Disclaimer: I own nothing. Hey, wait! There's a banana peel in the street! picks it up Hey, look at that! I own a banana peel. Ew . . . . shudders
Stealing His Ship
Chapter Three: Corsets
Brianne felt someone watching her. She opened her eyes, and sat up. It was Kendal again. "Stop bloody doin' that, would ye?" she protested as she got out of bed and opened one of the curtains, and the window behind it.
"Oh, no hangover then?" the pirate lass retorted with amusement.
"No, I don't have a damn hangover, thank ye. I didn't drink that much, but believe me, bein' with that bloke Sparrow can be pretty exhaustin'."
Sara gave her a look. "Exhausting, eh?" she said, grinning and raising her eyebrows.
"Not like that! For the last time, get yer mind out of the bloody gutter!!" Brianne exclaimed. She glanced at the bed, noticing that the corner of the sheet had come undone. She pulled the sheet off, and noticed there was still another one underneath.
"Welcome to my world," Sara muttered.
Brianne pulled yet another off, and found . . . a pink corset. "Bloody 'ell!" She turned to Kendal. "This wouldn't be yers, would it?"
"No of course it isn't mine!!"
Then Brianne finally put two and two together. "Ew! Oh, that is disgusting! I can't believe I slept there! Ew!" She reached under a corner of the mattress, and pulled up no less than the corners of sixteen more sheets. She threw the corner onto the middle of the bed, and then proceeded to do that with the other three corners. Finally she picked up the ball of sheets, with the corset in the middle, of course, and went outside the captain's quarters, to the railing on the deck. She threw the ball of sheets overboard, muttering, "Good riddance." There was no way that she would reuse those sheets; no amount of washing would get those clean.
She returned to the cabin to find Sara staring at the bed. Brianne looked, and saw that the one huge bed was actually two smaller beds that had been pushed together. "Well, that's interestin'." There was a pause, and then Brianne flew herself onto one of the beds. "This one's mine!" she called. It was the one closest to the window.
"You know, I really don't think you should have that one. With the amount of hangovers you undoubtedly are bound to have, wouldn't the sun be a bit on the bright side?" Sara thought for a second. "Although, now that I think of it, maybe you should have the one closest to the window. That way you can puke out the window, and not on me."
"Bloody 'ell, woman, what's with you and me havin' hangovers? And I can hold me rum, thank ye."
Sara muttered, "Fine," and started pushing her bed to the opposite side of the room, clearly the farthest possible from Brianne. Brianne shrugged, and went outside.
As she stepped out the door she was hit by a strong wind that nearly sent her bandana flying off. She quickly retied the long piece of cloth tightly around her dark brown hair, making sure that it would stay secure.
She looked around this time; last time she had been here she was so disgusted by the sheets she hadn't looked around at all, and last night she had been too tired, besides the fact that it was pitch black. Her eye caught the helm, and she grinned. How long has it been since I've touched one of those? she thought to herself. She walked over to it and wrapped her hands around the beautiful wood, closing her eyes in remembrance. Brianne took a deep breathe of the salty air, and was completely enjoying herself until she heard a voice break through the peace.
"What are you doing?" Brianne quickly took her hands off of the helm, her eyes snapping open. Sara was in front of her, right in front of the helm.
"Nothin'."
"Sure didn't look like nothing." Her eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't be messing with the helm anyways. That's my job."
"Oh, yer job, is it? I thought the idea was that we were stealin' this ship together. Ye never mentioned that ye just wanted me along to do all the dirty work, while ye get to play captain."
"Dirty work?" Kendal raised her eyebrows.
"Watchin' that bloke. Not as easy as it looks. While, of course, all ye have to do is conk two men over the head while they're just waitin' for a good time. Not exactly what I'd call hard work."
"Oh, and watching Sparrow was hard work? Please. All you have to do is keep ordering more rum, and make sure there's a prostitute on his lap. He's happy and completely content."
It was Brianne's turn to narrow her eyes. "Fine, since yer the bloody captain, why don't ye get the ship ready to go, bein' that we have a pretty fair wind and we definitely need to get away from this bloody rock and Sparrow. I'll go and . . . I don't know . . . make somethin' to eat, I guess," she retorted, shrugging and putting her hands in the air. "Have fun now." Of course that thought was absurd, Brianne hadn't cooked anything since . . . well, never, really. She was born a noble, and lived in Europe for fifteen years until she left to begin her life as a pirate. She lived with her mother; her father was a pirate, who disguised himself as being a merchant. In that aspect she was similar to William Turner, who Jack had told her and Sara about, and who had helped Sparrow get the Black Pearl back. Although Brianne did know that her father was a pirate, and William, whose father was Bootstrap Bill, had no idea until he met Sparrow. Since she had become a pirate she hadn't worked in the galley, because basically everything she tried to cook turned into a lump of charcoal. Yes, it was that bad.
Brianne turned on her heel and went below. It took her only two attempts to find the galley, and she went into the kitchen. Bloody Kendal, she thought angrily as she searched for something edible. She was content with an apple for now. As she ate it, she wandered around, and found herself in one of the holds.
She opened a chest, finding it full of umbrellas, dresses, and . . . corsets. "Ah, what fun," Brianne muttered sarcastically. She dug into another box, and found petticoats, and a few lacy long nightgowns. She looked back to the door to make sure Sara wasn't near, listened for a few moments, and then stuffed a few of them in a canvas bag that was lying on the floor. The bag had a drawstring, which she quickly pulled shut.
Brianne had a weird thing about nightgowns. As much as she loved wearing men's clothing most of the time, she still loved wearing nightgowns to bed. Besides being a little feminine (all right, a lot feminine), they were also extremely comfortable.
As she checked the rest of the chests, she found that they mostly contained similar items: dresses, petticoats, and the sort. There was one full of books. Brianne looked though them, and found one of her favorites: William Shakespeare's The Tempest. Taking both of these, she went back out to the deck. She put them both underneath her bed, and went up into the crow's nest to keep lookout, completely ignoring Sara.
"You think you could help a little? She called up, annoyance clearly displayed in her voice.
"No, captain, I don't think so. Looks like ye've got it all taken care of. I'm keeping the lookout, thank ye" Brianne heard the lass huff, and her footsteps went towards the lee side of the ship.
Brianne watched as the sun went down, the sunset seeming to almost explode in hues of reds, purples, and blues. She sighed as she saw the other pirate lass come down from the crow's nest. They had switched a few hours after noon, but neither of them had said a word. Sara had just come up, sat down, and raised her eyebrows, her eyes conveying the message, "Well, are ya going down there or not?"
With this thought still swimming around inside her brain, she went down from the crow's nest where she had resided all day, back to the galley to gather something to eat. Earlier, around noon, Brianne supposed, Sara had handed her some food without saying a word. Once she had finished the misfit dinner she went back up, deciding that now was as good a time as any to go to bed.
She slipped into the room quietly, thinking that Sara might be asleep already. However, she wasn't even in the room. Brianne briefly wondered where she might be, and then decided that it didn't really matter, she would be back eventually. She opened the canvas bag and pulled out The Tempest, along with one of her nightgowns. I am a peculiar pirate indeed, she thought. She had noticed that when she thought something, the words tended to come out rather proper, why this was, she had no clue. Probably just another side effect of being born wealthy, no matter what you do to try and change, something just still stays there.
She had settled down into the bed she had made a while earlier that day, and began reading, when Sara came through the door, which closed quite loudly.
"Be a bi' louder, would ye?" Brianne asked sarcastically. Sara turned
around cockily and slammed the door again, the noise reverberating off
the walls. "Yeah, thank ye," Brianne said sarcastically.
Sara eyed Brianne's nightgown oddly.
"Don' ask," Brianne mentioned.
She looked at the book. "Shakespeare's Tempest? Wow, who knew you had it in you? I didn't know you could read, let alone comprehend the big words of William Shakespeare. Mighty strange how the world turns."
Brianne abruptly looked up from her book. "You know what your problem is? You judge people entirely too quickly. Here it is, and I've known you for a total of two and a half days. And because on one," she held up a finger," of those nights I had earlier had a very hard day, needed a break from life, and got a bit drunk, you think that I'm completely uneducated, and that every night of mine is like that. Well, I'll tell you something. You're wrong. And until you can get over this problem, you're always going to be rubbing someone the wrong way. You really do need to get over this 'holier than thou' attitude. Just because you don't drink does not make you superior to me." She paused for a second. "I know that I had too many drinks that night. However, you have no perception of anything that had happened to me that day, nor do I suppose you care. I'll have you notice one thing though. That night, did I end up in someone's bed? No. Did I end up lying in a puddle of my own blood out on the streets? No. So you need to realize something. There are only two real differences between you and me. You don't drink, and you don't swear. I do. Other than that, we are both women, we are both pirates, and we are both captains. You need to understand this, and stop treating me like a subordinate.""Crud, it was just a joke," Sara responded.
Brianne glared at Sara, her anger clearly not abated. "Okay look, the truth is I have a lot of things in my past that make mescared of drunks, okay? And when I get scared, I try to convince myself
that I'm not vulnerable, and that usually means lashing out and attacking the person who makes me nervous. I don't trust easily, I don't care about people easily, at least not often, and I never stick around long
enough to know how I affect people." Sara remarked.
Brianne looked at her for a few moments, going over what she had said. She sighed. "Okay, I see where you're coming from. However, you still need to stop trying to judge me so quickly. You don't know me, and you don't know anything about my life. Until you do, you really need to chill, okay?"
Sara looked away for a moment, then briefly looked back toward Brianne as she nodded, quickly leaving the room right after.
Brianne sighed. The lass was completely confusing to her, but she had met people similar to Sara before, only usually they were worse. People who had been hurt, and so they built a shield around themselves, not getting close to anyone, and making sarcastic remarks to cover it up. Yes, Brianne had met the type, and she had been the type at one point in her life.
She turned back to the Tempest, and continued reading for a while until she noticed that her eyelids were drooping and she had stopped actually reading a few minutes ago. She blew out the oil lamp and lay down. Sara still hadn't come back yet.
It took Brianne a while to get to sleep, but the pirate lass at last drifted off to a deep sleep until . . .
BANG! Brianne heard the door bang open loudly, and she sat straight up in bed, the top part of the blanket falling to her waist. She swore harshly as the moonlight revealed a rather angry looking Jack Sparrow.
"Ugh, Brianne, I realize you were a bit angry about me slammin' the door, but please stop the bloody racket . . ." Sara muttered, turning over in her sleep. Evidently she had come in some time after Brianne had fallen asleep.
Jack spoke. "Ah, so ye helped th' lass steal me ship, did ye?" he asked Sara. She just rolled over again, putting the pillow on top of her head.
"Oh, Sparrow, so ye think it was me who thought up the plan, do ye?" Brianne asked him. She felt like laughing, but she didn't.
"Aye, like –she-" he gestured to Sara, "could think up a plan like tha'. It was yer doin', no doubt." He paused. "By th' way, nice nightgown."
Brianne looked down, remembering it, and crossed her arms over her chest, in the chance that it might be not-so-opaque as she would like.
Sara sat up. "And why couldn't I have thought up the plan to steal your ship? Actually, how did ye get here in the first place?"
Sparrow looked at her. "You forgot one thing, mate. I'm Captain Jack
Sparrow."
Brianne narrowed her eyes. "I've heard ye sing the same tune before, and it means as little now as it did then, Jack."
"Well, actually luv, yer on my ship, so it's Captain, not Jack, to you."
"This is my ship!" Sara announced. Brianne looked sharply over at her. "Well, our ship, more like, but still, it isn't yours! I've had it over 24 hours, which means it's mine. I – I mean, we – stole it fair and square."
"Ye stole somethin' fair and square? Isn't that an oxymoron?"
"Wow Jack, you actually know what an oxymoron is. And here I was, thinking you were a –complete- idiot," Sara remarked.
Jack didn't have a response to that apparently, so he changed the subject. "And wha' did ye bloody do to me bed? Wha', did ye fight over wantin' to be where I've slept so much that ye split the bed in 'alf?"
Brianne shuddered. "No, ye mangy cad! That's . . . ew! And also, the bed was actually two, and ye had about thirty sheets on it! Disgustin', really."
"Interestin'," he muttered. "Well, ye lasses best be getting' yer sleep, ye've got a lot of work t' be doin' tomorrow."
"What?" Sara asked sharply. "Who says?"
"I do," Jack answered simply.
"You and what army?"
"Well, now tha' ye mention it, the crews out on the deck, waitin' for me to give the signal tha' everythin' is all clear."
Again, Brianne swore harshly. She paused for a few moments. "Hey, Jack, ye remember, ye owe me a favor."
"Aye, I remember. What are ye wantin'?"
"The ship," she answered shortly.
"Well, how about this. The favor will be lettin' ye two live, and not throwin' ye into Davy Jones', savvy?"
Brianne just glared at him. He turned around, left the room, and shut the door. "That bloody bastard," she muttered.
"The ship's not his. It isn't. I still say we stole it fair and square," Sara declared. Brianne just ignored her. It was her fault Brianne was in this mess in the first place. She lay back down, pulling the blanket back over her shoulders, nearly falling right asleep. She didn't want to wake up. Then she'd have to deal with Jack.
Brianne heard more banging on the door. 'Goodness, please tell me that was indeed just a dream. I don't want to have to deal with that idiot again. Please, let last night have been a dream.' The banging continued, showing Brianne that it clearly wasn't. "Dammit," she muttered, climbing out of bed and opening the door. "Damn ye, Sparrow, what the hell do ye want?"
He looked at the nightgown, and again she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Actually, I wan' t' have a little chat with ye and the other lass."
Brianne went back inside, and sat on the bed. She had decided it would be best just to go along with him as best she could so she could get off this bloody ship and away from Jack as soon as she could. She went over to Sara, who for once was still asleep, and nudged her arm. She just stirred a little. Brianne shook her arm again, and this time it when flying, backhanding Brianne's face with enough force to turn her head quite painfully.
"Bloody 'ell, gel, why'd ye do that?! A simple, 'Fine, I'm getting up,' would have worked just fine! Even a 'Bloody heck! Leave me alone,' would have done better!" Brianne screamed at her. She looked at Jack, who was laughing. "What is yer damn problem Sparrow?"
He just shook his head, laughing too hard to comment.
"Aye, well if ye won' tell me wha' yer problem is –though it is perhaps a symptom of mental illness, if you were to ask me- why did ye wan' to talk to us," Brianne said. By this time Sarah had sat up in bed, still inside the blanket.
"Actually, I've go' a proposition for ye."
"Wow, proposition, that's a big word," Sara muttered, but he ignored her.
"Well bein' tha' ye two are on my ship, I'm thinkin' I won't be lettin' ye just sit here until we get to some port where we can drop ye off. Yer goin' t'hafta earn yer food and quarters, same as anyone who's in me crew. Though ye won' be gettin' any of me plunder."
"Yes, well first, this is my ship, Robin, so your proposition means nearly nothing to me," Sara stated.
Brianne looked at her, confused. "Robin?" she asked.
"Robin, Sparrow, same difference."
"This is not-" Sparrow began, but Brianne interrupted him. "I've go' a better idea, Jack," as Sparrow muttered, "Captain, it's Captain." "Ye still owe me a favor for when I picked ye off tha' bloody island ye had been marooned on. Tha' time, I let ye become par' of me crew for a while. I'm askin' the same from ye."
Jack thought that over for several moments. "Ye know, tha's not a bad idea. There is the subject of punishment for stealin' me ship, though."
"My ship," Sara said, sounding almost childish in her stubbornness.
"Ye know, I have half a mind to just lock ye in the brig. Or perhaps maroon ye, tha' would be nice. At leas' get ye out of my sight," Jack snapped.
"You're going to lock me in my own brig? That's really hysterical. I think you might be right for once, Brianne, I think he may have a mental illness."
Brianne grinned. "I'm always right, wha' can I say?"
"Corsets."
She looked at Jack, very much confused. "Corsets? Tha's what I can say?" She looked back at Sara, mouthing 'mental'.
"No, you're going to be wearing corsets. Tha's the punishment," Jack stated. He looked like he was trying very hard to grin, but with little luck.
Brianne visibly paled. "No, Jack, I don't think so. Sara couldn't get me into a corset, and I very highly doubt that you will be able to. I honestly don't see it coming. Oh, no, I think not."
"You're not getting me into a bloody corset, Pigeon," Sara declared.
"Aye, I am. And it's no' pigeon, it's Sparrow. Actually come t'think of it it's Captain Sparrow."
"I'm not calling you captain until you call me captain." She paused. "Back to your first statement. You and what army?" Sara raised her eyebrows.
Jack grinned. "Well, th' crew volunteered, Kendal."
Brianne looked at Jack. "Fine, I'll pu' it on meself. No way am I having ye and the crew puttin' it on me."
He answered, "Aye, but the thing abou' corsets is ye can have quite a hard time of puttin' them on all by yer onesies. So who do ye wan' t'help, me or Kendal?"
She replied instantly, "Sara. No' ye. Never ye." She figured he might as well know that the other night she was drunk, and she wanted nothing to do with him still.
"Well ye were a little bi' more friendly nigh' before las', but tha's fine." He turned to Sara, grinning. "Ye goin' to put it on, or are we goin' to have to force ye?"
"You'll never take me alive!" Sara proclaimed dramatically, and Brianne snorted.
"I'll take tha' as a no. Well then, here's Brianne's, I'll save the pink one for ye, luv." He opened a drawer and pulled out a cream colored one, then left the room.
Brianne turned to Sara. "He just keeps those lying around in bloody drawers?" She shuddered. She looked down at the corset, then at her nightgown, and her clothes lying on a chair next to her bed. There was no way she was going to be wearing a dress right along with a corset, talk about utter shame. But she wasn't going to wear it over her shirt, and there was no way she was going to bloody chafe. Then she spotted one of the knives that she kept in her boot. Aha. After pulling on her breeches under the nightgown, she started to cut the material at her waist. Sara had watched all of this with doubt written on her face, still sitting in bed with the blanket wrapped around her. "Get ou' of bed and help me put this cursed thing on!"
Several moments later . . .
"Ow! Why does it have to be so bloody tight?" Brianne was standing up, and Sara had her foot on Brianne's back, pulling the strings of the corset as tight as humanly possible.
"Paybacks are wonderful, aren't they, Macki," Brianne heard from behind her.
"But that one had to be tight for a reason, this is just plainly inhumane!"
Sara didn't answer, and tied the strings. "There."
Brianne looked down. "Sheer willpower, I swear. Luckily I'm wearing a shirt over this bloody device." She opened one of the drawers, pulling out one of Jack's shirts. No use in wearing a shirt that looked like a corset over a corset. They heard the door open, and turned around.
Brianne walked over to him, glaring. "I hope yer bloody happy."
"Oh, I am, darlin', I am." That stupid grin was back on his face.
"And wha' is it that I'm to be doin' today?" Brianne asked, still glaring.
"Well if I'm rememberin' right, the first one I was given by ye was swabbin' the deck. But one, I'm not ye, and two, I'm thinkin' of leavin' that particular job for Sara here. However I do believe we need some help in the galley.
"I don't cook. At all. Unless what ye really desire to eat more than anythin' is lumps of coal. Then I might be able to cook."
"Oh, I wasn't thinkin' of cookin'. More along the lines of dishes. The crew's just finished eatin' breakfast."
"Fine."
After several sinkful's of dishes, mopping the galley, and basically all other domestic jobs Jack could think of, Brianne finally was out on the deck, getting some fresh air. Earlier she had met the cook, who was called 'Wool', for what reason, Brianne didn't really know. However, they had gotten on quite well. Wool was a very large, burly man somewhere in his mid-forties, with a tawny beard and no hair at all on top of his head.
Brianne walked over to Sara, who was sitting down with her arms folded, looking quite unhappy. "So I see they finally got it on ye."
"What?" Sara asked.
"The corset," Brianne said, raising her eyebrows.
"What corset? I'm not wearing a corset," Sara replied stubbornly, as if pretending it wasn't there would make it actually not be there.
She rolled her eyes, and then looked back at Sara, a mischievous look on her face. "Where's Jack?"
"Well, he stumbled up here, inebriated beyond all belief, and, forgetting that we had taken over the captain's quarters, fell asleep in your bed."
"Bloody bugger." Brianne paused. "Ye know, Sara, I think I'm having a thought here."
"You know, Brianne, I'm thinking that whenever one of us says 'I'm having a thought here,' it's bad luck. I really do."
"But I'm clearly reminded about what you were saying earlier about payback."
"Aye, go on." Sara looked vaguely intrigued.
"Well, actually I was thinkin' about payback and corsets. How do you think dear old captain would feel about wakin' up in one?"
The next morning Brianne and Sara woke up, and Jack was still fast asleep. Last night they had put the corset on him, but they knew that that wouldn't be enough. They had to make sure the whole crew was there to see it.
After going down to the galley and bring up a large pot and two serving spoon, they went outside the doors to their room.
"Ye ready?" Brianne asked Sara. She nodded, and they started beating on the pot with the spoon, causing an extremely large amount of noise. They only continued for a couple seconds, then went around the corner, peeking their heads out.
Sparrow walked out of his room, a painful look on his face. "What's all the bloody ruckus about?" he exclaimed. The crew looked at him, and cracked up laughing. He looked down, and ripped the corset off. After scanning the crew, he asked loudly, "Where's Macki and Kendal?" One of the crew pointed to where Brianne and Sara were hiding, and the grins were wiped off of their faces.
"Uh oh."
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