Okay, went through some of my old e-mails and found this among them! My friend and I were originally doing this together, but she abandoned poor POTC *sniff sniff* for another fandom...But anyway, I decided to upload it and see where it takes me!
The original plot to this story was long lost and forgotten. So I'm making this the opening chapter to another story which I had planned on doing! The plot to all of this is still sticky, so feel more than welcome to give me ideas and plot bunnies. They make me happy! Have you ever turned down a hug from a cute adorable fluffy thing?
...I'll let you read now.
(Oh yeah, and the title was originally "The Misadventures..." but it didn't quite fit in the box.)
Light winds hissed into the sails of The Barnacle, being another day in the usual Caribbean...Except for the fact the sky was overcast and the seas were gray. Yet, it was still so very ordinary on the deck of the, ever so gallant, ship. While sailing on their latest adventure...or could it be called an adventure at all? A constant sloop of the same route among the Caribbean islands, making various ports in high hopes that trouble would somehow find Jack Sparrow again. The scary thing of all this was, that everything was too usual, and by that, that would mean the constant bellowing of the captain and the gunner.
"Jack, for the LAST time! You. Are. Not. A. Captain! This. Is. Not. A. Ship!" screamed Fitzwilliam P. Dalton III. His pale hands were clenched into fists to tight, a hint of blood began to ooze down his palm.
"Fitzy, you are the most irritating aristocrat I have ever met!" hollered Jack Sparrow. "Why can't you just RESPECT your captain?"
Fitzwilliam hissed through his teeth, "You. Are. NOT. My. Captain!" His fists only clenched tighter along with his scrunching face, as he yelled right into Jack Sparrow's; At his arrogance. At his stupidity. At his numbness.
Jack's eyes cut into slits and pursed his face into a spiteful snarl. "I am going to my cabin! The CAPTAIN'S cabin!" He then turned his back to Fitzwilliam and skulked madly to his cabin across the deck. He didn't even make it to the cabin's door before Fitzwilliam was rushing after him, making sure to loudly stomp his foot with each step.
Jack hastened his steps, but Fitzwilliam's longer strides caught up with him, all while raising a finger in the air, "THIS ARGUMENT IS NOT OVER!"
Jack did manage to slide through the door, yet before he could lock it, Fitzwilliam barged through. "YOU listen to ME, Jack Sparrow!"
Tumen was above in the ratlines, having to watch it all. Starboard side of the deck. He somberly stared and shook his head...He was actually stuck with them! He sighed, heavily, and lowered his head to climb back down. He effortlessly scampered down the outside of the thin black ropes, now becoming more like twine from him running up and down them all day, and once reached the end of the lines, twirled himself around ropes and onto the deck. He glanced up to see his best friend Jean at the helm. He knew Jean hated it. He was too much of an...Let's say anxious person to be standing still at a wheel most of the morning.
Tumen cupped his hand above his eyes to shield himself from the white sun, always still managing to blind him. "Jean! Come on down, take a rest!"
Jean dazedly shifted his head from its fixed position, staring at some dried bird poop on the quarter-deck, from its chin laying on his arm across the spokes, and over to the Mayan. His emerald eyes were half-lidded, finding a lack of interest in anything. Though, it was a relief to him to move from the helm.
"Aye, aye." he groaned. The young French teen straightened up and stretched his arms behind his head, then set to work tying the wheel up in place with ropes.
All the while, Arabella Smith, the first-mate aboard The Barnacle, hid below decks. She leaned against the wall, just by the stairs leading up to the floor of the deck, a dead expression cast upon her face. She then sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation, shutting her eyes real tight. They were arguing again. Jack and Fitzwilliam had been arguing everyday for the past two months. Bella nearly had to restrain herself from leaping into the water every time Tumen asked for a spare scrap of wood to carve something out of, or Jean, claiming he'd absolutely die if he didn't get something to eat!...Or Jean asking Arabella if he were a girl, what dress size he'd be.
In a few short moments, Jean suddenly, and literally, dropped through the door and right in front of Arabella! "Hi, Bella!" he greeted cheerfully.
Arabella leaped back and pinned herself against the wall clutching her chest. Her eyes widened in shock, then went passed him to the wooden planks to see that Tumen was actually climbing down them, thank the stars.
Tumen let go of the steep steps then turned to Arabella, obviously annoyed as she was, even if he didn't show it. He acted like it was another casualty. "Jack and Fitzy in another fight?"
"Yup," she let go of her heart and eased a little. "Same old subject. Same old problem."
Jean and Tumen both groaned in annoyance; Tumen rolling his eyes and Jean throwing his head back.
"Will it never end?" Jean cried out exasperated. "You know what? I think I'm gonna go yell at them! Right NOW!" Jean turned around, his face carrying determination, and took a step for the stairs. Tumen hooked his arm with his, and spun him around before he could reach the steps.
"No you don't!" he said. "Ye can't just walk in and yell at them!...They're already doing hell to each other!"
Jean pouted and unlatched his arm out hastily from Tumen's. "Then how else can we knock sense into any of them, mon sier âne ignorant?"
Arabella crossed her arms and looked sternly at Jean. "Ye can knock on the captain's door, and politely explain that that we would all appreciate it if they KNOCKED it OFF!" Before I kill them with the next fish that flops onto the deck, she wanted to add, but didn't. Knowing Jean, he'd take it as permission to whack Jack with a fish.
Jean blankly stared at Arabella. At only 14, he was already an inch or more taller than his older mate. He gazed down on her even more, since she was slouched. Apparently he didn't take anything she had just said into consideration.
He tossed his hands in the air and rushed back to the stairs. "I am just going to yell at them!" This time, before Jean could grab the rails, Tumen hooked his shirt collar with a single one of his fingers, and brought him back to his original position. Jean succumbed and folded his arms and pouted again, as Tumen clenched his fists and glared strongly at him.
Arabella placed her hands on her hips, "You will be NICE!" she spat out.
Jean eyed her icily, as if for ruining all his fun!—then limply brought his arms back to his sides and turned away, to finally climb up the unfurnished and splintery planks of wood, roughly built by him and Fitzwilliam, that they qualified as stairs.
Kay, so what in the bloody blazes do you think? Compliments? Flames? (You seriously have the guts to flame me? I'll flame you BACK!) Any ideas on how to flesh out text a little? I'm always paranoid with too much detail, and I hate it.
And as I said earlier, I'm not so sure where I'm going with this, so any and every idea is appreciated!
And I AM aware that I haven't been reading/reviewing/writing Sparrabella stories recently. Yes. I know. But I just haven't been on FF (.) net much period. Or the computer really. My summer is my lazy time, and my friend's already scarfed Twilight down my throat. Truth is, I much prefer my own Twilight realm with the butchered pairings and crack plots that to my opinion are way better than Stephenie Meyers. So...Don't feel bad, kay? I'm still loving you all!!!