"Bloody Christ," Jack growled, running a hand through his dark tangled
hair. "You're sure you haven't seen her? Nowhere?"
Mr. Gibbs eyed his captain skeptically. The man looked like a windkempt rat, for crying out loud, and Jack was vainer than a peacock. "No sir," he said rather drudgingly, "and beggin' yer pardon, but why're you so interested in findin' her now? Seems to me that you weren't too happy when she came aboard, if ye catch me drift."
His captain, too tense to do much else, settled for a snarl of "Don't TALK to me like that," and then, with a splash of his normal slippery manner, added, "And now Mr. Gibbs, d'you really want a woman running about ship?" Knowing Mr. Gibbs's superstitious manner, he put more than a little stress on the word 'woman'.
Mr. Gibbs couldn't stop a shudder, then pointed out shrewdly, "Even when ye find her, she'll still be running about ship."
"She won't," Jack said easily. "I'll make sure she won't."
In a thud of boots Ana Maria hit the deck, having swung down out of the rigging. "Looks like we've got company," she said, gesturing towards the entryway to the lower decks.
A grim-looking Nicholson was dragging a kicking, screaming Meg up, followed by a blank-faced Jacques. Ana Maria couldn't resist a smirk as Nicholson deposited Meg in a not-so-neat heap at the feet of Captain Jack Sparrow. "Careful," said Nicholson with a grimace, rubbing a spot on his upper arm. "She bites."
Jack looked as though he had never had a worry in his life. Mr. Gibbs gaped at him. He could hardly believe that only seconds before the man had been drawn and tight-faced.
"And may I inquire as to your whereabouts for the last three days?" said the captain lightly, looking down at Meg with a politely interested expression.
"The galley," she spat, lifting her arms as if in protection, like she thought Jack might swoop down and start raining blows on her.
All heads instantly snapped Jacques's direction.
"She - she said you'd been doing things to her, awful things, captain," Jacques mumbled. He had gone ashy-faced and was starting to tremble, almost as if, Ana Maria noted, all this attention was making him melt.
Jack burst into open laughter before the astonished eyes of the crew. Nicholson's brows were knitted so much his face appeared to slant in towards his nose, Mr. Gibbs was doing likewise, except his face practically disappeared, Ana Maria was rolling her eyes and crew members perched in the rigging were totally absorbed in the spectacle.
"Aye, lass?" he gasped finally. "I've never laid a hand on ye."
Now it was Meg who was ashen. "You called me your mistress," she snapped.
Jack raised his eyebrows, almost primly. "I've got some explainin' t'do, savvy?" Before she realized it, he had seized her arm and lifted her to her feet. "Back to work," he told the crew gallantly, before whisking Meg off to his quarters, where he leaned against the doorframe and she seated herself on her bed.
"Explain yourself." She cut in with the words before he could say anything, brandishing them like a flaming torch.
"What about?" His kohl-lined eyes teased her mercilessly.
"You know what about," she hissed vehemently. Hadn't he already mocked her enough?
"Oh yes, the mistress detail? Well as you see, it just popped into my head at the time. Savvy?"
"No." Meg's lips were thin together, and her facial tissue seemed to have been carved out of steel. "You had no right to -"
"I'm captain of the ship, love. I can do whatever-I-want." He pronounced the last words slowly and clearly, and it made her feel like a mouse in a fox's den. "But I'm sure you don't mind, lass, do you?"
His words caught her by surprise. "What on earth do you mean?"
He smiled at her, smiled like a cat. "Captain Jack Sparrow: the dark hair, the roguish confidence - you can't help but fall in love with him, savvy?"
"And that is absolutely ridiculous," she lied convincingly, raising an eyebrow at him in a way that she'd borrowed from Ana Maria.
Captain Sparrow shrugged. "You certainly seemed to be miffed enough by it, love."
"Do you think so?"
Late that night, Meg squirmed impatiently in her bedcovers. She couldn't get to sleep, trapped as she was in recurring webbed nets of thought. He must have just assumed what he'd said - Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't the most modest of men. That must be it, she thought.
It must be.
Mr. Gibbs eyed his captain skeptically. The man looked like a windkempt rat, for crying out loud, and Jack was vainer than a peacock. "No sir," he said rather drudgingly, "and beggin' yer pardon, but why're you so interested in findin' her now? Seems to me that you weren't too happy when she came aboard, if ye catch me drift."
His captain, too tense to do much else, settled for a snarl of "Don't TALK to me like that," and then, with a splash of his normal slippery manner, added, "And now Mr. Gibbs, d'you really want a woman running about ship?" Knowing Mr. Gibbs's superstitious manner, he put more than a little stress on the word 'woman'.
Mr. Gibbs couldn't stop a shudder, then pointed out shrewdly, "Even when ye find her, she'll still be running about ship."
"She won't," Jack said easily. "I'll make sure she won't."
In a thud of boots Ana Maria hit the deck, having swung down out of the rigging. "Looks like we've got company," she said, gesturing towards the entryway to the lower decks.
A grim-looking Nicholson was dragging a kicking, screaming Meg up, followed by a blank-faced Jacques. Ana Maria couldn't resist a smirk as Nicholson deposited Meg in a not-so-neat heap at the feet of Captain Jack Sparrow. "Careful," said Nicholson with a grimace, rubbing a spot on his upper arm. "She bites."
Jack looked as though he had never had a worry in his life. Mr. Gibbs gaped at him. He could hardly believe that only seconds before the man had been drawn and tight-faced.
"And may I inquire as to your whereabouts for the last three days?" said the captain lightly, looking down at Meg with a politely interested expression.
"The galley," she spat, lifting her arms as if in protection, like she thought Jack might swoop down and start raining blows on her.
All heads instantly snapped Jacques's direction.
"She - she said you'd been doing things to her, awful things, captain," Jacques mumbled. He had gone ashy-faced and was starting to tremble, almost as if, Ana Maria noted, all this attention was making him melt.
Jack burst into open laughter before the astonished eyes of the crew. Nicholson's brows were knitted so much his face appeared to slant in towards his nose, Mr. Gibbs was doing likewise, except his face practically disappeared, Ana Maria was rolling her eyes and crew members perched in the rigging were totally absorbed in the spectacle.
"Aye, lass?" he gasped finally. "I've never laid a hand on ye."
Now it was Meg who was ashen. "You called me your mistress," she snapped.
Jack raised his eyebrows, almost primly. "I've got some explainin' t'do, savvy?" Before she realized it, he had seized her arm and lifted her to her feet. "Back to work," he told the crew gallantly, before whisking Meg off to his quarters, where he leaned against the doorframe and she seated herself on her bed.
"Explain yourself." She cut in with the words before he could say anything, brandishing them like a flaming torch.
"What about?" His kohl-lined eyes teased her mercilessly.
"You know what about," she hissed vehemently. Hadn't he already mocked her enough?
"Oh yes, the mistress detail? Well as you see, it just popped into my head at the time. Savvy?"
"No." Meg's lips were thin together, and her facial tissue seemed to have been carved out of steel. "You had no right to -"
"I'm captain of the ship, love. I can do whatever-I-want." He pronounced the last words slowly and clearly, and it made her feel like a mouse in a fox's den. "But I'm sure you don't mind, lass, do you?"
His words caught her by surprise. "What on earth do you mean?"
He smiled at her, smiled like a cat. "Captain Jack Sparrow: the dark hair, the roguish confidence - you can't help but fall in love with him, savvy?"
"And that is absolutely ridiculous," she lied convincingly, raising an eyebrow at him in a way that she'd borrowed from Ana Maria.
Captain Sparrow shrugged. "You certainly seemed to be miffed enough by it, love."
"Do you think so?"
Late that night, Meg squirmed impatiently in her bedcovers. She couldn't get to sleep, trapped as she was in recurring webbed nets of thought. He must have just assumed what he'd said - Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't the most modest of men. That must be it, she thought.
It must be.