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Pirate Quote! Is the jar of dirt going to 'elp?
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H e a r t I n A H e a d l o c k
Stowing away on a ship isn't entirely an easy process, but not impossible if you have the correct attributes. You must be rather small and plain, easy to blend in with the low lives of the crew who drift on and off the ship. Also, there must be more than an empty hole upon your shoulders, without the common sense to hide and to be hidden you surely will be discovered and, depending on the crew, killed or worse. It is also a game of luck, stowing away, if you choose to hide amongst the powder and the ship falls prey, or preys, to pirates, then you will be found; however, generally, it is smarter to hide there than amongst the rum. Never hide amongst the rum.
Lou was good at sneaking on ships. She knew the way they worked, the functions of most captains, and the way to use those to her advantage, but… The Pearl was nearly impossible. It's men were on half-shifts, someone always moving, orders came from two captain who were in constant disagreement. It was chaos, a type of chaos that does not lend itself to weaknesses, which is quite assuredly rare but definitely possible. It was easy to tell which orders were Barbossa's, very straight forward and cutting, they were harsh in appearance as he was, but really just trying to get the most out of what he was given. A good man, not as honest as most, but nonetheless a good man… Jack's orders were so roundabout. They told Lou enough of the man's personality to realize she cared even less for him than she thought she did.
After over half a day of hiding, of clinging, to the front, sides, and rigging of a ship Lou felt like she had been in retirement far too long. Her arms and legs ached in ways she couldn't remember them ever hurting before, her hands were pruned and bloated from the stress and salt, her hair was windblown but held in a high pony-tail by a piece of thick leather, stray curls falling around her face to frame it, and she had several extremely uncomfy cramps located in her buttocks. In short, she looked and felt a far cry away from the woman who yesterday sang at the Gilded Garter. Once again, in a loose linen shirt that was open to her heart and a pair of tight riding britches, she was the feared femme fatale, Lou Rivera, here to use ass and to later kick it.
"Never, Lou, never allow yourself to talk yourself into hiding aboard a vessel ever again, alright?" She wasn't even really listening to herself though, stuck behind a very foul smelling barrel of what was probably pickled -- feet. Her head was constantly showered, with every rock of the boat, with liquid from someplace, that someplace she sincerely hoped was not the barrel. Pickled feet just couldn't be the right cologne for her, no matter how grungy her inner-pirate told her to become. A sigh brought her the stench of vinegar. This time, when she thought to herself, don't you ever stow away again, she heard herself. Body, soul, she decided she hated the Pearl, or at least the galley of it.
Jack Sparrow. Somehow he had been the cause of all of this. In a way, really, she was to blame. Louene got involved because of her choices, and, although the girl had chosen to leave with him of her own free will, she was beginning to regret almost all of them. If she had left Blaze there than she probably would have done fine. There, of course, was no real way to ensure that, but with Lou she was definitely facing danger. A possible danger was far less dangerous in actuality than an already noticeably dangerous one, or that was how the guilt inside of Lou rationalized it all out. She beat her head against her knees, legs held in close to her chest trying to keep her mass as compact as possible, and cursed a certain freedom-obsessed individual. However, if she had known exactly what was occurring directly above her head at that precise moment, Lou would have been exceptionally more perturbed at our Captain Sparrow, so upset in fact that his state of living would have most likely been severely retarded by a knife or two.
Unfortunately for the ex-pirate turned pirate again, she hadn't been quite as sneaky as she thought when entering the current hubby in which she was staying. Who would want to fiddle with pickled pig parts? Mister Gibbs is the answer to that question. The old, badger-like individual had an uncanny love for all kinds of salty pork and had sent young Mack to procure some for him. It was a simple trek that the boy took quite frequently for the older gentleman, always ready to get a head by any brown-nosing methods possible.
And so the lad had stood on the other side of the barrel ready to pop the lid off as gently as possible, grab the meat, and run away as quickly as possible from the horrid smell. He had been waiting for the rocking of the boat to subside a little, which was definitely good, because as he had stood there, he heard a pitiful, soft sigh from the floor on the other side of the box. His mouth had opened wide, about to tell the pitiful weasel on the floor to get his arse up before he tore it off, Mack was known for such bouts of eloquence, but before he got a chance the figure had spoken. No, this definitely wasn't some lazy crewman, some childish whelp, this -- this was the bloody enemy. He had briefly met Cap'n Rivera, although, he hadn't known at the time that she had been the fanciful character of whom he had heard stories. She had been a bar wench to him, cheeky and very pretty, but not very important. Something the young boy had never felt before bubbled greatly, a timidness, a want to keep safe, he knew there was no way he would call her out. He wanted to, he told himself to, but he knew he would never hurt such a broken-winged butterfly. Slowly he formed a plan for his songstress, a plan to keep her free and fluttering in the sea breeze. Without question, he would be sabotaging his own ship unless he went and made it known to the Captain. He would have to, but he would have to go with such a thought that the bloke would see as he did, do as he willed, and allowed the girl to keep herself free.
Jack was luckily, for everyone, quite a rational person. When Mack had come and told him the news immediately he had wanted to swoop her up and lock her away in the brig. It would certainly be okay to just lock her away until they got to port, right? No, he thought of the account Barbossa had told of his brief encounter with the girl, no, she would not allow herself to be kept locked up with that Blaze lass. She would escape and run so far that he would have absolutely no idea of where she had gone.
Mack stood in front of his Captain, who was leaning back in his chair feet on the large circular, ebony-wooded table before him, and waited for him to come to some sort of decision. Much to his displeasure he found his hands fraying the already broken fabric at the bottom of his vest, a nervous tendency that he had made himself stop. How could such a slip of a woman, one far more rough than what he would have normally described as alluring, be able to affect him so much. His boyish heart was actually worried about her. Something inside of him wanted to keep her protected and that part of himself refused to be ignored.
"What would ye suggest be done 'bout this little dilemma ye 'ave brought before me, young Master Mack?" Jack fixed a darkly shaded eye on the boy, calculating his response. He turned his head just slightly to the side, offering the boy a view more of the underside of his chin than of his face, and awaited an answer. There was a silence in the air that very thick feeling.
Mack himself didn't know what to bloody think. The Captain was giving him a chance to effect his decision. It was unlike him, stranger than usual, to give anyone else a say in his own actions and opinions. Immediately he wanted to pour out his opinions. That they should leave the girl be, let her follow her own course, and seek an alternate way to profit, another treasure more valuable than her own. They needed something grander than whatever she had! He opened his mouth for the second time today, and… again he hesitated. There was something in Jack's eyes, dark and brooding like the storm clouds they had left only a few days ago, that made him choose what to say more carefully. "I - - I fink, I fink t'would be bettah if we let 'er remain on board unawares of our knowledge, C-Cap'n." His eyes fluttered from the man in front of him, the seasoned sailor who he adored, to the floor boards.
"Aye, Mack, yer choice be a wise one." Mack looked up his eyes wide with shock. The candlelight made him look far younger than he actually was, the light giving his skin a tender glow. Yes, he had made a good choice just for the incorrect reason. "We were goin' to Tortuga to find the girl, but it seems she 'as saved us the trouble. It would be a shame to waist all of 'er 'ard work for a little stab at her ego. She will stay 'ere, Mack, and ye will do duty of watchin' 'er until we make port, savvy?" Jack turned his attention back to the long pages of archaic drawing and long lost languages, the boy excused. He had no idea that Jack intended to, if there ever be a need for it, turn the ship over to him. No, Mack was far too busy pleasing him to notice that he already was, but all things, Jack figured, were for a purpose. He waited until the boy had let the door quietly shut behind himself before cracking a toothy grin of conquest, a plan, slightly revised but a plan nonetheless, was already in motion.
The trip to Nassau had been even quicker thanks to some favorable winds and light canvas, but it definitively hadn't been fast enough for Lou who had been hidden behind multiple foul smelling food products, most of which she didn't even want to know what they were. Though there were a few things to be thankful for, one was the light trafficking through her area of the ship. It was almost like the crew was attempting to stay away, but, she rationalized, that was probably just her inner paranoia coming out. She needed to plan and think and move, not be so held underfoot that she would die, remaining in almost the same place -- except for very small break periods in the thick of night in which she would gather food and other supplies for her voyage after they made port -- for close to five days they had sailed nonstop and finally she could hear screams of land-ho!
A part of her knew that it was assuming too much to suddenly rise from her spot and head towards he brig. They would notice someone with such a white shirt and tight britches, wouldn't they? It was a sign of some money and pirates made notice of any money at all. It came with the "obsessed with treasure" part of the job. No one liked to face up to it at first, but after all while it becomes a noticeable fact, something that you just have to deal with or die. She chose to deal with it. Her knees popped loudly, her ankles creaked like an old woman's, and she felt her back shiver from the pain of long-unmoved muscles. After so much stress a part of Lou was surprised she didn't just fall apart at the first attempt to move. Stowing away simply sucked, she should have just made herself known and had the full stretching room that the galley allowed.
The crew was busy running around and doing the Captain's orders. They barely even tossed her a glance. She had packed inside of her clothes a few necessary supplies to make them look a tad larger, and take away the otherwise necessary satchel that would have definitely made her stick out even more. It was simple enough to dodge the running mutts as they dotted around to make sure everything was secure and ready for making port. They ignored her and she watched them, it was perfect, as if she had choreographed every little detail… except she hadn't. It was pleasant to say the least as she moseyed her way down the large open rooms that led her way to the brig. Normally men, especially men who had been forced to go without, of smelling a woman that was around them, not literally… she didn't wear any perfume or similar bottles of extravagance, nor did she smell badly compared to those around her. They were sensitive to her femininity, she supposed, because although she wasn't a prim thing in Port Royale or on Nevis that definitely didn't mean she was a man.
No, normally they would have caught her, but she waived away the itching suspicions riding up her spine. It was probably just that the guys were looking forward to the gels on the shore. They weren't expecting one to be here. Yes, that made plenty of sense, Lou nodded to herself as she ducked her head and slid through one of the small chamber doors. The dark wood of the Pearl creaked angrily. You could almost hear the words in the sound; she obviously knew of Lou's unwanted presence. Jack, she supposed, did have some reasons to be proud of such a dark beauty. From the shadows she searched the room for any guards. None. She again thanked the goddesses of fortune for their fair winds.
Although there were no guards stationed to watch over the occupied cage the red heap on the ground would not allow itself to be ignored. Blaze looked utterly broken. She sat with her back to the wooden hull of the ship, facing the bars, her face lifted to the heavens with her eyes closed. She must have been praying, Lou realized. A savage creature tore away at her gut; how had she let the girl, her friend, turn out like this. Her dress was torn, black grim smeared her face and arms, and dried blood crusted over her collarbone and bust. She looked raw and hurt and Lou wanted very much to save her from ever looking as such again. There had been some doubts about her decisions earlier, but what had been done -- was done. They were bloody here now and Louene would save Rosalie if it was the last thing she forced herself to do.
"'ello, Rosie." It is impossible to say what happened more quickly, the opening of the light brown eyes of the bubbling of the anger within them. She certainly wasn't going to just 'live and let live' now was she. No, it definitely looked like she wanted Lou to die and just let her die, after that I guess Rosalie would have had to think of some plans to deal with a squadron of angry pirates, but at least the momentary satisfaction would have been worth it. For a second Lou wondered if she should have slid more cordially into conversation, ask her how she was - despite the fact it was clearly visible - or something like that.
Fixing an angry set of eyes on Lou's frame, which stood by the door half-concealed in shadows, Rosalie was clearly not in the mood for any sort of endearment. Straight, dark brown hair framed her face and made her look a tad bit more menacing than she normally did -- which was not at all. "'ow dare ye waltz up intah 'ere, Vera. Ye 'ave forsaken me already, or did ye forget? Don't ye remember leavin' me with naught but a soddin' daft, maniacal, rum soak'd pirate?! It be yer fault; without ye I'd be back at the pub doin' a numb'r wiff the lasses!" She was slowly rising to her feet, each syllable gaining in volume, and, Lou realized, they would soon be discovered if nothing was done soon. Anger and guilt swelled within her, made her turn defensive instead of meek, and she, with long, silent strides, approached the side of her little monkey's cage.
No matter how much it hurt Lou had forced all her pirating inside for three years, three inescapably long years. She had done it, in many ways, to herself, but that hadn't made the punishment any more bearable. Hiding who you are, changing how you perceive yourself, it was a very scary thing for her. Now, though, back on the shifting wood of a ship, Louene was shocked to find just how easy it was to morph back into the captain she had once been. Stopping at the bars, eyes indifferent and yet harsh and cutting, no part of Lou would accept such impertinence from someone stationed below the bloody galley. "Ye, girl, do not know what ye speak. I dove into the water, aye, but what makes ye think I went anywhere. I was beneath the bloody boards of the dock listening to yer conversation. I know what you said. I knew what 'ector would do, but I waited to ensure ye be safe. Now… was that quite all?" Her voice had gone from angry to matter-of-fact to flat and uninterested without being within the reach of anyone on the entire floor other than Rosalie. Lou certainly was good at what she did.
Rosalie hadn't been expecting that. The fire faded from her eyes and she just looked at Lou, taking in her displeased demeanor, the way nothing gave away any sense of falsity. She was telling the truth and had just been wrongly accused by one of her best mates, one of her best mates that she was going through the trouble of saving from blood-thirty pirates. Rosalie's mouth opened, attempting to apologize, but instead all she could say was, "O-oh?" It wasn't very impressive at all, but Lou seemed to accept it as an apology, or perhaps didn't need one.
With quick, precise motions, Lou plucked the key off of the wall of the brig. You would think that after Elizabeth and the crew stole the boat from Barbossa, the bloody pirates would have learned not to keep the key in such plain sight. You never knew who was lingering in the darkness. However, very few people ever thought of the deep belly of their home as caution worthy. No, they didn't even have anyone watching the girl, their prize. Lou smirked roguishly proud to have gotten this far, been undiscovered, it felt good to still be the best of the best. The key clicked appropriately, the door swung forward, and Lou stepped inside the small cell. From the billowing folds of her clothing she pulled out another shirt, pair of pants, vest, and a few other items obviously meant for Blaze. "You 'ad bettah 'urry gel; we 'ave a boat to catch. A very small window of opportunity and you can't be dressed like…" Lou waved her hands at Blaze as an explanation. "Well, like that and get overboard."
They smelled far worse than any other clothes she had ever held in her entire life, worse than any whore at any tavern. It was disgusting. Rosalie looked up at Lou begging with her eyes to not have to do this, but the woman wasn't even paying attention to her. After exiting the stall Lou had gone over to the port hole, stuck her head out of it looking up at something. A shiver ran down Rosalie's back, it wasn't right. This woman was so very different from the girl she had grown to know at the Gilded Garters. The girl she had known was timid, sweet-tempered, a pleasure to be around. They had fit quite well together, and Rose had always assumed she had came from a similar background. I mean, she could talk politely, wear a dress like any noblewoman. Yet, all of that, she now understood, had been a façade. This was the real Lou; this was Captain Lou Rivera. The one from the stories she had heard from her father before he had died, she was feared and terrible. Was it possible that these two were one in the same? Rose shook her head, trying to shake these thoughts away, there was no time for thoughts like these now. Wrinkling her nose against the foul smell of the clothes she was putting on she changed as quickly as possible.
Pulling herself back from inside the brig Lou fixed her gaze on Blaze. She was passable: the pants too large so they hid her fine dancers form, her shirt old and thin under a vest that hid the rest of her curves. Lou took off the hat she had been planning to wear and tossed it towards her. "Tuck yer hair under it, looks far too fine for any scallywag to ever be blessed wi'f." It would be easy enough to escape by herself. She had a strong form and could definitely swim the four or five hundred meters to the beach; she had done it before. Lou eyed the dancer. She was an athlete, in shape, but swimming stressed different areas of you that dancing could never touch. Jumping in the ocean with Rosalie would probably end with her at the ocean. No, that wouldn't work at all.
The hat was on, they were ready, in a sense, to go forth and journey onward. Lou, shoulders square but relaxed, let one eye drift over Rosalie. "Ye must do everything I say, no matter what I say. If ye do not, chances are, ye will die. Understood?" She waited for Rosalie to nod and give a meek answer in the affirmative, which the girl did -- her eyes very wide. "Good job, lass. First command, remain absolutely silent, unless, of course, I appear to want you to do otherwise. No screaming, gasping, giggling, or 'ard breathing of any kind." Silence was the answer. A smirk took Lou's lips and she headed out the door towards the back of the ship.
A man passed them, obviously to go check on the prisoner, they kept walking. Stepping with purpose so they would not get stopped. Lou put on the air of knowing where she was going, her head a bit down though to keep it's feminine features from the men around her. It would be bloody horrible to suddenly lose her lovely luck. There was still no guarantee, she had to remind herself, there was no guarantee that they would escape this ship alive. The walked through the floor of the hold, but most of the men were already up on the higher levels of the ship. They had already dropped anchor, she had felt the shudder of the ocean around them. It was about time for their exit. Lou glanced behind her; Rosalie was following her example like a good girl.
Opening the door to the kitchen area Lou found it occupied. It was only a man, but there would be no chances taken. He looked up, settled a heavy eye upon her, but Lou didn't try to hide her face. She smiled. His eyebrow raised and before he could open his mouth to say a word she had reached into her shirt, felt the skin over her ribs, the curved blades that rested there, pulled one of the knives loose, and let it fly. It made it's grave in the man's wind pipe. He tried to scream, it came out as a soft wheeze. A knife was in his hand in another instance, Lou, in a mad dash, was upon him in another second. She had wrenched the blade free of it's confines, severing his artery, but causing light spray. He slumped against the cabinets and tied up barrels as a very, very dead man.
Rosalie was looking at her utterly shocked. No woman, she must have been thinking, should be possible of such destruction. This girl had been raised to become a gentlewoman; Lou couldn't expect her to understand the things that had forced her into this kind of life, to enjoy this kind of life. Turning away from the wide-eyed female, Lou opened one of the wide windows that they placed randomly over the back of the Pearl. Normally she would have scoffed at such extravagance, but she was very pleased with it today. Lou walked over to the cords securing the barrels and began talking all of them off, fastening them together quickly. This, she figured, would be the only way to make sure that her accomplice made it to the water both soundly and soundlessly. After securing and tossing an end out the large window, Lou turned back towards Rosalie. They definitely did not have much time left. "Get down there. I will give ye fifteen seconds before I cut the bloody rope." Blaze took a few timid steps, eyeing the rope like it was about as hazardous as a viper. "One,… two." Once she reached three Lou was already down past the edge of the window and dropping at a pleasantly steady rate. When she reached twenty Lou loosened the rope and let that end fall into the water outside as well. Climbing up into the frame of the window she just sat there for a moment. The sun was setting making the water look darker, like black canvas being painted on with pastels. It was lovely and she made herself memorize the moment while tucking the knife back into her shirt on the delicate under-vest.
Lou's knee's bent. She forced herself upwards in a jump. Her calves strained, her back was stiff, and everything kept moving forward. Reaching the peak, her aerodynamic climax, she allowed herself to fall, body straight as a line, towards the water. Air whipped at her hair, her clothes, billowing around her and through the cotton of the clothing. Everything smelled of the sea. She sucked in a fresh breath of air just as the water touched her fingers, her arms, her head, she fell until completely submerged. It was soundless, graceful, and awe-inspiring. A pirate queen's exit from a fantasy ship.
Surfacing with only a soft suck of sweet air, Lou scanned the surrounding ebb and flow of liquid until she found the other soundless fleck in the dusk light. Lifting a hand from the water she signaled for the confused girl to follow. With strong, clean strokes she pushed through the water, her legs doing most of the work from under the water. She was like a swan, a black swan, rare and gracefully floating along -- but really fiercely kicking beneath the water. Lou held a hand up to signal Rosalie's stop and then whispered in a soft rasp, "watch and then follow." A second later she had sucked in deep breath, every fiber of her lungs completely saturated with air, and was gone under water. There was no shift on the surface, no sign she was even down there. Perhaps she had died, Rose wondered, perhaps she had been knocked unconscious by a shift of the Pearl.
Then, next to the already lowered dingy, where a very small man was holding the boat to the edge, Lou surfaced. She didn't make a sound and kept in the shadow of the small craft far out of the sight of anyone who would be entering the boat as well as those on board. It would be a gamble, Lou knew it, but this would be the only vessel going to the main land from the Pearl. They could not ride in it, but they would use it to save little Rose from a death at the bottom of the crushing blackness. The water beneath her shifted slightly and then she felt, more than heard, Rosalie erupt from beneath the water beside her. A dry inhale sucked in as much air as it could, filling her parched lungs. She was definitely teachable. Her hands grabbed into the wood silently, holding position right next to her commander. Yes, yes, she was definitely teachable.
Many voices were on just the other side of the wood she was clinging too. She heard Barbossa and Jack, both loud and obviously having an argument about status, a parrot that was already in the longboat was squawking loudly, and the hollow suck sound of a cork being pulled from a tightly sealed pocket flask full of rum. It mad her think of her men, of her widow, and made her feel like just what her ship had been named, a white widow. Unwilling to mourn, despite the pain inside, a pretty face, a pretty façade, for a tormented center. Soon, though, this responsibility would be done and she could fall just as they had, as her ship had.
The waves rocked the boat, rocked Lou and Rose clinging desperately to the side, careful to stay towards the rear so they could avoid the oars about to be lowered into the waves around them. Surge after surged lifted and dropped their bodies, twisted their limbs, shoved them gently and not-so-gently into the grain of the wood, until they forgot about it happening all together. Jack ordered his men push off, oars to be lowered, and for them to head towards Nassau. The Pearl had been hidden away in one of the far curves of the island, hidden from the prying eyes of the French and British Navy. Lou prayed that no ship be sent down to the depths due to her actions again. A part of her, a deep fraction, hoped she had not damned them all by alerting God again to her presence.
A/N: Remeber!! REVIEW! and something else to remember. REVIEW!!! and a third thing! I am looking for a new beta. Thanks for reading guys!
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