Chapter Nine

~o~

"I already hate this bloody ship," I croaked, completely miserable as I righted myself and wiped my mouth with Gibbs' handkerchief, and then tried to dab some of the blood off that was running down my neck.

I wasn't looking at him, but I could hear the amusement in Barbossa's voice when he spoke. "Now, don't be sayin' such a thing, lass. The Pearl, here, be the second finest lady I've had in all me life."

I may have been sick as a dog at the moment, but I wasn't so incapacitated that I missed what his words implied, and I leaned against him for a while with my eyes closed, knowing well that it was not the ship, but her master that was causing me no little conflict of emotions.

~o~

When at last Mr. Gibbs arrived back at where it looked like I was done demonstrating just what I'd eaten for breakfast, it was with a cup of something, and the thought of trying to eat or drink anything at that moment made my stomach clench.

"Here yeh go," he said cheerfully. "This'll calm things down a bit."

"What is it?" I asked, straightening up from where I'd been leaning against Barbossa while I tried to ascertain whether or not I could stand on my own.

"Tea," Gibbs replied, "with a bit 'o ginger to settle things down a mite."

He handed me the cup and I sniffed it tentatively, wrinkling my nose at the strong aroma. "This smells like rum," I said, holding the cup away at arm's length.

"Aye," Gibbs confirmed, "just a splash o' rum to settle yer nerves. 'Tis best drunk straight away an' all at once."

I eyed the concoction warily again for a moment, not quite trusting my poor addled innards.

"Down the hatch," Gibbs said cheerfully.

I finally decided that I would risk complying while I stood near the rail, on the chance that his potion would perhaps come back up.

While I did manage to down the entire mug full with a minimum of coughing and sputtering at the bottom, it was apparent that Gibbs' idea of a splash of rum and mine were probably an order of magnitude apart. I don't really know if the smattering of ginger and tea helped at all, and my suspicion is that that much rum serves to just make one not really care that they're seasick at the moment, but his concoction stayed put, and I managed a weak, grateful smile.

"Come with me," Barbossa ordered me gently, taking me by the arm once Gibbs had taken his leave of us, and it appeared as though any imminent danger had passed. He started to lead me to the stairs that rose to the quarterdeck.

I tried to withdraw my arm gently. "I think I'll just go and have a bit of a lie-down," I said weakly.

He let go but shook his head. "Worst thing ye could do, lass," he replied, indicating with a nod toward the stairs that I should go first, and I finally complied with his order and climbed the stairs with him close behind me.

A grizzled old salt stood at the wheel with a bright, colorful bird on his shoulder, and each turned an inquisitive stare my way.

"Master Cotton," Barbossa addressed him, "I'll take 'er fer now." Cotton, a mute, I would find out later, nodded his silent acknowledgement of Barbossa's instructions, and relinquished his position at the helm.

I smiled at him as he passed by me, the bird flapping its wings once or twice to maintain its balance on his shoulder as he descended the stairs.

"Saucy wench!" it cried suddenly. "Raaauuuch! Saucy wench!"

I laughed a little at the bird and Cotton smiled and shrugged, indicating that he didn't necessarily have control of the bird's opinions.

"Seasick wench be more like it," Barbossa comment wryly, from where he stood next to me, one hand resting lazily upon the great ship's wheel.

The look I gave him could not be construed as a pleasant one, but I had no strength for any sort of verbal admonishment. "Why did you drag me up here?" I asked.

"Ye'll feel better up here with a bit of a breeze," he commented, watching the horizon and not me. "Helps if ye can anticipate the pitch and roll of the ship by bein' near the helm."

"I see," I answered, actually feeling a tiny bit better. "Have you ever been seasick?"

"Me?" he asked, glancing at me briefly. "Aye, I've chucked me breakfast over the side more'n a handful of times when I was younger. This helpin'?"

"Yes."

He glanced at where I had was exploring the bite would on my swollen earlobe with my fingers. "Jack often has a mind of his own, as yeh found out. Tends to be a bit possessive of 'is master."

"So it would seem," I said, flashing him a faint smile that told him I knew the bite wasn't his fault.

Barbossa continued to scan the horizon while he stood at the wheel. "Can't say as I blame him fer wantin' to nibble on yer ear," he said wryly, smirking to himself.

"Nibble? I'd hardly consider that...I thought you were going to be nice for once?" I asked him, giving him an exasperated look.

"Ye only asked me fer once and last night was it," he said, still clearly amusing himself.

"Yes, well go ahead and have your fun," I said caustically, still in pain. "I assure you I am not nearly as amused as you are."

"'Twas merely meant as a compliment," he said, feigning innocence.

I was still sore and slightly ill, and I wasn't in the mood for his teasing. "I suppose I shouldn't expect any better from..."

"From what?" he asked abruptly in a dangerous low voice, a sudden storm gathering behind the clear blue gaze. "A pirate? Apologies if that be beneath yer station, Doctor."

"I didn't mean..."

"Not all of us be fine gentlemen like yer lieutenant," he snarled quietly at me.

Feeling my own frustration and anger rising, I snapped back at him. "Well, I've probably lost my lieutenant thanks to you. How do you think he's going to react when Charles Beckett informs him that I threw my life away just to try to save you? What do you suppose his opinion will be of me now?"

His expression darkened further. "I didn't ask ye to risk anythin' fer me," he growled, "and I'd not give a bilge rat's arse 'bout yer lieutenant's opinion."

I opened my mouth to make some cutting remark, and then thought better of it and turned away. "Yes, but I do," I said quietly. I didn't realize how much more my admission would wound him than if I'd yelled at him about him being selfish, as I'd first intended. Silence hung in the air between us for several long minutes.

"Our headin' is west to Port Calais, near Nassau," he said, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. "There ye can get word to yer fiancée and find out if he'll join you."

"Join me?" I asked, completely confused.

"Aye. Yeh can't go back to Port Royal, lass," he replied, sounding a bit guilty. "Ye'd be hung fer conspiring with pirates within a day of settin' foot ashore. Unless he can manage a pardon from the governor, yer only hope be that he'll resign his post and join you."

The pardon would have been very possible, had Elizabeth's father still been alive, but the new governor was an avid pirate-hater, as Barbossa was well aware. I still had my back to him, but I could feel that he stepped closer to me. "If that be the case, I'll see to it that ye make it to England, or wherever else ye choose." He turned and shouted across the deck below. "Master Ragetti!"

I waited while the summoned Ragetti made his way quickly across the deck. "You'd do that for me?" I asked.

"Aye," he whispered behind me, just before Ragetti joined us, "anythin' fer you, M'lady." He faced Ragetti. "Take the helm," he merely said, and then he walked away.

I stood there feeling a bit awkward, unsure what to do until the younger pirate spoke to me. "Ragetti," he said, extending his hand and making an attempt at being civil.

"I guessed as much," I said with a faint smile, taking the hand he offered, and then I suddenly realized upon looking him in the face up close that his right eye had been replaced with an orb of carved wood. "I'm Madeline."

"Yeah, I know," he said, grinning back at me and taking the wheel.

"Oh –right," I replied. "My introduction this morning."

"Nah. Knew who yeh was before that," he said cheerfully.

I understood him perfectly. "Thank you for the flowers," I said pleasantly. "They were beautiful."

"Y'welcome," he said, sharing another grin with me and then turning back to his steering.

~o~

Ragetti, it turned out, was not so unlike his captain, in that there certainly was much more to him than met the eye, wooden or otherwise. Tall, lanky, unrefined and unlearned, he nevertheless possessed a good deal more insight into what was happening in the world around him than many of his companions, and he wasted no time in making that apparent to me.

"Shame 'bout you bein' engaged," he said evenly, attempting to make conversation of sorts.

I gave him a questioning look.

"No secrets on a pirate ship," he explained.

I nodded, knowing painfully well from past experience how true that was. "Why would that be a shame?"

"Well, I mean," he started, realizing he'd misspoken, "seein' as 'ow it's ta someone else."

"Someone else?" I asked, puzzled. His nod, followed by a quick glance in the direction Barbossa had gone explained where his comment had come from. For some reason, I wanted to hear more of his line of thought. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, considerin' 'e's been in luv wiv you for so long," Ragetti explained matter of factly, and then suddenly clamped a hand over his mouth and looked alarmed.

It would have been funnier if his statement hadn't blindsided me emotionally, but I managed to give him a reassuring smile. "This conversation stays here on the quarterdeck with us, Mr. Ragetti."

He still seemed disinclined to offer any more comments, and I had to work at getting any more information out of him. "You've known him a long time, then?"

"Yeah, since b'fore the mut'ny," he explained, and then looked panicked again. "I mean...since...well...before..."

I put a reassuring hand on his arm for a brief minute. "You can use the word 'mutiny' in front of me, Ragetti. You do realize I understand he's a pirate?"

Ragetti nodded, apparently relieved that he hadn't done anything to further damage my opinion of his captain.

I realized that if Ragetti had known Barbossa that long, then it must mean the pirate standing next to me was one of those who had shared in the terrible curse. "You must have been cursed too," I said gently.

"Yeah. Not many of us lef'," he replied. "Jus' me 'n Pintel, 'n Barbossa."

"Only three of you?" It never occurred to me that so few of them had survived the curse.

He nodded. "Rest were killed at Isla de Muerta once the curse were lifted, or captured like we was an' scheduled t' be hung." He elbowed me conspiratorially. "Me 'n Pintel was clever an' escaped, tho."

"Well, that's a fair stroke of luck," I said pleasantly.

"You're jus' as nice as Barbossa always said you was," Ragetti said brightly after my comment.

"He spoke about me?" I asked, feeling a lot of things all at once.

"To me, anyway," Ragetti said proudly. "Cap'n an' I discussed a fair few impor'ant matters, I'd say."

"Really? What did he say?" I asked before I knew if I was ready to or wanted to know the answer.

"Not sure I should tell ya that," Ragetti replied, much to my relief and great disappointment simultaneously. I think he could sense the disappointment I felt more, and he whispered to me. "Always's thought 'e was exag'ratin' how pretty you was. You know, braggin' like all pirates do 'bout their ships an' women, but 'e was right."

I never got a chance to say anything in reply, as the lookout calling down caught everyone's attention on the ship, including mine and Ragetti's.

"Sail, ho!"

Those two words caused a flurry of activity on deck, and a moment later Barbossa reappeared and climbed to where I stood with Ragetti, Gibbs close behind in his wake. He spared not the slightest glance at me, and went to the rail to scrutinize the ship in the distance through a spyglass.

"She's a merchant ship, alright," Barbossa said as he looked, speaking to himself and to Gibbs. "Probably headin' for Nassau port...she be sittin' pretty low...might jus' be worth our while, Master Gibbs."

He turned to where Gibbs had been waiting for orders with an air of anticipation and a sly smile crossed his face. "Let's introduce her to the Black Pearl."

"Aye, Cap'n!" Gibbs replied, his mood buoyed by the order as he turned to call instructions to the crew. "She's a beauty, lads! Let's show those lubbers the meanin' of speed!" He hurried off to see to initiating the chase that was about to begin.

Ragetti darted down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and Barbossa replaced him at the helm, turning the wheel to adjust our heading to send us in a line of direct pursuit with the ship in the distance.

I said nothing, but watched the crew scatter with practiced efficiency across the deck and up the rigging and down to the gun platforms. It wasn't long before the Pearl was carrying close to every inch of canvas she was able, and the repetitive booming thud of each gun port opening and cannon slamming into place sounded from below decks.

Barbossa didn't look at me, but that didn't mean I couldn't hear every last bit of biting sarcasm that his words held. "Ye'll excuse us, Doctor Gray, if a handful of humble pirates try to earn their keep."

"And if I don't excuse you?" I asked, curious as well as infuriated.

He smiled at me but it didn't reach his eyes. "Another thing I'd not give a bilge rat's arse about."

I set my jaw and said nothing back, refusing to let him goad me, and I watched as little by little, it became apparent that the Black Pearl was overtaking the ship in our sights.

"If yer gonna remain on deck," Barbossa said after a few minutes, "it'll be without that dress.

There was no hint of sarcasm I could detect and I held the dirty look I'd been about to give him in check as he continued.

"I'd prefer, if ye'd not mind," he said evenly, "that they not spot a woman on me ship."

"Afraid it would jeopardize your fearsome reputation, Captain?" I spat back angrily, heading for the stairs to the deck.

"Nay, it be only to keep from confirmin' where ye be until ye can get word to Groves," he said, surprising me again with the fact that he knew Jonathan's name. "As of this moment, no one at the East India Trading Company or Fort Charles knows where ye'd be fer certain, and word passes quickly from ship to shore."

I went to the cabin and retrieved my clothes from the day before, and plunked myself down on the edge of Barbossa's bed, wondering whether or not I should just stay put. I confess that curiosity got the better of me, and despite the danger that was inherent in being on deck, I decided that I would venture out, at least for the moment.

When I reappeared back on the quarterdeck in breeches and shirt, shrugging myself into my long red riding coat, Barbossa raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, but said nothing else for several minutes.

When he did speak, it was very softly, and his tone bore a trace of concern. "If I order you below, will ye go when I say?"

"Yes," I replied with a sigh.

He turned and looked me over, his eyes traveling from the boots I wore to the breeches and long frockcoat, and then to the braid I'd hastily tied my hair in. "You could almost pass fer a pirate," he said, mischief back in his voice.

"An' a fetchin' one at that," he added, even as I'd opened my mouth to retort to his first comment.

"And you could almost pass for charming," I replied, trying to fight the smile that was threatening to cross my face, "if you weren't such a rogue."

"Hold this," he said, indicating the wheel, and I complied hesitantly while he drew out the glass and scrutinized the ship again. "I think you like me because I'm a rogue, Doctor Gray."

"Who says I like you?" I asked, teasing him despite my instinct that it was trouble to do so.

He lowered the spyglass and winked at me. "You like me well enough that I'm standin' here on me ship with you, rather'n facin' the gallows today."

I understood the thank you in his flirtatious comment, and finally smiled at him, agreeing that I had preferred to risk my career and my engagement, rather than see him hang. "I imagine that ship's not going to be very happy that I saved you," I said, starting to become concerned about the rapidly closing distance, knowing the measure to be approaching the range of the Pearl's guns.

"Aye, that be very true," he replied smugly, roguish half smile I knew from a decade before still there. "Care to hoist me colors, lass?"

"I think not," I replied, wanting no part whatsoever in the raid that was imminent.

"Suit yerself," he replied, and then turned to call down to Gibbs. "Master Gibbs! Hoist our colors!"

A moment later Barbossa's distinctive flag was flying above the mainmast, and if the ship in the distance had any doubts about the identity of the ship with black sails that bore down on her with great haste, that Jolly Roger would have erased any of those doubts.

A long while passed as we drew steadily closer, and at last Barbossa called down to Gibbs, who was directing the crew on deck. "Master Gibbs!"

"Aye, sir?" Gibbs called back to the quarterdeck.

"Where be yer manners?" Barbossa asked him with a wicked laugh. "Say hello to our fine neighbors!"

"Aye, sir!" Gibbs called back enthusiastically.

I probably should have been prepared for what would happen next, but I hadn't realized what Barbossa had in mind, and when the crew fired the first cannon in a warning shot for the ship we pursued, the sudden blast startled me, and I jumped and clutched him by the arm.

He glanced at me casually, smirking at the fact that I was sheepishly removing my hand from his elbow.

"Must you do this?" I asked, concern for the ship and crew we pursued evident in my voice. I think it was quite clear that I was becoming visibly upset and anxious about the inevitable attack.

Barbossa remained undaunted by my obvious distaste for what was happening, and actually spoke with a measure of pride in his voice. "Ah, Madeline," he said, indicating I should hold the wheel again while he picked the spyglass back up, " yer finally gettin' the chance to see The Pearl in action." He scrutinized the other ship's reaction to the warning shot carefully through the glass.

"I've seen your Black Pearl in action," I lamented. "You devastated my home not so many months ago.

"Desperate times, lass," he said evenly.

"I suppose you have an excuse like that for everything you've done," I said, angry once more.

He met my unhappy gaze with one of those unblinking blue stares that would have sent me cowering in a corner if I didn't know so well that he'd never harm me, then the storm behind his eyes passed as fast as it swept in. "No," was all he said before turning to gaze at the ship again.

I wasn't sure what to read into his simple answer, but the fact that he began to chuckle next to me, and then tossed his head back and laughed wickedly caught me quite off guard. I'm afraid that I actually thought him a bit mad at that moment, until he made clear to me the reason for his amusement.

"Here," he said, handing me the glass and taking back the wheel. "I believe this be an old friend of ours, Madeline." He smirked as he turned away, waiting for me to look.

I had to keep my jaw from dropping open, and then I am sure that some small part of me actually had to fight back a smile, when I looked through the spyglass he'd handed me. The ship, which was at that moment hoisting a white flag and heaving to, across her transom, bore none other than the name Essex.

~o~

A/N: Just a heads-up that there's a new fic in the works by a collaboration of PotC authors at ffnet and a few from LJ that will each be contributing a chapter. The collaboration will be called Mothers of the Caribbean, and each chapter will feature a backstory about the mum of one of the characters from PotC. It was inspired by a thread over at the Broken Compass, and we have 16 authors contributing. The first chapter (they're in alphabetical order) should be up Friday, to be followed every few days by a new one, so keep an eye out for it and be sure to give all the different authors some feedback! Thanks, mates!

And yes, I'm doing the one for Barbossa's mum. ;)