The Rumrunners' Cache
Title: The Rumrunners' Cache
Author: sparrbecuecook
Pairing/characters: Elizabeth Swann, Weatherby Swann, Jack Sparrow
Rating: Gen
Summary: just slightly AU during CotBP: on the rumrunners' and rumburner's island
Author's notes: My original assignment is long finished, but today I turned around and found this cute white plotbunny with a black eyepatch, which promptly bit me. For some reason I can't see the claims post any more, and I don't remember the number, but this was written for Penknife's prompt: Jack/Elizabeth, cross-dressing by Jack, over at potcfest. Written from both Swanns' point of view.
Disclaimer:
Barbossa: Gentlemen, the time has come! Fanfiction is nigh! Our torment is here at hand.
Will: The authoress!
Barbossa: For all but ten years we’ve been Disney's by rights and each man-jack of you here has earned his mettle a hundred times over and a hundred times again!
Ragetti: Copyrighted I am.
Barbossa: Down to the eyeballs. The lot of us - disproportionate to our crime. Here it is …the cursed LJ of the fangirl herself. Every last piece that she wrote is dislcaimed and pennyless - so is this.
"Welcome to the Caribbean, luv" my rear side. Had I not filled up the scallywag with rum or turpentine or whatever that ghastly stuff was which he guzzled down like a funnel, he would have been all over me by now, and we both know it. That's a pirate - a male pirate - after all, and so full of himself ... Men! How he smoothed out his moustache, as if that'd make him irresistible, despite the smell. Well, the smell was not too bad after the swim, and he does look ... exciting ... Yes, exciting it was being held so close to a man's body (other than daddy) back then on the docks ... an excited male body ... So I'm not too skinny as Lord Shrewsbury claimed, hah! Best not to think about all that. At least he's out cold now, or is he? Yes. Lying on his back and snoring the night away, the great and ever-scheming Captain Jack Sparrow who filled two books of his own and a stack of newspapers and wanted posters. None of my friends would believe me if I told them. Which I won't. Makes no sense, diminishing my "I was out with the legendary pirate captain" story, really.
Now, what have we here? Oh, a lantern, splendid! Rum bottles and casks, yes, and that? Goodness, these rumrunners smuggle all kinds. The vanilla and cocoa beans, alright, those are from the Spanish colonies and highly taxed, but women's clothes? And what a style! Like ... like ... like those strumpets down at the docks where Will sometimes works on anchor chains. Can only hope he'd never look at them. Poor Will, I'll get you, promise. You only wait, rescue is nigh. What, soap? Incredible. Imagine the story of the kidnapped lady and the fierce and scary smugglers of lavender-scented soap. Next, I'll find a hairbrush, or pin curlers.
Hah! That's actually an idea. And I could shave him with his bootknife. Poor captain Sparrow shall not hang when they rescue us.
Helen, dear, I now concede: our daughter does take after your part of the family, not mine - a fighter, fierce, and no sense of propriety. You won our bet, and I shall stay true to my word, and let her marry whom she wants. Yes, and I'll stop eating black pudding. And I won't drink beer or wine for an entire month. Happy? I miss you so, my dear. You would have seen through them all from the beginning, what I failed to recognise: That our little Elizabeth really is in love with that blacksmith boy, come what may; and that the commodore, whom I still highly appraise, looked at our daughter the most fondly when she was dressed like a midshipman. I dare say he will get over 'Lizabeth's rejection very soon, at least. Since we left the little island, he's been warming up to that other person we rescued from there: supposedly one lady Maria Magdalena de los Suenos, but, in truth, I am quite sure it is that uncouth Sparrow character who by some unexpected fortune escaped his just fate in Port Royal. Heavens, I can only hope he was the gentleman (unlikely), or else that marriage to Turner can be arranged in a timely manner - no doubt you will remember our troubles after that night in the haystack ... Those were the days.
Helen, dear, I miss you so. We are facing battle now. The commodore had his plans laid out by the three times daily shaving Spanish lady, who, admittedly, has good reason to hate those other pirates, so should be on our side. You will forgive me that I had to lock up Elizabeth, but there really was no choice, for she would join the fighting otherwise. This is all quite adventurous, my dear, and you would have been excited. I must quit now, the ship's bell is ringing.
Yours,
Weath..