An Open-ended Proposal; The Spanish Main--Tortuga/Port Royal [Complete]
On the way back to the little sloop, he made very well sure that a couple necessities were brought along for the trip: From a still-breathing carcass on the roadside he acquired a half-consumed container of rum, then for some unknown reason to the pirate he happened across a little jar of paprika toss on the road which was picked up as well. Any
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But how to get going in that direction, now, that would be the trick.
Jack crooned himself over the place where he had set his boots to get the boat moving the first time, and looking curiously over several shiny buttons. The lever which “moved” the sloop was jarred in the forward direction-which nothing happened. After of which, he curiously poked several of the glittering lights on the dash; slowly drawing his finger to the button, then when pressing the glowing switch jerking his hand away as if something were to snap at his fingers if they were kept there.
Unfortunately as the last time, the sloop didn’t even budge.
Jack glanced over at his less-than-well-pressed comrade, “Me thinks that it’s not moving.” He stated obviously, continuing to prod a few of the buttons. At this point, he was even willing to take suggestions on how to move the thing. “You didn’t break anything did you?” Waving that gun around, drinking that rum beforehand.. It was a possibility. The fact that it was sticking out of the wall he had rammed it into seemed to hold no weight at all in the argument that it wasn’t budging.
French technology was so complicated. Poke a button, prod a lever, get a few dings that came out of nowhere..
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How complicated could it be to navigate this ship? He had to wonder how, exactly, the pirate had managed to make his way to Tortuga with it, if he didn't even know how to convince it to move, let alone ensure that it didn't crash through any walls.
"Considering your arrival, I don't think you should be directing that question at me," Norrington pointed out when Jack asked him whether he had damaged the ship. It seemed very possible that said manner of arrival was actually to blame for the current lack of cooperation from the ship. Undoubtedly Sparrow had broken something. Norrington eyed the panel in front of them once more, frowning slightly.
He decided to test out a few more of the buttons and a lever, before casting a glance back into Jack's direction. "You don't have any idea how to make it move, do you?" Although phrased as a question, it was really more of a statement - he didn't need confirmation of that. It was clear enough to see.
Norrington shook his head. To think that he was actually going along with what this man claimed he knew. It was rather hard to come to terms with.
Although he didn't think too highly of resorting to such unsystematic methods, there really wasn't any good in wasting even more time here, so Norrington tried out several buttons at the same time. Perhaps there was a certain sequence to carry out. This wasn't an ordinary ship, so it wasn't impossible for it to require equally unusual ways to steer it, as impractical as that seemed.
The ship gave a slight, but sudden lurch.
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The time spent figuring out how to move the thing would buy him time to figure out a heading on where to go; preferably a place where he could leave Norrington and his abundance of soil to their own devices. It was a short lived thought, because soon the pirates luck took a turn for the worst and the ship actually started listening to the buttons. When the ship finally did something he was quick to retake the situation. “Well!” He clapped his hands and went about looking attentive, “looks like that little problem is taken care of. Good-“ He went about almost patting Norrington on the shoulder like he would any other, but his hand froze mid-air, and he mechanically withdrew it. Instead, substituting a nod of acknowledgment. “...guess. So now that you’ve fixed the problem that may or may not have been caused by your, say, questionable drinking habits and or waving around your pretty little pistol, we can make way.”
Couldn’t just sit in the wall and arouse already stewing suspicion, could he? So taking what he did know on driving the ship, Jack pushing the lever up-which was forward. The sloop burrowed a little further into the tavern. “That would be the wrong way.” The lever was pushed the other way-reverse!
In no time, aside from the turbulence caused from being wedged into the side of the tavern, the sloop was free and floating mid-air.
...But where to head for that key...
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"Do proceed." He gestured at the panel, stepping aside. "And let's hope that our destination is not another wall."
That seemed to be a valid concern. Barely a few minutes had passed since the ship had obeyed, but it was already steered into the wrong direction, further into the tavern instead of coming free of the wall. Norrington gave Jack an unimpressed look. Perhaps they would end up going through the opposite wall.
Fortunately that didn't happen. Freed from its former position, the unusual ship was suddenly not even on the ground anymore, but hovering a good distance above land. Surprised, Norrington glanced through the pane of glass that covered the interior of the ship. Ship? It was a flying vessel.
That seemed to give it an advantage over ordinary ships, especially if it was capable of moving quickly, unhindered by the currents of the sea or the threat of the creatures that had already spread to the open water by now.
Perhaps that was what Beckett and the East India Trading Company were after as well. It was likely that he had been instructed to return to Port Royal with Sparrow first for that reason, rather than waiting for him to produce his 'solution'.
Since no definite heading had been revealed, all he needed to do was find a way to steer the flying ship to Port Royal.
Norrington took a seat and turned to watch Jack. "Where did you find this ship?" It was possible that it was stolen property, but not only that - it was simply not something that seemed to be from these parts at all. He sat back, waiting for a reply to his question.
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Most unexpectedly, he had been prodded with a question! Jack looked at his company, a sly look of accomplishment on his own face, “Curious about me methods of pirating?” Though he couldn’t blame the man, it was a bloody flying boat and any man without curiosity about its origins were probably of the pulse-lacking sort. “As in any good ship, I did not find the ship but,” He pointed a finger in the air, “The ship found me.”
Ah yes, the Frenchman in Port Royal whom he had guaranteed no civilians would be mucking with his boat. Wherever that Frenchman was, the promise still stood fast. After all there hadn’t been civilians around that dock for the duration of his stay there.
Enough about thinking of places he would rather avoid.(Which why the Heading was anywhere but Port Royal-he knew that much.) Jack started steering the ship higher, just to where he could look out the porthole, or window, on the side and see Tortuga glimmering below. Ahhh, the scent of rum carried even up this high.
“It was tied to a dock in one of those many inky-devastated towns, as many have come to be, lacking persons at the helm.” the pirate continued, tearing his glance from the town below. “So I got in to take a look around it, because it is a curious looking thing.” A tap on the side with his fist was used to illustrate. The ship seemed to beep in response, earning a raise of his eyebrow. “The bloody thing took off on its own. Dunno how.” With the smallest fraction of assistance from the Pirate, but that was one detail the story could go with lacking
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"In other words, you came across this ship, possibly only temporarily abandoned by its owner, and decided to take advantage of the situation," Norrington remarked, providing his own translation of Jack's tale. "Finders, keepers, perhaps?"
'Took off on its own'? That was hard to believe. It certainly hadn't taken off on its own from the tavern wall in Tortuga and if they had waited for that to happen, it was highly likely that they would have had to wait for a very long time. It was a flying ship, not a horse-drawn carriage.
However, entering into a discussion regarding stolen property would be a wasted effort when dealing with someone whose so-called profession revolved around taking property that wasn't originally his own, using decidedly questionable methods. Norrington didn't even try to consider something like that an option. Unfortunately, while that was at the very bottom of the list by default, there were no other, better options, either.
Apparently today was going to demand a lot of improvisation.
"If you're hoping to wait for the ship to decide our heading on its own, I'm afraid I'm not prepared to do the same," Norrington said. "I have a suggestion: make for Port Royal first. I have business of my own to attend to as well and perhaps you'll actually be granted a less inanimate crew to accompany you. If nothing else, we can go our separate ways there." Not quite, but that needed to be omitted for now, at least until they reached Port Royal.
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Probably at fault of whoever the dock master was. Couldn’t get no good help these days.
“Port Royal.” Jack started swaggering his head from side to side, as if trying to visually weigh the good and bad of his “crewmates” suggestion. ...Avoiding Port Royal was his goal, thus the reason for a little bit of lag in the direction and heading.
But...
If he could have Norrington go about his business in Port Royal, then this business, whatever it may be, would most likely be away from the ship. He had held to his word of returning to his ship and going about pirating with his crew, but no captain could be held accountable if his crew didn’t show up for departure. Maybe that way he could get away from such a disgruntled man and his pistol as well.
However the pirate was no fool. Even if Norrington wasn’t at.. His... most professional outward look, he was still law abiding on the inside. Not enough pirating in his blood. If his business there involved turning him in, that wouldn’t fair well at all. “Well,” He cleared his throat, “if your business be in the gallows I regret to inform you that the gibbet is quite out of commission. But. I do have me own business to take care of in Port Royal, so that be our heading.”
He had no business, really, except to perhaps unload a crewmember. Hopefully the Frenchman wasn’t around to be snippy about his sloop that had been borrowed.
The boat was swerved in that direction. They were on their way.
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