The next morning, Em woke up with a hangover and a surprise which left her with strong mixed feelings. Last night, before she nodded off to sleep, she had resolved herself to never talk to Jack unless forced to on account of her duty as co-captain. Yet as she stared down at the dark coat that had fallen onto her lap when she woke, Em was utterly speechless. There was only one person who would have snuck out of the warm confines of his cabin and would have given her the coat he had taken from one of his crew members to save her from the cold night.
But why would Jack do it? she wondered as she resisted the urge to throw up due to the hangover. She didn't usually feel this bad after only one bottle of rum the night before. Looking back on the last few days, her liking for rum had diminished somewhat to that she barely touched it.
Em looked up at the sounds of the ropes below her, squeaking and creaking, and the next moment, Chase Turnbull appeared.
"'Ey captain," he greeted her with a nod. He noticed the empty rum bottle on her left and the old coat Jack Sparrow had worn the day before on her lap. He cracked a grin. "Had a little fun last night, Em?" he joked. His smile instantly dropped at the dark look on Em's face. Muttering an apology, Chase climbed onto the crow's nest.
Em slowly shook her throbbing head. Without any words said to her lookout, Em threw on Jack's coat to shelter from the cold winds blowing and climbed down onto the main deck.
She found Jack at the helm, manning the steering wheel with old mute Cotton and his colorful parrot standing silently behind his captain. Em noticed every once in a while Jack would throw looks that almost bordered on paranoia over his shoulder at Cotton, as if the older sailor was planning something. If Em wasn't so mad at Jack at the moment, she'd actually laugh at this scene. It was when Jack was looking back in front of the wheel was when he noticed Em below. He gave her a nod and tried to give her a small smile when he recognized that she wore his new coat, but he received a chilly greeting in return.
Em stiffly nodded towards Jack before making her way towards the helm. She saw Jack give Cotton a short order before he left the wheel to meet her at the top of the stairs.
"Good morrow, darling," Jack greeted her cheerfully. "Fine morning, isn't it?" He instantly regretted his last words as soon as they passed between his chapped lips. Not only did Em have the look of someone with a bad hangover, but the implication that his words were implying were showing their effect in the dark scowl that now crossed Em's pale face.
Without a word, for she knew only spiteful and accusing words would only come, Em roughly stripped off Jack's coat and threw it at him. With a turn of her heel (this sent her hair flying and hitting Jack across the face), Em stomped back down the stairs and started for Jack's cabin with all curious eyes drawn upon her.
As Em reached the closed doors leading into Jack's cabin, Em kicked them open. She smirked with a bit of pleasure at the loud swearing she heard as she strode inside. Just as Em had thought, Malva had believed she wouldn't have to do anything on this ship, but nothing in life comes for free. As Em rounded the large wooden beam, she looked to the hammock and held back her laughter when she laid eyes on Malva, who struggled to pick herself up from the wooden floor.
Hearing the squeaks of the floorboards, Malva's dark head shot up and she glared daggers at Em. The look in Malva's eyes told Em that she knew it had been her that disturbed the vixen's beauty sleep.
Before Malva could have a chance to complain, Em said, "This is not some pleasure cruise. You will earn your keep on this ship, so get up and get out on deck in the next ten minutes or there'll be hell to pay."
When Malva finally emerged from Jack's cabin, the sun was just starting to climb the pale blue Caribbean sky. The men on deck were bustling with their respective orders. Beside the main mast, Em waited for Malva with a wooden bucket filled with soapy water and a dirty-looking rag which Em promptly handed to Malva. She pointed to a random spot on the deck.
"Swab the deck until it's so clean you could eat off it," Em ordered harshly. "Finish before nightfall, and you've assured yourself supper."
"Now hold on a damn minute!" Malva cried angrily when Em began to walk away. "I did not come onto this bloody ship to be worked like a dog-"
"That's because you came onto this ship to only get into Jack's breeches!" Em snapped.
Malva Dame gasped and looked at Em as if she had suggested something very unclean and indecent. However, Malva's surprise quickly evaporated and an almost triumphant look fell upon her face as she slowly sauntered closer to Em. "Aye, and what fun that was," she sighed heavily, as if it had been an ultimate task and pleasure.
With her usual rational mind clouded by anger and jealousy, Em could not see through Malva's lie. Em whipped her hand back and lashed it across Malva's face. The hard impact of the blow and the unnatural paleness of Malva's skin both contributed to Malva's apple-red cheek.
"You best start scrubbing lest you don't get any supper!" Em told her with malice before she stormed off towards the bow of the Pearl.
For the rest of the day, Em kept herself very busy so that she wouldn't have to think of either Jack or Malva. Yet being busy didn't mean that she could avoid the intense looks she always saw on Jack's face whenever she caught him staring at her, or the very presence of Malva Dame as she inched along first the main deck and then the poop deck.
It was near to supper time when the sound of a pistol shot rang across the ship and over the churning waves.
Like a dog alerted by the sound of a hunting horn, Em looked up from the writing desk. Standing up, she quickly made for the doors. When she emerged out of Jack's cabin, she saw that the men working on deck seemed rather unfazed by the gunshot. However, she did notice a few of them glancing towards the bow of the ship.
Em caught Michael Turnbull by the arm as he passed by with an armful of ropes. "Who shot their pistol?" Em demanded, although she had a solid idea who. There weren't many captains who would let their crew also carry pistols on an ordinary day unless they risked certain mutiny.
"It's just Jack," came the expected answer.
Em's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And what is he doing, per say?" she asked.
A wry smile appeared across Michael's handsome light brown face. "He's, ah, practicing his shot for - where are you going?" Michael called as Em stormed past him towards the bow.
As she passed the main mast, the high-pitched screams of Jack the monkey reached her ears, and Em felt her anger rise, especially at the sight of Jack with his pistol raised up at the tops of the masts, trying his best to aim at the fleeing simian.
"Jack Sparrow!" Em roared as she quickened her pace towards him.
Jack lowered his pistol. He spun around and the side of his jaw collided with Em's left fist. His head spun half way around and a dazed look crossed his face. "I don't think I deserved that," he told himself.
"Oh yes, you did, Jack Sparrow!" Em shouted as Jack turned his head back forward.
One of Jack's bushy eyebrows rose, giving him a puzzled look. "Oh, and why may tha' be, darling?" he asked. Although he kept his eyes trained on Em, his ears were straining to hear where the monkey was located.
"Don't shoot at the monkey!" Em screamed in his face, her lovely tan complexion turning dark red from her anger. "Or I will shoot at you!"
Jack grinned wryly in the face of her wrath. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time ye did, eh?" he said and gave a little wave with his free hand. Thinking their business was done, Jack turned around with every intention of finding the monkey again, but the cold click of a pistol hammer from behind forced him to turn around to face the end of Em's weapon.
Em looked at Jack with utmost seriousness on her face, and burning anger in her dark brown eyes. Her earlier hysterics were gone. "Even if he is dead, Jack, do not shoot at him, or I will swear on my brother's soul that I will shoot you meself," she warned him. With that, Em un-cocked the pistol hammer, stowed it away on her leather belt, and strode back to Jack's cabin, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.
That night when many of the men had retired down below, the two second-in-commands Michael Turnbull and Joshamee Gibbs slipped onto the main deck and joined Emelia Kraven at the helm. The Black Pearl was anchored at the moment, slowly moving in time with the peaceful waves lapping up against the side of the ship.
"That Dame brings nuthin' but trouble," Em muttered angrily as Michael handed her the flask of water she had requested he bring. He and Gibbs each held a bottle of rum and took to standing on either side of her.
Gibbs nodded his head quickly. "Aye, the lass gives me a very bad feelin'," he said feverishly. "'Er eyes look like the kind of coal they use to light the fires of Hell."
Michael laughed and even Em had to smile at that. "'Coal they use to light the fires of Hell'?" Michael repeated in disbelief.
Gibbs looked at Michael with a blank expression on his face. "Aye."
Em exchanged a look with Michael before she turned her head towards distant footsteps echoing from the main deck. After handing her water flask to Michael, she stepped around him and walked towards the staircase on the right side, where the footsteps were now coming from. As she stopped at the top of the staircase, Em immediately regretted not going early to bed up in the crow's nest as she stared down into Jack's mesmerizing gaze.
A cheeky grin appeared across Jack's face. "Ah, just the lass I wanted to speak to," he exclaimed. He slightly tilted his head to the side. The weak moonlight shined upon the small bruise forming on his jaw where Em had hit him this afternoon, and it reminded her why she was, and still is, mad at him.
A hostile look appeared on Em's face. "You must be mighty drunk again, Jack, for dear Malva is below deck," she spat. Em made to turn her back on Jack, but he clamped a hand around her arm and spun her back around with an exasperated expression on his face.
"Emelia, I came here to talk 'bout Malva," he told her.
Em threw him a disgusted look. "Funny, how she is the root of all the problems on this ship!" Em hotly told him. "Maybe you should have never let her set foot on the Pearl!" she added maliciously. Em wrenched her arm away from Jack and stalked away, but Jack was in hot pursuit and once again grabbed her by the arm and forced Em to face him.
"I couldn't just let her rot on-!" Jack suddenly paused and looked over to his right side towards the steering wheel, where Michael and Gibbs still stood, watching the drama unfold in front of them. Jack quickly straightened up his composure and let go of Em's arm. Clearing his throat, he sternly ordered them to leave for the lower decks.
Em shot Jack a black look. "You do not order a member of my crew!" she yelled.
Jack's face remained impassive, and he gave a curt nod towards the two first mates as they passed their captains. When Jack turned his head to face Em, he deftly raised his left hand and caught Em's hand by the wrist, inches from the side of his cheek where she would have slapped. He made a clicking noise with his tongue and shook his head sadly. "Ye gotta stop doin' that, darling," he told her.
Em tugged at her hand, but Jack wouldn't let go. "Well then you shouldn't do things that get women to slap and/or hit you!" she told him stubbornly.
Jack rolled his eyes in an exaggerated gesture before letting go of Em's wrist. "Before our little spectators were dismissed, I was going to say that I couldn't just let Malva Dame rot on Rum Cay-"
"Well I would have!" Em shouted and flung her arms around.
Jack bit back a smile. "I know ye would have, love, but being a gentleman"-Em snorted at this-"I could not bring meself to forsake the lass," he told her.
Through gritted teeth, Em said, "Was that before or after you decided you needed another woman to keep you company in these cold nights?"
Surprising Em, Jack took her by the arms and forcefully drew her closer to the warmth of his body. "Dammit Emelia, I did not sleep wiv Malva! Whate'er she has been tellin' ye is not true!" he told her fiercely. "You are my lass, and only you!"
"And why should I believe you?" Em countered. "You are a pirate after all!"
"Aye, and same goes fer you!" Jack thundered. "So if I am to believe what you are implyin', does that mean all those times which you told me you loved me were all lies?"
Em's eyes widened with rage. "How dare you!" she gasped, struggling to pull away from Jack, but he kept a tight and painful grip on her arms. "How dare you, of all people, accuse me of infidelity when you have done everything to protect Malva while forgetting completely about me!"
Jack suddenly grew quiet so that the only sound they could hear was the deep breaths Em took as she tried to calm herself down. When finally Jack spoke, his tone was somber and regretful. "Was I makin' ye feel this way fer the last few days, Emelia?" he asked her softly.
Em stopped struggling and closed her eyes tightly, willing herself not to cry. She soon found Jack's lips pressed hard against her own, and she gave into him, kissing him back equally hard. Tears slowly streamed down the sides of her face as she shrugged off Jack's hands and wrapped her hands around his neck at the same time as his arms pressed her closer to his body.
High up in the crow's nest, Michael and Gibbs silently watched this touching scene.
"Just as it rightfully should be," Michael muttered with a sigh.
Neither noticed that Malva Dame had also seen everything from when Jack ordered them to the lower decks. Neither noticed that she stole away back towards the cabin as quietly as she had come out from it with a look of deep loathing across her pale face.
However, Joshamee Gibbs did notice a lone seagull that had been circling the masts for quite some time swoop down and land softly onto the clean main deck. Gibbs' brow creased into a worried expression.
His younger companion saw this look and turned his head towards Gibbs. "What's the matter, Gibbs?" Michael whispered so as not to be found out by their captains.
Gibbs nodded frantically towards the seagull milling around the deck, pecking about for any supper accidentally left over.
"A bird landed on the deck. Means trouble is on the horizon, lad."