A/N: Just a mild warning for those of you reading that have more tender sensibilities -the scene at the end of this chapter, while not explicit in any way, does push the rating of the story just a bit, but it really was too much fun to write to leave out, and it has some amusing consequences over the next two chapters. ;)
--
Chapter Thirty-Six ~*~
--
Turk raised his remaining hand in a gesture of surrender. "Easy there, darlin'," he said, "Barbossa just sent me to see if yeh needed any help."
I let the knife drop again. "He did?" I asked, my expression softening at Turk's words.
"Yep."
"Really?"
"Aye –knew yeh was workin' awful hard down here," Turk replied.
Something in his tone said that he wasn't telling the entire truth, and I eyed him suspiciously.
"You're lying," I said. "He actually sent you down here to see when dinner was going to be ready, didn't he?"
Turk grinned. "Maybe, but after hearin' what yeh said to Hamlyn, I'd be pretty daft to admit it, wouldn't I?" he asked, clearly amused. "I'd prefer to keep me important bits just where they belong, thank yeh very much."
I wondered if there would ever come a time when Turk wouldn't be able to make me blush so easily, even as my face burned at the thought that he'd overheard what I said to threaten Hamlyn.
"'Course," Turk continued, clearly feeling that my cheeks weren't pink enough as he dropped his voice an octave, "it'd take a bit more doin' to part me from mine than Hamlyn from his."
He laughed heartily, apparently satisfied that he'd sufficiently embarrassed me at last.
--
As I have written, at least once or twice in the past, there are few things that are secret on a pirate ship, and most that are, do not remain so for long. Unfortunately for me, while I was still engaged in finishing up dinner preparations in the galley, the news that I had threatened Hamlyn in a most atypical, yet colorful way probably worthy of my buccaneer compatriots, had made it topside, thanks to the efforts, I am quite sure, of my dear friend, Turk.
The results were that when I made it on deck myself, with the first pot full of dinner in my arms, many of the crew, who had gathered that night to all eat together on deck in anticipation of arriving at our destination the next day, behaved in an odd manner that it took me a moment to understand. As I passed by to put the large pot on a barrel that had been set aside for it, groups here and there of the men began snickering and acting rudely, each of them shoving a hand or two into their crotches.
By the time I'd set the pot down, and nearly all the pirates near me had adopted the same posture, I was incensed at the fact that I'd just worked so hard to see to that they were fed properly, and they were repaying me so unkindly. Thinking for a moment that Turk had overestimated my welcome aboard the ship, I stood with my back to them, fortifying myself and determined to maintain my composure when I turned and made my way back through the gauntlet of uncivilized, uncouth, unappreciative pillagers, and that's when it suddenly hit me: the crew, in response to hearing that their usually soft-spoken, well-bred ship's doctor had threatened to castrate their former cook, in jest, had all taken, not to groping themselves, but to shielding themselves, from any harm that might befall them if I happened to have a knife in my hand.
I'd spent enough time in the company of pirates to understand that this was their way of including me in a comradely joke, and despite the fact that yet again my cheeks flushed hot, I couldn't help but laugh at their ill-mannered humor. A wave of laughter coursed across the deck as my pirate companions realized I was laughing, and it seemed as though it might be a pleasant evening on deck after all. I never suspected how far from pleasant things would become over the next half hour.
I had just begun to compose myself again when Jack appeared at my side and lifted the lid off the pot, sniffing appreciatively at the contents.
"I have to admit, you know what you're doing," Jack said, closing his eyes and savoring the smell of spicy black beans and rice. "Win their hearts through their stomachs, and then strike fear into their hearts with a blade; it's what any pirate captain worth his salt would do." Jack met my eyes with a mischievous glint in his own dark ones.
"I don't know what you're on about, Jack. I merely made a pot of beans and happened to mention a surgical procedure to Hamlyn," I replied, trying to affect nonchalance and taking the ladle he was about to sample dinner from out of his fingers and handing him a bowl, which I then filled for him.
"Uh huh, I see," Jack said, after taking a bite of food. "So, you're not trying to reinforce the crew's loyalty to you by seducing them with your cooking?"
I laughed out loud. "Hardly, Jack, considering the supplies on board this ship."
"With which you've worked small miracles, darling...enough perhaps to seduce even old Jack," he said quite charmingly, taking another bite of the dinner I'd prepared.
"Jack Sparrow, are you flirting with me?" I asked admonishingly, although the effect was likely ruined by the smile I couldn't hide.
"Perhaps a little, Gwen," he said, reinforcing the fact that he was by calling me the name he'd given me the night we'd been talking in the tavern in Port Calais. "I will, however, adamantly deny I ever did such a thing...I'd prefer to keep all me parts in the places in which they started." A roguish gold-flecked grin crossed his face.
"Jack, I'd hardly threaten to surgically remove any parts from you, simply because of a little harmless flirting," I said, noting how dangerous Jack could likely be to a woman who wasn't prepared to deal with his boyish grin, charming manner, and rakish good looks.
"It's not you I'm worried about," he replied, casting a glance across the deck at Barbossa, who wore a thinly veiled, dark look at seeing me laughing with Jack. "He watches you all the time you know," Jack added between bites, "even if you don't realize it."
"Does he?" I asked softly, dishing out another bowl of food, and glancing again at the man in the great plumed hat across the deck, now speaking with Cisco Rabara.
"Aye. He's in love with you, Maddie, that's for certain...another small miracle you've managed to work aboard a pirate ship, if you ask me. I never thought I'd see the day when anything but the Pearl and the sea would claim his black heart."
"And has anything ever claimed your black heart, Captain Sparrow?" I asked pointedly. "Besides the Pearl and the sea," I added as he opened his mouth to reply, causing him to frown a bit.
Jack paused a moment, considering whether or not he would answer, and then smiled wistfully. "Perhaps," was all he said, very quietly, and then he recovered himself and changed the subject. "So, is it really as easy as you say, Maddie?" he asked, taking the ladle out of the hands of Gibbs, who was trying to serve himself dinner, and scooping a second helping into his bowl before handing the ladle back.
"What's that?" I asked, not making the conversational leap along with Jack.
"That procedure...making a man...erm..." Jack pulled a face as he finished, "a...a...eunuch."
"The procedure is quite straightforward, actually." I smiled sweetly at my dreadlock'd companion. "Would you care for me to elaborate?"
Jack gave a visible, violent shudder. "No." He crinkled up his nose and looked at me intently. "You haven't actually performed said procedure on anyone, have you?"
I opened my mouth to reply, but Jack rapidly threw up a hand to halt my reply. "Never mind, don't answer that." He seemed to be trying to rid himself of the image he'd conjured in his head for a moment. "You know, Maddie, for being such a learned and urbane lady, what it is you actually do for living is really quite...well," he said with a look of mild revulsion, "distasteful."
I laughed again, earning another quick glance in my direction from Barbossa across the deck. "I might say the same thing about you and Hector," I quipped back.
Jack took on a sly look. "But you won't, you don't, and you haven't," he said, weaving in closer to me, "not when it's clear that you will, you are, and you have been in love wiv a pirate, and not just any pirate at that."
We both glanced in Barbossa's direction before Jack went on. "Did it ever occur to you, darling, that the reason you're currently the ship's cook, as well as her most competent and capable surgeon, of course, is to help reinforce the crew's loyalty to Barbossa?"
It hadn't, and the look on my face must have said as much.
"Food for thought, dearie," Jack said, and he wandered off to enjoy the rest of his dinner near the rail with Gibbs.
I stood there mulling over Jack's statement for a moment or two, and then made my way through the throng of hungry pirates endeavoring to procure themselves some dinner. Barbossa's expression was unreadable when I made it to where he was standing, bearing the gift of a full, steaming bowl of food, and I offered him my sweetest smile. Cisco, sensing that it would be best to leave us to a moment to ourselves, excused himself.
"Madre de Dios," he muttered pleasantly, "but that smells good. I think I had better get some quickly." With that, he left us standing alone together, or at least as alone as we might be at that moment, across the deck from the crew having dinner.
"I brought this for you," I said, offering Barbossa the bowl I had in my hands. He eyed it for a moment and then took it, uncharacteristically not offering any thanks. Immediately I sensed some form of displeasure from him, and I remained standing silently before him, waiting to see if he might volunteer what was bothering him, or if I was going to have to pry it from him.
A few bites of food later, his demeanor still remained frosty, and I decided to venture forth.
"Is dinner to your liking?" I asked, trying to keep my tone casual as I broke the silence between us.
"Aye," he said between bites, and he said nothing for another moment as he handed up a small morsel of food to Jack, who was perched on his shoulder and eyeing me with cool interest as he nibbled on the offering. I wasn't really quite sure what to say next, but Barbossa spoke again in a low voice.
"But I'll tell yeh what's not to me likin'," he began, his steel gaze meeting mine fleetingly and then sweeping out over the dark waves as I waited. "The fact that ye chose to serve him dinner before ye did me." He jerked his head vaguely in Jack's direction, and the situation became clearer to me
"Honestly, Hector," I admonished him very quietly, doing my best to keep the conversation just between us, "if you were paying attention, you'd have noticed that Jack served himself dinner, and that you are the only one to whom I brought food."
"I see," he replied, handing Jack another tidbit, and then setting the empty bowl on a nearby barrel and placing his hands on the rail, "and what is it ye were speakin' of with Captain Sparrow?"
I answered him in earnest. "Jack commented that he thinks you have me cooking in order to reinforce the crew's loyalty to yourself."
"Is that so?" he asked icily.
"Yes."
"And would that be a crime if I did?" he asked, still looking out over the open sea.
"Oh, like something being a crime would stop you from doing it," I said affectionately, and I grew concerned when his expression remained stony.
"That be true," he said, still not looking at me, and I could discern no trace of amusement in his voice.
I took a step closer and placed a hand over his, causing Jack to screech at me unhappily and then bound from Barbossa's shoulder and off into the rigging. Barbossa watched him go and then rolled his eyes a little, mildly exasperated with his companion's jealousy. "Jack also commented," I said very softly, "that you watch me all the time. Is that true?"
Barbossa appeared thoughtful for a moment, and then answered me in a hushed voice. "Aye, lass. Constantly."
"Really?" I asked, my heart aflutter at the thought that he monitored me much more closely than I had even suspected.
"There's not a glance at yeh or a remark from the crew that I don't scrutinize," he went on. "One unwanted hand on ye would land any one of these miserable sons of bitches at the bottom of the Caribbean. But I've watched ye care fer them, doctor them, cut a man ye barely know open and sew him back together; I've watched yeh do yer best to put up with the life of a sailor, thrust upon ye because yer foolish enough to care fer a pirate."
Here he turned to fasten that endless blue stare on me. "I've watched ye takin' one more step each day into my world, doin' yer best not to glance at what ye've left behind; 'tis a brave front ye put up, Madeline Gray.
"But I've also seen," he continued, his voice taking on a strained character, "you spendin' a fair bit of time laughin' in the company of Jack Sparrow. He glanced past my shoulder, irritated, at Jack standing with Gibbs across the way, and then back at me.
"And what of it?" I asked, instantly on the defensive. I had done my best to remain cordial to the man who had killed my lover, to facilitate peace on the ship, which, in the long run, served to further Barbossa's own ambitions. I didn't see the crime inherent in discovering that I could have a civilized or pleasant conversation with Jack. Apparently Barbossa did.
"What of it?" he echoed back, snarling softly. "Gah! Nevermind!" he snapped suddenly, turning about and storming toward the great cabin with pirates scattering to get out of his way when they saw the look he wore.
If I hadn't already been feeling so harassed by Hamlyn and harried by trying to meet the demand for food from fifty hungry pirates, I might have just characteristically bitten my tongue and left Barbossa to himself. But there was insinuation in his comments that I felt was unfair and unjust, and I was determined to set the record straight once and for all. I hurried after him and yanked the cabin door open, not ten seconds after he'd slammed it closed. It shut behind me heavily, causing him to glance back at me from where he'd already begun pacing in agitation.
"In case you'd forgotten," I started in, "it was your idea to bring Jack Sparrow on board this ship."
"Aye, and to leave him locked in the brig," Barbossa argued, "until some unthinkin' female witlessly let him out."
His comment stung, and I knew he'd said what he had intentionally, knowing that chauvinistically taking a stab at my intelligence would wound quickly and deeply. It did, and I suddenly felt hot angry tears threatening. "I suppose that since you apparently think that I'm so witless, that I'd just fall prey to Jack's flirting like some silly school maid," I spat back, fighting the tightening burn in my throat as emotion threatened to overtake me.
"Ye've spent more time than necessary in his company," Barbossa replied hotly.
"In part because you've sent me to talk to him," I replied angrily.
"And the other part?" he sneered.
"Time I spent finding out about you," I said, wiping away the first traitorous tear than trailed down my cheek. That reminder only seemed to irritate Barbossa more, and did nothing to lessen his anger.
"And ye need to flirt shamelessly with him to do that?" he demanded.
"Shamelessly?" I asked, furious that he would use such a word for the harmless comments we'd shared. Turk made remarks to me on a daily basis that were an order of magnitude worse than anything that had passed between Jack and myself, but Barbossa would never give them a second thought, because he trusted Turk so implicitly.
Apparently I wasn't being accorded the same courtesy, and the tears started in earnest. "You trust me so little that you think I'd be one of those women who would just amuse myself with a romp in another pirate's bed?"
"It's been known to happen," Barbossa said acidly.
"Yes, well, let me inform you, Captain Barbossa," I said, completely incensed, "I am not the poor caliber of woman who would so easily fall victim to Jack Sparrow."
"I said naught about yer romp bein' with Sparrow," Barbossa snarled furiously.
I'm sure that at least ten or twelve full seconds went by as the shock of what he had said sank in, and I stood there in wounded disbelief. "So that's it, is it?" I sobbed, my voice cracking since it was no longer under my control. "You think because I slept with Michael Bellamy, that I would sleep with Jack?" I couldn't believe after all those years, that Barbossa felt the need to open that old wound.
"It took very little fer ye to end up naked between the sheets with Bellamy," Barbossa spat as he stepped closer.
"Oh, very little indeed!" I cried. "Just because he was the only person who, after I'd been kidnapped, shot at, starved and forced to watch my companion drown, showed me compassion and tenderness in a situation from which I wasn't sure I would emerge alive!"
"'Tis a pitiful bitch who will flock to any master for want of a kind word," he said with quiet venom in his words and fury in his hard blue stare.
"Yes, and most especially when she's been beaten by her first master!" I was barely able to finish speaking before the first sob escaped me, and I buried my face in my hands as I cried for a very long moment. Barbossa said nothing as my words sank in; he knew I referred to the one time he had ever struck me. Finally, feeling as if someone had pulled the emotional rug out from beneath my feet, I turned and bolted for the door.
My hand had just brushed the handle when Barbossa's strong fingers closed hard around my elbow, and I found myself being spun by the arm back around to face him. Distraught and outraged that he would grab me that way, I yanked my arm free.
"Don't touch me!" I snapped, and I began to turn for the door once more. Barbossa grabbed my arm again, his strong fingers biting into my flesh and a gasp escaping me as he yanked me completely about the second time. Emotionally wounded and furious at being handled so roughly, I unthinkingly landed a stinging slap across his cheek.
His eyes were blazing when he looked back at me, but I met his unblinking stare defiantly with tears in my eyes, even as he grabbed me roughly by the shoulders. He stepped forward to loom over me, shoving me up against the door at my back with a thud, and then, apparently not satisfied with the effect the first time, yanked me forward a little and pushed me sharply against the door again. While I suffered no injury from his gesture, it was enough to cause me concern, and when he abruptly let go of my arm, I flinched, half expecting his hand across my face.
No blow ever came, but his strong fingers closed roughly around my jaw, long black nails biting into my cheek ever so slightly as he pulled my chin up. For a long moment, that steel blue gaze bore into mine as fire blazed in its depth. The next thing I knew, he quickly took a final step forward, trapping me against the door, and while my hands went reflexively to his chest to push him away, I suddenly found his mouth pressed over mine, quite un-gently. The difference in strength and stature between us was enough to keep me from being able to leverage him away, but I confess, although it surprised me greatly, that after a moment my fingers relaxed against his chest and my lips parted willingly for the duration of the intense kiss.
Apparently sensing my sudden acquiescence, he released his hold on my chin and my arm, and wrapped me up in a tight embrace, crushing me against his chest as I flung my arms around his neck. Several searing kisses later, as I clung to him tightly, overwhelmed with the desire to be close to him, it seemed as though the realization dawned on both of us that at that particular moment, that there was only one way in which we could be any more intimately engaged.
Although his anger had fled, the look he met me with was no less intense than it had been a moment before, and it catalyzed the next rapid series of events. Even as he kissed me violently again, our hands moved simultaneously, mine to his head and his to his sword; I tore the plumed hat off and flung it, I know not where, mere seconds before he yanked the baldric he wore over his own head, and the blade clattered haphazardly to the floor.
His fingers grabbed blindly for the pistol in his belt, as mine worked deftly at untying the gold sash that hung from his hip, and while he continued to kiss me fervently, the thud of the gun hitting the floor was followed by the sash cascading to our feet.
I happened to be wearing a red dress that laced up the front that evening, and Barbossa's fingers went for the laces as I grabbed his frock coat and yanked it back off his shoulders, stopping their work only long enough to hastily pull his arms out of the sleeves. Our efforts were throwing us a bit off balance, especially as we continued our ardent kissing simultaneously, and at that point we fell back a step against the door, thudding against it unawares.
I confess that most of the buttons on Barbossa's waistcoat did not survive the moment, and once more he let go of the as-of-yet-uncooperative laces at my breast, tearing the waistcoat off and flinging it to join hat, sash, pistol, coat and sword. Pressing me back against the cabin door with the enthusiasm with which he was kissing me, his fingers worked frantically at the stubborn laces which refused to untangle.
"Here," I gasped breathlessly between kisses, reaching quickly to try to untie the knot myself.
"Move," he growled softly, brushing my hands aside, and the next thing I knew, his dagger flashed in the lantern light of the cabin and sliced handily through the laces of my dress from bosom to bellybutton. He closed in on me again with a look of dark longing so intense that it caught me off guard, and stabbed the dagger into the wood of the door, burying it deep enough that it stuck there as he grabbed my shredded dress. I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that the way he tore it apart, neckline to floor, served to fuel my own arousal as much as his, and a moment later when he pinned me against the door again, I was unable to suppress the first cry that escaped me when he took me, I admit, quite forcefully.
Although our intimate encounter was one of the most intense, and dare I say, lustful, that I had experienced up to that point, it ended quickly, building to a crescendo after a few moments of me breathlessly calling his name, my fingers tangled tightly in his hair as he savaged me one last time against the dark wood.
I have discovered over time that the Black Pearl is a well-built ship, and that, thankfully, included the way her cabin doors were constructed, I realized once the moment was over, and Barbossa and I were panting together, leaning against them heavily. He rested his head against mine, holding me tenderly, until he had caught his breath enough to speak.
"Blast and bugger me," he gasped, "but me back will never be the same after that." He kissed my cheek once and then winced as he released me and straightened all the way. A roguish grin crossed his face as he looked me over where I was still collapsed against the door, his eyes sweeping over me from head to toe to take in my disheveled hair and the remains of the ruined dress that hung off my shoulders.
"'Twas worth it, though," he said with a grin, and then he winced again at the pain that wracked his back from our lustful encounter.
"'Twas also worth it," he added, after the moment it took him to re-master the pain and for me to gather the halves of my dress about me, "to have to see the looks the crew will give us when we finally need leave the cabin."
As I have said before, there are not many things that remain secret aboard a pirate ship, and I gasped and covered my mouth in horror at the thought that clearly neither our argument nor our amorous reconciliation, which had tested the mettle of the cabin doors, was even going to start off as such. And while I stood there with my face burning hot and debating if I could get away with never leaving the cabin again, Barbossa merely tossed his head back and laughed.
~*~