring the towns vices, women and gargantuan supplies of liquor. And certainly.. today felt like a warm return to a long lost friend, as the Black Pearl glided into the Tortugan harbour after a six month voyage.

The past decade treated me well enough. The Pearl grew more notorious than ever with our voyages around the world, the fights we endured, and the mad tales and legends that buzzed between tavern walls about captain Sparrow and the ship with black sails. Most of them true, mind you - or at least slightly modified versions of what could be considered true after a drink or two. Indeed, with the sun on my face, the wind in the sails, and my beloved ship at my guiding hand, what more could a pirate wish for? Ten years ago, after that unfortunate voyage, I may have questioned my luck. But then days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and now, years later, there was nothing I regretted.

Except, perhaps, the troublesome lack of rum in my bottle. With the Pearl docked, part of the crew on watch, and the other part off in a drunken stupor somewhere, I walk through the narrow streets, navigating my stride towards the Faithful Bride.

[Daz]

I know this place better than I would like to admit, and in the time I've been waiting here for a certain ship to pull in I've been making a lot more enemies than friends, usually in the way of big, angry men that I have insulted in some way or another or women that in seeing me slap their apparent man-friend presume that I am some sort of competition. Tonight doesn't go without bumping into one or two, and although most of them glare or sneer and are easy enough to avoid, when I enter a tavern and find a place at the bar to yell an order I'm pushed aside by a foul-smelling guy who instantly looks at me and grunmbles;

"YOU." He yells, reaching for a pistol, "Yer the filthy whore that killed me brother and robbed us both blind!"

I squint my eyes a little and return his horrid look as he grabs my arm and throws me away from the bar. I stay on my feet though and decide that I'd rather not get myself into a fight right now, "I do think you must have me confused with some other wretch around 'ere." I say, although I know very well which occassion he's talking of, I could never forget that disgusting face.

Unconvinced he fires a shot in the air to call for everyones attention around us, "This woman slaughted me brother and I will 'ave some revenge tonight, drinks all 'round!" He yells, more obviously in a drunken state now as he staggers towards me, I don't move an inch, though - instead I stare at him, unimpressed. It's not until he fires again in my general direction that I move, and in doing so he passes a bullet through the arm of a rather large, angry-looking sailor who yelps and imeddiately stands up, not reaching for his wound but for his own weapon.
And so begins chaos, I've been getting rather good at creating a good old bar fight thesedays, whilst they all brawl in rum soaken punches and gunshot I take a seat at the other side of the tavern, picking up a full bottle of rum as I go that's been left behind by one of the idiots that has got themselves involved.
I sit in the corner, sipping the drink slowly as I observe the idiots at the bar.

[Nikki]

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.
Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
That cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.
The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
BUt night comes and starts to sing to me.
The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.

__________________________________________

Though much about me has changed, my disdain for Tortuga is one thing that remains the same.
Cora, my daughter of eleven, however, is looking about with her wide amber eyes, learning mischief from the colorful crowd of people in the streets.
I try to pretend that I am doing this for her.
I raised her in a small village on an unnamed island inhabited by French-speaking natives. It was the first place the Black Pearl docked after the treasure was found.
The moment she opened her eyes she had them on the sea. She would chase the gulls in the sky with her fingers and coo and imitate their cries.
Cora was a fearless sort from day one, and as she grew the life she was destined for became only more apparent. In situation and emotion she would embrace whatever happened.
I wanted to please her. I wanted to see her shine even more than she already did.
So we were looking for a man.
Cora knew nothing but that we were going back to the sea. I hadn't the heart to tell her of a father who wouldn't accept her. Or the woman who took him from me.
Certainly it was better this way.

[Jacky]

As I walk along the narrow streets, I suddenly stop in my stride when a window on my left side shatters and a drunken sailor comes flying through, only missing me by an inch. While the poor sod is spitting out muffled curses into the muddy street, I lean over and pick up the bottle of rum he was still clutching in his hand. "Thanks very much, mate." I tap my hat gracefully. I flash a gold toothed grin to nobody in particular as I continue my way. Sweet Tortuga. She serves your every whim.

[Daz]

As I sit there, watching, scowling at the all I can't help but notice a figure scroll past outside as the shattered window allows a view onto the street. My skills of observation have been taught to recognise that swagger - though I am doubtful that my first thoughts are in any way correct. I stand up anyway and go to peer around the entrance of the tavern, down the street, through the crowds until I spot him again. Luckily for me he's an easy man to recognise, my glance turns into a dark glare.
I feel my blood pressure surge a little and I frown to myself, swigging another part of my rum, before I head through the crowds after him. Casually, though, I don't make myself overly visable and I instead keep track of him, deciding that there is an oppertune moment to this, and I will have to prepare myself a lot more than I already have to win this round with him.

[Jacky]

Content with my recently acquired supply of rum, I leave the tavern for what it is and saunter further down the street. It's crowded as usual, and ever so often I have to pause my stride to avoid fists fights, smashing bottles or other damaging circumstances. But despite the crowd and chaos, one thing suddenly catches my attention, making the hairs in the back of my neck stand up. A whiff of a strong, intoxicating perfume overpowers even the stench of vomit, dirt and alcohol in the streets. It's uncomfortably familiar. My dark eyes flick aside warily.. then land on a group of whores who are leaning against the brothel wall. Must be them, I figure. I think. I hope.

As the girls offer their services, flirting and smiling, I give them a goldtoothed grin. "Later, ladies." I inform them casually. I wink at one particular blonde, before I turn the corner into a narrow alleyway. Still, that scent seems to linger, and I subconsciously slip a hand onto the heft of my sword.

[Daz]

I follow a tall, broad man for a little while, his size shadows my own quite well and I can keep a better eye on the one I'm after, I can't help but smirk a little at his ignorance, and of course his familiar gestures and voice when I hear him mutter towards some filthy whores. It's been a very long time, probably the longest I have ever gone without in some way crossing paths. The nostalgia is a dark one though, not a daydream in the least, the smirk I hold is a simple outward glance of the things I'm planning on doing and saying to him when I get the chance, his confidence now makes me angry in a way, as it always has. How dare he be so bloody care-free when the likes of me have been left to rot by him.

When he begins to head into an alley full of fewer people to hide behind, I retreat a few steps back and begin to count on the shadows hiding me instead.

[Jacky]

The shadows might, but that scent of perfume lingers in my nose, assuring me I am, in fact, not imagining things due to too much rum or too little fresh air. Part of me finds it hard to believe that I'd run into that woman ever again. Yet another part realizes our paths tend to cross at the least opportune moments. Not that there ever was an opportune moment, come to think of it..

Either way, I let my musings for what they are. The alley leads to one of the broader streets, and when I get there I turn around the corner swiftly, turning in a full circle until my back is against the wall next to the alley. You can never be sure with that woman, and the fact that she's following me gives me reason to think my life is at stake here. I lift the bottle of rum to my lips and take a few swigs, while I count down from ten to one. When I get to 'zero', I lower the rum bottle swiftly and grab my sword with my other hand, drawing it from its sheath and moving it in a neat arc. The blade winds up horizontal, an inch from Cassandra's throat, forcing her to stop in her tracks.

"Long time no see," I slur, kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed in dark suspicion as I stare her down.

[Daz]

I don't so much as take a breath or jump, though I am a little taken back by the situation and my head drops to a slight angle in annoyance, staring at the blade as if it could be frightened of me, and then finally looking up to him, "Bloody hell, you'll poke someone's eye out with that if you're not careful." I tell him off like a child, pushing the flat side of the blade away from me like it wern't a weapon at all, "Idiot."