Hey, y'all, long time no see! Working on a few different fics at the moment, and this one is only going to be around four chapters long (if the damn thing doesn't get away from me...) so I figured I'd start posting it now. Let me know your thoughts, I'm curious as to whether I'm doing this correctly or not. Let me know about the speech, terms, etc, guys, thanks!
Prompt from CReynhout – 'Not sure if I have seen Pirate Jane anywhere. To your knowledge has this been written? If not, would you consider it?'
Not exactly Pirate!Jane, but I think you'll like this anyway ;) At least, I hope you will!
Read on!
Chapter 1
On the deck of a massive cargo ship, crewmen huffed and pulled on the ropes tying the sails in place. One man scurried up the mast and worked furiously at a knotted rope, gripping the slick pole with his thighs to keep from falling. Below, he heard the men grunting and cursing at each other as the stubborn rigging continued to stick, then an eerie silence suddenly descended. He ceased his yanking and stared down at the deck beneath him, squinted eyes following the direction every other crewmate's head was turned. His faded blue eyes widened and he almost fell off the mast in his haste to return to the rain and sea-slick deck.
He stood rigidly alongside the others, eyes locked on the captain's covered head. Clean, heeled black boots added a couple inches to her otherwise diminutive stature, her legs were covered by dark blue leggings, tucked into the boots, and a slim belt buckled around her waist kept her white tunic from fluttering too much in the lingering breeze. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and the laces tied loosely so a titillating glimpse of the top of her breasts was given with every gust of wind. Keen hazel eyes stared at them from beneath a dark bandana, honey blonde hair gathered beneath it so the strands stayed away from her face. "What seems tae be the problem, gents?"
One hesitant sailor, a bulky man with scarred knuckles and weathered eyes stepped forward. "The rigging be stuck, ma'am. The storm bundled it up right and tight."
"Did ye nae think tae climb atop the mast an' have a look-see?" Her rich, Irish voice was light, belying the tightness around her mouth and eyes.
The sailor scrambled for an answer and the man who had climbed up and down the rigging kept silent, eyes lowered and shoulders curved to withdraw into himself. "We – ya see, ma'am, we ain't quite – that is-"
"Clarity, Mister Rueben. 'Tis nae a woman ye speak tae, but yer captain. Say yer piece concisely an' quickly." He stammered again and rolled his cap anxiously between his hands. She sighed and strode closer, the light thump of her boots hitting the wooden deck deafening in the silence amongst the waves. She stood before him, dwarfed by his burly frame even with her boots, and he visibly cowered. "Well, Mister Rueben? What have ye tae say for yeself?"
"I, ahm, that is," He breathed shakily and swallowed, "no, ma'am." He glanced down at her briefly but quickly turned his eyes away. He flinched when she raised her hand, sighing imperceptibly in relief when she only pointed at the jammed rigging.
"I wan' someone up there immediately. Now, if ye please." A small, wiry man hastily climbed up the ropes to the sails and stared down at her, waiting for her to speak again. "'Tis simply a case o' force versus angle, gents. If ye please, Mister Hasting, give it a good yank toward yer stomach, aye?" The man complied and, with a loud whoosh of air and the sound of loosened fabric, the enormous sail finally gave way. She nodded firmly and faced Mister Rueben. "Sae, what should ye have done in the first place, Mister Reuben?"
"…gone to ye, ma'am?"
"Aye, 'tis so." She nodded gravely and Mister Reuben swallowed roughly. She turned to face the rest of the crew. "Now, lads, we have some very…importan' items we need tae get tae Boston wit'in the week, sae nae more slouchin', aye?" Around her, there was a chorus of 'ayes' and she straightened, lifting her chin imperiously. "Answer me true, gents, will we sail intae Boston harbor come the end o' the week?"
"Aye, Captain Isles!"
She nodded and her lips tweaked upward in a smile. "Good. Back tae work then, ye ken?" They nodded and scattered, two very relieved sighs getting lost in the sounds of surf and wind and the groaning of the woodwork.
As the ship docked in Boston, the crew hurried to tie off the sails and lower the anchor with a loud splash into the harbor. The captain stood beside the yet-to-be-lowered ramp, staring at the bustling city with a gleam in her eyes. Her first mate walked up behind her and stood with his hands behind his back, shoulders squared in a position reminiscent of the military. His deep brown eyes studied her back, the tense set of her shoulders, and he quickly ran a hand through his short, curly black hair. "Captain?" She didn't answer and he tried again, to no avail. "Maura?"
The use of her first name got her attention and she turned with a frown on her lips. "Mister Frost, I've asked ye nae tae call me that in public."
"Aye, ma'am, but you were off in your head again. Just a slip, ma'am."
She nodded and returned her faraway gaze to the nearby dock. "See it dannae happen again, ye ken?"
"Aye, ma'am. Where to first?"
Her finger dug a shallow path along the varnished wood. "We have an appointmen' with our buyer 'fore we venture any farther. Fetch the papers fer me, Mister Frost?" He left her alone and a crewman silently lowered the gangplank. She walked down it to the dock, planting her feet until she was certain she wouldn't fall over with the lack of movement beneath her. She took a breath of the air, scented with the ocean and the pungent smells of the city, and turned when she heard her first mate's heavy steps. "Come along, Mister Frost. We cannae keep them waitin', aye?"
They strode away from the docks, losing themselves in the bustle of the city, Frost close by her side warding off curious passersby who stopped to gawk at the woman in mens' clothes. Maura didn't give them a second glance, keen eyes skirting over the high born and rough alike without fear. The crowd parted before them, leaving ample space to travel to their first rendezvous. Frost handed her the sheaf of papers and she glanced at them once more while they stood outside the tavern, raucous laughter and curses already audible in the midday sun. Once inside, Frost made a beeline for the bar while Maura found a seat just out of sight of the other patrons, on the wall, facing the front door as well as having a view of the door to the kitchen.
She folded her hands on the table to stop their fidgeting and twitched her lips upward when Frost returned with two plates of hot food, two mugs of drink grasped precariously in his other hand. They dug in silently, two sets of eyes waiting for the arrival of their buyer, and Frost paused when Maura nudged him beneath the table, eyes locked on the front door. In the mirror behind the bar, he saw a tall, dark haired man, square of jaw and broad of shoulder, slip into the room and peer around with suspicious eyes. Maura snorted into her mug and muttered, "Barmy fool, he dannae have a lick o' sense tae be subtle."
The moment he caught her eyes, the man strode over purposefully and stood at the end of the table. "Miss Isles, I presume?"
Maura sighed and stared into her mug for a moment. "Have a seat, Mister Faulkner. 'Twill be nary a moment tae finish my meal."
"I'd prefer to have this whole business sorted-"
"Aye, an' we will, but now, sit, Ian." She gestured at the chair beside her and he reluctantly took it. She took another sip of her drink, watching him fidget from the corner of her eye. "Are ye nae hungry, Mister Faulkner? I kin have the maid bring ye a plate, 'tis quite good."
She gestured at the bar and Ian covered her hand, lowering it to the table. "I would rather not. If you would be so kind as to-"
"I will nae be kind if'n ye dannae remove yer hand from me at once, ye ken?" She glared at his hand still on her forearm and he pulled it back like he'd been burnt. She nodded once and Frost fought to keep his grin from showing, settling for glowering at the man seated across from him. Ian squirmed under his gaze and Maura smirked into her mug. They finished eating, purposely taking their time the more the man fidgeted, and Maura sighed happily as she sat back. "Mister Frost, give us some space, aye?" Frost nodded and stepped away from the table, leaning against the bar several yards away.
Maura leaned closer to Ian, reveling in his nervous gaze that flitted between her eyes and the holster of her pistol slung at her hip. "Now, I believe we have some business tae conduct?" Her raised eyebrow and twinkling eyes flustered Ian and he flushed and stuttered, looking anywhere but at her. "Speak up, Mister Faulkner, I dannae have all day tae entertain ye."
He bristled and leaned toward her with fire in his eyes. "Now, see here, Miss Isles-"
"Ye will address me as Ma'am or Captain Isles, nothin' else, ye ken?"
"I will do no such thing!"
"Then our business here is concluded."
Maura pushed back the chair and Frost wandered over to her. Ian stood hastily from his chair and held up his hands placatingly. "Now, now, there's no need to be hasty-"
"I disagree, Mister Falkner, and if'n ye find yerself unable tae deal with such as meself, I'll gladly leave ye tae yer own musin'." She jerked her head and she and Frost left the table.
Ian jolted on his feet and grabbed her bicep to keep her in place. "No, please!-" He saw a flash of hazel, then landed hard on his back with Maura astride his hips, one hand at the nape of his neck, holding him in place, while the other wielded a menacing dagger. The steel blade kissed his throat lightly and he swallowed, wincing as the razor edge bit into his skin briefly.
"Nae, I thought we had an accord, Mister Faulkner?" Her voice was quiet and level, deadly calm and dangerous. "Ye dannae touch me, an' I give ye what ye asked for." He found himself unable to answer as the dagger bit once again. He felt a bead of warm blood slip off the slope of his neck and struggled not to panic. "If'n ye cannae abide by me rules, then we have no more tae say tae each other."
She lifted the blade away from his neck enough so he could answer, although he could almost feel the skin-warmed steel against his adam's apple with every word. "I won't do it again, I promise. I just – need those items I asked you to procure for me." The blade teased his skin again and he ground out, "Please."
Maura smiled coldly and got off his hips, sheathing the dagger on her person and taking a seat once more. At her back, Frost crossed his arms over his chest and smirked down at the other man. Ian slowly got to his feet, never taking his eyes of Maura as he sat in the chair across from her. "Nae that we've agreed tae be civil, let's commence with our business, aye?" She pulled a sheaf of papers from underneath her tunic and set them on the table between them. "A shipment of medicine, blankets, tools for yer practice, along with other, more…delicate items."
Her fingernail tapped the papers contemplatively. "Now, if'n I recall, we agreed that ye would pay me this amount fer the entire shipment," she said, tapping a handwritten number in the margins of the paper. Ian nodded and reached for the coin purse at his hip, freezing when Maura shook her head. "In light o' recent events, I believe I should receive that much, plus half again."
Ian's brows dug low over his eyes and he snarled. "I won't pay a pound more than what we agreed on, you pirate bitch! We already came to an accord, now honor your word!" Frost stiffened and set a hand on the butt of his pistol while Ian leaned across the table, breathing heavily over Maura who sat calmly staring at him. Her hair fluttered with every harsh breath of his, hazel eyes meeting his fearlessly.
"Mister Faulkner, ye may nae knae this, but the Brits are quite diligent in their duty tae keep anyone…unsavory…from crossin' the ocean with less than legal goods. I think I've more than earned the coin, considerin' what we went through tae get it here, tae you." She stood and pressed her palms to the table, leaning so close that his eyes crossed. "Nae, if'n ye want the goods, ye'll be payin' for them. Elsewise, I've got another buyer glad tae pay my price." She waited a heartbeat, staring into his eyes, and smirked when the light went out of them. He sat heavily and she followed, delicately crossing one boot over the other. "Sae, the payment then?"
Ian set the coin purse on the table between them. "That should cover it," he muttered sullenly.
Maura nodded and Frost stepped forward to empty the pouch onto the table, muffling the clink of coins with the fabric. He set to counting them, drawing Ian's gaze. The man narrowed his eyes in confusion as he studied Frost, unaware of Maura's knowing gaze. "Ye think jes' 'cause he's of colored skin, that means he cannae learn, aye?"
Ian's head jerked back to her, surprised he was caught gawking. "No negro can count higher than the hands on his hands, they are simply incapable of higher cognitive abilities." He sounded assured and Frost's fingers curled around his pistol.
Maura set her hand on his forearm, squeezing in warning, before returning her attention to Ian, who had watched the exchange with interest. "Nae, Mister Faulkner, ye shouldnae be insultin' me crew like that, 'specially me good friend, Mister Frost. I'd keep yer mouth shut if'n ye want tae walk out o' here under yer own power."
He quailed beneath her eyes and lowered his deferentially, swallowing and folding his hands demurely on the table while Frost continued counting silently. A few minutes later, he nodded to Maura, who swept the coins back into the purse and hid them on her person, the entire hefty bag disappearing into the confines of her tunic. "Glad tae be concludin' our business with ye, Mister Faulkner. Come tae the docks in two days' time, an' we'll get ye loaded with yer goods an' be outtae yer hair. Good day." She dipped her head at him and she and Frost left the tavern, weaving through the throng of people crowding the streets. They stopped at a wide boulevard and Maura smiled up at Frost, the stern set of her face settling into a young and mischievous expression. "Nae, Mister Frost, what trouble shall we get intae today?"