You Can't Always Get What You Want
Chapter Two
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Such nice reviews too. Let's keep going, shall we? I know kids, I'm scared too.#
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Disclaimer: Disney owns most of the characters in the story, St. George on Grenada Island is a real place (although I think it's St. George's, but who's picky?), and I am making no money from this endeavor. Wow, that was the stupidest disclaimer in history.
Anamaria took Biddy belowdecks to the crew's quarters, a scowl still on the woman's face. The little girl was still crying, but since her voice had about from all the screaming, it was hoarse and mercifully not as keening. Biddy plodded along with none of the resistance she had given her father that morning. It seemed she was too tired to fight anymore.
Thinking the girl had resigned herself to her fate, Anamaria was nearly pulled off her feet when Biddy balked violently at the door to the small bunk.
"I'm not going in THERE." Biddy said, a healthy dose of her previous disgusted obstinacy returning to her voice.
"You sure as hell better." Anamaria growled, her patience disappearing as quickly as the last half inch of a lighted keg fuse.
"But it's dirty, and dark, and..." Biddy protested meekly under her warder's sharp stare.
"Fine, you want a light?" Anamaria asked, stalking into her cabin and rooting for her matches. Finding one, she struck it and lit the grungy oil lamp near the door. The shadows lessened, revealing a very small room with two beds lined side by side and a trunk at the foot of one. One was barracks-neat while the other looked decidedly slept in, the blankets thrown back to reveal what looked like a straw mattress. Biddy cringed, it was a far, far cry from what she was used to. "There. Now, in." Shoving Biddy in roughly, she shut the door and pointed to the unmade bed. "Sit." Sensing the dangerous drip in the woman's voice, Biddy sat without further protest, wrinkling her nose at the furnishings.
"What're you gonna do with me?" She asked nervously as Anamaria sat on the opposite bed and rubbed her temples. "Toss...toss me overboard?" And then she began her noisy crying again.
"God, I wish." Anamaria muttered into her hands before attempting to stop the crying. "No, no. Captain Sparrow's just a little touched. He'll think of something else. St. George is now more than half a day's sail away, and...well, we need port faster than that."
"But I want to go home NOW." She wailed.
"Should've thought of that before you got on the ship." Anamaria quipped, pulling off her boots. "Why did you? Get on board, that is?"
"I was being chased. By big scary men, they were going to kidnap me. But before that, my father threw me out of the house." The natural storyteller in Biddy surfaced through her bone weary fright and took the helm. Anamaria raised an eyebrow.
"Did he, now? They were? Well, you're not too much better off with our bunch, little girl. What's your name again?" Might as well know what to call her when we have to tell her to stop screaming, anyway, Anamaria reasoned.
"Biddy. Biddy Duggleby." She recited quietly. "Is there a nicer cabin than this? It's just dismal in here. I need something with more sun, and a bigger bed."
"This is the biggest we got, excepting the captain's quarters. And it's only this big because I'm the only woman aboard and need things to myself." Anamaria explained, her tone stating clearly that this was total rubbish. "But you're staying here tonight." She added, sighing. She'd never get to sleep, this little snot would keep her up the entire night with complaints.
"Alright. But I'll need a bath, and you'll have to comb out my hair, and I need a night dress. I didn't bring anything with me." Anamaria laughed, and hearing her, Biddy scowled heavily. "Just what is so funny?" She demanded haughtily, crossing her arms.
"There's no bathing on this ship, can't afford to use up our good water. No bathing rooms, and dresses? Forget it. Here," she added, rummaging in the trunk at the foot of the bed she was sitting on for a moment. "Wear this."
What seemed to be a limp gray bird soared the distance between the beds and landed in Biddy's startled arms. Picking up the hem of the shirt with her thumb and forefinger, Biddy sniffed loudly. It was indeed gray with age, holes decorating the sleeves and a large tear on the collar. "I am NOT wearing that. I will look like a boy." She pronounced, tossing the shirt away. "I'll just sleep in my dress. But you have to comb my hair out."
"Do it yourself, I'm tired." Anamaria waved her away, pulling back the covers of her bed and crawling in.
"But you HAVE to!" Biddy cried desperately. "Emmeline does it and I can't!"
"Emmeline?" Anamaria turned around, frowning. "Who's that?"
"The maidservant. She dresses me, too." Another laugh.
"There aren't any maidservants on THIS ship, I hate to say. It's do it yourself or it won't be done around here, little one." She added with a shake of her head. Biddy threw another nasty scowl in Anamaria's direction before turning her attention to her hair. How could she get it down herself? She'd never tried it before. Her fingers found their way clumsily to the comb, and gave it a yank. She squealed when it felt as though every root of her hair was being taken with the comb. Giving another few (though far less forceful) yanks, she finally got the thing free. Her hair stuck out in tangles and frays from every edge of her now wrecked bun. Trying to work that free proved useless. She couldn't find where it ended or began, it was just tightly coiled. Or had been, since her fingers were working at it, hair began to creep out of uniform. Grunting and flinching, Biddy scrabbled, her arms getting sore from all the work. Finally, her fingers found what she needed and she gave another tug.
Dirty, tangled, and nothing like the fresh, fashionable work Emmeline had made it that morning, her hair came loose. Sighing as though she had run a mile, Biddy sank back awkwardly onto the bed. A moment later, Anamaria sat up and turned the light off. She had watched the whole display from the corner of her eye with a good deal of amusement and disbelief. This girl was almost completely helpless. But that wasn't her worry. Turning over, she rolled her eyes into the darkness as Biddy whimpered at the loss of light.
The mattress was indeed straw, and it poked Biddy's back through her dress and through the blanket covering it. She longed for her soft feather bed and fragrant pillow. Feeling a wave of sadness, she sat up. It was too small, too cluttered, and too dark in here. What had Anamaria said? The captain's quarters were biggest. Well, she'd seen them earlier that evening, and she had another plan. She'd just have to wait until Anamaria went to sleep.
Arvide Duggleby was in a state. Coming out of the council building, his mild annoyance at finding his daughter gone had turned to total panic when an hour later she was nowhere to be found. He roved the docks like a lost man, questioning everyone he came to. So many ships had come and gone all day at St. George, it was impossible to tell if she had stashed away on one.
With a thin hope that she had somehow hailed a carriage and gone home to Port Eaton, he returned home himself to look. Ridgecroft, the large mansion and spice farm that he and Biddy lived on, was empty. No sign of her anywhere. Emmeline, the maidservant, helped him look. Though her cries of "what have we done? What HAVE we done?" were of little help.
"We must return to St. George, and get to Fort Frederick." Arvide announced, trying to be stoic. In the span of time that his daughter had been gone, his face looked somehow more gaunt and hollow, he had lost all of his previous red flush, and his voice was wavering between weary and hysterical.
"But sir, the fleet an' all the soldiers are out near Carricou fightin' with that French battleship tried to lay anchor in the harbor. Don't think a soul's at the Fort right now."
"How do you know that, Emmeline?" Arvide turned to the small, rather pale woman, curious despite his current situation.
"Danworth, sir, his son's out fightin' with 'em, sends in the post an' he tells alla us." Emmeline replied, pleased. Danworth was the chief farm worker for Ridgecroft's fields.
"Well, there's bound to be someone there, or anywhere. If I have to, I'll sail clear back to Britain to get her." Arvide announced, Emmeline nodding agreement and following in his wake as they headed to the barn to instruct a carriage prepared.
"I'm sorry, the Admiral has the fleet out near Carricou. Pesky little cleanup of an attempted invasion, they should be back in a few day's time." The lone soldier guarding the Fort's impossibly tall iron gate informed them. You may leave your message and trust that it will be received."
"We will stay until they return." Arvide said firmly, nodding to Emmeline and the driver. "This is a matter of the most grievous importance, I'm sure you will understand. If your commanding officer returns and is unpleased to find us here, I will assure that I receive all the blame and that you are cleared of any. Arvide Duggleby's word." The soldier knew little of Duggleby's word, but much of his affluence and nodded. If he complied, he wouldn't receive any retribution, and might even make a small profit. With a small salute, the gate swung open to admit the small party into the Fort.
Captain Jack Sparrow was having a good dream. He was sitting on what had to be the world's biggest stockpile of gold and rum. And it was all his, he didn't have to share it with anyone! A small creaking sound didn't turn his head at all. But a big fat ruby did. He grinned as he picked it up, and laughed with his own sheer cleverness. Stretching out amidst all the gold and grabbing one of the bottles , he heard an odd sort of muffled cry and seconds later felt something grab hold of his toe and clamp down hard. With a surprised yell, he woke up. Seeing something on the floor, he prodded it with his foot, and it shrieked. What the....? He stumbled hurriedly out of bed and looked around for a light.
Biddy had waited until she was sure Anamaria was asleep, giving her a gentle poke to be sure. Creeping quietly out of the cabin, she snuck on deck. All of the men were in their own cabins except the fellow on watch and the man steering the ship. Making as little noise as possible, she crept along the deck, trying to remember where Anamaria and the two who had found her had been standing earlier that day.
Ahah! Here it was. She gave it a small push, hoping against hope that it wasn't locked. It wasn't. After Jack had sat at his desk for awhile, looking important in case anyone DID break down the door in a fit of rage (it had been known to happen), he decided the coast was clear and went back out to check the course of the ship and to have his regular almost nearly quarter to midnight drink. Returning to his quarters for sleep, he had failed to lock it again. After all, Anamaria had taken the unexpected passenger with her, and he had nothing to worry about now.
Slipping through the door, she nodded in approval. There were bigger windows here, and although it wasn't as tidy as Anamaria's bunk, it was much bigger. Trying to sleep in the armchair was no good, her sore muscles complained at being bent again. And she couldn't very well stay in an occupied bed. But perhaps the floor. She pulled a few pillows off the far side of the bed and arranged them on the floor at the bedside. She needed the blanket and the only way to get it was to stay as close to the edge of the bed as possible, the side that Jack wasn't sleeping on, of course. Pulling some of the blankets down over her small round frame, she tried not to think about what would happen if the scary man woke up to find her sleeping on his floor. Maybe Anamaria didn't believe he'd actually throw her overboard, but she believed it.
She'd just have to get out before anyone else woke up. Laughter coming from up above scared her, she thought he was awake. Freezing, she relaxed when she heard him start to snore. He was just dreaming, and she was tired again. So tired. A kick in the face woke her up, and so startled was she that she sank her teeth into the assailant, which happened to be Jack's foot. It pulled away and she yelped too, trying to get under the bed. But another kick, this one more of a prod, met with her stomach and she made an involuntary sound.
The light revealed Biddy in her stained dress and scraggly hair frantically trying to get under the bed. Once again Jack felt a feeling of puzzlement. It all seemed incredibly surreal to him. Maybe he was still dreaming. The pain in his foot from where she had bitten him told a different story. Might as well find out which it was.
"Hey, what're you doing in here?" He asked Biddy, crossing over and pulling her out from under the bed by her ankles. Only her head and shoulders had made it under, and she was clawing furiously at the floor to stay up. "You're not supposed to be in here!" He added irritably. "What're you doing that for?" Jack added, watching as she spat and wiped her mouth, and spat again. "You sick?"
"Your feet," Biddy managed to get out between wiping her mouth and spitting, "are FILTHY."
"Well, yes, I don't tend to wash them. You see, not many people eat them. Now, back to the point at hand. What are you doing in here?" He asked this very slowly, and grumbled when once again Biddy started to cry.
"Dark and scary in that other place, too small. And the straw was poking me!" She added angrily through her tears. Jack wondered briefly where all that water came from and why she wasn't out of tears by now. Well, it was giving him a headache, so he had to stop it.
"Look, if you stay here, will you stop crying?" He asked, wishing she would say no so he could get back to his nice dream about rum and gold. And that ruby, it was pretty. But he had a feeling she would say...
"Yes. Yes, I'll stop, promise."
"Alright, then. Just pretend you're dead or something, that way I can go back to sleep." What had he said? She was crying AGAIN!! This had to stop. "Look at me," he said sternly, pulling Biddy up by her shoulders and facing her so she was looking in squarely in the eyes. She hiccuped and squirmed, trying to get away. "You cry anymore and I'll toss you right outside on your ear. I mean it." This didn't work, as she only cried harder. "What in the hell can I do to make you stop CRYING?" He asked, aiming his words at the ceiling of the room.
"Tell me a story." Biddy said with a heavy sniffle, " I like stories, Emmeline told me stories."
"Fine, fine, I'll tell you a story, okay? Just be quiet. Oh no, you don't!" He protested when Biddy crawled onto his bed and leaned against the pillow. "Off....never mind." He muttered crossly when her lip quivered. "But tomorrow you're going RIGHT back to Anamaria's bunk, and no complaints. ANYTHING to get sleep." Jack muttered, looking at the little urchin that had stolen his sleeping place. Maybe if he put her to sleep, he could move her again. "Right, so we were sailing clear up near Greece and...."
Anamaria was hopeful that somehow it had all been one terrible dream when she saw Biddy's bed empty. Maybe, just maybe she didn't have to worry about a sniveling little brat in a silk dress. But something told her different, and with a grumble she walked out onto the deck. Where would the complaining little wench be? She'd talk to Jack before starting a search. They'd have to find her eventually, in case Duggleby sent a rescue party searching for her and the Pearl was accosted and questioned. Pib and Muggins would no doubt spill the whole tale if that came to it. They weren't exactly known for subtlety.
Anamaria knocked first, and when that evoked no response, she pushed the door open a crack. Biddy was curled up on the bed, her once beautiful dress now even more stained and though still vibrant in color, heavily wrinkled. Her hair covered half her face and she clutched a pillow as though for dear life. Sleeping, Anamaria reflected, she wasn't that horrible. Jack was sleeping too, leaning in his desk chair with his head dropped slackly back, and snoring loudly. His story had put his own self to sleep before it had Biddy, and she had gotten her way once again. Sighing, she walked into the room and poked him fiercely on the shoulder.
"Not again!" He shouted, waking up and pushing his arms out as though fighting off an invisible enemy.
"Shhh, she's asleep!" Anamaria cautioned in a whisper. "Have you thought of what to do with her?"
"Make her work. She's on board like one of us, she's going to work like one of us. That oughta keep her tired, too. She came in here last night and bit my foot." He added, showing her the offending foot before pulling on his boots. "We're a day and a half out of Tortuga, we can make it. Teach her the bowline and have her be lookout." He added, waving Anamaria away distractedly.
"Captain Sparrow, this girl is hopeless. HOPELESS. She couldn't climb the rigging if her life depended on it."
"Then have her scrub. Anyone can scrub. She'll do it or she won't. If she doesn't, she sleeps out on deck. Make sure that doesn't happen, we don't need to be up all night listening to her crying. And you're in charge of her. So get her to it."
Sighing, Anamaria shook Biddy until the girl woke. "Come on, time to get up, you're going to work."
"Work?" Biddy moaned, sitting up and rubbing her head. She had the makings of a black eye, from where Jack's foot had found her face. "I don't DO work, that's servant's stuff." She pouted before getting yanked off her feet and out onto the deck.
Jack followed them and, taking the wheel from the current helmsman Kursar, turned to address his assembling crew. "Alright, mates, we're headed to Tortuga." There was a cheer from the crowd, Tortuga was the favorite of all of them. "So get to work, all of ya!" He added, to which there was a scramble and flurry of activity. Anamaria took Biddy to the port side and gave her a length of rope.
"Now, you're going to tie this to the railing, alright? Like this." But Biddy was stubbornly not listening, and had thrown her rope over the side of the ship. Anamaria got another one and clamped down on Biddy's hands, working her fingers and tying the knot. She kept doing it until she felt Biddy's hands do it too. But the moment she let go, th rope went over the side again.
"I. Don't. Work." Biddy restated calmly, crossing her arms.
"Oh yes, you do." Anamaria, earning several curious stares, dragged Biddy to the brig she had been discovered in. On her way, she grabbed a small scrub brush and a bucket. She also got, from the weapons store, a cutlass rusty with sea air. Plunking the bucket down, she pointed to Biddy and then to the floor. "Scrub it." She said grimly. When Biddy turned her nose up, Anamaria drew the cutlass and tapped the bucket gently. "Scrub the floor." She said again, quietly.
After two hours, Biddy and Anamaria emerged from the brig, Anamaria sopping wet, both she and Biddy looking decidedly disgruntled. Seeing Jack, Anamaria shoved the little girl in his direction. "I have dealt with her long enough, YOU take her for a change! I'm getting dry." And with that she stormed off. Jack, completely surprised, looked down at Biddy in his bewilderment.
"What on earth did you do to her?" He asked, looking from Biddy to the retreating Anamaria.
"Tripped. Bucket spilled is all." Biddy replied with a nasty smile.
"Alright, you're going to do something for me, now." Jack said, feeling confident he could handle this little brat easily. "Take hold of the wheel and steer the ship."
"Don't wanna." Biddy said, shaking her head.
"Do it, or I WILL toss you overboard." Gulping but remembering that Anamaria hadn't used the sword, she shook her head again, closing her eyes. The sting of cold saltwater made her shriek, and brought three crew members running over to see what Jack had done. "I said I'd do it." He remarked with a shrug as Biddy struggled and gasped, trying to stay afloat.
"You can't throw a little girl overboard!" Kursar said in shock.
"Look, she's floating!" Jack said defensively, pointing to the water where Biddy had been a second before. Now, however, there was only a small splash of white foam. "She was." He remarked. "Why do I always seem to be doing this?" Asking this of no one in particular, he tossed his effects onto the deck and jumped inelegantly into the water, Biddy, mouth open in a terrified scream, looked up at the descending person coming after her. She reached frantically, her little hands wiggling. Catching her wrists, Jack backpedaled in the water and kicked to the surface. By the time they had reached it, she had swallowed a good deal of sea water, and her body was slack in the circle of his arm.
"Get me up, you damn bloody blighters!" He yelled, reaching for the rope that was offered. Back aboard the ship, he put a dripping Biddy on the deck.
"Give her a whack, she ain't breathin'!" Gibbs called as he pushed his way through the throng.
"But I thought you of all of us'd be glad to get rid of her, back luck and all." Jack said reasonably. "Oh, fine, I'll do it." And he leaned in closer to pick her up and hit her back. At that moment, Biddy coughed explosively, spraying sea water all over Jack's face. Her eyes fluttered open and she glared at him.
"You threw me overboard!!" She shrilled.
"I told you I would. I always keep my word." He said. "Get back to work!" He added to the crowd peering at them curiously. At this point, Anamaria, in dry clothes now, came out and took in the whole scene with a blink. "I handled it." Jack informed her. "We had an earnest discussion of ideas and she saw it my way."
"She's shivering. We'll catch it if she catches cold. Come on," she added to Biddy, pulling her up. "You have to get out of that wet dress, and get dry." Whimpering and shivering, her teeth chattering too hard to talk, Biddy followed her.
"I look like a BOY." Biddy said grumpily a little later. The ruined dress and slip discarded, she was now garbed in a shirt that was far too large for her, and pants that had been cut and then rolled up, the belt looped around her waist a good five times. The shirt's sleeves were rolled up to the shoulders, and the severely pouting seven year old was NOT happy. "I want my dress back. I don't want to look like a boy."
"You will wear that, and like it. And you will get back to work, without complaint. Or you're going overboard again, this time for good." Anamaria flexed her fingers warningly, and Biddy gulped. Both females were scowling when the appeared again, and Biddy worked the rest of the day without complaint. Well, without as much complaint, anyway.
That night, as Jack had predicted, she slept like a rock in Anamaria's bunk. "You are such a terror, we should just leave you in Tortuga. I hope someone's looking for you, because you need to get off this ship. And people said it was cursed before." Anamaria muttered quietly as she stared at Biddy's curled back.
At the prow, Jack and Gibbs were about saying the same thing.
"So, that little hellion been driving you mad today, Jack?" Gibbs asked, staring off into the sea.
"When we get to Tortuga, we're leaving her with the first person who looks at us." He replied with heavy resolve before heading off to his cabin. Gibbs shrugged and then nodded to himself. He'd tried telling Jack, but he let the evidence speak for itself. It was as he always said, powerful bad luck to have a woman aboard. And he held firmly that Biddy was only proving him right.
Chapter Two
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Such nice reviews too. Let's keep going, shall we? I know kids, I'm scared too.#
#
Disclaimer: Disney owns most of the characters in the story, St. George on Grenada Island is a real place (although I think it's St. George's, but who's picky?), and I am making no money from this endeavor. Wow, that was the stupidest disclaimer in history.
Anamaria took Biddy belowdecks to the crew's quarters, a scowl still on the woman's face. The little girl was still crying, but since her voice had about from all the screaming, it was hoarse and mercifully not as keening. Biddy plodded along with none of the resistance she had given her father that morning. It seemed she was too tired to fight anymore.
Thinking the girl had resigned herself to her fate, Anamaria was nearly pulled off her feet when Biddy balked violently at the door to the small bunk.
"I'm not going in THERE." Biddy said, a healthy dose of her previous disgusted obstinacy returning to her voice.
"You sure as hell better." Anamaria growled, her patience disappearing as quickly as the last half inch of a lighted keg fuse.
"But it's dirty, and dark, and..." Biddy protested meekly under her warder's sharp stare.
"Fine, you want a light?" Anamaria asked, stalking into her cabin and rooting for her matches. Finding one, she struck it and lit the grungy oil lamp near the door. The shadows lessened, revealing a very small room with two beds lined side by side and a trunk at the foot of one. One was barracks-neat while the other looked decidedly slept in, the blankets thrown back to reveal what looked like a straw mattress. Biddy cringed, it was a far, far cry from what she was used to. "There. Now, in." Shoving Biddy in roughly, she shut the door and pointed to the unmade bed. "Sit." Sensing the dangerous drip in the woman's voice, Biddy sat without further protest, wrinkling her nose at the furnishings.
"What're you gonna do with me?" She asked nervously as Anamaria sat on the opposite bed and rubbed her temples. "Toss...toss me overboard?" And then she began her noisy crying again.
"God, I wish." Anamaria muttered into her hands before attempting to stop the crying. "No, no. Captain Sparrow's just a little touched. He'll think of something else. St. George is now more than half a day's sail away, and...well, we need port faster than that."
"But I want to go home NOW." She wailed.
"Should've thought of that before you got on the ship." Anamaria quipped, pulling off her boots. "Why did you? Get on board, that is?"
"I was being chased. By big scary men, they were going to kidnap me. But before that, my father threw me out of the house." The natural storyteller in Biddy surfaced through her bone weary fright and took the helm. Anamaria raised an eyebrow.
"Did he, now? They were? Well, you're not too much better off with our bunch, little girl. What's your name again?" Might as well know what to call her when we have to tell her to stop screaming, anyway, Anamaria reasoned.
"Biddy. Biddy Duggleby." She recited quietly. "Is there a nicer cabin than this? It's just dismal in here. I need something with more sun, and a bigger bed."
"This is the biggest we got, excepting the captain's quarters. And it's only this big because I'm the only woman aboard and need things to myself." Anamaria explained, her tone stating clearly that this was total rubbish. "But you're staying here tonight." She added, sighing. She'd never get to sleep, this little snot would keep her up the entire night with complaints.
"Alright. But I'll need a bath, and you'll have to comb out my hair, and I need a night dress. I didn't bring anything with me." Anamaria laughed, and hearing her, Biddy scowled heavily. "Just what is so funny?" She demanded haughtily, crossing her arms.
"There's no bathing on this ship, can't afford to use up our good water. No bathing rooms, and dresses? Forget it. Here," she added, rummaging in the trunk at the foot of the bed she was sitting on for a moment. "Wear this."
What seemed to be a limp gray bird soared the distance between the beds and landed in Biddy's startled arms. Picking up the hem of the shirt with her thumb and forefinger, Biddy sniffed loudly. It was indeed gray with age, holes decorating the sleeves and a large tear on the collar. "I am NOT wearing that. I will look like a boy." She pronounced, tossing the shirt away. "I'll just sleep in my dress. But you have to comb my hair out."
"Do it yourself, I'm tired." Anamaria waved her away, pulling back the covers of her bed and crawling in.
"But you HAVE to!" Biddy cried desperately. "Emmeline does it and I can't!"
"Emmeline?" Anamaria turned around, frowning. "Who's that?"
"The maidservant. She dresses me, too." Another laugh.
"There aren't any maidservants on THIS ship, I hate to say. It's do it yourself or it won't be done around here, little one." She added with a shake of her head. Biddy threw another nasty scowl in Anamaria's direction before turning her attention to her hair. How could she get it down herself? She'd never tried it before. Her fingers found their way clumsily to the comb, and gave it a yank. She squealed when it felt as though every root of her hair was being taken with the comb. Giving another few (though far less forceful) yanks, she finally got the thing free. Her hair stuck out in tangles and frays from every edge of her now wrecked bun. Trying to work that free proved useless. She couldn't find where it ended or began, it was just tightly coiled. Or had been, since her fingers were working at it, hair began to creep out of uniform. Grunting and flinching, Biddy scrabbled, her arms getting sore from all the work. Finally, her fingers found what she needed and she gave another tug.
Dirty, tangled, and nothing like the fresh, fashionable work Emmeline had made it that morning, her hair came loose. Sighing as though she had run a mile, Biddy sank back awkwardly onto the bed. A moment later, Anamaria sat up and turned the light off. She had watched the whole display from the corner of her eye with a good deal of amusement and disbelief. This girl was almost completely helpless. But that wasn't her worry. Turning over, she rolled her eyes into the darkness as Biddy whimpered at the loss of light.
The mattress was indeed straw, and it poked Biddy's back through her dress and through the blanket covering it. She longed for her soft feather bed and fragrant pillow. Feeling a wave of sadness, she sat up. It was too small, too cluttered, and too dark in here. What had Anamaria said? The captain's quarters were biggest. Well, she'd seen them earlier that evening, and she had another plan. She'd just have to wait until Anamaria went to sleep.
Arvide Duggleby was in a state. Coming out of the council building, his mild annoyance at finding his daughter gone had turned to total panic when an hour later she was nowhere to be found. He roved the docks like a lost man, questioning everyone he came to. So many ships had come and gone all day at St. George, it was impossible to tell if she had stashed away on one.
With a thin hope that she had somehow hailed a carriage and gone home to Port Eaton, he returned home himself to look. Ridgecroft, the large mansion and spice farm that he and Biddy lived on, was empty. No sign of her anywhere. Emmeline, the maidservant, helped him look. Though her cries of "what have we done? What HAVE we done?" were of little help.
"We must return to St. George, and get to Fort Frederick." Arvide announced, trying to be stoic. In the span of time that his daughter had been gone, his face looked somehow more gaunt and hollow, he had lost all of his previous red flush, and his voice was wavering between weary and hysterical.
"But sir, the fleet an' all the soldiers are out near Carricou fightin' with that French battleship tried to lay anchor in the harbor. Don't think a soul's at the Fort right now."
"How do you know that, Emmeline?" Arvide turned to the small, rather pale woman, curious despite his current situation.
"Danworth, sir, his son's out fightin' with 'em, sends in the post an' he tells alla us." Emmeline replied, pleased. Danworth was the chief farm worker for Ridgecroft's fields.
"Well, there's bound to be someone there, or anywhere. If I have to, I'll sail clear back to Britain to get her." Arvide announced, Emmeline nodding agreement and following in his wake as they headed to the barn to instruct a carriage prepared.
"I'm sorry, the Admiral has the fleet out near Carricou. Pesky little cleanup of an attempted invasion, they should be back in a few day's time." The lone soldier guarding the Fort's impossibly tall iron gate informed them. You may leave your message and trust that it will be received."
"We will stay until they return." Arvide said firmly, nodding to Emmeline and the driver. "This is a matter of the most grievous importance, I'm sure you will understand. If your commanding officer returns and is unpleased to find us here, I will assure that I receive all the blame and that you are cleared of any. Arvide Duggleby's word." The soldier knew little of Duggleby's word, but much of his affluence and nodded. If he complied, he wouldn't receive any retribution, and might even make a small profit. With a small salute, the gate swung open to admit the small party into the Fort.
Captain Jack Sparrow was having a good dream. He was sitting on what had to be the world's biggest stockpile of gold and rum. And it was all his, he didn't have to share it with anyone! A small creaking sound didn't turn his head at all. But a big fat ruby did. He grinned as he picked it up, and laughed with his own sheer cleverness. Stretching out amidst all the gold and grabbing one of the bottles , he heard an odd sort of muffled cry and seconds later felt something grab hold of his toe and clamp down hard. With a surprised yell, he woke up. Seeing something on the floor, he prodded it with his foot, and it shrieked. What the....? He stumbled hurriedly out of bed and looked around for a light.
Biddy had waited until she was sure Anamaria was asleep, giving her a gentle poke to be sure. Creeping quietly out of the cabin, she snuck on deck. All of the men were in their own cabins except the fellow on watch and the man steering the ship. Making as little noise as possible, she crept along the deck, trying to remember where Anamaria and the two who had found her had been standing earlier that day.
Ahah! Here it was. She gave it a small push, hoping against hope that it wasn't locked. It wasn't. After Jack had sat at his desk for awhile, looking important in case anyone DID break down the door in a fit of rage (it had been known to happen), he decided the coast was clear and went back out to check the course of the ship and to have his regular almost nearly quarter to midnight drink. Returning to his quarters for sleep, he had failed to lock it again. After all, Anamaria had taken the unexpected passenger with her, and he had nothing to worry about now.
Slipping through the door, she nodded in approval. There were bigger windows here, and although it wasn't as tidy as Anamaria's bunk, it was much bigger. Trying to sleep in the armchair was no good, her sore muscles complained at being bent again. And she couldn't very well stay in an occupied bed. But perhaps the floor. She pulled a few pillows off the far side of the bed and arranged them on the floor at the bedside. She needed the blanket and the only way to get it was to stay as close to the edge of the bed as possible, the side that Jack wasn't sleeping on, of course. Pulling some of the blankets down over her small round frame, she tried not to think about what would happen if the scary man woke up to find her sleeping on his floor. Maybe Anamaria didn't believe he'd actually throw her overboard, but she believed it.
She'd just have to get out before anyone else woke up. Laughter coming from up above scared her, she thought he was awake. Freezing, she relaxed when she heard him start to snore. He was just dreaming, and she was tired again. So tired. A kick in the face woke her up, and so startled was she that she sank her teeth into the assailant, which happened to be Jack's foot. It pulled away and she yelped too, trying to get under the bed. But another kick, this one more of a prod, met with her stomach and she made an involuntary sound.
The light revealed Biddy in her stained dress and scraggly hair frantically trying to get under the bed. Once again Jack felt a feeling of puzzlement. It all seemed incredibly surreal to him. Maybe he was still dreaming. The pain in his foot from where she had bitten him told a different story. Might as well find out which it was.
"Hey, what're you doing in here?" He asked Biddy, crossing over and pulling her out from under the bed by her ankles. Only her head and shoulders had made it under, and she was clawing furiously at the floor to stay up. "You're not supposed to be in here!" He added irritably. "What're you doing that for?" Jack added, watching as she spat and wiped her mouth, and spat again. "You sick?"
"Your feet," Biddy managed to get out between wiping her mouth and spitting, "are FILTHY."
"Well, yes, I don't tend to wash them. You see, not many people eat them. Now, back to the point at hand. What are you doing in here?" He asked this very slowly, and grumbled when once again Biddy started to cry.
"Dark and scary in that other place, too small. And the straw was poking me!" She added angrily through her tears. Jack wondered briefly where all that water came from and why she wasn't out of tears by now. Well, it was giving him a headache, so he had to stop it.
"Look, if you stay here, will you stop crying?" He asked, wishing she would say no so he could get back to his nice dream about rum and gold. And that ruby, it was pretty. But he had a feeling she would say...
"Yes. Yes, I'll stop, promise."
"Alright, then. Just pretend you're dead or something, that way I can go back to sleep." What had he said? She was crying AGAIN!! This had to stop. "Look at me," he said sternly, pulling Biddy up by her shoulders and facing her so she was looking in squarely in the eyes. She hiccuped and squirmed, trying to get away. "You cry anymore and I'll toss you right outside on your ear. I mean it." This didn't work, as she only cried harder. "What in the hell can I do to make you stop CRYING?" He asked, aiming his words at the ceiling of the room.
"Tell me a story." Biddy said with a heavy sniffle, " I like stories, Emmeline told me stories."
"Fine, fine, I'll tell you a story, okay? Just be quiet. Oh no, you don't!" He protested when Biddy crawled onto his bed and leaned against the pillow. "Off....never mind." He muttered crossly when her lip quivered. "But tomorrow you're going RIGHT back to Anamaria's bunk, and no complaints. ANYTHING to get sleep." Jack muttered, looking at the little urchin that had stolen his sleeping place. Maybe if he put her to sleep, he could move her again. "Right, so we were sailing clear up near Greece and...."
Anamaria was hopeful that somehow it had all been one terrible dream when she saw Biddy's bed empty. Maybe, just maybe she didn't have to worry about a sniveling little brat in a silk dress. But something told her different, and with a grumble she walked out onto the deck. Where would the complaining little wench be? She'd talk to Jack before starting a search. They'd have to find her eventually, in case Duggleby sent a rescue party searching for her and the Pearl was accosted and questioned. Pib and Muggins would no doubt spill the whole tale if that came to it. They weren't exactly known for subtlety.
Anamaria knocked first, and when that evoked no response, she pushed the door open a crack. Biddy was curled up on the bed, her once beautiful dress now even more stained and though still vibrant in color, heavily wrinkled. Her hair covered half her face and she clutched a pillow as though for dear life. Sleeping, Anamaria reflected, she wasn't that horrible. Jack was sleeping too, leaning in his desk chair with his head dropped slackly back, and snoring loudly. His story had put his own self to sleep before it had Biddy, and she had gotten her way once again. Sighing, she walked into the room and poked him fiercely on the shoulder.
"Not again!" He shouted, waking up and pushing his arms out as though fighting off an invisible enemy.
"Shhh, she's asleep!" Anamaria cautioned in a whisper. "Have you thought of what to do with her?"
"Make her work. She's on board like one of us, she's going to work like one of us. That oughta keep her tired, too. She came in here last night and bit my foot." He added, showing her the offending foot before pulling on his boots. "We're a day and a half out of Tortuga, we can make it. Teach her the bowline and have her be lookout." He added, waving Anamaria away distractedly.
"Captain Sparrow, this girl is hopeless. HOPELESS. She couldn't climb the rigging if her life depended on it."
"Then have her scrub. Anyone can scrub. She'll do it or she won't. If she doesn't, she sleeps out on deck. Make sure that doesn't happen, we don't need to be up all night listening to her crying. And you're in charge of her. So get her to it."
Sighing, Anamaria shook Biddy until the girl woke. "Come on, time to get up, you're going to work."
"Work?" Biddy moaned, sitting up and rubbing her head. She had the makings of a black eye, from where Jack's foot had found her face. "I don't DO work, that's servant's stuff." She pouted before getting yanked off her feet and out onto the deck.
Jack followed them and, taking the wheel from the current helmsman Kursar, turned to address his assembling crew. "Alright, mates, we're headed to Tortuga." There was a cheer from the crowd, Tortuga was the favorite of all of them. "So get to work, all of ya!" He added, to which there was a scramble and flurry of activity. Anamaria took Biddy to the port side and gave her a length of rope.
"Now, you're going to tie this to the railing, alright? Like this." But Biddy was stubbornly not listening, and had thrown her rope over the side of the ship. Anamaria got another one and clamped down on Biddy's hands, working her fingers and tying the knot. She kept doing it until she felt Biddy's hands do it too. But the moment she let go, th rope went over the side again.
"I. Don't. Work." Biddy restated calmly, crossing her arms.
"Oh yes, you do." Anamaria, earning several curious stares, dragged Biddy to the brig she had been discovered in. On her way, she grabbed a small scrub brush and a bucket. She also got, from the weapons store, a cutlass rusty with sea air. Plunking the bucket down, she pointed to Biddy and then to the floor. "Scrub it." She said grimly. When Biddy turned her nose up, Anamaria drew the cutlass and tapped the bucket gently. "Scrub the floor." She said again, quietly.
After two hours, Biddy and Anamaria emerged from the brig, Anamaria sopping wet, both she and Biddy looking decidedly disgruntled. Seeing Jack, Anamaria shoved the little girl in his direction. "I have dealt with her long enough, YOU take her for a change! I'm getting dry." And with that she stormed off. Jack, completely surprised, looked down at Biddy in his bewilderment.
"What on earth did you do to her?" He asked, looking from Biddy to the retreating Anamaria.
"Tripped. Bucket spilled is all." Biddy replied with a nasty smile.
"Alright, you're going to do something for me, now." Jack said, feeling confident he could handle this little brat easily. "Take hold of the wheel and steer the ship."
"Don't wanna." Biddy said, shaking her head.
"Do it, or I WILL toss you overboard." Gulping but remembering that Anamaria hadn't used the sword, she shook her head again, closing her eyes. The sting of cold saltwater made her shriek, and brought three crew members running over to see what Jack had done. "I said I'd do it." He remarked with a shrug as Biddy struggled and gasped, trying to stay afloat.
"You can't throw a little girl overboard!" Kursar said in shock.
"Look, she's floating!" Jack said defensively, pointing to the water where Biddy had been a second before. Now, however, there was only a small splash of white foam. "She was." He remarked. "Why do I always seem to be doing this?" Asking this of no one in particular, he tossed his effects onto the deck and jumped inelegantly into the water, Biddy, mouth open in a terrified scream, looked up at the descending person coming after her. She reached frantically, her little hands wiggling. Catching her wrists, Jack backpedaled in the water and kicked to the surface. By the time they had reached it, she had swallowed a good deal of sea water, and her body was slack in the circle of his arm.
"Get me up, you damn bloody blighters!" He yelled, reaching for the rope that was offered. Back aboard the ship, he put a dripping Biddy on the deck.
"Give her a whack, she ain't breathin'!" Gibbs called as he pushed his way through the throng.
"But I thought you of all of us'd be glad to get rid of her, back luck and all." Jack said reasonably. "Oh, fine, I'll do it." And he leaned in closer to pick her up and hit her back. At that moment, Biddy coughed explosively, spraying sea water all over Jack's face. Her eyes fluttered open and she glared at him.
"You threw me overboard!!" She shrilled.
"I told you I would. I always keep my word." He said. "Get back to work!" He added to the crowd peering at them curiously. At this point, Anamaria, in dry clothes now, came out and took in the whole scene with a blink. "I handled it." Jack informed her. "We had an earnest discussion of ideas and she saw it my way."
"She's shivering. We'll catch it if she catches cold. Come on," she added to Biddy, pulling her up. "You have to get out of that wet dress, and get dry." Whimpering and shivering, her teeth chattering too hard to talk, Biddy followed her.
"I look like a BOY." Biddy said grumpily a little later. The ruined dress and slip discarded, she was now garbed in a shirt that was far too large for her, and pants that had been cut and then rolled up, the belt looped around her waist a good five times. The shirt's sleeves were rolled up to the shoulders, and the severely pouting seven year old was NOT happy. "I want my dress back. I don't want to look like a boy."
"You will wear that, and like it. And you will get back to work, without complaint. Or you're going overboard again, this time for good." Anamaria flexed her fingers warningly, and Biddy gulped. Both females were scowling when the appeared again, and Biddy worked the rest of the day without complaint. Well, without as much complaint, anyway.
That night, as Jack had predicted, she slept like a rock in Anamaria's bunk. "You are such a terror, we should just leave you in Tortuga. I hope someone's looking for you, because you need to get off this ship. And people said it was cursed before." Anamaria muttered quietly as she stared at Biddy's curled back.
At the prow, Jack and Gibbs were about saying the same thing.
"So, that little hellion been driving you mad today, Jack?" Gibbs asked, staring off into the sea.
"When we get to Tortuga, we're leaving her with the first person who looks at us." He replied with heavy resolve before heading off to his cabin. Gibbs shrugged and then nodded to himself. He'd tried telling Jack, but he let the evidence speak for itself. It was as he always said, powerful bad luck to have a woman aboard. And he held firmly that Biddy was only proving him right.
