Part three is finally up. Thanks to anyone who read. Please feel free to leave some constructive criticism, or review. I am welcome to suggestions (and/or compliments :D). Any spelling mistakes, etc are entirely my fault and I apologise.
Disclaimer: I do not own any POTC characters, which is lucky for them.
The Defiant Woman
The figure was bathed in the soft golden light of dusk. A wily smirk smeared his features as he admired the way her femininity was hidden beneath the shawls of uniform. He pondered how anyone be deceived by her straight posture and defiant expression. In a practised swoop, her hat left her head, the immaculate white wig beneath glimmering.
"You called me here sir."
"Yes indeed, please sit Captain Rochester."
Putting her puzzled expression aside, she fell elegantly into the carved chair opposite him. A menacing silence filled the room as he poured them both generous glasses of whiskey. His was gone within seconds, hers lingered a fraction longer.
"Captain Marcus Rochester," his smirk widened, "tell me, what is your real name?"
"You just said it, sir." Nevertheless, her features paled.
"You cannot seriously expect me to believe you are a man, Miss Rochester – presuming Rochester is your real name."
"Yes, sir, Rochester is my real name."
"So, does your crew know of your sex, Miss Rochester?"
"Captain, if you don't mind sir," her expression was stern; chocolate brown eyes boring into his, "and yes, my crew is well aware of my sex."
"I am curious as to how you managed to hoodwink yourself into the service. I personally will not have a woman captaining a vessel in my fleet."
"With all due respect sir!" she snarled, "I am just as good, if not better, than the male captains in the Company! My sex has nothing to do with it!"
"So you admit to lying about your sex?"
"If I am good enough for the Company, sir, I am good enough for you!"
White hot fury emulated from her. Despite himself, he smiled. He loved a defiant woman. "Quite the contrary, I assure you, Captain. You see, I was brought up the proper way. A woman's place is not aboard a ship."
"Oh, so what are we meant to do?" she did not even bother to keep her voice down, "women are just as capable as men, Lord Beckett! Not all of us want to be imprisoned as wives, mothers and whores!"
"Why ever not?"
Savagely, she got to her feet, a fiery glint in her eye, "I beg permission to leave, sir! I am needed aboard the Pennywise."
"You won't be her captain for long, Miss Rochester," he hissed, watching her sweep to the door. She spun on her feet aggressively to face him.
"I am the best damned captain the Pennywise can hope for. My crew trust me, the Company trusts me…and if you can not trust me, Lord Beckett, then perhaps it is you who should not be here – not me."
The door slammed shut with a deafening thud. Beckett smiled, "Ah, yes, I like her Mr Mercer, I like her a lot."
A man emerged from the shadows, his eyes as black as his clothing. His weather worn face and height encouraged an aura of fear. This was not a man to cross. "She is endearing sir, I can admit that." His soft Irish accent was nearly as menacing as his demeanour. "But not really your type is she?"
"A man needs a change, every now and again, Mr Mercer. You should know all about that! This should be quite the challenge."
ooo
Her men watched with apprehension as she took up her place behind the wheel. A snarl disfigured her usually pleasant features.
"How was Lord Beckett, Captain?" She turned to find Peterson, his worn features expressing concern.
Uncontrolled, her words bubbled up like magma, "That man is the most arrogant, self righteous, sexist, unfair, unappreciative, small-minded bastard I have ever met! The mere thought of following his orders makes me feel sick!"
"The meeting did not go well then?"
"Well, let's put it this way," she snarled, "if he has his way, you'll have a new captain by the end of the night!"
Before Peterson could reply, a short stubbly crewman named Frederick cried out, "Captain, we have a visitor!"
Sliding her gaze to the deck, she noted Beckett's tall, wraithlike assistant Mercer.
As he spoke, his menacing hiss sent shivers down her spine, "Madam Captain. Lord Beckett expresses an invitation to dine with him this evening."
"And why would Lord Beckett do that?" she replied haughtily, "to warm me up before he destroys my career and my life?"
"He has a proposal for you, Ma'am." Swiftly, he lowered himself into the long boat, "Dinner will be at seven, Madam Captain…I suggest you arrive promptly."
