Post by Jim Hawkins on Apr 12, 2009 19:54:29 GMT -5
Underneath the waves of crushing water, Jim kept yanking the rope, waiting for it to tug him back up... waiting...
Nothing was happening. Jim yanked the rope again, the cords swaying in the currents swirling around him... swaying a little too much. Jim frantically pulled the rope, fearing the worst. He reached the end of the cord, letting out an inaudible curse that was swallowed by the sea. Pintel and Ragetti...
Jim looked around, blind as ever. He didn't have any need for oxygen, and the pressure would never kill the undead, but he had to get out of here! Jim flailed his arms, trying to swim. His legs seemed strangely heavy as he tried to kick them... Oh yeah, the cannonballs.
Jim wedged the smooth, flat object he found on the seafloor between his teeth, clamping down on it for dear life. If it was the medallion, losing it would be a disaster. Jim fumbled with the roped around his ankles, trying to undo them in the black seafloor. Unsuccessful in finding where the knot ended, Jim put the stone/medallion/whatever it was in his cheek and picked the ropes with his teeth.
After a few minutes or hours, for time did not seem to pass on the seabed, Jim was free of the weights. All that was left to do was swim to the surface...
Easier said than done. Jim racked his brain, trying to remember what Nani had taught him about swimming. Kick your legs, paddle with your arms... Jim eventually settled for a close mimicry of the gliding, flapping motion of the mantabirds back on Montressor. It seemed to work... but he wasn't sure if he was going anywhere in the blind waters.
Speaking of which... which way was up?
Jim found the seafloor as he brushed it with his hand. If the floor was down, then the opposite should be up... Jim touched his boots to the seabed, then kicked up into the water, trying to swim straight.
Light. It was dim, filtered through the strange, twisting shapes of the water, but it was light nonetheless. Jim's blue eyes flooded with it, and he flailed to reach it. Moments later, Jim's head broke the surface, his lungs drawing in a breath of air. Even though it was no longer necessary... it felt reassuring. Jim flipped his bangs out of his face, looking around...
The Misty Lady was a tiny dot on the horizon, concluding that Jim had drifted several leagues from where he dove. Even more startling was the sky. It was as bright as high noon. Jim had set out for the seafloor at night... Jim was hit with realization. He had been down there for more than twelve hours!
And then, the last piece of doubt that nagged at the back of Jim's consciesness... Jim toyed with the object in his mouth, spitting it out into his palm.
As it caught the light, a golden skull with leering, empty eyes stared back into Jim's blue ones.
A true smile broke across Jim's visage, speading ear to ear: the first real smile that Jim had in a long while. He'd done it.
Jim looked back to the Misty Lady slowly treading over to it. Next stop, Isla de Muerta.
Nothing was happening. Jim yanked the rope again, the cords swaying in the currents swirling around him... swaying a little too much. Jim frantically pulled the rope, fearing the worst. He reached the end of the cord, letting out an inaudible curse that was swallowed by the sea. Pintel and Ragetti...
Jim looked around, blind as ever. He didn't have any need for oxygen, and the pressure would never kill the undead, but he had to get out of here! Jim flailed his arms, trying to swim. His legs seemed strangely heavy as he tried to kick them... Oh yeah, the cannonballs.
Jim wedged the smooth, flat object he found on the seafloor between his teeth, clamping down on it for dear life. If it was the medallion, losing it would be a disaster. Jim fumbled with the roped around his ankles, trying to undo them in the black seafloor. Unsuccessful in finding where the knot ended, Jim put the stone/medallion/whatever it was in his cheek and picked the ropes with his teeth.
After a few minutes or hours, for time did not seem to pass on the seabed, Jim was free of the weights. All that was left to do was swim to the surface...
Easier said than done. Jim racked his brain, trying to remember what Nani had taught him about swimming. Kick your legs, paddle with your arms... Jim eventually settled for a close mimicry of the gliding, flapping motion of the mantabirds back on Montressor. It seemed to work... but he wasn't sure if he was going anywhere in the blind waters.
Speaking of which... which way was up?
Jim found the seafloor as he brushed it with his hand. If the floor was down, then the opposite should be up... Jim touched his boots to the seabed, then kicked up into the water, trying to swim straight.
~*~
Light. It was dim, filtered through the strange, twisting shapes of the water, but it was light nonetheless. Jim's blue eyes flooded with it, and he flailed to reach it. Moments later, Jim's head broke the surface, his lungs drawing in a breath of air. Even though it was no longer necessary... it felt reassuring. Jim flipped his bangs out of his face, looking around...
The Misty Lady was a tiny dot on the horizon, concluding that Jim had drifted several leagues from where he dove. Even more startling was the sky. It was as bright as high noon. Jim had set out for the seafloor at night... Jim was hit with realization. He had been down there for more than twelve hours!
And then, the last piece of doubt that nagged at the back of Jim's consciesness... Jim toyed with the object in his mouth, spitting it out into his palm.
As it caught the light, a golden skull with leering, empty eyes stared back into Jim's blue ones.
A true smile broke across Jim's visage, speading ear to ear: the first real smile that Jim had in a long while. He'd done it.
Jim looked back to the Misty Lady slowly treading over to it. Next stop, Isla de Muerta.