Usual disclaimers – if you recognise it from the movie it isn't mine... but everything else is!
If you have read my Jack and Kitty tales then please take a big step backwards. There is no Kitty here – the Kitty tales have nothing to do with this tale. Jack is, initially, not as nice... but he is a pirate after all!
I must say two very special thank yous before posting the first chapter of this tale...
Firstly to Mul – my proof-reading beta who keeps me in line.
Secondly to Ani – my fellow poppet and friend who helps me bash my head against the wall when I get stuck plot-wise and even occasionally comes up with a few suggestions! Runs away and hides from Ani! Mwhahahahaha!
Okay... here goes then... please remember though that Bessie is nothing like Kitty and was specifically written to give me a break from typing Kitty!
And thanks to Gale Storm's eagle eyes for my typo of Granada/Grenada. It is GRENADA, and has been corrected!
###
Chapter 1 - Discoveries
Captain Jack Sparrow downed yet another rum as he sat in the dingy, smoky tavern overlooking the docks of Port of Spain, Trinidad. Sourly he realised that it had been watered. He did not complain, unwilling to draw attention to his conversation in the corner booth. He was grateful that nobody had called the watch. The authorities could be so touchy at times for so little reason even in such delightful establishments as the Golden Mermaid. Luckily the bar girls were as busy as the whores and none of them had time for the two men apparently sitting quietly talking.
"She had pale blonde hair just like you described! Nearly white! Honest!" the filthy man sitting opposite him pleaded, looking desperately at his hand pinned to the table by Jack's boot dagger. "I'm telling you the truth Sparrow! Grenada! She's on Grenada!"
"That's Captain Sparrow," Jack sneered, leaning closer. "I trust yer'll be rememberin' in future..."
"Yes... yes Captain!" The man would have wriggled away, but Jack kept his hand over the dagger, his dangling unbuttoned cuff hiding the weapon from general view.
"Where on Grenada?" he pressed, his kohl-rimmed eyes glinting in the light, barely able to keep the excitement from his voice. At last he was getting closer. "St Georges?"
"No, not St Georges..." the filthy man gasped in pain. "The other side... east!" Jack twisted the dagger slightly. "No! No! I swear I know nothing else!" the pinned man pleaded desperately.
Jack studied him carefully before slowly removing his dagger. He wiped the blood from it on the man's tattered sleeve. "If I find you are lying..." he threatened.
"I told you the truth," the man winced, holding his hand to him, nursing it to his chest. Blood seeped through his fingers, further staining his dirty shirt.
Jack stared at him. "If yer haven't," he warned, "I'll find yer an' I'll kill yer!" He held the man's gaze, ensuring that his threat was understood before rising fluidly from the chair and swaying as if drunk towards the door. Now he had a target and the search for Horace Masters' gold could continue - on Grenada!
###
Jack looked at the slight woman as she tiredly trudged up the hilly track towards him, oblivious to his presence in the darkening gloom. She was not what he had been expecting. She was obviously working in one of the grand houses that ringed the hillside overlooking the harbour - her grey clothes were filthy and her white blonde hair poked haphazardly from beneath the demure maid's cap that she wore. She looked younger than he had thought she would - indeed, she was more of a girl than a woman, although she greatly resembled her mother as he remembered her from his youth. Bessie Masters, only child of Horace and Elsje Masters, and his last chance of finding the map. It had been his special project for a number of years now, ever since he had regained the Black Pearl, for Bessie had been hard to find, moving from island to island and changing her name as often as she seemed to change her job. But finally he had tracked her to the small town of Grenville on the island of Grenada, having crossed palms with gold or threatened violence many times when the gold did not work. He wanted Horace Masters' hidden gold and he was not leaving without the map.
He watched intently as she walked towards a ramshackle wooden hut half- hidden by the trees, struggling to open the battered blue door. "Damn!" He cursed quietly to himself, hearing her call out to somebody for he had thought she lived alone - or so his informant had claimed. Cautiously he crept closer, brown eyes squinting through a crack in one of the sun- bleached planks on the side of the hut. His eyes widened in surprise, realising that his stealth was to be rewarded by a pleasurable sight that he had not expected to see. Dressed only in her thin, threadbare undershift she was washing her work clothes, a sinuous grey tabby cat twisting around her ankles mewing for attention. A single candle gave a dim light as she worked, rinsing and then wringing the fabric tightly. Quietly singing to herself she turned, her undershift taut on her body as she stretched upwards to hang the wet clothes across a beam to dry overnight.
Jack grinned in delight as he watched her awkwardly reach down an old tin bath from a hook in the rafters, realising she intended to bathe. He froze, hugging the darkness as she left the hut to collect a bucket of water from the nearby stream. She heated it over the fire, hungrily munching on a crust of bread whilst she waited. Bucket after bucket she heated until he guessed that the bath must be nearly full. He leered as she stripped off her undershift, standing there naked in the candlelight before climbing into the bath. A frown creased his brow as he saw livid bruises on her body and momentarily he wondered what had happened to her. He shrugged - it was none of his business. He was here for the map that would lead him to the gold, nothing more and nothing less.
Jack tried to calm his breathing, as his body responded to the sight before him. He smiled as she climbed from the bath, rubbing herself dry before padding towards him. He licked his lips as she lay down, briefly treating him to an extremely close view of her bottom before pulling a blanket over her. He smiled - a damp, naked young woman wrapped in a blanket was delightfully vulnerable and he had every intention of exploiting that vulnerability to the full.
###
Bessie blew out the candle and lay down on the rickety bed, her cat Daffodil jumping through the open window as she went off in search of night time prey. Apart from an occasional piece of meat, Daffodil had to feed herself - Bessie's money would not stretch to feeding another mouth. Indeed, often it failed to feed herself. Luckily there were plenty of rats and mice down by the docks and, tail in the air, she resolutely went in search of her supper. Bessie sighed heavily as she pulled the coarse blanket around her shoulders, settling down to sleep on the uncomfortable, straw-filled mattress, unaware of the man staring at her bottom just inches from where she lay. It had been a long day and tomorrow would start before dawn.
She was tired. Tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of curtseying to people with money but no manners and most of all she was tired of being frightened. She hoped that she had shaken the pirates off, that she could live a normal life, perhaps even settle down, marry, have children - but she knew in her heart that until her father's treasure was found she would have no peace. Even though he had been dead these past eleven years still they searched. They had chased her mother to her grave, leaving her alone when she had been just twelve years old, and she feared that she too would suffer the same fate. Dejectedly she shut her eyes and was asleep in just a few moments.
###
Reviews?
