The Trouble with Women

Chapter 9

Work

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The next time Vivien awoke, it was from the feeling of rough hands jarring her body unsympathetically from the depths of sleep. Which wasn't very nice, because the second most thing she was aware of was a splitting headache. It felt fit to burst like some giant bruise that ached and stung. The kind that turns black and blue and all green after you fall out of a tree and feels like someone's punched you when it's been prodded.

And someone seemed to be doing a whole lot of prodding.

But despite all these things, the elusive state of being calledsleep was gone and her eyes opened slowly, a feeling of overwhelming grogginess overcoming her senses. Between the headache and the inevitable sleepiness, Vivien probably would have preferred someone bash her over the head with a large blunt object. The effect would be the same but it was likely she would pass out—something that didn't seem to be happening right now. Much to her chagrin.

The Frenchwoman groaned as someone boldly ripped the blankets and sheets from her small cot, leaving her cold and uncomfortable in the morning air.

"Come on, get yer lazy arse up!" a sharp, feminine voice shrilled through the young woman's ears.

Vivien whimpered pitifully, but did not complain. She was too tired to complain. Instead, she flopped over on the small cot and opened her eyes, attempting to focus her vision on the woman who had disturbed her slumber. Mon Dieu, don't pirates sleep?

Instantly, she recognized the fierce woman from the day before. The one who had so brazenly threatened her with a sword. The one with the pistol, who had seemed to have such a temper the Captain himself could hardly tame her. The one who had seemed she wanted nothing more than to skewer her on her sword and toss her to the sharks…

Vivien managed a strangled sort of sputtering noise, the kind that usually came with frantic choking or strangulation. It was a common thing for her though, and usually accompanied by chaotic screeching most likely caused by Belfast or one of the poor maids around the manor.

This time, her eyes widened almost comically as the female pirate stared down at her with a look of such distaste the Frenchwoman was sure she would have a heart attack. Then, she did the only thing she could think of—she screamed.

Now, comparing Vivien to most women around the world, her lungs could most likely hold twice the amount of air, which was perfect if someone was trying to drown her. But there was another reason too. Vivien Brideau was and active participant in the art of screaming bloody murder. And once she started it was near impossible to get her to stop until she ran out of air.

Such was the reason Vivien began shrieking like a banshee in the first place. No doubt Jack Sparrow would come running—or even Gibbs—and save her from this barbaric and vicious woman!

Of course, she hadn't counted on one thing. This pirate woman knew exactly how to shut up screaming ladies.

Quite suddenly, Vivien found herself sprawled face-first on the cabin floor with the wind knocked from her lungs as the female pirate dealt her a hefty slap on the back of her head, which sent her head over heels off the side of the narrow cot. It halted her display of screaming, however,and left her with a few bruised ribs as well.

"I'll tolerate no devil's screamin' from ya, witch woman!" the pirate lady shrieked.

Vivien merely moaned, and turned on the floor with a gasping breath of air. Vaguely, she noticed a new addition to her bare room. A mop and bucket in the corner. How considerate of the pirates…

The woman nudged her lightly in the side with her boot as if testing to see if she was still alive. With a pained grimace, Vivien flopped ungracefully onto her back. She noticed that, for some odd reason, she was still wearing her dress, and the skirts were near gathered around her knees. She couldn't for the life of her remember why she hadn't changed into the only other article of clothing she had—her nightgown—for bed.

The pirate was still glaring at her as enlightenment came to Vivien. As if the mere act of thinking about it brought everything back, she remembered all the events of the night before.

Mais oui! L'embarrass! she mentally moaned, pitying herself. How she had angered Jack! Maybe this woman had been sent to punish her for her idiotie.

Disturbed by this thought, Vivien glanced up at the woman—who was still glowered at her for all she was worth. Somewhere in the depths of her stomach, a knot twisted painfully and she felt the beginnings of uneasy creep upon her once more.

Still slightly out of breath, she managed to gasp out, "Who…W-what?" Her eyes had landed on the sword strapped dutifully at the woman's hip, and the pistol tucked in her belt.

The female pirate noticed the young woman's gaze and a flicker of a faint smile flitted across her face before she returned to her glower. "Nay, lass, I ain't here to chop you up, no matter how much the idea's appealin' to me," she assured, but this seemed lost on Vivien. "I'm Anamaria, second mate aboard the Black Pearl, an' ya best be rememberin' that! Now get your lazy arse off the bloody floor so I can assign ya work!"

Vivien gave her an incredulous look, gaping up at Anamaria.

She glared back, and as the Frenchwoman made no sign of moving from the floor, reached down and took a firm hold on her hair before dragging her up to her feet. Hissing in pain, Vivien was rewarded by a swift shove. She hit the wall with her back, a muffled "oof!" escaping her lips.

Anamaria sneered. "I'll tell ya I have permission to shoot you if you don't cooperate, witch!" she spat. "Don't tell me ya thought you would be sailin' this ship for free!"

Feeling rather sick, Vivien raised a finger meekly to interject. "Actually, I was thinking…I was thinking of reasons why I wasn't being thrown overboard…" she managed to choke out, regretting the moment she opened her mouth but waited somewhat bravely for the prevailing blow her comment would get her.

She was quite surprised when Anamaria threw back her head in a sharp, barking laugh, seemingly humoured by the woman.

Vivien fancied she looked rather sick, too, but permitted a small, weak chuckle to escape her lips. The moment that happened, however, Anamaria stopped laughing and fixed her with a sneer. Vivien wished for nothing more than to shrink into the wall and turn invisible…

"Now I know what Sparrow meant when he said you were strange!" she guffawed.

"What…?" Vivien enquired weakly, licking her lips nervously. Cautiously, she unglued her back from the wall.

Anamaria laughed again. "Fought him off with a butter knife, did ya, before fainting dead away when he threatened to shoot you!"

At this comment, Vivien managed to look slightly embarrassed. So, the pig-headed pirate had told his crew of her stupidity? What a way to make an insecure woman feel better about herself.

"Your Captain is a weasley, conniving, cheating pirate who no doubt takes great enjoyment from threatening prisoners!" she belted before she knew what she was doing, and regretted it as Anamaria's face darkened.

"Aye, and he told us ya wouldn't be much trouble 'cause your terrified out of yer wits by him!" she retorted. "I reckon you wouldn't be sayin' nothing of the sort if he could hear ya, eh frechie?"

Vivien was going to open her mouth to respond with some clever comment that would most likely get her shot, but found she was shaking much too hard to form any words. Anamaria was perfectly right, of course. She wouldn't dream of insulting Jack Sparrow while he could hear her. When he was out of earshot, however…well that was completely different!

Anamaria snorted at her, a very unladylike gesture. "Cowards at heart the lot of you are. Say things you wouldn't even think about if Sparrow was near," she growled and glared before nodding swiftly to the mop and bucket in the corner. "Sparrow made it clear you ain't no sailor or pirate, so we set up a list of chores for ya to do while you're aboard—" she stopped short as she noticed Vivien's rather unique expression. "What?"

"T-there was n-nothing in-in our agreement about work!" she managed to say, somewhat outraged by the idea of working on a pirate ship.

Anamaria planted her hands on her hips and jutted her chin out angrily. "Well if ya don't like it ya can take it up with Captain Sparrow, aye? But until then you'll do it because I'm the one with the pistol," she declared offhandedly.

Feeling the measly remains of her entire world come crashing down around her like shattered bits of glass, Vivien had the sudden urge to cry. Oh mon Dieu, she pleaded with her eyes on the ceiling, why do you torture me so?

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French Translations:

(not many this time around…)

Mon Dieu – my god

L'embarass – the emabarrassment

Idiotie – idiocy

--Cayenne Pepper Powder