Stormalong
Chapter Four: Persuasion
Jack returned to the Pearl, alone and unsmiling, in the late afternoon. Some of the crew were helping with repairs already, along the waterfront, but when they saw their captain headed toward the ship they dropped what they were doing and followed him back. He boarded, strode to the companion to the quarterdeck, trotted halfway up, then turned and leaned one hip casually on the rail, facing them. They gathered, just below.
"Is she ready to come back, Captain?" Mr. Gibbs opened, doubtfully.
"Excellent question, Mr. Gibbs. I'm thinking not, but I shall do my best to persuade her of the advisability of that course this evening. If you'll please see to a nice light supper for us, and a bath prepared for her, I'll see to the rest of the arrangements." As he'd expected, there was a ripple of amusement. Jack let it die down, and then continued. "However, unless me powers of persuasion are more persuasive than that moral compass of hers, it's all too likely she'll dig in her heels and refuse to accompany us back to uncivilized parts. If that's the case, I'll be staying, too, I reckon."
"We'll all be stayin'!" asserted Ragetti, and a chorus of ayes followed.
Jack did smile a bit at that. "That right? I must admit, I'm very glad to hear it, very glad indeed. But I want you all to consider." He pointed a long finger at them. "This plague they've got here is no laughing matter. Any one of us could be struck down. It's a risk, for each and every one of us, and if any man's not full willing to lay his life on that particular line I won't hold it against him, and nor will any of you, savvy?" He paused for effect, then said, "See me at the end of the morning watch if you'd like to leave. It wouldn't come amiss to send a message to the Cove, and they've a nice little schooner available for commandeering."
The men looked around at each other, but none spoke, or appeared to even consider it. Still, one never knew.
Jack said, finally, "All right, back to work. Her Nibs'll be here before dark and I want all to be ready for her. Off you go, now!" And he straightened and shooed them to their tasks with a flutter of fingers.
o-o-o
Jori walked Elizabeth down to the waterfront just at sunset, then bid her "Bonne nuit!", returning to the church and his duties. Elizabeth wearily wondered if he ever slept, and, for perhaps the hundredth time, marveled at his unflagging good humor and energy. The sight of the Pearl and the Empress tied close together at the docks was always a sight to lift her heart, but it had rarely been more welcome than it was at present.
She knew, of course, that Jack would argue with her, try to persuade her to leave the people of Île Sainte-Thérèse to whatever fate had in store for them, but she also knew that she had only to stand firm. She had been relieved he had not seemed angry, as she had half expected he might, and that he had not insisted they speak in private earlier. Showing him the situation had been far more effective than any words she might have conjured. But had it been effective enough? Even if no other argument swayed him, surely he would admit that repairing the rift between Cove and Île was a most desirable outcome.
Lord, she was tired. Too tired to hold her own in any sort of brangle with Jack. All she wanted to do was wash the sweat and grime from her body and sleep, dreamless, for a year.
But one could not remain too downhearted when there were greetings coming from various members of both crews as she walked the length of the wharf, past the Empress and on to the Black Pearl. A couple of men were busy lighting the Pearl's lamps, on transom, deck, and high on each yard-end, a cheering sight. And Mr. Gibbs was waiting for her at the top of the gangplank.
"Sure, it's a fine evening, Your Highness. Welcome to the Black Pearl."
Her mouth twisted in a wry smile at the form of address, and at the echo of Barbossa's ominous words, uttered so very long ago, but she thanked Gibbs and headed toward the Great Cabin, determined to at least look the epitome of calm strength.
This resolve lasted until she went in and closed the door behind her.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, she took in the scene: the heavy brocade drapes over the gallery windows drawn not-quite closed, letting in a glimpse of the fading sunset; a few beeswax candles and lamps lit here and there, dispelling the somewhat gloomy grandeur; the big carved table laid with a cold supper – fresh fruit, bread and butter, a roasted fowl, and was that a plate of her favorite sweetmeats? The ornate porcelain-lined bathtub that Jack had pirated from a very irate governor's wife stood in one corner, wisps of steam rising from it, and a copper kettle of water keeping warm beside it. In the other corner, the big bed was neatly turned down, its linens looking fresh and utterly inviting. And best of all, Jack was coming toward her, a glass of wine in either hand, eyes worried, but lips smiling.
Her own eyes stung with the threat of tears, and she bit her lip to stop a tremor as she took both glasses from him, setting them down on the small table by the door. And then she kissed him.
It was a long kiss, or a series of them, actually, scattered with murmured endearments, and heart-stopping, as Sparrow-kisses were wont to be: experience leavened with a revelation of the soul that never failed to astonish her. The feel of him, lithe and sleek and fit under the loose shirt… the scent of him, the taste… it fleetingly occurred to her that there was nothing else she needed in all the world at that moment than his arms about her, just like this.
At last, she clung to him and said, low and rather unsteady, "Jack… I'm going to stay."
He hugged her close, and sighed. "It's a bad risk, darlin'."
"I know. But… please." She felt a tear slip down her cheek, and blotted it surreptitiously against his shoulder.
He was silent for a moment, as though debating, his hand caressing the back of her head. But then he turned his face and kissed her temple, and said, "All right."
A weight seemed to lift from her heart.
o-o-o
He undressed her with his own hands while she sipped her wine, his eyes warm and then warmer as he bared her to his gaze, and she could not help but chuckle at him: rogue, dear friend, tender lover. He sat beside her on a stool as she bathed and soaked, "admiring the view", speaking with her of inconsequential things, his recent journey, gossip from the Cove, maintenance of the Pearl and the Empress. He refused her more wine, until she'd had a bite of supper – "Might fall asleep before I can ravish you, eh?" – and then brought the food to her when she complained of this churlish treatment. He fed her, bit by bit, like some cherished pet – so absurd, so dear! But then he gave her another glass, cool and crisp, and a little sweet.
She must have dozed briefly, for she was suddenly aware of the glass being taken from her hand. She flushed, and said, "You were right about falling asleep."
But he waggled his brows at her and grabbed the towel that lay ready. "Up! Up!"
He helped her to rise and step from the water. She toweled herself dry while he fetched her brush, a very fine one with a tortoiseshell back that she kept on the Pearl for such occasions. She stood still, willing herself not to think but only feel, as he plucked the pins from her hair and then brushed it out, carefully, thoroughly. She could not say for certain, of course, but she could not help but wonder at him, wonder if he was as different from other men in his coddling of her as he was different from them in appearance. It was a mystery…
The brush was set down on the stool, and then he was there behind her, the sweep of his clothing all along her back and legs, his arms slipping 'round her, his hands beginning to move over her. A kiss on her shoulder. His palms warm over her breasts, then pinching just enough to make her give a soft gasp at the shock that ran down her body. His left arm stilled her as his right ventured lower, a whisper over her skin, and lower still, light and ruffling, then pressing, teasing.
"Awake enough?" His voice purred against her ear.
She turned in his arms, laughing, undone. "Bed. Now!"
He grinned.
o-o-o
Some time in the midst of their coupling, their mood changed. Gentle play, and languorous caresses gave way to something more urgent. Something more desperate.
Thought had intruded. Elizabeth could see it in Jack's eyes and she knew he could see it in hers. There had been too much of everything, these last days, and too much death above all, but here was life, the essence of it. The chance of it.
They struggled and gripped, and then tore at each other, gasps and muffled cries mingling, hard kisses, a bite here, a bruise there. They were close, now, close and Elizabeth clutched him to her when he would have pulled away, her eyes flashing, his dark ones gone wide with something that might have been fear, or wonder or both. And he gave in to her then, a spasm almost like rage crossing his features before he bent his head and slid his hand under her hips to pull her hard against him.
She cried out, arching and thrashing beneath him as the agony of that horizon came suddenly upon her, and then his lips found hers once more, muffling their cries as the wave broke over them, she felt him shudder and shudder, and she held him tight, clinging fiercely to life even as they drowned.
o-o-o
They were not asleep, not yet. The moon stole through the gap in the drapes, silent silver light pooling upon the black sole of the cabin. Elizabeth stirred slightly against Jack's side, needing that keener awareness of his body, warm and alive, and pressed against hers.
His eyes were closed, his lashes, dark and full enough to cause a woman envy, fanned against his high cheekbones, but he groped and found her hand, and brought it to his lips.
"Jack…"
He turned his head, regarding her now. "Mmm?"
"If the worst should happen…" She hesitated, but he turned over onto his side to face her.
"I'll take you out," he said. "To Will."
She loosed her hand and reached up to run the backs of her fingers light over the edge of his beautiful face. "And Jamie?"
"He'll be fine."
Elizabeth nodded. Jack drew her close again, and she let go at last, the beat of his heart steady under her hand, drifting into dreamless sleep.
TBC
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