Chapter Thirty-Seven ~*~
--
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.
--
While there were many things that took place aboard the Black Pearl that I did not personally witness, many of the goings-on have since been brought to my attention by Turk and others of the crew who have survived, as well as Barbossa himself.
What was brought most enthusiastically to my attention by Turk, with a fair measure of wicked glee, was the version of events of the night before we arrived at the island, as witnessed by the crew.
Privacy aboard a pirate ship is nearly non-existent, and with the fact that a good number of the crew were standing about, conversing casually and eating dinner as Barbossa stormed away from me and into the cabin, the way that I stormed after him and disappeared beyond the door was enough to pique their interest. Clearly some sort of lovers' quarrel was unfolding, and the fact that the infamous Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea was involved, seemed to greatly amuse the crew.
Pintel and Ragetti, having been standing nearest the cabin as they ate, shared a surprised look with one another, and then shrugged and scrambled together closer to the doors, each leaning an ear against the wood to try to catch the next part of the argument.
Having heard me verbally admonish their fearsome captain on the other side of the door, the two of them snickered behind their hands like naughty teenage boys, catching the interest of Marty, Cotton, and Cisco Rabara. The three joined Pintel and Ragetti at the door, likewise listening in on an otherwise private conversation.
By the time the cabin argument had gained momentum, Jack and Gibbs, who were discussing the plan for the next day, had suddenly noticed that about five or six other pirates had joined those already at the cabin, and they shared a puzzled look and approached the doors, where a dozen rogues were all trying to catch snippets of our quarrel with their ears pressed against the wood.
"What, might I ask..." Jack started, but a dozen pirates turned and shushed him, causing him to raise an eyebrow at the insubordination.
Pintel explained in a whisper, pointing at the door. "She's readin' 'im the riot act!" he explained with hushed glee.
Jack smirked. "Now this, I have to hear." With that he sauntered forward to place his ear against the door just in time to hear me say, 'I am not the poor caliber of woman who would so easily fall victim to Jack Sparrow!'
Evidently Jack drew back from the door, clearly displeased. "Wot?" he said to Gibbs, who was leaning over his shoulder. "What does she mean, 'poor caliber'?"
"Shhhh!" the rest whispered, and Jack continued to frown, but joined them back at the door just as Barbossa snarled at me, saying, 'It took very little fer ye to end up naked between the sheets with Bellamy!'
"Bellamy," Jack mused quietly. "Michael Bellamy? She's slept with Michael Bellamy yet she wouldn't consider sleeping with me? Does she not realize I'm Captain Jack Sparrow?"
"Shhhh!" Jack got shushed again while the crew listened for more of the unfolding drama.
"Bloody woman's got no sense at all," Jack muttered, re-joining the spying group of pirates.
''Tis a pitiful bitch who will flock to any master for want of a kind word,' they all heard Barbossa snarl at me, and a collective stifled groan went up from the gathered eavesdroppers as the cruelty of his comment hit home.
"Now that be a tad harsh," Gibbs commented quietly.
"Oh, 'e made 'er cry," Ragetti whispered, causing a collective noise of sympathy to ripple through the group. They all pressed closer to see what would happen next.
From their side of the door it was only apparent that there was a short scuffle of some sort, and then they heard me say, 'Don't touch me!' through my tears again. Evidently the sound of the slap I gave Barbossa was audible on the other side, but they weren't able to tell just who had slapped who.
When the door was abruptly jarred, the group on the other side, which had increased in number by at least six or seven more pirates, began to share looks of concern that perhaps Barbossa was being less than civilized with me. Another thud against the door, followed by the sounds of several heavy objects hitting the floor, set up a debate about whether or not they should intervene, once it was unclear whether or not I was physically in danger.
"It is not for others to interfere with what takes place between a man and a woman behind closed doors," Rabara whispered, shaking his head.
An audible gasp from me caused Ragetti to speak up again. "S'not right, hurtin' a woman," he whispered, and after sharing looks among themselves that said no one was eager to intrude on the business of the fearsome Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea, all eyes went to Jack.
"Oh, blood hell," Jack spat quietly, as the door rocked again and the crew heard a sharp cry from me. He took a deep breath to brace himself to confront Barbossa and reached for the door.
Apparent it was quite evident that the next cry from me was not one of pain, and Jack froze in place before his fingers touched the handle, a smirk ever so slowly creeping across his face as it became entirely clear at that moment that the argument was at its end on the other side of the door, which creaked a little on its hinges.
Jack gestured gallantly at the cabin door, still smirking. "True love eventually conquers all," he said to the grinning crew as the wood beyond them was being jarred again repeatedly, and then he grimaced. "Let's just pray it doesn't conquer the doors."
--
I sat at the table in my customary seat later, wearing the lavender dressing gown that I'd been using recently, as my red dress was draped across another chair, probably having seen its last day, thanks to Barbossa. I was busy sewing buttons back on Barbossa's waistcoat, while he sat next to me in shirtsleeves, a book in one hand, and an apple that he'd taken a bite of in the other.
Absently, he offered me the apple while he read, and I leaned to take a bite from it, returning to finish with the button I was working on as I chewed, and a knock sounded at the cabin door.
"Enter," Barbossa called, setting down his book.
I truly expected our visitor to be Turk, and I was surprised when Jack slipped into the cabin and shut the door behind him, his dark eyes quickly taking in the two of us contentedly sitting at the table together.
"Ah, a scene of true domestic bliss," Jack commented, gesturing expansively at the two of us.
"What can I do fer ye this evenin', Jack?" Barbossa asked, only a trace of the usual hostility in his voice, likely because he was entirely content after we managed to settle our differences in an amorous manner earlier.
"I thought I would bring an interesting tidbit of information to your attention, Hector," Jack said, leaning casually against the door with his arms folded across his chest.
"What information?" Barbossa asked, a look of suspicion starting to bloom in his eyes.
"Information," Jack replied with a knowing look, "about the ship sitting broad on starboard quarter."
"There be a ship?" Barbossa asked, sitting back in his chair.
"Aye," Jack said, a look of dark mischief apparent in his eyes.
"Armed?" Barbossa asked.
"Aye."
"Navy?"
"Apparently not," Jack said, beginning to grin. "You should go and have a look."
While Barbossa considered his announcement, I watched Jack's eyes rove to what I was doing and then to the remains of my dress hanging on the chair. He said nothing, but gave me a pointed look while trying not to smirk, that caused me to quickly look away, blushing at the idea that he had understood the significance of the shredded garment.
Barbossa spoke up. "'Tis a moonless night; I'll wager she's not seen the Pearl?"
"I highly doubt it," Jack replied, at last prompting Barbossa to vacate his chair and head past where Jack still stood leaning near the door, and out of the cabin.
"You're planning on raiding that ship, aren't you?" I asked accusingly.
"Well, let's see," Jack said, tapping a finger against his chin and pulling a mock air of intense thought. "This is a pirate ship...and we are...oh, look!" he said glancing down over his attire with faux surprise. "Pirates!
"So aye, love, that ship's as good as ours."
"Huh."
"You know, Maddie, a share of what she carries will be yours," Jack said, sauntering slowly closer to the table, mischief in his eyes as well as his voice.
"I don't want a share," I said with a sigh. "I'd just rather not have to put any of you back together."
"Even old Jack?" Jack asked with a sly, narrowed gaze, gesturing down himself with ring-laden fingers.
"Even you, Jack," I said.
"Come now, where's that sense of adventure?" Jack asked, standing at the end of the table. "Surely you have one." His eyes flicked meaningfully to the ripped dress on the chair before him and then back to mine.
"Come on," he said, jerking his head toward the door before I could turn too red. "Come see me Pearl in action."
Jack's eyes glittered with excitement, and his voice obviously held a fair measure of pride as he spoke about the ship. It was clear that he wasn't about to refrain from showing off in front of a woman, either. I thought at that moment how odd it was that two men who had so much in common, could get along so poorly.
"Alright," I said, standing and drawing my dressing gown closer about me and walking to the door, although Jack beat me to it.
He grabbed the handle to open it for me, but paused a moment and looked the dark wood over appraisingly. "Sturdy ol' doors, aren't they?" he asked with contrived innocence, and then he smiled to himself when he was rewarded with a deep shade of pink on my face. "After you, milady," he said, flinging the door open and gesturing gallantly for me to go through.
I hurried to catch up with Barbossa, Jack hot on my heels, and we took up places on either side of him at the starboard rail.
"Here," Jack said, offering Barbossa his spyglass, "have a look at her."
Barbossa glanced down at Jack's spyglass and raised a contemptuous eyebrow at it, turning and raising his own glass to his eye with an air of disdainful hauteur as he scanned the sea off the starboard quarter.
I wasn't entirely sure, since I was looking at where the distant ship was, but I'm fairly certain that out of the corner of my eye I caught Jack sticking his tongue out at Barbossa behind his back.
"What sort of ship is she?" I asked, concerned for them but curious nonetheless.
"Indiaman," Jack replied knowingly, "and if I'm not mistaken...and I'm usually not...one of Beckett's own personal fleet."
"Oh," I said, realizing the double temptation that ship was for the two pirates who stood next to me. Not only was she apparently heavily laden, but a strike against her would be a way for both of them to thumb their noses at Charles, who currently had the entire Caribbean fleet out searching for the Black Pearl.
"She'll need be scuttled," Barbossa added casually, lowering the glass and glancing about to take in conditions of sea and sky and light.
"Of course," Jack said, dark eyes glittering in the dim light on deck.
I cringed at the thought. Of course, from the pirates' perspective, it made perfect sense: raid the ship, take what we could, and then sink her before she could relay our last known position to any navy vessels, especially the ones that made berth on the far side of Isla Perdida, not long behind us. But my concern was not for treasure or putting a dent in Charles Beckett's purse, it was for those who might be injured among our crew, and for those unfortunate souls aboard the Indiaman, who, at the moment, had no idea how quickly they might be about to meet their maker.
"A swift right kick to the left nut this would be fer him," Barbossa added colorfully, lowering the glass and giving Jack a surprisingly amused look.
Jack smiled wickedly. "Which is more than could be said for his brother."
I didn't quite understand the meaning of Jack's comment, but Barbossa did and smirked just a little.
"Shall we introduce her to the Black Pearl, Captain Sparrow?" Barbossa asked, now entirely consumed with the idea of plundering the vessel on the horizon.
"Aye, that we should, Captain Barbossa," Jack replied, just as Turk, Gibbs and Cisco, who had all sensed something brewing, arrived where we were standing.
"What orders?" Gibbs asked, already knowing where things were likely headed.
Jack answered first. "Mr. Gibbs, shape us a course for that bloated sea-cow," he said, throwing a contemptuous look at Beckett's ship.
"Aye, but softly now, Master Gibbs," Barbossa added. "Brace to and then dowse the lanterns. We'll not catch her much before dawn, and I'd prefer if the only thing she sees with first light is the last ship she'll ever meet."
"Aye, Cap'ns," Gibbs said cheerfully, turning and striding across the deck as he began shouting instructions. "All hands, hoay! There's piratin' to be done, boys!"
Gibbs' words were all it took to set the crew instantly in motion, and within moments the remains of dinner had been cleared from the deck and the lee braces had been slackened, setting in motion a deadly game of cat and mouse that the mouse was not yet aware of. She wouldn't be until several hours later, just before dawn, after the two captains had patiently seen to tacking and wearing ship into a more favorable position from whence the Pearl would gain the wind and pounce upon her intended prey with every last ounce of her infamous speed.
While it was fascinating at first to observe the skill with which the enormous black ship was maneuvered stealthily into position, after an hour of being on deck in my nightclothes, I had decidedly caught a chill, and decided to change. Recalling what Barbossa had said to me earlier in our voyage, about not advertising that there was a woman on board the Black Pearl, I ferreted out my riding attire from the trunk where Cornelia's, and now my clothes were, and donned them before pinning my hair up on my head and returning to the quarterdeck.
Turk caught up with me a few minutes later, coming to check in with Barbossa about where things stood, but also bearing the gift of a seasoned and sorry-looking, floppy leather hat, which he promptly jammed down upon my hair, patting me once on the top of the head jovially after he'd done so.
"There yeh go, lad," Turk said, grinning at me while Barbossa scrutinized the not quite so distant ship.
Jack meanwhile, looked me over and pulled a face at seeing the condition of the hat upon my head. "And to what point and purpose is the wearing of that moldy, shoddy chapeau by our surgeon?" he asked.
"It's a disguise," Turk retorted. "We thought it best if no one was able to report we had a woman on board."
Although Jack had to gaze upward to do so, he gave Turk a clearly condescending look. "I find two faults with your theory, Mr. Kempthorne," he said, walking around me and looking me over. "Firstly, I believe the current plan is to not have anyone left to report anything, least of all that my ship has been graced with the good doctor's presence."
Barbossa shot Jack a fleeting, yet annoyed look and went back to surveying the other ship.
"And secondly," Jack continued, looking me over appraisingly, "if you think that it isn't entirely obvious that the body under those clothes is most decidedly that of a woman, then you are either blind, or it must be that you prefer the company of scraggly-bearded old seadogs."
While I believe it was Jack's intent to pay me an offhand compliment, it was fairly apparent that it was also his intent to imply that there was more to the long-term friendship between Barbossa and Turk than appeared on the surface, and the poisonous looks that they each bestowed upon him clearly said neither had missed that insinuation.
Barbossa rolled his eyes and returned to his vigil, but Turk recovered first from his instantly annoyed reaction. "Well there, Sparrow, yeh've found me out," he said cordially, wrapping his good arm around Jack's shoulders. "But likely 'cause it takes one to know one, aye?"
Jack's eyebrows shot toward his faded red bandana as Turk continued speaking.
"'Cept it ain't the the scraggly-bearded kind of seadog that tickles me fancy," he said, looking Jack over in a way that clearly horrified the younger captain, "it be more the beaded and braided type." He gazed with exaggerated affection at Jack, who was cringing within Turk's powerful embrace.
"As fascinating as that may be, Mr. Kempthorne," Jack replied, trying to pull away from Turk's muscular arm without success, "I feel it's only right to inform you that it is the fairer...the more feminine...and decidedly less brawny sex that tickles me own fancy."
"Yeh never know unless yeh try," Turk said, now barely able to keep a straight face. "There's a cozy little cabin available at the moment."
Jack panicked and finally managed to duck out from Turk's arm and began backing slowly away. "In RSVP to your invitation, I must offer my sincerest regrets, and regrets only," Jack said, palms pressed together before him, and then beating a hasty retreat.
"Ah, Turk," Barbossa chimed in from behind me with wicked mirth, "yeh'll have to settle fer rememberin' this as the day ye almost captured Jack Sparrow."
"Captain!" Jack snarled back over his shoulder, annoyed and having taken the meaning of Barbossa's parting shot.
While Turk and Barbossa were both infinitely amused at having annoyed Jack, knowing, as I did, full well, that Turk's preference was also heartily in favor of the fairer and more feminine sex, I will say that they didn't have the last word on the matter.
The next few dark hours wore on with the Black Pearl gaining steadily on the unsuspecting Freewind Trader, her ebony hull cutting stealthily through the stygian waters, carried along swiftly by raven sails; few sailors indeed, if any, would have spotted her before dawn's first light.
Just before the first pale streak appeared on the horizon, and all the crew had manned their stations to wait, all that could be heard across the ship was the repetitive rumble and thud of each cannon sliding into place on the gun deck, ready to fire the first broadside when the order was given.
Closer and closer the Black Pearl crept under cover of the final moments of darkness, both of her captains on the quarterdeck, Cotton at the helm, and Turk poised on the main deck to relay orders to his gun crew.
Gibbs quickly came to the foot of the stairs. "Shall we hoist our colors, sir?" he asked, primarily addressing Barbossa since it was currently his day as captain.
"Nay, hold fer yet another moment, Master Gibbs," Barbossa replied, without looking away from the telescope he held to his eye, scrutinizing the Freewind Trader for any sign that she had spotted us. There may have been a more strategic reason to hold off hoisting the Jolly Roger, but I rather suspect that it was mostly Barbossa's sense of style that precluded him from giving the order at that moment; apparently it proved more dramatic to hoist it high once the target ship's crew had already experienced its first round of panic.
As I stood next to Barbossa, I didn't need a spyglass to know the moment when the lookout on the Trader spotted the Pearl, silhouetted against the breaking dawn and close enough that many of the Trader's crew likely felt sickened with dread at that moment; I could hear the faint cry of alarm raised across the short distance between ships.
Barbossa, wearing a self-satisfied smirk, lowered the glass and called down to Gibbs. "Hoist the colors!" he barked cheerfully, and Gibbs relayed the order across the deck to the mainmast.
"Mr. Kempthorne," Jack called down a heartbeat later, "blow the lady a kiss good morning!" He then bounded lightly down the stairs to the deck below.
"Aye, sir!" Turk replied smartly, and he relayed the order to the gun deck.
Five seconds later, the cannon blast reverberated through the ship, and the warning shot ripped through the morning air and across the Trader's bow.
"Smite me crossways!" Gibbs suddenly exclaimed, and those of us on or near the quarterdeck looked first to the man and then to where his gaze had traveled: up the mainmast.
There, it appeared, was flying not the black flag with Barbossa's distinct insignia on it, but a red flag that signaled we would give no quarter.
The effect seeing the crimson colors had on the crew of the Freewind Trader likely was the same as if we had hoisted the black field with skull and crossed swords, but I can tell you that the effect it had upon Barbossa was not.
Barbossa, like the rest of us, had quickly and distractedly glanced at where Gibbs' eyes had shot to the top of the mainmast, as he likewise tried to assess the reaction from his intended prey to the warning shot, but the instantaneous surprised expression of shock and anger present after the double-take he did made the extent of his displeasure quite clear.
For not only was the flag we hoisted not the standard of the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea; not only was it colored crimson instead of black, but there, gracing the mainmast of the most feared ship in the Caribbean, were the remains of my shredded red dress, hoisted high to greet the new day.
Barbossa's face contorted with rage as he surveyed the garment streaming gaily in the wind, gripping the spyglass he held white-knuckled as he managed to hiss only a single word.
"Sparrow!"