Run Aground [Jack]

[Captain Gwen Grey]

The early morning sunlight drenched the beach in a buttery glow, rays quavering atop the glassy calm of the ocean in front of her. Birds were singing and the unpleasant smells and noises of Port Royal harbour were far enough away so as not to be a nuisance, and yet Gwen saw none of the beauty surrounding her. She had slept poorly aboard The Morning Star, which lay tilted precariously on one side on a beach not far from Port Royal’s busy hub of activity. Her bunk was affected by the lean and no matter which way she had turned all night her face had been pressed to the gently sloping hull; the hull that was the measure and sum of her present woes.

If only she had been able to get around that reef, she would have still been at sea, amassing more of a bounty. Keeping The Star here was costing a small fortune, and her so-called loyal crew had abandoned ship for the most part, now that there was little profit to be had and a lot of work to be done. Gwen tried not to think about her misfortunes as she slid down a limp hawser to the wet sand, ignoring the way the whitewash tugged at her bare feet with icy fingers. A small pile of wood had been gathered at the side where the other planks had been stoved in by the reef and she sighed as she moved to take up the hammer who, aside from giving her blisters on her hands, had become her best friend over the last two weeks.

The tapping of the nails being driven into the patchwork quilt of timber she was turning The Star’s hull into was louder than it would have been at the docks, and it disturbed the peace in such a way that made Gwen grimace. She probably should have laid off the booze the night before, but when a gal had woes it was best to drown them. On the other hand, when a captain had a ship to fix, it would probably be best done without a raging hangover.

[Captain Sparrow]

It had been easier to stay hidden in Port Royal once he'd found a nice mountain of an island to anchor the Pearl behind. The Navy wasn't coming to look for him so he could walk up and down the dock as much as he pleased without being caught. Probably. Well, he wasn't going to risk it at any rate; even if he was dressed rather plainly in just a pair of breeches, boots, and a shirt. As it was, he had some of the crew row in to the beach so he could stroll up it in a casual manner. They didn't look so odd amongst the vagabonds that inhabited the sandy shore; mostly they were the beggars and the homeless who weren't able to find work on a ship or were too afraid to go against the law. He didn't hold it against them; they were friendly enough and most were suffering too much for anyone to justify torturing them. Usually if he'd had a particularly nice haul and he was in the area he would buy some ale and bread for them, passing the money along to one to purchase it for the rest. Couldn't have anyone catching him doing good deeds now could he?

But as the rest of the crew had gone on ahead, glad to be on land for a short time to appease their various vices, he walked along at a slower pace, ever-present bottle of rum in hand, to check on the few families that lingered here. Occasionally he would find someone who needed a job and could persuade them to join his crew. It didn't look like he would find that today, but he did find something similarly unique. A ship was beached not far away and it looked quite abandoned. Of course, he couldn't blame anyone for leaving a beached ship, but he was always surprised by the lack of love some captains had for their vessels. As he was considering the ship and wondering if it would be suitable to pass off on Barbossa to get the infernal man out of his hair, an overly loud banging started on the opposite side.

He made his way around the bow to see a small lass wielding a hammer and abusing the poor ship. He watched for a few moments, eyes roaming over the mismatched lumber and not entirely perfect repair work and shook his head. Was she planning on stealing the ship from its captain? Was she the only member of the crew that could be bullied into the task? Taking a step forward to be next to her, he leaned to pluck the hammer from her grasp and replaced it with his bottle of rum. "Lass, this has to be the worst excuse for a patch I've ever seen." He reached up to tear off a few boards, righting them before nailing them in properly. "Now that, that is how you repair a ship. You can't just throw some lumber and hope it works. You have to give it a little finesse, a little love. Your ship won't carry you far if you don't respect her."

word count: 528. tagged: Gwen outfit: As described in post. notes: