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A Sailor Worth His Salt

by Linaelyn


Fandom: PoTC    Rating: R    Pairing: Elizabeth/Will, Will/Jack    Full Header


The hours on a ship dragged long, betimes.

John was an experienced sailor. He knew well how to make the quiet hours pass.

John lay in his hammock, imagining each of the following things:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fight

Commodore James Norrington tasted salt on his lips, as he sucked at the small burn-mark on the back of his left hand. He'd brushed too close to the recently-fired swivel gun, and though his knuckles stung, he smiled a little. He always enjoyed the flavor of saltpeter. It reminded him of victory.


She would miss that sturdy silver ring they had stolen. It rankled that they'd lost the brawl, but she'd come off better in the fight with Rackham's crew than had Tearloch or Matelot. Still, outnumbered twelve to three, they'd held out far longer than she'd expected. As she chewed at the split in the lower one, Anamaria tasted salt on her lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Eat

Governor Weatherby Swann tasted salt on his lips, as he savored the delicate soufflé. Rodriguez had outdone himself, this night, truly. The elegant compote of mangoes and fine madeira, the confiture of duck, and the roasted boar with oranges and vinegar. T'was a pity there'd been too much tarragon in the pease porridge; otherwise the dinner might have been perfect. He stifled a belch behind the intricately embroidered linen of his serviette.


Another tooth gone, he thought, as he tore at the chunk of salted beef with the remaining incisors. That makes six I've lost. Sweet Joseph, protect me from losin' any more. Unconsciously, he ran his tongue over scurvy-shrivelled gums, checking the solidity of each of the remaining twenty-six. Testing the boundaries of the newly formed gap, Joshamee Gibbs tasted salt on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Love

Will Turner tasted salt on her lips, his pink tongue darting to catch the last of his own seed from the corners of Elizabeth's wide mouth. His eyes dark and his brow sweaty, he had pulled her up for a deep and searching kiss. He loved to lap at the bitter-savory substance on her breath whenever she sucked him to completion. He never told her that his smile was for the memory of Jack Sparrow, doing exactly the same.


Deep in the nightwatch, the captain of the Black Pearl came on deck, stealing to the helm like a cat. Most of the crew dozed at their posts, but he found his helmsman alert and on watch. Raising a finger to signal silence, Jack approached and whispered in the man's ear, "Let the blighters get their rest, while they can, Marty." He smiled kindly. "Go an' have yerself a dram in me cabin, man. I've need of a moment alone with m'girl." Marty beat a hasty retreat, as Sparrow caressed the wheel, eyes bright. Lowering his mouth to brush the topmost peg, Jack tasted salt on his lips.

John lay in his hammock, imagining each of these things.

John Cotton lay in his hammock, remembering the taste of salt on his lips...

...back when he had a tongue.



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