Thank you as always for letting me know that you enjoy this tale! Last chapter was quite special for me as the emotional fulcrum of the plot, the turning point in a relationship that had been going down the wrong track forever, and I am glad that it reads well.
I apologise for not answering PMs at once – with the screwed-up Internet connection I have, I had to choose between answering now, as opposed to later tonight, and posting an extra chapter; and the chapter won; besides, I want to answer them well. Last chapter's emotional pitch may not be a sustainable proposition, but these next two parts move the plot further forward from the good start our guys have made.
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xxx
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"Why are you ogling me like this?"
There is, strictly speaking, no reason why he should not, considering that she is lying stark naked in his bunk; then again, it was he who got her here – she vaguely remembers him carrying her up into his cabin from the storeroom earlier that night – and put her in this state.
His raised eyebrows are eloquent enough. Why not?
Well, maybe she should not begrudge him a bit of enjoyment of his latest prize, especially since he was even so considerate as to find a set of clean bed sheets; it is just that she finds the close inspection both exciting, considering that he is not merely looking at her but also stroking her skin, and embarrassing, considering that he is sitting on the edge of the bunk still wearing his leather breeches and the leather cuffs on his forearms, and thus, relatively speaking, is at an advantage coverage-wise. She could really use one of those cuffs in particular, seeing how he has been studying the bite mark on her forearm where she sank her teeth into it to stop herself from crying out too loud an hour or so ago. Or else she might remind him that strictly speaking it is past lights-out by now and he should do something about that lit lantern by the bunk.
Belatedly, he decides to give her a proper answer.
"It's been a while since I had a naked woman in my bed." She raises incredulous eyes to him, but there is not even the slightest hint of a joke in his gaze. "And I might as well have a good look now, to remember you like this for when you have betrayed me again."
Now this verbal punch to the gut was really unnecessary… though not undeserved.
"I'm done with betrayals," she argues glumly.
He is not inclined to be particularly trusting, but is not particularly concerned, either. "Maybe. I'll take what I can, while I can." At least it is accompanied by an insolent grin. Maybe she can just take it easy for now.
The next moment, it is obvious that taking it easy is about the last thing she can expect as he slips a finger between her legs – she is still dripping wet from earlier – and makes an utterly salacious show of slowly licking it, watching as her hips buck up at seeing him do it.
At this rate she will have no vestige of control left by dawn. But she can still get back some of it… while she can.
She props herself up on one elbow, just enough for her hand to reach to his crotch. She does not even bother undoing the buttons – it would take two hands to do that – just rubs him through the leather and is at least pleased to see that she is not the only one prone to involuntary reactions.
By the time he is fucking her, slowly and thoroughly, his body flush against her back, his muscular arms like bronze against her pale skin, his broad hand stroking her lower abdomen before slipping between her legs again, his other hand playing with her breasts and his mouth sucking on the crook of her neck as she whimpers in helpless abandon, she no longer gives a flying fuck as to which of them is more in control.
xxx
What amazes her in retrospect, as she lies half-awake in the predawn light with his arms still wrapped around her, is how downright gentle he was… though what should really amaze her, if she is to be honest with herself, is how she permitted him to be so.
In what is by now a tumultuous and tragic nearly 12-year history of their on-and-off relationship – not counting that chance meeting on the waterfront with her 13-year-old self that Eleanor cannot clearly recall – they have hardly ever been like this with each other, not even early on. He did try to be nice to her, at first; but she simply would not go for it. In truth she resented him for having been her first lover; embarrassingly aware of having been at her most sexually awkward and exposed with him, in contrast with the equal-standing contest they had going on out of bed as she was already getting the reins of her father's shady business with Scott's help and he was gradually making his way up the ranks, from regular crewman to officer to quartermaster and, eventually, to captain. She had been careful to make no missteps to uphold the balance of power between them as best a young girl could; but as soon as they had shared a bed she felt her position slipping and weakening. And so she started playing hard-to-get with him; and in return, when she chose to condescend to his attentions, he would often be forceful, almost feral in their encounters, as if asserting his power over her. In turn it made her extremely wary of showing any sign of vulnerability; to the point when she stopped viewing theirs as a loving relationship, the way he had initially wanted to, and started using sex as a bargaining tool, meting it out as occasional rewards, which he nonetheless eagerly lapped up, feeding her vanity, even though she enjoyed it more than she let on; and this tense on-and-off romance seemed to drag on forever… until his patience finally snapped.
Now, with both of them having narrowly survived a brush with death, and with her having, for once, experienced a liaison that allowed her to see that being exposed and trusting did not necessarily equal being weak, she can only wonder at what a fool she has been all these years to overly complicate and contaminate what should be a simple, and unconditionally enjoyable, matter.
xxx
"So now that I hopefully left you no reason to suspect an ulterior motive in my question…" If he still has any doubts, her fingertips stroking his lower abdomen should go some way to assuaging them. "…where are you bound next?"
He chuckles; in a mirror image of last night, she is now seated on one side of the bunk, caressing him as he lies naked before her.
"I don't know if I can ever put ulterior motives past you, Eleanor…" he begins and bites his lip, his breath hitching as her fingers step up the relentless teasing; but she can see that it is said largely in jest. "but we haven't really decided yet. Jack and Anne only stole this sloop yesterday evening; we shall have a crew assembly later today to discuss our destination. Seeing how we are still in the hurricane season with a good month of it still to come, I would favour going north toward the Carolina coast where the likelihood of being hit by a storm is somewhat lower. But the final decision will depend on how the crew votes."
Knowing Vane, she knew to expect an honest answer if any at all; but she did not expect such a detailed one, and is encouraged by it to proceed with satisfying her curiosity.
"I didn't know the sloop was such a recent acquisition."
"Seeing how our other ships are all tied up facing off with the Navy under Flint's command to defend the treasure, and seeing how I was not inclined to infringe on Governor Rogers' hospitality too long after my escape, it was something of an emergency solution," he explains with a half-smirk, "but I am pleased with it. It belonged to John Ham," he goes on; she recognises the name of a local merchant based on one of the nearby islands. "…and is known for its speed. Ham has been out of town on business, and knowing this, Anne went aboard pretending to have business of her own with him, knowing he would not be there, and in the meantime did all the reconnaissance she could. So yesterday evening she and Jack and half a dozen others went aboard and overpowered what little crew there was, knowing where to find them, while I was waiting on Arawak Cay with the rest of the crew to join them… which was when Max showed up with a lantern on the other side a hundred yards across the strait. At first I thought she carried a message from Jack and Anne, but when she got across the strait she told me what happened."
All things considered, Eleanor thinks, Max was telling the truth in calling herself Eleanor's friend; she may have been merciless in delivering her verdict on Eleanor's treatment of Vane, but ended up literally saving her skin. But given her and Vane's fucked-up history when it comes to Max, she does not feel like staying on the subject now.
"If Jack and Anne stole the sloop, how come you got to command it?" Seeing how Anne greeted her, and knowing how much Jack looks up to Anne, Eleanor is not complaining, merely curious.
"He owes me." When no further explanation follows, she makes a wide-eyed face at him. "I teamed up with Anne and Flint to get him out when your lover…" Seeing her scowl he thinks better of it. "…your former lover decided to ship him off to a Spanish prison. When we apprehended the carriage they were in, it overturned, and we lost time getting Jack out from under it and getting the shackles off him, by which time the militia arrived. Rogers fired a pistol shot at me," he points to the bandage on his thigh, "so I could not outrun him, and I told Jack and Anne to get out with the treasure chest, and stayed behind to stave off pursuit, whereupon His Excellency went at me with a wooden stake. Hence, I was not the best help for them in stealing the sloop, but seeing how Jack owes me he gave me the command."
So that explains the lurid bruises on his chest and back, a veritable map of pain… she saw how fucked up Rogers was upon his return to Nassau from capturing Vane, but having now seen the damage on Vane's side, she begins to think that Rogers got off lightly.
"I no longer represent Woodes Rogers' interests," she remarks, looking sideways at him, pleased to see that he is not inclined to argue, or to scowl in disbelief, "but given our past association, I do apologise on his behalf." With that, she goes on to press her lips gently to the nasty-looking blotches, wondering distantly if both Rogers' fury in attacking Vane and his break-up with her had as their underlying motive his realisation that no matter what she said, no matter how much she might have wanted it, even believed it, to be true, Eleanor could never have got over the other man.
"You put me in a difficult position, Eleanor," he mutters in the meantime; and seeing her understandable confusion, he explains, "seeing how I do not hold you personally accountable for these. But were I to say now that your apology is not needed, I'd be in danger of seeing you stop."
She laughs softly against his skin. "But I am," she says, pulling herself up, "personally responsible for this," she finishes before trailing her tongue over the fading bruise on his neck, and is pleased to hear him gasp with pleasure.
"I shouldn't complain about being hanged," he says when she lets off for a moment, "if it makes you so hungry for me. Maybe I should do it more often."
She sits up and turns away in an unexpected tumult of conflicting emotions; somehow she is amused and afraid and guilty and angry all at once.
"Maybe," she says pointedly, not looking at him," you should just fuck around less."
Caught unawares by her train of thought, he argues, not unreasonably, that this, coming from a woman who was in another's bed until a week ago, is rather rich; but while she remembers her part in poisoning their relationship of old, she also remembers his part in ending it.
"You started it," she insists quietly, still not looking at him.
It takes a moment, but he does catch on.
"Was that it?" he asks, propping himself up on one elbow to catch a sideways look at her face. "When I walked out on you for rejecting my cargo and went and fucked half the girls in the brothel for a week straight, was that why you told me we were through and went to Max?"
She sighs and nods, trying not to look at him, holding on to the vestiges of her anger. Like it or not, but her primary motive in starting the affair with Max was to retaliate at Vane for daring to turn his back on her… regardless of the fact that she had provoked it in the first place.
He drops back down on the mattress. "I was tired of waiting for favours," he says quietly after a while. "I'd just won the Ranger and I hoped you'd see me more approvingly after that, and instead you were all cold and disdainful and doing your best to be mean to me. I am not necessarily saying I was right, but I was tired."
And she, to quote His Excellency the governor, was so damn stupid. "I'm not necessarily saying I was right, either," she counters, finally looking back at him, hoping she will not blush.
He shakes his head on the pillow. "And to think of what extremes of mutual hatred it led us into."
"We were always playing for power," she says with a shrug, knowing it to be an inadequate explanation; what's worse, an untruthful one.
Sure enough, he calls her out on it.
"You were always playing for power. I was willing to give up a lot of things if only you'd be with me."
That, coming from a man who would never concede to anyone. Except her.
"And now?" she asks in a small, dejected voice, almost expecting him to say that by now she has blown what chances she once had of having his real affections.
But rather than delivering the sentence, he regards her with what borders on open amusement.
"I don't know," he says eventually.
Well, if he thinks he can fuck around with her, she is entitled to a bit of retaliation.
"Maybe this will help you decide… Captain."
She slides down the bunk, her face level with his crotch, looking up at him as she licks her lips.-
And whatever he may have said about not knowing, minutes later, when she hears him moaning under her ministrations, she knows that she can still win this battle… even though, strictly speaking, they are no longer fighting.
xxx
The crew assembly is held at noon, and the vote is overwhelmingly in favour of Vane's suggestion of a voyage up the Carolina coast, given also what is known of navigation routes in the area and the recent increase in merchant ship traffic to the colonies. The meeting is about to be adjourned when Vane looks up to where Eleanor has been watching the proceedings from the quarterdeck rail and asks her to join him on the main deck.
"There is one more announcement I must make before we're finished," he tells the crew. "Miss Guthrie, who some of you may know, is sailing with us on this voyage, and I would have you know that her safety and well-being are matters for which I consider myself responsible for so long as she stays aboard." Seeing quite a few sour faces is no surprise to Eleanor; at least no one so far has openly objected. But Vane, apparently not content with the statement alone, proceeds to mention two or three choice alternatives in terms of the horrible punishment that would befall anyone who would dare treat her improperly. Out of a corner of her eye, she sees Anne Bonny fixing her with her usual murderous stare, her jaw set and her stance defiant; hopefully Rackham can keep her in check, for where Anne is concerned, Vane's threats of ripping any potential offender's balls off are falling on deaf ears. Eleanor is glad of the opportunity to escape to the captain's cabin when the meeting is over, not so much for fear of arousing passions within the men as for fear of provoking Anne into some rash act of aggression.
Apparently at least one of the officers believes her to be an unwelcome distraction for the crew; as she is waiting for Vane to join her in the cabin, she hears his first mate, who remained mostly silent throughout the meeting, address him outside the cabin door.
Robert Deal is several years older than Vane, looking to be in his early or mid-forties to Vane's late thirties. Other than that, he could pass for Vane from a distance: tall and broad-shouldered, if slightly bulkier, with his brown hair falling about his shoulders in long braids, not unlike Vane's if more unkempt. In that sense he is not dissimilar from much of the crew Vane brought with him from heaven knows where when he occupied the fort; as far as Eleanor can recall, Deal was, in fact, one of that party. But the similarity does not hold up to close scrutiny: where Vane resembles a wolf in his predatory grace, Deal is more akin to a bull, his eyes and his wits both a degree duller. Yet when he speaks, Eleanor understand at once what made Vane single him out for preferment: unquestioning loyalty.
"Captain, I did not want to say anything during the meeting so as not to be seen challenging you, but I must tell you in confidence… I fear the Guthrie woman is bad news for us indeed, she will cause too much temptation for the crew and who knows how that can turn out-"
Vane does not seem to have much patience for such concerns, however.
"Rob, I said so in the meeting, anyone who touches her will face punishment from me-"
"And then they'll hold it against you, Captain, and you'll make yourself enemies because of her. I cannot tell you what to do but if it were my choice I'd say send this wench away on a rowboat as soon as we are in sight of Charlestown and be done with her."
"Rob…"
Hearing the menace in Vane's voice, he changes tack, although by the sound of it, he knows it to too much of an uphill battle.
"I have my life's story to show for the evil of women. That murder conviction that I carry, the reason I've been walking under the gallows for the past ten years, is all because of a cheating wench of a wife. I come home from a voyage back on Grand Turk and see her and her lover fucking like nobody's business, I get so mad I take my cutlass and hack at them, and the next thing I know, I am in prison with a hanging sentence and my son is being brought up by near-strangers. If I hadn't escaped and walked into that man Albinus' camp, I'd have been dead ten years ago."
"Not all women are like that," Vane says, apparently overlooking the fact that Eleanor's record when it comes to treacherous behaviour is very far from spotless.
"But they all bring bad luck, Captain." By now Deal sounds like he knows he lost the argument.
"Try tell that to Anne, Rob," is Vane's flippant reply. "See what she says."
As soon as he comes into the cabin she puts her arms around him, upon which he picks her up and carries her back into the bunk, takes off the shirt to expose her gaping dress, pulls out the hairpins and sucks her breasts until she begs him repeatedly to fuck her – and then eagerly does so, until she sees stars and screams his name loud enough for the entire ship to hear.
xxx
He fell asleep with his head cradled on her chest, her hand running through his hair, as she wondered whether they had ever before permitted themselves such an intimate arrangement. She is therefore surprised, not to mention unnerved, to wake up late in the afternoon to see him sitting on the side of the bunk with a dagger in his hand.
Seeing her awake, however, and seeing her wide eyes, he is quick to set her mind at ease by flipping the weapon around and offering it to her hilt-first.
"You don't trust your crew?" she asks.
"I do; but I'll trust them even more knowing you have this," he says darkly, before adding, in a quieter voice, "and I hope that the next time you decide to turn on me, you will stab me in the chest and not in the back."
She would object, but the weight of her betrayals is too heavy on her shoulders. The only thing that could convince him, she knows, is seeing practical proof of her loyalty; but while she cannot offer that now, she can at least make a decisive enough gesture.
She grips the hilt in her right hand, holds out her left palm and sticks the point into it, cutting a red line about two inches long before he can stop her or say anything; and then, holding up her hand as the drops of blood trickle down to her wrist, she swears by this blood that she will not betray him again, and the tears brimming in her eyes all this while have nothing to do with pain.
And upon hearing her say it, he takes her bloody hand in hers, bends his head and licks the scarlet drops off her skin until the cut stops bleeding; then he leans back in the bunk and pulls her into his lap for another bout of what by now should qualify not merely as fucking but as lovemaking, the two of them facing each other, their lips locked as they try to prolong the sweet torment. When at some point Jack Rackham raps on the door to summon them for dinner, he answers, unsteadily, that they are not hungry; and she is positive that right after Jack says I bet you aren't she hears him snickering behind the door… but neither of them cares.
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TBC
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If you look at a map of New Providence, Arawak Cay is about 100 yards or less offshore between Nassau and Brown's Point, which is my location for The Wrecks; thus it would only be about half a mile away from where Max left Eleanor, explaining how she could have tipped off Vane and how he could get there in time to get Eleanor out.
The story of how Jack and Anne stole the William in Nassau harbour is as close a rendition as I could deliver of how they really stole it in August 1720. I could post an extract here, but re-typing extracts is an honour I exclusively reserve for Charles Vane in my book ;)
Robert Deal is a real partner of Vane's; while little is known of his life other than the last year, and the fact that he was hanged on Jamaica shortly before Vane, what *is* known points to his staunch loyalty to his boss.
My mention of a 12-year relationship history for Vane and Eleanor is based on a fairly exact calculation; however, it will be easier to explain it, along with the situation with their respective ages, all in one place when I post a note to Chapter 9… so bear with me for a bit longer.
I suspect I am unlikely to face criticism for making Vane a somewhat overtly sweeter guy than we are used to in the show (though I confess it is hard to imagine the show's Vane smiling; I had to use Zach's real life clips as a mental reference for that), but I would still like to state that the notion of Vane willing to make concessions to Eleanor to the point where he could consider a change of lifestyle, so long as he stayed free from any power, if she would stay with him is not my invention. Just as I trust historical sources for the real Captain Vane's life story, I can think of no better authority on the show's incarnation of Vane than Zach McGowan; and so I post below excerpts from three online articles where he voiced his opinion in interviews (you can read the full versions if you search for the article names).
Zach's interviews re Vane
EW (Black Sails casualty speaks out about traumatic death scene)
As far as Eleanor goes, my favorite scene ever was episode 1, season 2 where I'm having sex with Idelle and she comes up and I'm like, "Why don't you want a perfect life? What's wrong with you? I love you, I know you love me, I know you have all these ambitions about stuff but that doesn't matter. Why don't we have kids and just own this thing?" I feel like I said that to my now-wife so many times and she finally was like, "OK, we should do this." Life is not as complicated as we make it. I love you, you love me, let's get married and have children and work hard towards things and fuck everything else. To me, life is a lot simpler than people make it. "I'll sleep with prostitutes if you don't want to sleep with me anymore but I'd rather be sleeping with you and we could have a house and make babies." I feel like that is a journey that many men are on in life. "I guess I'll sleep with whoever, but I'd rather sleep with you and we can cuddle because we like doing that." That was how I was feeling that way about it and wasn't sure if that was coming across.
IGN (Black Sails: Zach McGowan on the pivotal events following Vane's capture)
[re Eleanor beating him up in prison] I think he sees the tragedy in it that hopefully the audience sees. They could have had a very uninteresting – you know, uninteresting for a television show – but they could have had a good life together and that it was her choice that other things were more important to her than a life with him. So I think he's very sad that she has chosen ambition or whatever instead of the love for him, which he felt like she felt at some point and that he felt towards her. So yeah, I think it was very bitter for him in that way. What I love about that scene is that she beats up a defenseless, chained man and calls him an animal. I think that speaks for itself.
When you play a badass like Vane, the only thing that makes that interesting is the vulnerability, so I feel like exploring his vulnerabilities was always the part that was most interesting to me, as an actor. The things I had the most fun with were when I was playing him as a badass, but the things that were most interesting were the vulnerabilities.
Digital Spy (Zach McGowan opens up about his Black Sails exit: "I couldn't imagine a better way of going out")
I think that he has loads of regrets. I think what he regrets the most is that he wasn't able to find a life for himself, or a family for himself.
