Sorry for not getting this up last week -- real life intruded with a bang, and I've been a wee bit distracted ever since.
But here we are now! Back, and ready to...well, whatever it is I'm doing.
Before we start, let me first say thank you to my latest (and most vocal) reviewer, MichiruOkami! Hi, Michiru! As you may have guessed, we know each other off board, and so her reviews are also filled with in gags that nobody else will get. Especially the saddened disposition of the "mourning pastries". For those of you who are uninitiated, a word of advice: Don't ask, mate. LOL!
Michiru, thank you for those reviews! Though I'd hope that you really wouldn't want to be a whoreson...might have some 'splainin' to do with that one. I'm finding it a bit difficult to imagine Miranda and Freya cut from the same mold...Miranda is a lot more restrained, repressed, and a lot of other "re"s. Freya would have just set Dunnthorpe's ass on fire, and been done with the bastard. =) And no...no Sith Lords shall breathe their way into this little plotted part of the world. Although Dunnthorpe is just about nasty enough to have taken lessons from one. Sorry to say that this particular "gentleman" will be around for quite a while. More's the pity.
LOL! Glad to see that the end of Chapter 3 had you scrambling past the intro to Chapter 4 -- that's precisely the reaction I was looking to cause.
Saxony, Redbud-Tree, Captain Tish, and Completeopposites: Glad you enjoyed the growing tension between our dear Captain Sparrow, and the Lady Warringford. Let me just say that it only gets worse before it gets better.
I'll now take this time to remind everybody that all original characters, and the situation are mine, mine, MINE!!!
All established characters are the copyrighted property of that big mouse with the really big chunks of real estate, and the really imposing herd of legal advisors. Just keeping everything on the up and up...dammit.
Now...bring me that next chapter! Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na...and really bad proofing...Read on, me hearties, yo ho!
Two days out from Port Royal and Jack Sparrow felt more like his old self again. Standing by the helm, swaying easily with the rolling of the ship and trading insults with his First Mate restored that sense of continuity so lacking for him on land.
The crew was in a light hearted mood. Away from the looming threat of the King's Navy, and on their way to a friendly port where honest coin would be theirs in exchange for goods not quite as legitimately attained had cheered them immensely. Even dour Joshamee Gibbs had brightened at the prospects of their trip to Havana. Though the old sea dog's mutterings were beginning to get on his Captain's nerves.
"Unlucky enough to have one woman aboard," Gibbs had groused, risking the wrath of the hot tempered AnaMaria, "But now there's two of 'em."
"Bound to be bad luck on this voyage, you mark my words." he'd fumed, and several men had to turn away to hide their laughter when Jack had rolled his eyes expressively behind the Quartermaster's back and mouthed the familiar warning in silent unison.
Not that he might guess from looking around now that there was a second woman aboard. The Lady Warringford had managed to avoid him at every turn since the evening of their departure.
"She's...she's not feeling well." AnaMaria had informed him that first morning out, herself delivering the bitter fever remedy to his cabin.
Jack was sure he saw evasiveness in her dark face. For whatever reason, Miranda hadn't emerged from hiding that day, or the next. However, there had been reports from his mid-watch of seeing the lady wandering the deck in the late hours.
"Seemed nice enough," Klebar had remarked, rubbing at his shaven scalp, "Just didn't look like she wanted company, if you'll take my meaning. So, we let her be."
Jack was not a man usually given to bouts of self recrimination, and certainly not when it came to stealing a kiss from at pretty lass, but he did suspect that his actions were to blame for her seclusion.
Perhaps, he reflected, it was for the best. At the moment, Jack wasn't terribly happy about his own behavior.
Not about that all too brief time in his cabin. Quite the contrary, the Lady's reaction to his presence had been most entertaining. Rather, it was the most unwelcome feeling of uncertainty, of feeling that playing with her like in such a fashion just wasn't...right somehow. This brought with it an entire bulk of distractions all on its own. Dalliances with the fairer sex were not supposed to leave his feeling like this -- conflicted, unsure, or addled like a moonstruck boy -- not to a man of his worldly ways. Under normal circumstances, the most Jack felt accustomed to worrying about was a stinging cheek, or maybe a lighter purse in exchange for a few pleasant, rum hazed memories of bodies grappling in a darkened room. And perhaps another trinket or two to weave into his hair.
Miranda Warringford was not shaping up to be 'normal circumstances'.
Jack shook his head ruefully. He should have listened to that wise, warning voice when he'd had the chance.
"Six points to our larboard side." he called, returning his attention to the ship's compass to make their course.
"Six points, aye!" AnaMaria responded smartly from the helm.
Jack squinted up into the rigging. "Mr. Gibbs, why don't we take advantage of this helpful weather?"
"Aye, Cap'n." The Quartermaster raised his voice to a bellow. "More sail, you dogs! Cap'n wants to see if the old girl's learned how to fly yet."
Good natured laughter followed this as the crew took to the lines to let out more canvas. The Pearl surged onward, picking up speed as more sails caught the steady wind.
"Might as well tie the wheel down." Jack suggested, "Unless the weather decides to be unkind, we'll be holding to this course for most of the afternoon."
"I'll stay with it." AnaMaria offered. He could almost hear her next thought -- that she wouldn't be good for much else until her side healed.
"Good idea." he amended, smoothly shifting track. Lifting his kohl-rimmed eyes to a distant bank of clouds, he went on, "Those could hold a few surprises for us later if we're not paying attention." Just then he spied a form that, while familiar, was distinctly out of place. "Well, well. Look who's decided to rejoin the land of the living. Hold our course, luv."
He started down to the main deck, feeling AnaMaria's eyes on his back. The girl was worried, and not doing a very good job of hiding it. He approached his quarry casually, leaning against the rails with equal nonchalance.
The Lady glanced his way, but wouldn't meet his eyes. "How have you been feeling, Captain?" she asked then, "Well, I trust?"
"I've no complaints." Jack returned with a pang of dismay at her cool, neutral tones.
"And you've kept up with your medicine?"
"You should know, " he said with a shudder, "You set AnaMaria to making sure of it. Said she'd knock me down, sit on my legs and pinch my nose shut if she had to."
Miranda's brows lifted. "I would hope she wouldn't have to go that far, but in any case, it won't be necessary now." She looked up finally, her face pale and drawn. "There's been more than enough time for the bark to do its work You'll not need to take any more. Unless the fever takes hold again, that is."
"That's a relief," Jack said with some feeling, noting at the same time the violet shadows under her eyes. "And is there anything in that handy case for when the physician is under the weather?"
"It's nothing, Captain. Only a little trouble sleeping. That's all."
Remembering the stay at the roadside inn, Jack guessed it was more a case of interrupted sleep. Knowing what he did of the lady, it wasn't hard to imagine what the subject of those nightmares might be...or to guess that she probably wouldn't take kindly to what she might consider an intrusion on his part should he inquire farther. In the interests of keeping the peace, Jack decided to change the topic.
"You don't have the look of someone uncomfortable with sea travel, though. I'm taking it that this is nothing new to you?"
She shifted slightly, returning to her study of nothing. "I'm sure you've guessed that already, Captain. Why the sudden fascination?"
"Humor me. The skies are clear and the wind is good. At this point, I'm thinking we'll be in for a fairly boring sail." He grinned, and hauled himself up to sit on the railing, grabbing hold of the lines to steady himself. "Not much to do then but trade tales, or drink...and drink...and then tell tall tales."
The corner of her mouth lifted. "Alright then, yes -- I've made several crossings in my life. My family's been sea farers for generations. In fact," she gave him an impish glance, "One of my father's ancestors sailed on the Golden Hind."
Jack's eyebrows shot upward. "With 'El Draco' himself, eh? Any other pirates in the family?"
The lady shrugged. "Mostly merchant men. Successful ones, so I suppose in a way, that would be a yes."
He snorted. Miranda had an odd sense of humor for someone so primly mannered. "So the sea's in your blood, is it -- besides being born there, and all."
"You could say that." She laughed then. "My first trip to the Eastern waters had my instructors back in England begging father to never take me out on voyage again. I was all of about eleven when we reached home, and it took them weeks to get the sea out of my walk. Not to mention some of the phrases out of my vocabulary."
Jack smiled too. The idea of a well bred, well dressed girl child walking and talking like an old deck hand made for quite a picture.
"Actually," she went on, "That particular trip was supposed to have happened a couple of years prior, but..." She made a face and looked embarrassed. "We were a week out from London, fighting the wind all the way. I was -- eight? Or nine...very young, at any rate, and having the time of my life. But I got bored. So, I started following the cabin boy around. He was only a few years older than me, and I thought at the time that he was rather handsome.
"So naturally, I pinched some dried peas from the ship's stores, and started pelting the poor child. It never occurred to me that he might find the whole thing annoying after a while."
"So what did he do about it?" Jack asked neutrally, but there was an odd flutter in his stomach, and his mouth had gone quite dry as he watched her distant face, "This handsome cabin boy of yours?"
Miranda was lost in her memories. "He went aloft -- straight into the shrouds. Then, he yelled at me to go away...that a little girl like me had no business on the deck of a ship."
"And you didn't like that, did you?"
"Oh, no. Not in the slightest. So, I started climbing too. I was part way up the mizzenmast before Father spotted me.
"Then, he started bellowing, I missed my grip, and..." Her hand lifted, then described a falling motion.
Jack winced sympathetically.
"Straight to the deck." she concluded. "I broke my wrist, Father and the boy were frightened half to death, and then the Captain -- well, he..."
"Captain Rennling was furious." Jack supplied finally, and Miranda looked startled. "He ordered twenty lashes to the boy for egging you on.
"You cried." he continued, smiling gently at her dawning comprehension, "You didn't cry when you fell, but you carried on so piteously when they punished the lad, telling them that it was your own fault for starting up the mast, that your father had them stop after only ten. Then you bawled out the poor soul that had to salt the boy's back, and that boy had to spend the whole rest of the voyage being teased by his shipmates about his little sweetheart who stood up for him. Even after we met up with that second ship that took you and your family back to London." He shook his head, marveling at this strange turn, and held out his hand. "It's good to see you again, Miss Warringford."
She took his hand numbly. An automatic response, while she continued to stare. Then, she laughed again, genuinely, and with a smile that lit up her face. "Likewise, surely." She returned the shake, and pulled away to brush windblown strands of hair from her eyes. "But this is extraordinary, Captain! After all these years, here you are -- all grown up, and your own ship, and...piraty..."
"And back with his little sweetheart?" Jack interrupted, bobbing his eyebrows, "The one who thought him handsome enough to chase up a mast?"
Miranda blushed furiously, and Jack found he was enjoying himself immensely just then. "I thought there was something familiar about that Warringford name, but didn't place it until you started reminiscing. The years have been kind. The little red haired moppet with the handful of dried peas turns into the lovely, gracious lady who tried to shoot my head off."
He grinned, and pointed to the much shortened rope of hair at the one side of his head -- the one she'd shot through the night they had met. "Good thing for me your aim didn't improve as well."
Some part of that little moppet remained in her, for she went so far as to stick her tongue out at him.
Another mischievous thought struck him. Jack hopped down from the railing, sweeping his hand around.
"Care to finish what you started, Milady?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"There's the mizzenmast." he pointed out helpfully, gesturing with his head.
"I can see that." she returned with obvious trepidation.
"And?" He waited, then sighed, spreading his hands toward her in his exaggerated way. "Oh, come on, woman! Is this the same girl who tried to kick old Rennling's Quartermaster -- who only a week ago was ready to take on five mad, vicious pirates with only a single shot?"
"Four mad, vicious pirates," Miranda corrected, though he thought she was starting to look a bit wild around the eyes, "And one mad, viscous, slightly unconscious one.
"And that last adventure of mine was...it was over twenty five years ago, Captain!"
"So?"
"So?" she repeated, voice climbing in her agitation. Jack saw Tearlach look up from his busy coiling of the lines, staring at them with interest.
"So...that trip didn't exactly end well for either of us. Did it?"
Jack sighed again, and shook his head in a parody of regret. "So you're telling me that that obnoxious, though dashingly handsome cabin boy was right all along, eh? No place on the deck of a ship for a..." He looked her up and down, his expression hovering somewhere between suggestive and dismissive. "...little girl? Best get below where you belong, then. Go on," He flapped his hands at her, shooing her away. "Off you go, now."
Miranda's eyes were fiery green sparks. If looks could kill, this one would have roughly approximated a cannon landing on his head. Really, he thought as she glowered up at him, actually trembling with outrage, the woman was absolutely adorable when she was like this. Like a kitten. A soft, fluffy little kitten -- just before it sank it's little fangs up to the gums in your hand.
"Yes?" he inquired mildly. She grabbed her skirts into her fists, flinging them down in a display of temper. Then, she called him a name that made him blink.
"Why Miranda, what a thing to say. I'm wounded. Truly." But he couldn't keep the laughter from his voice.
"In your ear!" she snapped and stalked away, heels clicking ominously on the deck. He watched her go. Past the main mast. Past the mizzenmast, to disappear down the aft hatch into the lower deck.
"In my ear?" Jack looked around. Several men were staring openly, many of them not bothering to hide their grins.
"Was it something I said?" he asked innocently.
With nothing better to do, he worked among the crew for a time. Helping to adjust the sails, arrange the lines, then going aft again to check their course at the helm.
Still on a true heading. Still helped by the favorable winds.Still making good headway.
He had just considered a visit to the galley, when something small struck him in the back of his head. He heard it bounce off the deck and turned, searching for whatever had hit him. A tiny, round green object rolled by. It was a -- Jack stared -- a dried pea.
Another one struck him square in the nose. He flinched, covering this with his hand to shield from any further attacks, and glanced around.
"Why, you crafty little minx..."
Miranda glared up from the gun deck, a triumphant curve to her lips, and a fist brimming with more ammunition. She was dressed in men's clothing. Jack raised his brows. She must have raided his own cabin, for there she stood in the very britches, waistcoat, and shirt that she'd given him.
"Changed your mind, have you?" he called out, then ducked another volley. The next one caught him right between the eyes, and he waved his hands in surrender.
"Enough! White flag... Parlay!"
Her hand lowered. "I'm listening."
"Hold to course." he said aside to AnaMaria, who snickered out an acknowledgement, and made his way down the steps at his loose limbed, sun addled best.
"Daft. The both of 'em daft." Gibbs muttered behind him.
"So," Jack began, "Feel like taking a little trip up..."
Another shot to the nose. This was becoming embarrassing!
"I called parlay!" he protested.
"And I'm not a pirate." Miranda smirked, "So I don't think it applies.
"Besides," she went on sweetly, " Weren't you the one who said we weren't enemies?" She fluttered her lashes winsomely. Jack wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her, or turn her over his knee.
"I did say that." he admitted, "But now I'm beginning to wonder." He shielded his face again when her hands lifted. "Mercy, lady -- for the sake of my poor, battered nose."
She laughed and pocketed her remaining ammunition. But she didn't look quite so sure of herself the closer they got to the shrouds -- the ladder-like lines that would take them aloft. Jack climbed up onto the channel plank, then pulled her up beside.
"Now just remember," he instructed, "Keep to the windward side. That way, you're blown into the lines -- not away. "And don't take your hand off of one rope 'till you've got ahold of another, savvy?"
Miranda swallowed hard, then nodded.
They started up. Jack stayed right alongside her, giving instructions and encouragements over the ever increasing booming of the black sails.
"Not here." he said when they had reached the first platform. "Come on -- not that much farther to go." He passed her where the shrouds narrowed to the second, topmost platform, climbing through the 'lubber's hole', and holding out a hand to her. "Come on," he called, "It's alright, I've got you."
She reached up, and he pulled her to stand with him, then guided her hand to the tarred standing lines. Her knuckles were white, he noted, as she clung to it. Come to think of it, the grip she had on his arm right now was surprisingly strong as well.
"You really do feel the wind up here." she remarked in a shaky voice.
"Oh, yes. But you should try this in real weather." He grinned wickedly. "Really gets the heart going then."
"I can imagine," she quavered. He glanced at her, then shook his head.
"It doesn't have quite the same impact unless you open your eyes, Milady."
Miranda forced a nervous laugh. "If I faint, does this mean you'll leave me up here, or carry me down over your shoulder like a sack of flour?"
"Oh, I don't think you're the kind to do that. Come on," he coaxed, "Have a look."
"I must be mad..."
He barely heard this over the sound of the canvas, but then she carefully peered about. The death grip on his arm relaxed. Her hand slid away, went to another rung of the lines, and she leaned into the shroud.
"Amazing."
"Nothing quite like it for clearing the head."
"I think I see what you mean." she admitted. "You must spend a good deal of time up here."
"Not near enough. And usually, it's over there." He pointed ahead and up. Miranda followed his gesture to the main mast. The tallest of the three spars, and much taller than the one they stood upon now.
"The...the main-topgallant-mast head." she recited slowly, "I remember the name." She shivered and looked away from that high point. "Not sure if I'll be up to taking on that challenge."
"Oh, not today at any rate, Milady." Jack shrugged. "Another time, maybe. How does right after breakfast strike you?"
The look she gave him spoke volumes.
"Just having a bit of fun with you, darlin'." he chuckled. "Now, the view's nice enough here, but you've still got a lot of sail in your way, sooo..." He took her elbow, steering her to the side of the platform that faced into the wind.
"Try this instead."
A/N:Please move on to the next chapter for...well -- the rest of this one!