FOURTEEN: Sneak

"Oh! Thief! Thief!" The shriek rang out across the streets – and people turned to stare. Elizabeth looked around at them all, and then waved her arms again, "Thief! Help me, someone! Anyone?!"

Beckett's advice had been blunt and honest. If any old person shouted for help, nobody would bat an eyelid, would they? I expect robbery happens around here all of the time. But you're a young woman, just shake your breasts around and look pretty. They all come running then. Elizabeth had blushed furiously, and Beckett had just shrugged. It was true.

Gosh, Elizabeth had never known Beckett had this side to him! He was like... like a stealing machine! He had all of these sly little ploys, and had already gathered up a pile of clothing. He'd taken things from washing lines on second story windows by incredibly illegal means – jumping on top of carts and clambering up low roofs? Honestly! He'd found men unconscious on pub floors, and taken them to the sty and stripped them to their underwear – but no further then that. Ugh.

And his biggest stunt was when he went to a brothel, pretending to be in need of it's, uh, 'services' – Elizabeth had nearly gagged at this point – and then he'd knocked the poor girl assigned to him out, and snuck through the brothel collecting clothing that men had discarded as they were... serviced. They were too busy to notice, and it would be too late when they did...

"Beckett," Elizabeth had hissed at his newest scheme, "We have an entire pile of clothes!" Though she had to stop herself from laughing. Beckett seemed so... alive. But she had to keep a close eye on him, she knew. Escape wouldn't be far from his mind; it was a good thing she'd decided to stand by the back exit of the brothel, because a creeping Beckett had run into her. He'd tried to look innocent, but he had made a fair attempt of escape attempts in their time here.

But she was on to his tricks.

"I need more then this," Beckett said, wrinkling his nose, and gesturing to the pile, "This is meagre, and take a look at those breeches, I mean... why are we even keeping those? And look, that shirt has a stain on it..." Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Fine," She'd said, "Fine, alright. But I'm only doing this once." And so she had ended up shouting thief in the middle of a busy road, and everyone's heads turned towards her...

Beckett had had his eye on this young man for quite some time. Reading from a scroll of parchment importantly as he walked, his hair tied up in a silky black ribbon, he was dressed in fine silks and ruffles – and these people did not usually grace the cobblestone roads with their feet, but took carriages instead. And this man was about to find out why.

Everyone was distracted as Beckett came from nowhere and thwacked the back of the man's head with one buckle shoe. The man collapsed to the ground, and Beckett dragged him off. Elizabeth almost laughed, but stayed in her role.

"He went that way! Oh! Oh, help me, someone!" She cried, acting out the hysterics of a lady in need rather well. Finally, she took a deep gasping breath, letting the world get a load of the crack of her bosom – which, annoyingly, worked. Immediately men began running down the road blindly, and then mistaking each other for thieves running off, there was rather a lot of scrabbling and shouting.

Elizabeth slipped away to the boat.

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"You realize that we are never going to be welcome here again... ever?" Elizabeth asked, as Beckett strode into view, fine clothes slung over one arm. He shrugged one shoulder and dumped it in the rowing boat – which was already rather low in the water.

"Ladies first," He said, sweetly. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Beckett. You are rowing again. Get in." Elizabeth ordered, and Beckett sighed and clambered into the boat, sitting down heavily at the front and grabbing the oars, glaring at them as if he hated them with a passion. Elizabeth settled herself down in the back, facing Beckett.

"Oh, wait, I think I forgot something..." Beckett said, and stood up, making the entire boat slide a little to the side.

"Beckett!" Elizabeth hissed, clutching hold of the side of the boat. Beckett turned, and made to skip onto the side. And Elizabeth realized that this was one of the most obvious escape plans in the world, and she was falling for it. She jumped to her feet too, making the boat sway again.

"Whoops... oh dear," Beckett said, putting his weight to one side – the boat began to tip to the side, and some seawater splashed over the edge.

"Beckett!" Elizabeth was shrieking now. Beckett made to step onto the side – Elizabeth took a step forwards – a wave hit the rowing boat – an oar nearly slipped over the side – Elizabeth made a grab for Beckett – Beckett slipped – and then hit his head on the side of the pier.

Out cold.

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"It's about time you woke up!" The sharp voice cut into Beckett's consciousness, making him groan. He didn't want to wake up – he was sleepy. Head hurt. Night night. He felt a prod in the side. "Come on – you're meant to be rowing this thing, not me."

"What?" He asked blearily, opening his eyes. Elizabeth was sitting opposite him, the oars resting loosely on her lap. He glanced around – he was surrounded by ocean. There was mainland Jamaica, disappearing behind them. Damn, damn, damn... nooo! He was meant to escape! Ugh. Looked like he'd have to find another way. Nonchalantly, he slipped a hand into his pocket – yup, the bullet was still there. His emergency bullet.

"Row. Now." Elizabeth stood, and pulled him up too. A spot on the left side of his forehead was telling him harshly to sit back down, but he blundered obediently to his spot on the other side of the boat and sat down, heavily.

Beckett had taken a wee bit of a battering over the last two weeks...

NB: Don't worry, this will not be the last time Beckett makes an escape attempt. There will be many more. Elizabeth doesn't want him gone, because she's pretty sure he'll rat her out to the government and suchlike... oh dear. Beckett is still confused about Elizabeth's mood swings and suchlike; and next chapter, her mood swings take a turn for the worse...

Also, there shalt be no update tomorroweth because I am going camping. Hooray! Though I can rely on rubbish English weather to let me down and soak me and my friends to death. And I'll probably end up curled in the corner of the tent, squashed up, like last time, but oh well! So, yes, sorry for future lateness. The next chapter is one of my favourites; Elizabeth starts feeling a little hot under the collar...

Next update contains wishes, missus, very-near kisses! Misleading moment mounts to mega-madness and much manic desire! (ack!) (and Beckett's just scared...)