Date/Time: Many years ago / Wednesday / 10:30 PM
Location: Unnamed Port
Open To: No one, character history
Currently Involving: Pintel
Warnings: Kissing, violence, death
The weather was a good indication of the mood. No stars in the sky for they were completely blocked from sight by vast black clouds that pelted the world below with heavy raindrops. Lightning crashed, shaking the world and illuminating the darkness for mere seconds at a time. It wasn’t the best weather to be out in, be in on land or at sea.
But for James Pinalston, this night was the absolute wost night of his life.
And it had started so beautifully too.
After months aboard The Countess he and his fellow red coats were finally allowed on land. Staggering back to land after so long had almost resulted in James falling over his own feet. But like always, he was there to help him up. His name was Jacob Farrow, a tall, lean man with hair as black as night and eyes just as dark. The day James had joined the Navy the man had taken him as his companion. Something that mattered amongst a bunch of men you hardly knew, for they were sometimes sparse on how much they would allow you to know.
He and Jacob were thick as thieves amongst the other stiff shirted men. The others were all about the rules and regulations, hardly laughing at a good joke. But Jacob, he was as different as they come. James had never met anyone like him before, and was quite enraptured by him. His walk, loping like a wolf, the scar he had running down one of his hands from a childhood accident, his voice especially. It hardly suited him at all. You would expect a thick deep voice to come from that mouth, but instead you heard a twangy sound of an Irishman.
Throughout the months training and at sea they bonded as close as two men could. They shared practically everything together. Memories, lives, food, drink, any and everything they had. Some made snide comments that they acted like a married couple sometimes. Comments like those made James spit insults like a cat, but Jacob never paid them no heed and merely walked away from such accusations.
But it wasn’t long until James came to realise just how much Jacob did mean to him. One of their first dockings they had gone to a pub, dressed as civilians for a good time. Get a drink, listen in to stories and mingle with the average men who didn’t know they were the law. One too many bottles of whiskey later James had found himself wrapped tightly in the embrace of Jacob, and feelings that had remained hidden and uncertain were finally brought flush between the two men.
That night had been the best night of James life.
Now though . . . it was all turning to Hell.
And it was all his fault.
He knew he should have known better, not acted how he did around Jacob when around other men. Especially their officer, by the name of Smytherman. He had long suspected that around the ranks of men there were . . . things going on. Unnatural things, against God, against the crown, it was a sin.
That day they had left the ship once again, and James had stayed by Jacob’s side as always; hoping that this night upon land would be reminiscent of their first night on land together. When they had indeed gone to a pub, once more lavished in the joys of the free and hardy men. Be it music, song, dance and of course; drink. James had pulled on Jacob’s arm, saying things into his ear which a normal man would not want whispered. Jacob had only slightly scolded him, but could hardly say no to James.
Their escape into the alley way only fuelled the long dormant passion and they had kissed the other as if they were a married couple parting company.
But then it had all gone to Hell.
Smytherman was there, how long they were unsure.
He shouted at them, screamed about what they were doing was wrong and that they’d be kicked out from the military and arrested for crimes they hadn’t done. For once Jacob didn’t turn away, and had shouted back at the Officer in defence of James. Words turned to fists, and James had tried to pull the Officer off Jacob; but the man was stronger by far.
Then a pistol was drawn and Jacob fell.
James could not believe it. He had fallen to his knees and held Jacob’s fading body in his arms, trying to hold onto him, keep him there with him. But Jacob was already gone by the time it finally registered that he could hear the Officer talking. He was going on about something, but it was falling on deaf ears now.
Before, James was never a violent man. Even when called to arms he wasn’t as brave or courageous as the others. Not even when dealing with pirates. But what he had just witnessed seemed to had awoken a beast that had lay dormant his entire life. Having witnessed Jacob’s murder at the hands of a man James had once felt some respect for had shaken it awake; and now it wanted vengeance. Despite the pistol still drawn James was suddenly up, and he attacked.
Smytherman had little chance. Even for his height, James had power that he rarely called upon. He bludgeoned the man over and over again in the face, not saying a thing while the man screamed for his life until his voice finally died in his throat. When James got to his feet again he had blood on his hands, but still he knew the man was alive. He couldn’t leave him like this.
So he picked up the man’s pistol and shot him in between the eyes.
Once it was done he pocketed the pistol before slowly turning his gaze to Jacob’s body. Tears rolling down his face he knelt besides the man he . . . he had loved and shut his eyelids for him. He knew he couldn’t be caught now. No doubt he’d be charged with not only the Officer’s death, but probably Jacob’s too. He brushed his hands along Jacob’s face, muttering his farewell. But he couldn’t just leave him and not take anything. But nothing of great value.
He chose it, and removed the neckerchief that Jacob had always worn around his neck. Standing up he tied it around his own, looked over his shoulder at the still darkened street before all but melting into the shadows.
And here he was, not an hour later. He still wore his civilian clothes, a pale blue jacket over a white shirt. Brown slacks and boots. His newly clothed neck still quivered in the rain, but he at least saw a way out of this. Another ship had docked at the port, and he had heard rumours from passer-bys that they were pirates. He could see why, the men were the most unsavoury lot James had ever seen. But he could see one of them, more finely dressed talking with another man. Obviously the Captain and the first mate.
Swallowing down his uncertainty James approached them. After a long talk they agreed to let him into their crew. He was young, fit, and obviously healthy. And knew how to handle a pistol, he could be learnt a cutlass like the rest. The Captain nodded readily and held out his hand,
"Welcome aboard, Mister . . .?" He quirked his bushy brow.
James answered not a second later, "Pintel."
*nod* Hmmhmm, and after killinga Navy Officer you'd pretty much need a clean slate. Who knows. Maybe when Gibbs were in with them too he heard tale of the young Pinalston wanted for two murders but vanished the night said crimes were commited. Ho de hum~! *turns 'The Krakken' up loder*