Strange but Wonderful

A/N: Finally!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to update (over a week!!) but I've been crazily busy. School starts soon, and I have three summer projects to finish, plus Academic Decatholon meetings to go to, and I need to get my horse out at least four times a week. Add on to that my 16th birthday on Wed., a computer that won't access the internet, and a chapter that took FOREVER to write, and you have the recipie for disaster. Thanks to everyone for being so patient, I appreciate it, and I promise that next week I will update more if at all possible. Also, (I know I say this every time, but it's true!) THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWS, or even reads my story. I live for your feedback, and am glad that there are people are enjoying this as much as I am!! Thanks again, and ENJOY~~*!

Chapter Six

The streets of Port Royal were dank and dreary, crowded with vermin of every sort and practically reeking of death. The shops that ran along the main street had been raided, and their broken windows shone out into the night like twisted, toothless smiles. In the distance, fine houses burned into ashes, leaving the families that occupied them cowering in the chill night air. The fires served to illuminate areas of the port, making all the activity seem as though it were some kind of garish circus.

Emaline walked through all of this in a kind of daze, her eyes open but refusing to focus on the horror around her. She stayed as close to Capt. Sparrow as she could without breaching the bounds of common decency, although why she sought to maintain such bounds in these circumstances was beyond her. The catastrophic events of the evening had rendered her incapable of any independent thought, and thus she was relying on what had been breed into since she was old enough to walk. Once she had consented to go with Jack Sparrow, she knew that she would follow his orders implicitly; he may be the worst kind of scoundrel, but he was still a man, and with that came her proper obedience. She was heartily ashamed of her early behavior towards him, being outspoken and confrontational was completely out of character for her. Emaline was by no means a strong-minded woman, though she was very intelligent. For her, quiet observation and internal analysis were far more rewarding than a public display of opinion. This was a very sought after quality in a woman, and she had been praised for it numerous times. In fact, Peter Wyndham had been most impressed with her in that respect....

She stopped cold, her hazy mind violently throwing an image of Peter before her. She had left him to die in that room with no great protest, her only concern being for her own worthless neck. She had let him die. No,no,no,no,no.....Falling to her knees, she gulped down air, trying desperately to fill her aching lungs. Sobs racked her body, and she began to shiver uncontrollably. With great effort, Emaline clasped her hands together and began to pray fervently for forgiveness.

Jack watched her with fascination. He had been expecting this reaction, it was inevitable that she would have an emotional breakdown after all she'd been through. But there was something strange about actually witnessing it take place. The girl looked like a fallen angel, bathed in moonlight and the glittering red of the fires, her posture so abject and yet still so poised. Jack felt a great swell of pity rise in his heart, an emotion he had truly felt for no one but himself for longer than he could remember. It was disconcerting, to say the least. He barely knew this chit, and yet he wanted so badly to help. The urge to comfort her was overwhelming, but he quickly crushed it. He had little knowledge of how to calm hysterical women, and she would not welcome his help anyway. All he could do was wait her out, and hope that she could make it to the Pearl before having another conniption.

After a few minutes, Emaline got unsteadily to her feet, wiping at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. She felt horrible, and dirty beyond ever becoming clean, but the praying had served to calm her nerves and she felt somewhat normal again. Looking around for Capt. Sparrow, she spotted him standing a few feet away and watching her curiously. Anger boiled inside her at his seemingly indifferent attitude, at the way he was acting as though she were nothing more than some mildly entertaining creature at a zoo. A true gentleman would have rushed to her side immediately and offered any assistance he could to ease her suffering. But then, Emaline was quite sure that Jack Sparrow would be the first to admit that he was no gentleman.

"Are you finished?" he asked her plainly.

"Yes," she answered coldly, wanting desperately to add that it was no thanks to him.

"Well, then we should get on. My ship's just up there, it's the one with the black sails. I'll get you aboard, and then we can leave this godforsaken island."

"Wait, aren't we to go to the Expectation first and get my things? You can hardly expect to drop me off in a strange port with only the clothes on my back."

Actually, this was exactly what Jack was expecting to do. They did not have time for such frivolous endeavors, and her said as much to her. Needless to say, the statement did not go over well.

"But, I cannot simply leave my things. It could be days before we reach a port, and common decency alone demands that I have clothing that is both clean and modest. This dress is torn about my shoulders and already I feel like the worst of immoral women. Even a man as base as yourself should see the cruelty in forcing me to stay exposed in such a manner!" Emaline's voice was quiet and mellow, but she spoke her words with such absolute conviction that she almost cracked the stone of Jack's resolve.

"Listen, girl," he sighed exasperatedly. " We can't just go waltzing up to your ship-- the Gullah's will have taken it by now , and they don't take kindly to trespassers, savvy? I'd be killed for sure, and then were would you be? Not safely home in England were a trollop such as yeself belongs, I warrant."

Emaline was close to tears again. "But is there not something you can do?" Her voice sounded like fragile glass, and she seemed likely to collapse. Goddamit, the last thing he needed right now was another crying session.

"Stop your blubbering, all this whining is like to make me throw up!" The words were harsher than he meant them to be, but Jack was not the type of person whose people skills blossomed under stress. The hurt in Emaline's eyes because of his statement was obvious, and she looked very confused. "She's not used to havin' a man be so direct, mate. You need to tone it down a bit, she'll learn the real ways of the world soon enough." Feeling like he ought to say something helpful, Jack spoke. "I can't go get your things from the boat, but I can borrow a few items from one of these stores. There's bound to be something there that'll fit you."

"You mean to steal?" said Emaline, her voice incredulous and her eyes wide.

"For someone so desperate for clean clothes, you have no right to be picky. Yes, I'm going to steal. I am a pirate,after all; stealing is what I do best. So just give me your measurements, and I'll be on with it."

"My measurements?" she squeaked.

"Aye, your measurements. Hips, waist, breasts, I'll need all of it."

Emaline's cheeks flushed crimson at he way he so casually said the word breasts. The man really had no scruples at all. "Surely, you don't need my measurements. Can I not simply try things on?"

Jack looked dangerously close to slapping her. It never occurred to him that Emaline might be a bit self-conscious about giving exact proof to how large her hips were and how small her chest was. "We don't have time," he fairly ground out. "You have exactly three seconds to tell me before I completely abandon this idea and you go about naked for all I care. One, two,..."

"Hips- 99 cm. Waist-54 cm. Breasts- 83 cm." Emaline watched Jack's face, waiting for the look of disgust that was sure to follow her confession. He did not so much as blink.

Jack strode over to the nearest tailor shop, and push the door open. He walked inside as Emaline followed close behind. Stopping near the front desk, he turned to face her.

"Stay right here, I'm going into the back store room. If for some reason someone comes in here, call my name as loud as you can. And if all else fails, use this." He handed her a pistol.

As soon as Jack had left the room, Emaline dropped the pistol as though it were a hot poker. She was deadly afraid of guns and swords, and violence of any kind was her abhorrence. Emaline was a firm believer that any quarrel could be worked out using words instead of violence, at least with normal people. However, she soon picked up the gun and cradled it nervously in her arms, for she had the sense to realize that pirates were not normal people, nor were they the type to settle for a simple verbal argument.

Jack returned shortly, a sack filled with clothing hoisted over his shoulder. He snorted, and then laughed out loud at the way Emaline was so tensely holding his pistol.

"It's not going to bite you, lass" he said, voice laced with the obvious humor he found in her situation.

Again, Emaline looked at him with hurt in her eyes. "You'll have to excuse me, I am terribly afraid of guns." Her polite, wounded voice made Jack feel a bit of a cad for laughing at her, but it quickly faded. Why shouldn't he laugh, it was not as though he cared about the prissy little brat's feelings.

"Well, if there's not anything else...." Jack let the sentence dangle, practically daring her to ask him for something. She simply shook her head, and prepared to follow him out the door.

They reached the docks shortly, and Emaline was treated to her first good look at the ship that was soon to be her home for the next few days. The Black Pearl lived up to her name, for she was both sinister and lovely at the same time. Her masts were strong and tall, and her sails as black as charcoal. Engraved on her prow was the figure of a mermaid, with long hair that blew back from her face and arms that stretched out above her head to cup what appeared to be a dove. The ship was magnificent, and despite her fear, Emaline felt a rush of excitement flow through her vains.

As they reached the dock that led out to the Pearl, both Jack and Emaline realized that it was teeming with other pirates. To Jack this presented a rather difficult problem, and to Emaline it snapped the excitement from her sharp as a whip. As Jack was not a Gullah, the other pirates would see themselves fit to take from him whatever they pleased; namely, Emaline. He thought fast, and came back to his solution from earlier. They would not bother him if she appeared to be nothing more than a common whore, but the trick was going to be getting the girl to agree to it. Jack could not simply smash his lips against hers this time, Emaline would have to participate as well. It was not going to be very convincing, the girl was as innocent as a newborn babe, but it was the only shot they had. Once again, Jack cursed Capt. Foster to hell and back for making him involved in this mess.

He looked at the girl, sizing her up and deciding how much work had to be done. Emaline looked every bit a fine-bred lady; her dress was prim and proper, her hair was put up, and she was as timid as rabbit. Gods, this was going to be difficult. What he really needed was the girl she was earlier in the evening, the one who had screamed at him with such vehemence. But Jack knew that she was no more likely to give a repeat performance than he was to be named a Catholic saint.

It was Emaline who spoke first. "Capt. Sparrow, do have any notion of how we can reach your ship without being assaulted by those vile, dissolute creatures?"

Jack looked her square in the face, praying he might find some hint of passion in her eyes. He saw nothing but sweetness and quiet poise. "Aye, I have an idea, though I don't think it's going to be to your liking."

"Capt. Sparrow, you may rest assured that I desperately wish to leave this repulsive place as soon as possible, and am therefore open to any suggestions you have towards achieving that goal."

Damn, all her long words and perfect sentence structure gave him a headache. "Well, lass, I'm suggesting that we deprive you of your dress, take your hair down, and have you wrap your regal self around me, acting for all intents and purposes as the most wanton whore this island has to offer." Here Jack wildly threw out his arms, and grinned as though he was mad. " What do ya say?!"

He had his gaze pinned upon Emaline, waiting for her to meet his eyes and tell him that he was out of his mind and how dare he even think of her in such an impertinent manner. The moment never came. Keeping her eyes firmly fixed to the ground, she answered him. "I consent. Please, just tell me what do."

Jack could not believe his ears. She had agreed. Suddenly feeling very bad about what he was asking Emaline to do (though he knew that he was actually doing her the favor and there truly was no other way), Jack decided that he would make the experience as unhumiliating as possible.

He walked behind her and brought his hands to the fastenings of her dress. "I'm going to take your dress off, so don't fidget." Jack had no idea if she even heard him, she seemed so distant. "Probably keeping herself as far away from what I'm doing to her as possible." Slowly and carefully, he undid the laces and clasps that held the dress across her back, and slid it off her shoulders. He grabbed her hand to balance her, and she stepped out of the dress.

Emaline felt a warm pulse of something like pleasure resound in her body at the feel of his bare hand over hers. His hands were large, much larger than her own, and though rough and callused, they were quite clean. Slowly, she realized that she still held his hand even though the dress was off, and abruptly dropped it. Her dress tossed over his shoulder, Jack reached up and began pulling the pins from her hair. It tumbled down in heaps to cover her back, its rich bronze color contrasting sharply with the white of her undergarments.

Pins put into his pocket, Jack turned her around to look at him. With her hair down, and her dress noticeably absent, she looked much more average, though anyone who saw her close up would be daft if they mistook her for anything but nobility. Emaline simply had that air about her, the kind that screamed of money and honor. But fortunately for the both of them, no one would be close enough to get a good look at her.

"Now, this next part is going to be a tad tricky. I want you to put your hands about my shoulders, and then jump up, wrapping your legs around my waist. I know this is a wee bit awkward for you, but you've gotta do it, savvy?" She nodded, and proceeded to climb up him as though he were a tree. It was awkward, and took a good number of tries, but Emaline finally got herself into position.

Strange it was, being so close to a man. His body was flush against her own, and she felt lean, hard muscle rising and falling beneath her. Jack also smelled very foreign, his scent a mixture of rum, tobacco, and a bit of sandalwood. Emaline suddenly felt lightheaded, and a deliciously warm knot was forming deep in her belly. Unconsciously, she squirmed against him, gripping tighter with her legs and drawing her face into the crook of his neck. One of Jack's arms snaked across her back, and he held her to him tightly, crushing her breasts against his taught chest.

"That's good, lass," Jack whispered into her neck, voice slightly husky. He was a man after all, and having the girl in such close proximity was having an effect on him. "That's very good. Just move your head a bit, so it looks like you be kissing my neck." Emaline moved her neck slightly side to side, but she took great care to keep her lips from even brushing his skin. He laughed inwardly, as her dedication to propriety made him remember the exact reason why she was wrapped around him and the revelation dampened his arousal quite efficiently.

With the sack of clothes slung over his shoulder and Emaline about his waist, Jack walked up the dock, adopting even more of a drunken swagger for appearances sake. Whistles and catcalls followed in his wake, but no one lifted a finger to stop their progress. Once again, his ingenious if unorthodox plan had worked, and Jack was feeling mighty pleased with himself. Emaline however, was feeling no such elation. After the initial excitement of being in such a compromising position had worn off, she became extremely afraid, as well as angry at herself for behaving in such a prurient manner. Upon reflection, she was certain that another, far more appropriate way of reaching the boat could have been found, had Capt. Sparrow set his mind to it. The man was simply a lecher, and Emaline had given him a ready opportunity to take advantage of her. Although, she could think of far worse ways to be disgraced and defiled...

As soon as they reached the Pearl, Emaline nearly leapt from his arms. The instant her feet hit the floor, she scurried off. She was in a great hurry to be as far away from Capt. Sparrow as possible, but in her haste she accidentally slipped on a bit of fresh oakum that had been pounded into the wooden planking. However, before Emaline's head could attend its impromptu meeting with the hard deck, she felt a pair of wiry arms encircle her waist and hauled her upright. She turned around, anxious to see who had caught her, for she knew by the feel of the man's arms that they did not belong to Jack.
Sparkling green eyes stared back into her own, even as the lad presented her with a polite smile. A mop of unruly blond curls adorned his head, though they were partially obscured from view by a dirty orange bandana, and a pair of twin silver loops pierced his ears. Stepping back to get a better look at him, Emaline saw that the boy could be no more than a few years her senior, for though his skin was rough and tan, he had no age lines creasing his face. He carefully helped her to regain balance, and being quite the gentleman, immediately released her waist.

"You'll be wantin' to be more careful, miss. These boards can be awful slick, especially if you be unused to them." He had a pleasant voice, soft and mellow; the lad was not at all what Emaline would have expected for a member of a pirate crew.

"Thank you, sir," she said gently.

"Aye, thankee Gabe. I'm sure the lady appreciates your concern," said Jack, appearing out of nowhere. "Now, kindly rouse the others and tell the mangy dogs to get up top and give our guest a proper welcome." Giving his captain a questioning look, Gabe nonetheless set off in search of his shipmates.

"A few words before he returns, lass," Jack said, pulling her off to the side. "I'm going to explain to me crew that you're to sail with us for a bit, and that no harm is to come to you while you be on this boat. However, a few of these men are not exactly known for keeping their promises, especially where the ladies are concerned. I suggest you stay clear of those who I don't specifically indicate as being trustworthy. After all, not all pirates are as gentlemanly as meself and Gabe, savvy?

Emaline merely looked at him, before nodding her head and softly mumbling under her breath.

"What's that? You'll have to speak up, lass, I sometimes tend to be hard of hearing." That was blatant lie, and she knew it, but Emaline felt strangely compelled to answer him. A gentlewoman always answers faithfully when asked to repeat herself.

"I said that I do not think you to be at all gentlemanly, Capt. Sparrow. I am exceedingly grateful for all of you assistance to me; however, I believe that you have taken advantage of my naivete. I am certain that you could have found another manner in which to deliver us safely to your ship, had you had maintaining my honor at the forefront of your thoughts." She said all of this quietly, her manner completely docile and unobtrusive. "I am neither condoning or chastising your decision, I am simply stating my opinion of the matter."

God, how Jack wished the girl would grow a damn backbone. She was going to seriously need one to survive this ordeal, for she could be spending weeks with himself and his crew before a suitable place to leave her will be found. It seemed that the fiery Ms. Darcy from earlier in the evening was gone forever, replaced by this meek, submissive creature. "The lass must truly be ashamed of the way she behaved, either that or that outburst really was completely out of character for her. Most likely it's both, and that means that the chit ain't likely to make the same 'error' again." Well, she would have to learn some independence and confidence, one way or another. And meeting his crew would be an excellent way to start.