âI never thanked you, you knowâsincerely.â The day of his promotion to Commodore often played in his head, when he didnât want it to, haunting him with memories of what was and what could have been. He knew it wasnât healthy, to let his mind linger on the past. In the months after he lost his ship to the hurricane that had prevented him from capturing the man before him, he had used rum as a coping mechanism. It was truly remarkable how he had achieved nearly everything he had wanted in life, only to have it fall to pieces in the span of a week. âI wasâŠso angry, at you of course, but mostly at myself, after you rescued her. It reminded me an awful lot of my father.â He would never have been so cruel, to have rather seen his former fiancĂ©e dead than to have been rescued by pirates, but that was exactly what his own father thought of him when one had fished him out of the ocean and saved him from a watery grave as a child. He supposed that in some way had contributed to the unnatural vigor with which he hunted their kind, thinking stupidly that this was how he could finally earn the Admiralâs love and respect.
Now that he was an Admiral himself, he didnât feel the need to be recognized by his father, especially after the way he had abandoned him after his career had ended for a time in disgrace. âI donât know why Iâm telling you all this.â he marveled at himself shakily, taking a sip from his canteen and shaking his head. Guilt? The near brush with death? The desire for absolution? âBut I know when Iâm in the wrong, Mr. Sparrow, and I apologize.â
@rumgone liked for a starter
