Shipwrecked: Part Two.
Title: Shipwrecked.
Pairing: R/J
Rated: R
Warnings: Gratuitous oogling, implied sexytimes, and a dislocated shoulder.
A/N: Part One, Part Three.
They spent the rest of the day working on the raft, which slowly come together. It was only when the sun was starting to set that Jack called it a day. Rochelle again went to get water, and he managed to catch another fish for their dinner. They went to bed shortly after, both exhausted from the day.
In the morning they ate breakfast, gathered what few supplies they could, and finished the preparations for the raft. It was still early in the morning when they shoved it down the beach.
“Here’s hoping it floats,” Jack muttered, giving it a final shove into the water. He waded out with the raft until the water reached his stomach, while Rochelle kept a firm hold on the lead. Slowly he pulled himself onto the wooden surface.
“I think we have it!” he cheered, jumping into the water. He sloshed up to her on the beach, yanking the raft back to shore.
“M’lady,” he gestured toward it, bowing low. Rochelle scoffed and stepped onboard, taking their few provisions with her. Jack threw the lead up after her and shoved the raft out again.
The next several hours were spent paddling with makeshift oars, the sun overhead was hot and blinded them as it bounced off the rolling waves. It was only thanks to Jack’s sense of direction that they finally saw land on the horizon in the late afternoon.
They were both exhausted, and it was a struggle to get the raft toward the island, the tide shifting. Inch by inch, they were nearing the line of the beach. Jack jumped off, the water chest high, and yanked the raft the rest of the way to the beach.
Once it was safely ashore, Rochelle just stepping off the raft, he let go of the lead and collapsed against the sand.
“We made it,” he said, panting.
“We did.”
“I’m going to stay here for just a moment more, then we can explore.” He shielded his eyes with one arm.
Rochelle nudged him, handing over one of the water pouches. “You deserve a rest.”
“Thank you, marm.” He struggled to sit up, downing the water in one long gulp. She sighed at him, looking around.
The beach they were one was sheltered on onside by a sloping cliff that towered over the trees, and jutted out over the ocean; she supposed if they could climb up it they would have a good vantage over land and sea. To the right the beach stretched on for several meters before curving out of sight. Behind them the jungle appeared much the same as on the other island, but the palm trees were different, larger, and bearing clutches of spheres. She couldn’t be sure what they were, they looked like giant green berries, and she wondered if they were eatable.
Jack fell back again, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He tilted his head back, looking behind him. He gave a whistle and sat up, twisting around.
“Coconuts,” he said as he clambered to his feet.
“Excuse me?”
“Those,” he pointed at the trees. “Are coconuts, they’re difficult to break open but they taste wonderful and you can drink the water inside.”
“All well and good, but please be careful.” Rochelle stood up, trailing behind him slowly. She watched as he shimmied up the tree, carefully finding notches to place his hands and feet.
He reached the top, carefully pulling his knife from his belt and started sawing at one of the ‘coconuts’.” As he worked, one came loose, falling to the ground with a hollow thunk.
As he started to dislodge another his foot slipped. He tried to catch himself, but exhaustion made his movements slower; he wasn’t able to get hold again, and crashed to the ground with a sickening thump.
“Jack!” Rochelle cried, rushing to his side. He was writhing on the ground, the sand beneath him harder packed and doing nothing to cushion his fall, clutching at his left shoulder. As she sank down beside him she realized he had likely hit it against the fallen coconut.
Jack eventually calmed and sat up, his arm hanging uselessly at his side. “It’s dislocated.” He swallowed thickly.
“What do we do?”
He stood up carefully, taking slow, deep breaths. When he looked down at Rochelle, his eyes were grim. “We set it.”
Rochelle shot to her feet. “I can’t set your arm!”
“There’s no choice in the matter, it has to be set so it can heal.” He started pacing, his right hand holding the left still. “Of all the stupid things in my life… this happens now?”
Jack stopped his pacing and looked at Rochelle. “You need find something, some wood, something I can bite.”
“You don’t honestly think I can do this?”
“You’re right, Rochelle.” He looked at her seriously. “Why don’t you go find a physician. I’ll wait here.”
“Jack.” She wanted to say more, she just wasn’t sure what. Instead she sighed and started looking for something he could bite down on. She found a thick branch a little ways into the jungle, and used Jack’s knife to smooth it out.
When she returned Jack was pacing again, taking in slow, deep breaths. He took the stick from her and sighed.
“What I wouldn’t give for some rum now,” he muttered. Carefully he laid back, gently placing his left hand on his stomach. “So you’re going to take my hand, and lift it up and away, very slowly. Alright? Hopefully it will set back in place and end this ungodly pain.”
Rochelle glanced at the bone jutting from the top of his shoulder, the skin stretched against it. She took in a shuddering breath before gripping his hand and elbow gently. Jack nodded at her, placed the branch between his teeth and shut his eyes. Slowly as she could, she rotated the arm out, Jack bit down hard, his jaw flexing and the muscles in his neck straining. A wail sounded in the back of his throat, low and pained, ending on a high keen.
She had moved the arm as far as it could go but nothing had happened. Not sure what else to do, she replaced the hand back on his stomach, tears pricking her eyes. “Jack, I’m sorry. I don’t know - why didn’t it work?”
It took him a while to gather himself enough to reply, when he spat out the stick and spoke, his voice was shaky and strained. “Need to yank it.”
Jack took several gulps of air. “Cushion my underarm with reeds or whatever you can find, you’ll place your foot there, then yank my arm.”
“No, no.” She shook her head. “I won’t be strong enough.”
“Yes, you will, it’s not as bad as it sounds… for you.” He looked at her, eyes clouded with pain. “Please? You have to try.”
Chewing on her lip, she glanced around. She quickly scrambled together leaves and dried husks from the palm trees, and carefully placed them under his arm. She braced her foot there, and gripped his hand and elbow again.
“Just pull, slow like before.” He placed the branch between his teeth again, and nodded when he was ready.
Rochelle took a deep breath and pulled. There came a point when she didn’t have the strength to yank the arm down any further, and it still hadn't set. Jack was whimpering, tears pricking his eyes as she let go.
Despite herself, Rochelle was crying now at his pain and the fact she couldn’t seem to fix it. “Jack, I’m so sorry.” She let go of his arm and knelt down by his head, running her hand down the side of his face.
“I need you to try again.”
“But it hurts you--”
“It’s worse to have it dislocated. Just,” he looked up at her, his breathing irregular and shallow.
She knew she had no choice, but she still hated it. Again she braced her foot under his arm and gripped his hand and elbow. She took in one deep breath, instead of slowly pulling, she yanked it as hard she could.
There was a resounding pop as his shoulder slipped back into place, and he let out a pained groan. She let go of his hand and he rolled onto his right side, gulping in air.
After several moments, his breathing calmed and he spit out the branch. Rolling onto his back he looked at her and smiled. “Knew you could do it.”
“What now?”
“Need to put it in a sling so it can start healing. I won’t be any use for a few days.” He looked at her sadly.
“We’ll figure it out as we go.” Rochelle wasn’t sure what they could use for a sling, and she looked around again. She finally settled on the skirt of her chemise. Without really thinking, she started ripping it, ending at her upper thighs. She held it up, and gauged it would be more than enough for a sling.
She helped Jack to sit up, his left arm cradled close to his stomach, and with his instructions, wrapped the cloth around his body to help keep the arm in place.
“Knew you could do it,” he said again, grinning. Rochelle gave a watery laugh and gently hugged him around the neck.
“I’m glad you’re alright.”
He patted her back with his hand, cheek pressed against hers. “We’ll both be alright, I promise.”
***
Thorough exploration of the island was put off for the day, they only ventured far enough into the jungle to luckily locate a vine of passion fruit, and for Jack to direct Rochelle how to find the tuberous yuca.
After they had gathered enough to eat, Rochelle was put to work gathering wood for a fire, and pulling the raft up the beach enough so that it wouldn’t drift away. The latter had been difficult, but she managed and felt rather proud that she was physically strong enough.
When the sun was setting, she set about starting a fire which took little time, the dried brush and twigs catching light immediately. And she grinned at Jack. “Easy!”
“You’re officially the fire starter for the rest of our time here. Unless that was beginners luck?” He carefully settled himself back against a palm tree.
“How long will it take you to heal?”
“Not sure, never dislocated it before. The physician on board usually kept the men in a sling for a week or so.” He gently prodded the shoulder, wincing at a particularly sore spot. “We’ll see though. But we can’t worry about that at the moment. Just one day at a time, and tomorrow we’ll explore - see what we can find.”
Rochelle nodded, trying not to worry. He was right, one day at a time. It was all they could do.
As they settled down the night, they stretched out close to the fire, her feet pointed west, his pointed east, and their heads close together while Jack used his right hand to point constellations. Telling her bits of mythology connected to each one, and she found herself lulled by the sound of his voice - quiet, and steady... soothing.
Sometime in the night she was vaguely aware, in that half sleeping way, of getting cold and blinding throwing another log onto the fire to keep it going. Still it was chilly, another cool breeze coming in off the water, and she dazedly sought out whatever warmth she could find.
All these things she could dimly remember when dawn broke, the world bathed in soft orange and yellow light, still she was rather shocked to find herself pressed against Jack.
It seemed much different from the time before. They were facing one another, Jack on his side, his left elbow had come out of the sling and rested on his side, his hand reaching forward to firmly grip her waist. Her body was flush against his, foot to chest, their legs intertwined and their faces only inches apart.
His breathing was deep and even, and she found herself thankful he was still asleep. She blinked several times to get the sleep out of her eyes, trying to figure out how she was going to untangle herself without waking him.
She found herself studying his features while she thought, and soon her thoughts were focused more on him rather than freeing herself. He seemed boyish in his sleep, his sunny blond curls shadowing his eyes, his lips pouting slightly. She noticed for the first time how long his lashes were, their light color making them hard to see, but in the early morning light they seemed darker, fanning out against his high cheekbones.
Rochelle’s eyes traced his jaw and chin, strong and slightly square, covered with sandy colored stubble. Her gaze traveled over his face again, and her breath hitched when she found herself looking into blue eyes - the color clear and bright like the sea surrounding their island.
Jack blinked at her sleepily and didn’t really seem to register their position, instead he closed his eyes again and dipped his face a little closer to hers; his hand sliding from her waist to her back and squeezing just a bit.
He took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly through his nose, tickling her cheek. Rochelle licked her lips, eyes seeming to drift toward his against her will. Something about the moment, the light, about his warmth… just him in general had her moving forward to close those last few millimeters between them.
Her movement woke him a bit more and his eyes blinked open again, more aware. A grin spread across his face, and she froze in place.
“Morning,” he said, voice rough with sleep, the sound vibrating in his chest - and hers, pressed so close. Like a lightning strike she realized their position, how close they were... how close she had been to kissing him.
Carefully she unwound her legs from his, and scooted away before sitting up. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I was half asleep, I didn’t realize I’d gotten so close.”
“Perfectly alright.” He grinned wider still, pushing himself upright. She couldn’t help but note the way the muscles of his right arm bunched with the movement, how strong he was. She stamped out the rampant thoughts, it was just silly.
“I’ll, um….” she trailed off as she stood up, refusing to meet his gaze. She scurried into the jungle, never finishing her sentence.
Rochelle stumbled through the thick foliage, tripping over vines and exposed tree roots, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Eventually she slowed, taking in several deep breaths, and paused when she heard what sounded distinctly like running water. Curious, she kept moving forward, brushing back large leaves.
Finally she broke through, coming out into a small clearing. Smack in the middle was a large pool of water. Opposite from where she stood was a rock face, water cascading down to the fill the pool.
Bending forward, Rochelle dipped her hand into the clear, cool water and brought it up to her lips. She tasted it carefully, it wasn’t salty. Fresh water. Lots of fresh water.
“Jack!” She called excitedly before ducking her cupped hands into the water and taking a long drink. Then she called him again, louder than before. She was a ways from their encampment, but she knew he’d be able to hear.
“JACK, COME HERE!” she tried again.
In a moment she heard crashing through the jungle, Jack appearing almost instantly, panting and knife in hand. His eyes darted around before landing on her, and only then did Rochelle realize that he’d been worried. Very much so.
“God's teeth, Rochelle! I thought something was…. wrong,” he ended on a whoosh as he finally noted the spring and waterfall behind her.
“I’m sorry, I was excited.”
He turned to look at her and shrugged, but winced at the motion. “It’s fine, I understand. It’s only that we don’t know what’s here yet. Best to be careful.”
“I will be from now on, I swear it.”
“Good.” He nodded, his stance relaxing. “Now, let’s see if we can’t enjoy this fresh water, hm?”
Jack dropped the knife and his belt to the ground, and gently slipped the sling over his head, keeping his injured arm close to his chest. Rochelle wondered if he might disrobe further, but instead he looked up at her with a grin.
“Assuming you can keep your lips to yourself.” He laughed at her and jumped in.
***
The water was delightful, and both had been extremely happy to wash sand and dried salt water from their hair and clothes and skin. After they had swam and enjoyed themselves - Jack especially so as the water offered much relief on his pained shoulder - they had crawled onto the bank and laid in the leaves and reeds while their clothes dried.
“We’ll need to find food next.” He spoke casually, his arm propped behinds his head, body languid, but the corners of his eyes were pinched as he gazed up at the canopy of the jungle.
“What about those things from yesterday? The coconuts?”
“They’re difficult, you have to break the outer hull which is very tough.” He swiveled his head toward her, eyes glancing at his shoulder, one eyebrow quirked. “And I’m not exactly at my best.”
Rochelle sat up quickly, annoyed. “What about me?” she huffed. “I’m not useless, Jack.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He sat up slowly and gave her a long look. “They’re best to get water if you haven’t any fresh, which we do. The inside, the fleshy part, isn’t worth the trouble.”
Jack reached for the knife by his feet, his fingers brushing the blade. Carefully he flipped it over in his hand, holding the hilt firmly. He winked as he stood, replacing the blade in his belt, and nodded for her to follow him.
The path back to the beach was wide and easy to find now, after her carelessness and Jack thundering after. As they walked slowly back to their camp, Jack kept looking around them, teeth chewing his lower lip while he thought.
“I think it’s time you learned how to fish,” he explained after a few moments. “We can make a spear for now. Ah ha!” He grinned when he found a young sapling near their path. “Hold it, will you?”
Rochelle grabbed the tree, holding it steady while Jack hacked at the base with his knife. After a few sure strikes with the blade the tree snapped, and Rochelle held it in her hands, confused as to what to do with it. Jack gently instructed her to hold it still while he cleaned away the thin branches and leaves. He finally nodded as if you say ‘that will do,’ and turned on his heel, leaving Rochelle without a word.
Sighing loudly she followed him to the beach, and found Jack hunkered down on the ground near the ashes of the fire. He indicated for her to take a seat next to him and she plopped down tiredly, her leg brushing his.
“You’re going to strip it clean, and make a point,” he told her. Rochelle lifted a questioning eyebrow at him, but listened intently to his instructions. It was all rather simple, she found, the sapling was supple and easy to shape with the blade.
Once the point was made, Jack stood, offering Rochelle a hand up. He led her down the beach, toward the cliffside. Once they were closer, she found there were several pools created from rocky rings. They started as small pockets of water close to the cliff face, and spread out into larger ones.
Jack walked along the exposed rocks before stopping several yards from her. “Come along,” he waved her over. Rochelle followed carefully, stopping by his side. The pool before them was large, almost like a pond, and the far side dipped into the ocean even though the tide was out.
The water was clear and she could see barnacles and starfish lining the sides, and brightly colored sea anemone swaying with the current. She watched in fascination as all the things she had read about before journeying to the West Indies came to life before her.
“They’re beautiful,” she murmured, crouching down near a particularly beautiful red-orange one.
“They are.” Jack knelt down next to her, his eyes focused on the pool rather than the anemone. “This one should be safe enough, I don’t think anything too big can swim in this time of day.”
“Anything too big?” Rochelle looked up at Jack, wide eyed.
“Sharks, girl.”
“You’re joking.”
“Not in the least.” He grinned widely and hopped into the pool. The water only came up to his hips, but as he waded in farther, it reached his chest.
When he realized Rochelle hadn’t immediately followed, Jack turned around and tilted his head to one side. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid?”
Rochelle glowered at him and scooted into the water, it was surprisingly warm, and crept forward, eyes darting around for anything that might not be friendly.
“No, no. Stay in the shallower part.” He waved her back, and she retreated. “Let’s see if I can’t scare something up.”
“And I’ll do what exactly?”
Jack blinked at her. “Use the spear of course.”
“Are you serious?” Rochelle gripped the spear a little tighter in both hands, feeling awkward.
“I’ll get them closer to you, you just have patience and wait for the right moment. Then toss it with all your might.”
“At the fish?”
“At the fish,” he nodded. “You could do the wrangling while I do the spearing?”
Rochelle knew full well that he was teasing her, goading. She was half tempted to throw the spear at him, but instead stamped down her annoyance and stood up straight, chin held high.
“I will do it.”
“Good.” He grinned again and waded in a bit deeper. Nothing happened for a moment, then there were two small fish swimming toward her, then several more. A larger one, different from the others, seemed an easy enough mark for her; swimming an almost perfect figure eight in the middle of the pool.
She took a steadying breath, holding the spear tightly. Her eyes followed the fish, watching the pattern. When it circled back toward her she let the spear fly, chucking it as hard as she could. It flew through the air and water, piercing the fish with a fluid movement. Jack immediately sloshed forward, grabbing the spear and lifting it out of the water.
He slashed toward Rochelle, tossing fish and spear onto the rocks behind her, and slung his good arm around her shoulders. “Good job.” He gave a little a squeeze and let go, yanking himself onto the rocks, and offered her a hand.
As Rochelle emerged from the water, she glanced down at the speared fish, feeling extremely proud of herself. She smiled at Jack, who grinned in return.
“Now you can learn how to clean it.”
Her smile faltered.
***
Jack resolutely refused to help Rochelle clean the fish, leaving her with the disgusting task, his quiet instructions her only guide. With a wrinkled nose, she carefully went about cutting the Grouper, as Jack called it, and gutting it. She felt a bit sick as the knife met the vertebrae, catching just a bit, and Jack told her press down harder, snapping it.
Once the arduous task was complete, Rochelle started a fresh fire - just as easily as before - and they roasted the fish. While it cooked, Jack left to fetch water, and a few passion fruit.
Everything tasted delicious, in Rochelle's opinion. The growing sense of accomplishment, and satisfaction, sweetening even the water in her mind. In all her life she had never felt so useful.
After they finished, still half of the fish left, Jack laid back, his right arm flung over his eyes. Rochelle left him alone while she wrapped the remains their meal in a palm leaf and put out the fire. When she was finished, she settled down next to Jack, near his head.
“There's so much to do,” he moaned. “We need to explore, gather food, and build some kind of shelter.” He lifted his arm away and looked up at her. “I just want to sleep though.”
“Then sleep. I can start gathering things and looking arou-“
“No.” He sat up and Rochelle finally noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the way his good shoulder sagged just as much as the injured one. “That's too dangerous. Besides we can't be idle, we need to figure out where to place a signal, not to mention what that signal will be, and shelter. Shelter is important.” Jack scrubbed at his face, yawning so wide she thought his jaw might crack. She reached out, brushing his bangs from his eyes.
“You deserve a rest, you've barely sat still since we washed up on shore, being in pain can exhaust you, and heaven knows you worked hard aboard ship.”
“Captain Smithson would disagree.”
“He would be wrong then, wouldn't he?”
“Spend a lot of time watchin' me work, young miss?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, giving her a mischievous grin that caused one cheek to dimple slightly.
“You should be so lucky.” She kicked at him playfully and stuck out her tongue, going against every bit of etiquette she'd learned in finishing school. She found she didn't care.
He laughed, light and carefree as usual, but it did nothing to assuage to sheer exhaustion clouding his features. Rochelle leaned forward and gently pushed on his chest.
“Take a nap. I'll go explore the beach to see if anything washed up from the wreck. I promise I won't go too far. I'll come wake you in a while, then we’ll see if we can get up that cliff to see the island; like we did on the other.”
“That seems fair.” Jack straightened out, mindful of his left arm, and wiggled a bit to find a comfortable spot, and shut his eyes.“If anything happens just scream bloody murder, alright?”
“Alright.” She nodded with a smile. She rose to her knees, stopping before she stood, looking down at him. He did look so tired, the circles under his eyes looking almost like bruises, but he was still very handsome. Not that she would tell him that.
Against her better judgment, she reached out and brushed back his hair again. “Sleep well,” she whispered.
“Are you going to kiss me now? It should give me sweet dreams.” He smirked, eyes still closed. Rochelle scrunched up her face, huffing out a breath, and smacked him on the shoulder.
“Ow!” he cried. “Injured shoulder!”
“You deserved it.” She got to her feet and stomped down to the water, his choked laughter echoing behind her.
Rochelle walked along the beach, keeping an eye out for wreckage. As she walked, she found a few planks and pieces of driftwood, she hauled them all out of the water, far enough that they wouldn't be washed away again. They could turn out useful.
After she had been walking for some time, she realized she had made it around the bend in the beach, the camp and Jack no longer in sight. The beach here looked exactly the rest, mostly smooth sand peppered with wood, shells and a few rocks. However, one thing caught her attention and she dashed forward.
The trunk was heavy, waterlogged and large, but she managed to drag it up a few feet from the waterline. The initials on the front showed it belonged to the captain, and she grabbed a rock to break open the lock.
Inside she found dress clothes and coats, belts and some shoes. She dug around and located a pistol that went with his dress uniform, she carefully lifted it from the trunk, water running down her arm.
“Fat lot of good that does us,” she mumbled to herself. Of course they didn't even have gunpowder. She found a bag full of lead bullets, clicking together like marbles as she pushed it aside.
Overall, she thought everything could be used in someway. The shirts could be bandages if needed, the pants and stockings could be torn and used for ties when they built shelter, the coats as protection from the sun.
Speaking of which, the sun was getting high in the sky and extremely hot. She replaced everything and shut the trunk, she’d need Jack's help to get it back to camp. As she stood, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, something caught her attention in the foliage lining the beach above her.
She squinted, leaning forward a bit and shielding her eyes. What greeted her were a pair of eyes peeking out between two large, pronged leaves. Her own eyes went wide and a scream built in the back of the throat, escaping in a loud wail. She turned and fled back the way she'd came.
As Rochelle rounded the bend in the beach, she glanced behind but nothing was there. Before she turned back to see where she was going, she crashed into Jack. She staggered, but looped her arms around his neck, clinging tight.
Both of his arms went around her, pulling her close; his breath hitched in obvious pain, but he didn't loosen his grip on her.
“What happened?” he asked, and she knew without looking at his face that his sharp eyes were scanning the expanse of beach behind her.
“In the jungle... I saw eyes.” She suddenly felt childish. It had been animal... likely nothing too dangerous as she managed to scare it off by making a loud noise. Still, she was shaken. She had been scared, and she realized in that moment that she had been since she first tumbled overboard. She also realized that Jack had been doing everything within his power to alleviate that fear.
She pulled back and shook her head. “I'm sorry.. it was foolish.”
“No, we don't know what's here, and there are probably animals it's best to avoid.” He sighed, eyes still focused on the beach behind her. Finally he looked down at her and smiled softly. “I'm glad you're alright.”
“Jack? Are you worried?” She licked her lips and plowed forward, not giving him time to respond. “Ever since we landed on shore you've been so... brusque about everything, like it doesn't bother you.”
He laughed and went about gingerly placing his arm back in its sling before speaking. “I'd be a bit witless if I wasn't worried, now wouldn't I? And this,” he gestured to his shoulder. “Really set me on edge, we're so ill-equipped. If something serious happened, what would we do? I just....”
Jack looked at the water, the gentle waves lapping the shore. He sighed. “I didn't want you to worry more than necessary.”
“Trying to protect me, hm?”
He looked at her askance, lips twitching a bit. “I suppose, not that you really need it.”
“I appreciate it.” She hesitated, just a moment, and then reached up, forcing Jack to look at her. “We'll both be alright. We'll make it together.”
“Together,” he agreed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers, placing his right hand on her shoulder. They stayed like that for a long while, eyes closed and breathing each other's air. Finally Rochelle opened her eyes to meet brilliant blue ones.
Something about the way he was looking at her now, the way his eyes seemed darker, more vivid, made her heart race. She wondered if he might kiss her.
Instead he took in a deep breath and stepped back, giving her shoulder a squeeze before dropping his hand. “Seeing as I'm awake now, let's go see what we find on that cliff.”
Rochelle started to nod, feeling a bit dazed, then stopped. “No, there's a trunk. It was the captain's.”
“That's an interesting find.” He turned around, heading in the direction she'd come from.
“And driftwood and planks, I pulled them up on the shore so they wouldn't wash away.”
Jack stopped and looked at her, smiling. “Good job,” he said, giving her a once over before starting to walk again. She felt her face flush at the compliment and his gaze. Willing her warm face to cool, she started after him.
***
Jack poked around the edge of the jungle, nothing was there. After that they set about the task of getting the trunk back to camp, and with Jack to do most of the work, it wasn't nearly as terrible as she thought it might be.
Once that was done, they finished the last of the water Jack had managed to gather earlier, and set about exploring the cliff; it rose steadily, making it a rather easy climb. It was much less craggy and rocky than the one on the other island, covered in grass and vines and blooming flowers. At the top it evened out, jutting over the ocean.
They could see the island they were on was roughly three times the size as the previous one, covered in thick jungle, but the middle seemed bare, and they surmised that was where the fresh water originated. The cliff gave them a perfect view of the horizon in every direction, and Jack seemed pleased.
“I think,” he said slowly, scratching his chin, “we should build a pyre up here with all the driftwood. We'll come up here a couple times a day, check the horizon, and keep the fire going. We have plenty of fuel for it, and it will be easy for them to spot.”
“What if they miss it?” Rochelle worried her lower lip, eyes darting toward the sea as if hoping to see white sails on the horizon.
“They'll be coming from that direction.” He pointed to the left of the cliff. “We're in a pocket of islands, they'll search any bit of land they can find. They'll come in close.”
She couldn't help but think that he was only trying to stay positive for her, like he'd said before... but she shook herself and knew she could trust him. Besides, it was the best course of action as far as she could tell.
“We washed ashore what? Six days ago? Had we kept on course we would be arriving in Charlestown tomorrow, perhaps today.” He gave a bitter laugh and covered his eyes. “A day or two to realize we're not coming, and then who knows how long before they reach this area.”
Dropping his hand he looked at her and shrugged. “At least we'll have plenty of time to build a pyre.”
“We're going to be alright, remember? We're in this together.” Rochelle slipped her hand into Jack's, giving it a squeeze.
“Right.” He swallowed thickly, staring at her. He shook himself and started leading her back to camp.
Again more thorough exploration was put off, instead going through the trunk more carefully. Jack found the idea of having a pistol fascinating.
“But we haven't any gunpowder, how will it work?” Rochelle sat back on her haunches, a coat draped over her legs, she intended for them to use them as bedrolls that night.
“I'll figure that out later, as it is we're the only ones who know that. If anyone unexpected should show up, we can bluff a bit.”
“Are you truly worried about that?”
“I don't know, it's just a nice thing to have on hand, I think. At this point I'm not ruling anything out.” He sat the pistol aside and continued digging, finally he started laughing. “Oh, Captain Smithson I may very well kiss you the next time I see you.”
Jack pulled out an embellished spyglass, holding it up to his eye. “This is beautiful.” He grinned.
“That will be helpful,” Rochelle said, smiling at his joy.
“Aye, that it will.” He looked at her and winked. “Things are looking up!”
They spent the rest of the afternoon constructing another lean-to, using most of their raft, some of the planks Rochelle had pulled onto the beach, and some of the captain's clothes and large palm leaves for the base.
In the morning they would start on the signal pyre and explore the rest of the island. They dined on the leftover Grouper, more yuca, and a few passion fruit for 'dessert' - Rochelle knew she shouldn't complain, but the passion fruit were starting to lose their appeal after being a main staple for so many days.
Jack, even more exhausted, settled down in the sand by the fire, eyes unfocused and shoulders slumped. Rochelle took a seat next to him, one of the captain's jacket's splayed across her lap like a blanket.
Neither of them were aware of when or how, Jack ended up with his head in Rochelle's lap, eyes closed, her fingers carding through his hair. They spoke some, mostly about favorite foods and what they would eat once they got off the island, but eventually Jack's voice grew quieter, his words clouded with sleep.
Soon he was fast asleep, and still Rochelle kept brushing her fingers through his hair. She studied his face, much like she had just that morning - it seemed more like a month ago, her time aboard ship a lifetime - but with a clearer mind.
Her hand drifted down from his hair, over his face, the stubble on his jaw tickling her palm. She realized that she rather liked Jack a lot; she could lie, and claim it was merely because of their situation, heightened feelings and desperation in a frightening situation, but that wasn't true. She had liked him far longer than that. Those meetings on ship, full of casual conversations and teasing.
He treated her like no one else had in her entire life; he treated her like a capable person, not just a simpering young miss with no mind of her own. He challenged her, respected her. She respected him, too.Rochelle had known she'd been lucky to have him with her through this ordeal, his skills and familiarity comforting, but she was also thankful.
He looked so handsome in his sleep, the worried crease gone from between his brow, his lips quirked upward rather than drawn into a frown. As if she had no real control over the action, Rochelle found herself bending forward slowly until her lips were hovering over Jack's, his deep, even breaths tickling her cheek. She wet her lips, pressing them together for a heartbeat before she closed the gap and laid her lips against his.
It was all she had intended to do, just a simple kiss... a quiet thank you for all he had done for her, and to appease her growing affection toward him. That was not what happened though. Either Jack hadn't been as deeply asleep as she had thought, or her gradual movements had woken him, either way he returned the kiss immediately.
His lips were firm but soft under hers, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, much to her surprise and delight. His stubble rasped against her chin, sending a shiver down her spine. She rested one hand on his chest, feeling his heart under her palm, quick and erratic. Jack craned his neck, his hand coming to her hair, long fingers buried in the thick locks, his thumb brushing her cheek.
It seemed much too much for Rochelle and she hastily broke off the kiss, turning her face slightly, pressing her swollen lips together. Jack's breath, coming in puffs, was warm against her cheek, his hand still in her hair.
They stayed like that for a moment, both catching their breath, calming their racing pulses. Finally Jack dropped his hand, and started to sit up, forcing Rochelle to straighten as well. She kept her eyes downcast, not meeting his face.
Sighing, Jack cupped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “Knew you couldn't keep those lips to yourself,” he said with a teasing smile.
Feeling mortified at her actions, Rochelle clambered to her feet, wanting - needing - to get away. Before she could take a step Jack's warm, strong fingers wrapped around her wrist and tugged her back down to the sand. She still couldn't bring herself to look at him, instead focusing on the fire.
“Hey, hey,” he smoothed. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have teased you.”
“No, I'm sorry. I should never have-“
“You have nothing to apologize for, I can assure you of that.” He leaned to one side, trying to catch her eye. “Never had a nicer kiss in all my life, and that's the truth.”
“Kissed a lot of girls have you?”
“A few. Some women find pirates dashing.” He grinned. She snorted. Though it did help defuse some of the tension.
Rochelle sighed, chest rising and then dropping as she let it out, shoulders sagging. “It still wasn't proper, this isn't a time for that... things are confused and it's difficult to gauge real emotions. This isn't the right time.”
“You're the Commodore’s daughter and a lady of good standing, I'm an ex-pirate and criminal, there is no 'right' or 'proper' time for us. That's why I'll take whatever I can get.”
“You don't mean that,” she mumbled.
“You can believe what you like, but the truth of the matter is that I only share orange rations with people I enjoy, and I surely wouldn't dive into a raging sea to save someone I didn't care for.” His voice was soft and honest, and Rochelle felt her heart flutter.
“Oh,” she murmured.
“Let's sleep.” Jack stood and stoked the fire, then offered her his hand. She slipped her hand into his. Silently they crawled into the structure and settled down, thankful for the comfort of clothes to pad everything, and as a replacement for blankets.
“Jack?” Rochelle whispered after several moments.
“Hm?”
“Thank you for everything.”
“We'll be alright, Rochelle.” He paused. “Just remember, we're in this together, yeah? You help me as much as I help you.”
Pairing: R/J
Rated: R
Warnings: Gratuitous oogling, implied sexytimes, and a dislocated shoulder.
A/N: Part One, Part Three.
They spent the rest of the day working on the raft, which slowly come together. It was only when the sun was starting to set that Jack called it a day. Rochelle again went to get water, and he managed to catch another fish for their dinner. They went to bed shortly after, both exhausted from the day.
In the morning they ate breakfast, gathered what few supplies they could, and finished the preparations for the raft. It was still early in the morning when they shoved it down the beach.
“Here’s hoping it floats,” Jack muttered, giving it a final shove into the water. He waded out with the raft until the water reached his stomach, while Rochelle kept a firm hold on the lead. Slowly he pulled himself onto the wooden surface.
“I think we have it!” he cheered, jumping into the water. He sloshed up to her on the beach, yanking the raft back to shore.
“M’lady,” he gestured toward it, bowing low. Rochelle scoffed and stepped onboard, taking their few provisions with her. Jack threw the lead up after her and shoved the raft out again.
The next several hours were spent paddling with makeshift oars, the sun overhead was hot and blinded them as it bounced off the rolling waves. It was only thanks to Jack’s sense of direction that they finally saw land on the horizon in the late afternoon.
They were both exhausted, and it was a struggle to get the raft toward the island, the tide shifting. Inch by inch, they were nearing the line of the beach. Jack jumped off, the water chest high, and yanked the raft the rest of the way to the beach.
Once it was safely ashore, Rochelle just stepping off the raft, he let go of the lead and collapsed against the sand.
“We made it,” he said, panting.
“We did.”
“I’m going to stay here for just a moment more, then we can explore.” He shielded his eyes with one arm.
Rochelle nudged him, handing over one of the water pouches. “You deserve a rest.”
“Thank you, marm.” He struggled to sit up, downing the water in one long gulp. She sighed at him, looking around.
The beach they were one was sheltered on onside by a sloping cliff that towered over the trees, and jutted out over the ocean; she supposed if they could climb up it they would have a good vantage over land and sea. To the right the beach stretched on for several meters before curving out of sight. Behind them the jungle appeared much the same as on the other island, but the palm trees were different, larger, and bearing clutches of spheres. She couldn’t be sure what they were, they looked like giant green berries, and she wondered if they were eatable.
Jack fell back again, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He tilted his head back, looking behind him. He gave a whistle and sat up, twisting around.
“Coconuts,” he said as he clambered to his feet.
“Excuse me?”
“Those,” he pointed at the trees. “Are coconuts, they’re difficult to break open but they taste wonderful and you can drink the water inside.”
“All well and good, but please be careful.” Rochelle stood up, trailing behind him slowly. She watched as he shimmied up the tree, carefully finding notches to place his hands and feet.
He reached the top, carefully pulling his knife from his belt and started sawing at one of the ‘coconuts’.” As he worked, one came loose, falling to the ground with a hollow thunk.
As he started to dislodge another his foot slipped. He tried to catch himself, but exhaustion made his movements slower; he wasn’t able to get hold again, and crashed to the ground with a sickening thump.
“Jack!” Rochelle cried, rushing to his side. He was writhing on the ground, the sand beneath him harder packed and doing nothing to cushion his fall, clutching at his left shoulder. As she sank down beside him she realized he had likely hit it against the fallen coconut.
Jack eventually calmed and sat up, his arm hanging uselessly at his side. “It’s dislocated.” He swallowed thickly.
“What do we do?”
He stood up carefully, taking slow, deep breaths. When he looked down at Rochelle, his eyes were grim. “We set it.”
Rochelle shot to her feet. “I can’t set your arm!”
“There’s no choice in the matter, it has to be set so it can heal.” He started pacing, his right hand holding the left still. “Of all the stupid things in my life… this happens now?”
Jack stopped his pacing and looked at Rochelle. “You need find something, some wood, something I can bite.”
“You don’t honestly think I can do this?”
“You’re right, Rochelle.” He looked at her seriously. “Why don’t you go find a physician. I’ll wait here.”
“Jack.” She wanted to say more, she just wasn’t sure what. Instead she sighed and started looking for something he could bite down on. She found a thick branch a little ways into the jungle, and used Jack’s knife to smooth it out.
When she returned Jack was pacing again, taking in slow, deep breaths. He took the stick from her and sighed.
“What I wouldn’t give for some rum now,” he muttered. Carefully he laid back, gently placing his left hand on his stomach. “So you’re going to take my hand, and lift it up and away, very slowly. Alright? Hopefully it will set back in place and end this ungodly pain.”
Rochelle glanced at the bone jutting from the top of his shoulder, the skin stretched against it. She took in a shuddering breath before gripping his hand and elbow gently. Jack nodded at her, placed the branch between his teeth and shut his eyes. Slowly as she could, she rotated the arm out, Jack bit down hard, his jaw flexing and the muscles in his neck straining. A wail sounded in the back of his throat, low and pained, ending on a high keen.
She had moved the arm as far as it could go but nothing had happened. Not sure what else to do, she replaced the hand back on his stomach, tears pricking her eyes. “Jack, I’m sorry. I don’t know - why didn’t it work?”
It took him a while to gather himself enough to reply, when he spat out the stick and spoke, his voice was shaky and strained. “Need to yank it.”
Jack took several gulps of air. “Cushion my underarm with reeds or whatever you can find, you’ll place your foot there, then yank my arm.”
“No, no.” She shook her head. “I won’t be strong enough.”
“Yes, you will, it’s not as bad as it sounds… for you.” He looked at her, eyes clouded with pain. “Please? You have to try.”
Chewing on her lip, she glanced around. She quickly scrambled together leaves and dried husks from the palm trees, and carefully placed them under his arm. She braced her foot there, and gripped his hand and elbow again.
“Just pull, slow like before.” He placed the branch between his teeth again, and nodded when he was ready.
Rochelle took a deep breath and pulled. There came a point when she didn’t have the strength to yank the arm down any further, and it still hadn't set. Jack was whimpering, tears pricking his eyes as she let go.
Despite herself, Rochelle was crying now at his pain and the fact she couldn’t seem to fix it. “Jack, I’m so sorry.” She let go of his arm and knelt down by his head, running her hand down the side of his face.
“I need you to try again.”
“But it hurts you--”
“It’s worse to have it dislocated. Just,” he looked up at her, his breathing irregular and shallow.
She knew she had no choice, but she still hated it. Again she braced her foot under his arm and gripped his hand and elbow. She took in one deep breath, instead of slowly pulling, she yanked it as hard she could.
There was a resounding pop as his shoulder slipped back into place, and he let out a pained groan. She let go of his hand and he rolled onto his right side, gulping in air.
After several moments, his breathing calmed and he spit out the branch. Rolling onto his back he looked at her and smiled. “Knew you could do it.”
“What now?”
“Need to put it in a sling so it can start healing. I won’t be any use for a few days.” He looked at her sadly.
“We’ll figure it out as we go.” Rochelle wasn’t sure what they could use for a sling, and she looked around again. She finally settled on the skirt of her chemise. Without really thinking, she started ripping it, ending at her upper thighs. She held it up, and gauged it would be more than enough for a sling.
She helped Jack to sit up, his left arm cradled close to his stomach, and with his instructions, wrapped the cloth around his body to help keep the arm in place.
“Knew you could do it,” he said again, grinning. Rochelle gave a watery laugh and gently hugged him around the neck.
“I’m glad you’re alright.”
He patted her back with his hand, cheek pressed against hers. “We’ll both be alright, I promise.”
***
Thorough exploration of the island was put off for the day, they only ventured far enough into the jungle to luckily locate a vine of passion fruit, and for Jack to direct Rochelle how to find the tuberous yuca.
After they had gathered enough to eat, Rochelle was put to work gathering wood for a fire, and pulling the raft up the beach enough so that it wouldn’t drift away. The latter had been difficult, but she managed and felt rather proud that she was physically strong enough.
When the sun was setting, she set about starting a fire which took little time, the dried brush and twigs catching light immediately. And she grinned at Jack. “Easy!”
“You’re officially the fire starter for the rest of our time here. Unless that was beginners luck?” He carefully settled himself back against a palm tree.
“How long will it take you to heal?”
“Not sure, never dislocated it before. The physician on board usually kept the men in a sling for a week or so.” He gently prodded the shoulder, wincing at a particularly sore spot. “We’ll see though. But we can’t worry about that at the moment. Just one day at a time, and tomorrow we’ll explore - see what we can find.”
Rochelle nodded, trying not to worry. He was right, one day at a time. It was all they could do.
As they settled down the night, they stretched out close to the fire, her feet pointed west, his pointed east, and their heads close together while Jack used his right hand to point constellations. Telling her bits of mythology connected to each one, and she found herself lulled by the sound of his voice - quiet, and steady... soothing.
Sometime in the night she was vaguely aware, in that half sleeping way, of getting cold and blinding throwing another log onto the fire to keep it going. Still it was chilly, another cool breeze coming in off the water, and she dazedly sought out whatever warmth she could find.
All these things she could dimly remember when dawn broke, the world bathed in soft orange and yellow light, still she was rather shocked to find herself pressed against Jack.
It seemed much different from the time before. They were facing one another, Jack on his side, his left elbow had come out of the sling and rested on his side, his hand reaching forward to firmly grip her waist. Her body was flush against his, foot to chest, their legs intertwined and their faces only inches apart.
His breathing was deep and even, and she found herself thankful he was still asleep. She blinked several times to get the sleep out of her eyes, trying to figure out how she was going to untangle herself without waking him.
She found herself studying his features while she thought, and soon her thoughts were focused more on him rather than freeing herself. He seemed boyish in his sleep, his sunny blond curls shadowing his eyes, his lips pouting slightly. She noticed for the first time how long his lashes were, their light color making them hard to see, but in the early morning light they seemed darker, fanning out against his high cheekbones.
Rochelle’s eyes traced his jaw and chin, strong and slightly square, covered with sandy colored stubble. Her gaze traveled over his face again, and her breath hitched when she found herself looking into blue eyes - the color clear and bright like the sea surrounding their island.
Jack blinked at her sleepily and didn’t really seem to register their position, instead he closed his eyes again and dipped his face a little closer to hers; his hand sliding from her waist to her back and squeezing just a bit.
He took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly through his nose, tickling her cheek. Rochelle licked her lips, eyes seeming to drift toward his against her will. Something about the moment, the light, about his warmth… just him in general had her moving forward to close those last few millimeters between them.
Her movement woke him a bit more and his eyes blinked open again, more aware. A grin spread across his face, and she froze in place.
“Morning,” he said, voice rough with sleep, the sound vibrating in his chest - and hers, pressed so close. Like a lightning strike she realized their position, how close they were... how close she had been to kissing him.
Carefully she unwound her legs from his, and scooted away before sitting up. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I was half asleep, I didn’t realize I’d gotten so close.”
“Perfectly alright.” He grinned wider still, pushing himself upright. She couldn’t help but note the way the muscles of his right arm bunched with the movement, how strong he was. She stamped out the rampant thoughts, it was just silly.
“I’ll, um….” she trailed off as she stood up, refusing to meet his gaze. She scurried into the jungle, never finishing her sentence.
Rochelle stumbled through the thick foliage, tripping over vines and exposed tree roots, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Eventually she slowed, taking in several deep breaths, and paused when she heard what sounded distinctly like running water. Curious, she kept moving forward, brushing back large leaves.
Finally she broke through, coming out into a small clearing. Smack in the middle was a large pool of water. Opposite from where she stood was a rock face, water cascading down to the fill the pool.
Bending forward, Rochelle dipped her hand into the clear, cool water and brought it up to her lips. She tasted it carefully, it wasn’t salty. Fresh water. Lots of fresh water.
“Jack!” She called excitedly before ducking her cupped hands into the water and taking a long drink. Then she called him again, louder than before. She was a ways from their encampment, but she knew he’d be able to hear.
“JACK, COME HERE!” she tried again.
In a moment she heard crashing through the jungle, Jack appearing almost instantly, panting and knife in hand. His eyes darted around before landing on her, and only then did Rochelle realize that he’d been worried. Very much so.
“God's teeth, Rochelle! I thought something was…. wrong,” he ended on a whoosh as he finally noted the spring and waterfall behind her.
“I’m sorry, I was excited.”
He turned to look at her and shrugged, but winced at the motion. “It’s fine, I understand. It’s only that we don’t know what’s here yet. Best to be careful.”
“I will be from now on, I swear it.”
“Good.” He nodded, his stance relaxing. “Now, let’s see if we can’t enjoy this fresh water, hm?”
Jack dropped the knife and his belt to the ground, and gently slipped the sling over his head, keeping his injured arm close to his chest. Rochelle wondered if he might disrobe further, but instead he looked up at her with a grin.
“Assuming you can keep your lips to yourself.” He laughed at her and jumped in.
***
The water was delightful, and both had been extremely happy to wash sand and dried salt water from their hair and clothes and skin. After they had swam and enjoyed themselves - Jack especially so as the water offered much relief on his pained shoulder - they had crawled onto the bank and laid in the leaves and reeds while their clothes dried.
“We’ll need to find food next.” He spoke casually, his arm propped behinds his head, body languid, but the corners of his eyes were pinched as he gazed up at the canopy of the jungle.
“What about those things from yesterday? The coconuts?”
“They’re difficult, you have to break the outer hull which is very tough.” He swiveled his head toward her, eyes glancing at his shoulder, one eyebrow quirked. “And I’m not exactly at my best.”
Rochelle sat up quickly, annoyed. “What about me?” she huffed. “I’m not useless, Jack.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He sat up slowly and gave her a long look. “They’re best to get water if you haven’t any fresh, which we do. The inside, the fleshy part, isn’t worth the trouble.”
Jack reached for the knife by his feet, his fingers brushing the blade. Carefully he flipped it over in his hand, holding the hilt firmly. He winked as he stood, replacing the blade in his belt, and nodded for her to follow him.
The path back to the beach was wide and easy to find now, after her carelessness and Jack thundering after. As they walked slowly back to their camp, Jack kept looking around them, teeth chewing his lower lip while he thought.
“I think it’s time you learned how to fish,” he explained after a few moments. “We can make a spear for now. Ah ha!” He grinned when he found a young sapling near their path. “Hold it, will you?”
Rochelle grabbed the tree, holding it steady while Jack hacked at the base with his knife. After a few sure strikes with the blade the tree snapped, and Rochelle held it in her hands, confused as to what to do with it. Jack gently instructed her to hold it still while he cleaned away the thin branches and leaves. He finally nodded as if you say ‘that will do,’ and turned on his heel, leaving Rochelle without a word.
Sighing loudly she followed him to the beach, and found Jack hunkered down on the ground near the ashes of the fire. He indicated for her to take a seat next to him and she plopped down tiredly, her leg brushing his.
“You’re going to strip it clean, and make a point,” he told her. Rochelle lifted a questioning eyebrow at him, but listened intently to his instructions. It was all rather simple, she found, the sapling was supple and easy to shape with the blade.
Once the point was made, Jack stood, offering Rochelle a hand up. He led her down the beach, toward the cliffside. Once they were closer, she found there were several pools created from rocky rings. They started as small pockets of water close to the cliff face, and spread out into larger ones.
Jack walked along the exposed rocks before stopping several yards from her. “Come along,” he waved her over. Rochelle followed carefully, stopping by his side. The pool before them was large, almost like a pond, and the far side dipped into the ocean even though the tide was out.
The water was clear and she could see barnacles and starfish lining the sides, and brightly colored sea anemone swaying with the current. She watched in fascination as all the things she had read about before journeying to the West Indies came to life before her.
“They’re beautiful,” she murmured, crouching down near a particularly beautiful red-orange one.
“They are.” Jack knelt down next to her, his eyes focused on the pool rather than the anemone. “This one should be safe enough, I don’t think anything too big can swim in this time of day.”
“Anything too big?” Rochelle looked up at Jack, wide eyed.
“Sharks, girl.”
“You’re joking.”
“Not in the least.” He grinned widely and hopped into the pool. The water only came up to his hips, but as he waded in farther, it reached his chest.
When he realized Rochelle hadn’t immediately followed, Jack turned around and tilted his head to one side. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid?”
Rochelle glowered at him and scooted into the water, it was surprisingly warm, and crept forward, eyes darting around for anything that might not be friendly.
“No, no. Stay in the shallower part.” He waved her back, and she retreated. “Let’s see if I can’t scare something up.”
“And I’ll do what exactly?”
Jack blinked at her. “Use the spear of course.”
“Are you serious?” Rochelle gripped the spear a little tighter in both hands, feeling awkward.
“I’ll get them closer to you, you just have patience and wait for the right moment. Then toss it with all your might.”
“At the fish?”
“At the fish,” he nodded. “You could do the wrangling while I do the spearing?”
Rochelle knew full well that he was teasing her, goading. She was half tempted to throw the spear at him, but instead stamped down her annoyance and stood up straight, chin held high.
“I will do it.”
“Good.” He grinned again and waded in a bit deeper. Nothing happened for a moment, then there were two small fish swimming toward her, then several more. A larger one, different from the others, seemed an easy enough mark for her; swimming an almost perfect figure eight in the middle of the pool.
She took a steadying breath, holding the spear tightly. Her eyes followed the fish, watching the pattern. When it circled back toward her she let the spear fly, chucking it as hard as she could. It flew through the air and water, piercing the fish with a fluid movement. Jack immediately sloshed forward, grabbing the spear and lifting it out of the water.
He slashed toward Rochelle, tossing fish and spear onto the rocks behind her, and slung his good arm around her shoulders. “Good job.” He gave a little a squeeze and let go, yanking himself onto the rocks, and offered her a hand.
As Rochelle emerged from the water, she glanced down at the speared fish, feeling extremely proud of herself. She smiled at Jack, who grinned in return.
“Now you can learn how to clean it.”
Her smile faltered.
***
Jack resolutely refused to help Rochelle clean the fish, leaving her with the disgusting task, his quiet instructions her only guide. With a wrinkled nose, she carefully went about cutting the Grouper, as Jack called it, and gutting it. She felt a bit sick as the knife met the vertebrae, catching just a bit, and Jack told her press down harder, snapping it.
Once the arduous task was complete, Rochelle started a fresh fire - just as easily as before - and they roasted the fish. While it cooked, Jack left to fetch water, and a few passion fruit.
Everything tasted delicious, in Rochelle's opinion. The growing sense of accomplishment, and satisfaction, sweetening even the water in her mind. In all her life she had never felt so useful.
After they finished, still half of the fish left, Jack laid back, his right arm flung over his eyes. Rochelle left him alone while she wrapped the remains their meal in a palm leaf and put out the fire. When she was finished, she settled down next to Jack, near his head.
“There's so much to do,” he moaned. “We need to explore, gather food, and build some kind of shelter.” He lifted his arm away and looked up at her. “I just want to sleep though.”
“Then sleep. I can start gathering things and looking arou-“
“No.” He sat up and Rochelle finally noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the way his good shoulder sagged just as much as the injured one. “That's too dangerous. Besides we can't be idle, we need to figure out where to place a signal, not to mention what that signal will be, and shelter. Shelter is important.” Jack scrubbed at his face, yawning so wide she thought his jaw might crack. She reached out, brushing his bangs from his eyes.
“You deserve a rest, you've barely sat still since we washed up on shore, being in pain can exhaust you, and heaven knows you worked hard aboard ship.”
“Captain Smithson would disagree.”
“He would be wrong then, wouldn't he?”
“Spend a lot of time watchin' me work, young miss?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, giving her a mischievous grin that caused one cheek to dimple slightly.
“You should be so lucky.” She kicked at him playfully and stuck out her tongue, going against every bit of etiquette she'd learned in finishing school. She found she didn't care.
He laughed, light and carefree as usual, but it did nothing to assuage to sheer exhaustion clouding his features. Rochelle leaned forward and gently pushed on his chest.
“Take a nap. I'll go explore the beach to see if anything washed up from the wreck. I promise I won't go too far. I'll come wake you in a while, then we’ll see if we can get up that cliff to see the island; like we did on the other.”
“That seems fair.” Jack straightened out, mindful of his left arm, and wiggled a bit to find a comfortable spot, and shut his eyes.“If anything happens just scream bloody murder, alright?”
“Alright.” She nodded with a smile. She rose to her knees, stopping before she stood, looking down at him. He did look so tired, the circles under his eyes looking almost like bruises, but he was still very handsome. Not that she would tell him that.
Against her better judgment, she reached out and brushed back his hair again. “Sleep well,” she whispered.
“Are you going to kiss me now? It should give me sweet dreams.” He smirked, eyes still closed. Rochelle scrunched up her face, huffing out a breath, and smacked him on the shoulder.
“Ow!” he cried. “Injured shoulder!”
“You deserved it.” She got to her feet and stomped down to the water, his choked laughter echoing behind her.
Rochelle walked along the beach, keeping an eye out for wreckage. As she walked, she found a few planks and pieces of driftwood, she hauled them all out of the water, far enough that they wouldn't be washed away again. They could turn out useful.
After she had been walking for some time, she realized she had made it around the bend in the beach, the camp and Jack no longer in sight. The beach here looked exactly the rest, mostly smooth sand peppered with wood, shells and a few rocks. However, one thing caught her attention and she dashed forward.
The trunk was heavy, waterlogged and large, but she managed to drag it up a few feet from the waterline. The initials on the front showed it belonged to the captain, and she grabbed a rock to break open the lock.
Inside she found dress clothes and coats, belts and some shoes. She dug around and located a pistol that went with his dress uniform, she carefully lifted it from the trunk, water running down her arm.
“Fat lot of good that does us,” she mumbled to herself. Of course they didn't even have gunpowder. She found a bag full of lead bullets, clicking together like marbles as she pushed it aside.
Overall, she thought everything could be used in someway. The shirts could be bandages if needed, the pants and stockings could be torn and used for ties when they built shelter, the coats as protection from the sun.
Speaking of which, the sun was getting high in the sky and extremely hot. She replaced everything and shut the trunk, she’d need Jack's help to get it back to camp. As she stood, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, something caught her attention in the foliage lining the beach above her.
She squinted, leaning forward a bit and shielding her eyes. What greeted her were a pair of eyes peeking out between two large, pronged leaves. Her own eyes went wide and a scream built in the back of the throat, escaping in a loud wail. She turned and fled back the way she'd came.
As Rochelle rounded the bend in the beach, she glanced behind but nothing was there. Before she turned back to see where she was going, she crashed into Jack. She staggered, but looped her arms around his neck, clinging tight.
Both of his arms went around her, pulling her close; his breath hitched in obvious pain, but he didn't loosen his grip on her.
“What happened?” he asked, and she knew without looking at his face that his sharp eyes were scanning the expanse of beach behind her.
“In the jungle... I saw eyes.” She suddenly felt childish. It had been animal... likely nothing too dangerous as she managed to scare it off by making a loud noise. Still, she was shaken. She had been scared, and she realized in that moment that she had been since she first tumbled overboard. She also realized that Jack had been doing everything within his power to alleviate that fear.
She pulled back and shook her head. “I'm sorry.. it was foolish.”
“No, we don't know what's here, and there are probably animals it's best to avoid.” He sighed, eyes still focused on the beach behind her. Finally he looked down at her and smiled softly. “I'm glad you're alright.”
“Jack? Are you worried?” She licked her lips and plowed forward, not giving him time to respond. “Ever since we landed on shore you've been so... brusque about everything, like it doesn't bother you.”
He laughed and went about gingerly placing his arm back in its sling before speaking. “I'd be a bit witless if I wasn't worried, now wouldn't I? And this,” he gestured to his shoulder. “Really set me on edge, we're so ill-equipped. If something serious happened, what would we do? I just....”
Jack looked at the water, the gentle waves lapping the shore. He sighed. “I didn't want you to worry more than necessary.”
“Trying to protect me, hm?”
He looked at her askance, lips twitching a bit. “I suppose, not that you really need it.”
“I appreciate it.” She hesitated, just a moment, and then reached up, forcing Jack to look at her. “We'll both be alright. We'll make it together.”
“Together,” he agreed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers, placing his right hand on her shoulder. They stayed like that for a long while, eyes closed and breathing each other's air. Finally Rochelle opened her eyes to meet brilliant blue ones.
Something about the way he was looking at her now, the way his eyes seemed darker, more vivid, made her heart race. She wondered if he might kiss her.
Instead he took in a deep breath and stepped back, giving her shoulder a squeeze before dropping his hand. “Seeing as I'm awake now, let's go see what we find on that cliff.”
Rochelle started to nod, feeling a bit dazed, then stopped. “No, there's a trunk. It was the captain's.”
“That's an interesting find.” He turned around, heading in the direction she'd come from.
“And driftwood and planks, I pulled them up on the shore so they wouldn't wash away.”
Jack stopped and looked at her, smiling. “Good job,” he said, giving her a once over before starting to walk again. She felt her face flush at the compliment and his gaze. Willing her warm face to cool, she started after him.
***
Jack poked around the edge of the jungle, nothing was there. After that they set about the task of getting the trunk back to camp, and with Jack to do most of the work, it wasn't nearly as terrible as she thought it might be.
Once that was done, they finished the last of the water Jack had managed to gather earlier, and set about exploring the cliff; it rose steadily, making it a rather easy climb. It was much less craggy and rocky than the one on the other island, covered in grass and vines and blooming flowers. At the top it evened out, jutting over the ocean.
They could see the island they were on was roughly three times the size as the previous one, covered in thick jungle, but the middle seemed bare, and they surmised that was where the fresh water originated. The cliff gave them a perfect view of the horizon in every direction, and Jack seemed pleased.
“I think,” he said slowly, scratching his chin, “we should build a pyre up here with all the driftwood. We'll come up here a couple times a day, check the horizon, and keep the fire going. We have plenty of fuel for it, and it will be easy for them to spot.”
“What if they miss it?” Rochelle worried her lower lip, eyes darting toward the sea as if hoping to see white sails on the horizon.
“They'll be coming from that direction.” He pointed to the left of the cliff. “We're in a pocket of islands, they'll search any bit of land they can find. They'll come in close.”
She couldn't help but think that he was only trying to stay positive for her, like he'd said before... but she shook herself and knew she could trust him. Besides, it was the best course of action as far as she could tell.
“We washed ashore what? Six days ago? Had we kept on course we would be arriving in Charlestown tomorrow, perhaps today.” He gave a bitter laugh and covered his eyes. “A day or two to realize we're not coming, and then who knows how long before they reach this area.”
Dropping his hand he looked at her and shrugged. “At least we'll have plenty of time to build a pyre.”
“We're going to be alright, remember? We're in this together.” Rochelle slipped her hand into Jack's, giving it a squeeze.
“Right.” He swallowed thickly, staring at her. He shook himself and started leading her back to camp.
Again more thorough exploration was put off, instead going through the trunk more carefully. Jack found the idea of having a pistol fascinating.
“But we haven't any gunpowder, how will it work?” Rochelle sat back on her haunches, a coat draped over her legs, she intended for them to use them as bedrolls that night.
“I'll figure that out later, as it is we're the only ones who know that. If anyone unexpected should show up, we can bluff a bit.”
“Are you truly worried about that?”
“I don't know, it's just a nice thing to have on hand, I think. At this point I'm not ruling anything out.” He sat the pistol aside and continued digging, finally he started laughing. “Oh, Captain Smithson I may very well kiss you the next time I see you.”
Jack pulled out an embellished spyglass, holding it up to his eye. “This is beautiful.” He grinned.
“That will be helpful,” Rochelle said, smiling at his joy.
“Aye, that it will.” He looked at her and winked. “Things are looking up!”
They spent the rest of the afternoon constructing another lean-to, using most of their raft, some of the planks Rochelle had pulled onto the beach, and some of the captain's clothes and large palm leaves for the base.
In the morning they would start on the signal pyre and explore the rest of the island. They dined on the leftover Grouper, more yuca, and a few passion fruit for 'dessert' - Rochelle knew she shouldn't complain, but the passion fruit were starting to lose their appeal after being a main staple for so many days.
Jack, even more exhausted, settled down in the sand by the fire, eyes unfocused and shoulders slumped. Rochelle took a seat next to him, one of the captain's jacket's splayed across her lap like a blanket.
Neither of them were aware of when or how, Jack ended up with his head in Rochelle's lap, eyes closed, her fingers carding through his hair. They spoke some, mostly about favorite foods and what they would eat once they got off the island, but eventually Jack's voice grew quieter, his words clouded with sleep.
Soon he was fast asleep, and still Rochelle kept brushing her fingers through his hair. She studied his face, much like she had just that morning - it seemed more like a month ago, her time aboard ship a lifetime - but with a clearer mind.
Her hand drifted down from his hair, over his face, the stubble on his jaw tickling her palm. She realized that she rather liked Jack a lot; she could lie, and claim it was merely because of their situation, heightened feelings and desperation in a frightening situation, but that wasn't true. She had liked him far longer than that. Those meetings on ship, full of casual conversations and teasing.
He treated her like no one else had in her entire life; he treated her like a capable person, not just a simpering young miss with no mind of her own. He challenged her, respected her. She respected him, too.Rochelle had known she'd been lucky to have him with her through this ordeal, his skills and familiarity comforting, but she was also thankful.
He looked so handsome in his sleep, the worried crease gone from between his brow, his lips quirked upward rather than drawn into a frown. As if she had no real control over the action, Rochelle found herself bending forward slowly until her lips were hovering over Jack's, his deep, even breaths tickling her cheek. She wet her lips, pressing them together for a heartbeat before she closed the gap and laid her lips against his.
It was all she had intended to do, just a simple kiss... a quiet thank you for all he had done for her, and to appease her growing affection toward him. That was not what happened though. Either Jack hadn't been as deeply asleep as she had thought, or her gradual movements had woken him, either way he returned the kiss immediately.
His lips were firm but soft under hers, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, much to her surprise and delight. His stubble rasped against her chin, sending a shiver down her spine. She rested one hand on his chest, feeling his heart under her palm, quick and erratic. Jack craned his neck, his hand coming to her hair, long fingers buried in the thick locks, his thumb brushing her cheek.
It seemed much too much for Rochelle and she hastily broke off the kiss, turning her face slightly, pressing her swollen lips together. Jack's breath, coming in puffs, was warm against her cheek, his hand still in her hair.
They stayed like that for a moment, both catching their breath, calming their racing pulses. Finally Jack dropped his hand, and started to sit up, forcing Rochelle to straighten as well. She kept her eyes downcast, not meeting his face.
Sighing, Jack cupped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “Knew you couldn't keep those lips to yourself,” he said with a teasing smile.
Feeling mortified at her actions, Rochelle clambered to her feet, wanting - needing - to get away. Before she could take a step Jack's warm, strong fingers wrapped around her wrist and tugged her back down to the sand. She still couldn't bring herself to look at him, instead focusing on the fire.
“Hey, hey,” he smoothed. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have teased you.”
“No, I'm sorry. I should never have-“
“You have nothing to apologize for, I can assure you of that.” He leaned to one side, trying to catch her eye. “Never had a nicer kiss in all my life, and that's the truth.”
“Kissed a lot of girls have you?”
“A few. Some women find pirates dashing.” He grinned. She snorted. Though it did help defuse some of the tension.
Rochelle sighed, chest rising and then dropping as she let it out, shoulders sagging. “It still wasn't proper, this isn't a time for that... things are confused and it's difficult to gauge real emotions. This isn't the right time.”
“You're the Commodore’s daughter and a lady of good standing, I'm an ex-pirate and criminal, there is no 'right' or 'proper' time for us. That's why I'll take whatever I can get.”
“You don't mean that,” she mumbled.
“You can believe what you like, but the truth of the matter is that I only share orange rations with people I enjoy, and I surely wouldn't dive into a raging sea to save someone I didn't care for.” His voice was soft and honest, and Rochelle felt her heart flutter.
“Oh,” she murmured.
“Let's sleep.” Jack stood and stoked the fire, then offered her his hand. She slipped her hand into his. Silently they crawled into the structure and settled down, thankful for the comfort of clothes to pad everything, and as a replacement for blankets.
“Jack?” Rochelle whispered after several moments.
“Hm?”
“Thank you for everything.”
“We'll be alright, Rochelle.” He paused. “Just remember, we're in this together, yeah? You help me as much as I help you.”