*Authors Note*
~Excerts from "The Ballad of the Pirate Queens" by Jane Yolen can be read in this chapter. I do not own the poem and all rights belong to Jane Yolen and Harcourt Brace & Company. Likewise this chapter is dedicated to Jane, who's wonderful poem inspired me to add Anne to this story in the first place. I hope she doesn't mind. Please don't sue me. Also, two of the shipmates on the Vanity are loosely based on characters from C.S. Forester's "Horatio Hornblower Saga." Matthews and Stiles are added with love, but are somewhat out of character.~
The Vanity Waits
------------------------
Tortuga
The Vanity lay softly rolling at anchor in Tortuga bay. Her figure head, a greying sculpture of a unicorn riding waves, seemed to watch as the two captains approached the ship. She was a wraith, painted from stem to stern a light grey with silver fixtures dotting her surface. Jack could imagine the schooner appearing out of a sea fog to the tune of cannon fire, jolly roger flying. She was a site, indeed. Her crew bustled about the deck, some seemed busy, and others merely lounged against railings waiting for orders. One prime seaman spotted their captain and blew the whistle alerting the crew to her presence. Anne Bonny and Jack Sparrow boarded the ship and were immediately greeted by the smiling face of a short man with grey curly hair wearing the typical outfit of a blue and white striped shirt, blue pants and boots, a red bandana circled his neck. He saluted his captain, and eyed Jack, not knowing what was a foot.
"Matthews, this be Captain Jack Sparrow o' the Black Pearl, he be our distinguished guest." Anne spoke to the man before making further introductions. "Captain Sparrow, this 'ere be m' first mate Matthews, a wise sea dog, if ever there be one."
"Captain." Matthews saluted. "Welcome aboard."
"Please report." Anne intoned.
"Aye, aye Captain. All be well, we be expecting a large shipment o' rum within the hour. The topsails been repaired. Water an powder's already on board an Stiles is seein' it properly stowed. Everything should be on schedule to disembark by this evenin'."
"Thank ye Matthews, that be all fer now. Report when the rum arrives."
"Aye, aye Cap'n." Matthews scuttled off below deck after once again saluting the two captains.
Anne then turned to Jack, who stood watching the crew and marveling at the ship with an experienced eye. All seemed well to him. If anything Anne seemed to run a much more disciplined ship than he did. Her crew following a predetermined course of protocol. Jack supposed, when a female ran a ship she would have to be a bit on the strict side to receive respect and prevent mutiny. Something Jack himself had experienced first hand. For a moment he wondered if, had he been stricter with his own crew, Barbossa and his men would have had the opportunity to over throw him and cast him marooned on a supposedly deserted island.
"She's a right beautiful ship, Captain Bonny, me bonny Anne."
"Would ye like to see more o' her?"
"Aye."
"Then follow me."
Jack trailed Anne as she descended to the mess. It was a considerably smaller berth than the Pearl's, but considering the Vanity's smaller size, this was to be expected. It was a cozy room in which the small crew could enjoy salt beef and pork as well as commandeered fruits and vegetables. Several of the crew were at the grub singing the Vanity's favorite song of valor.
~"And sliver the coins and sliver the moon,
Silver the waves on top of the sea,
When the pirate ship comes sailing in,
That gallant Vanity!"~
Anne smiled at the song, which died when the crew spotted her. All started to rise, but she motioned them down with her hand. A large, gruff man with short brown hair and a pitted face did rise, however, and approached her saluting.
"Ah, Stiles." She said to the sailor. "This 'ere be Captain Jack Sparrow, our guest. Spread the word to the crew, if he likes what he be seein' here today tomorrow we sail wit' the Black Pearl."
His eyes grew wide. The Black Pearl was a ship of myth, few acknowledged it's very existence. To some it was a ghost ship, cursed to sail with an undead crew until it sailed itself right up the River Styx and into Hell.
"But, my pardon, Cap'n. The Black Pearl 'tis only a spook story. Somthin' Muthers tells there children t' scare them o' pirates. Fairy tales Cap'n."
"Ah, my good man," Jack swung around Anne and looked up at Stiles, who was a good head taller than himself. "But the Pearl does exist. Why just an hour ago yer good Captain was strolling her decks saying, 'Why Captain Jack Sparrow, such a lovely ship you have.' And that she be, quite a lovely ship. ifn' I do say so me'self, which of course, I do."
Anne smiled, taking Jack by the arm leading him away from the mess, and Stiles, towards the back of the ship where they descended another set of stairs. What Jack saw was quite pleasing to a pirate's eye. Two rows of large cannons stretched out before him. Twenty-four to be exact, twelve on each side. Grape, shot, and large cannon balls flanked the side of each cannon. At the end of each row was a door. Ann pointed to one towards the stern, where the ship grew visibly thin.
"The magazine is down there accessed by steps. Can't be havin' it to near the hot stuff. The other door behind us be leadin' t' me cabin."
"Ah, yer cabin, I do remember ye sayin' ye'd show it t' me."
"I didn't say I'd show it t' the likes o' ye. I recall ye askin t' see it, but I remember me not answering."
"Don't play coy love. Ye want t' show it to me as much as I want t' be seein' it."
Anne opened her door. A startled raven fluttered on it's perch giving a 'caw' of warning before the bird flew past her out the door. The cabin was much smaller than Jack's and crammed with everything imaginable. Collected riches from Anne's years of piracy. Three portholes let the daylight streaming in playing round circles on the blue carpeted floor. Below them was her bed, satin sheets, the colour of royal purple lay rumpled across the fat mattress. Two people would have to squeeze to fit on that bed. An image Jack didn't altogether mind. A small table flecked in gold leaf sat against one wall, charts maps, and a compass fought for space with a crystal decanter filled with rum. Twin gold lamps hung on short chains from the low ceiling. For extra light two silver sconces flanked the door. Several paintings lay against the wall, propped up with a heavy golden statue of some obscure elephant god. A heavy roll top desk sat parallel to the other desk, this one came equipped with drawers. With the top up Jack spied an ornate ink pot complete with a quill pen sitting on top of parchment. Several baubles each bigger than the next lay haphazardly around the table, as if Anne had been cataloguing them.
She crossed the small room and opened one of the drawers in the roll top, pulling out a pair of crystal glasses. She tossed one to Jack, and he helped himself to the rum. Letting the spicy liquid burn it's way pleasantly down his throat. Anne sat her glass down and removed her belt, then her coat, letting them drop to the soft floor. Then, she returned to her glass and poured herself a generous helping gulping it down in two monstrous swigs.
Jack was watching her, like a panther watches it's prey. His brown eyes shone twinkling in the morning light. He watched her remove her outer clothing, watched her drink. Watched the motion of her throat as she knocked back the rum. He didn't need rum to be intoxicated. He could drink the sight of her and find his head swooning. He was lost now, he didn't even realize his feet were moving until they stopped an inch from Anne. Her hands were slower this time, finding, first, his face tracing her thumb across his lips. She grinned as he nipped at her fingers. They were tete-a-tete, eyes locked as their lips met. Jack ran his hand across her upper back in a soft caress. She twined her hand in his dreads giving a soft tug, pulling his head back as she claimed his throat. She minded not the rough stubble rather enjoying the coarseness against her lips. Things were just coming to a head, Jack was already tugging at buttons, Anne had his coat halfway down his shoulders when the knock sounded upon the door.
"Captain." It was Matthews, the knock sounded again. "Captain?"
Anne sighed and opened the door. A few inches of her corset glittered under Matthews bashful eyes, blood quickly going to his head as he turned a rather odd shade of red. Jack waved at him from the center of the cabin.
"I... I wus just t' inform you about ... um... th' rum's come aboard. Beggin' your pardon. We're having it stowed now."
"Yes, yes good. I'm not to be disturbed." Anne all but slammed the door in poor Matthews face. Jack was immediately pulling her towards the bed, his coat now off. She turned on him and again their lips meet, this time there was nothing gentle about the situation. Jack ripped Anne's shirt open exposing her corset, it sparkled under Jack's dexterous fingers as he undid each tiny clasp. Anne herself was popping each of Jack's shirt buttons, the maroon material sliding off his tanned shoulders. She gave a tug on his belt tossing aside his gun, as he tossed aside her bodice. It was a struggle for Anne to squirm out of her breaches, the hot cabin had made her sweat as much as the nearness of Jack. She was free of them soon however, her long lithe form seemed made of the sun as it shone through her golden hair. Jack was made of bronze, his deep tan breaking a likewise sweat as they tumbled onto the small bed. Anne pulled off his boots then jerked off his pants. His hand ran up and down her back, marveling at the feel of her. Her soft skin, the salty sweet scent of her. It wasn't long before they were moaning together. Jack learned some new things about her, an anchor tattoo graced her protruding hipbone.
"Mmm, I didn't notice this last night." He said huskily as he kissed it.
"It was dark." She answered breathlessly as he moved even further down. She gasped as the fire was lit. An experienced sailor would have known that fires and ships are a dangerous combination, but the two Captains were bent on extinguishing those flames the only way they knew how. By letting them burn themselves out. Every bit of skin was explored, every erogenous zone explored, and some newly discovered.
The sun had risen to midday before they were sated. They lounged together, naked, basking in their after glow. Now and then touching each other. Anne looked at him suddenly, her countenance changed.
"Ye know Jack, there are probably things we should be discussin'."
"Mmm? Like what?"
"Like tactics, battle plans, traps, where we're going t' sail first." She whacked him on the arm, trying to bring him around.
"Now who said I decided t' have this bucket sail wit' the Pearl?"
"Don't make me hurt ye Jack. I know ye want me t' sail with ye. Think o' the booty."
"Aye, I am thinking o' booty." Jack raised his eyebrows and slid his eyes along her backside. "And a fine, rich booty I seems t' have found."
"I give up." Ann exclaimed as she rose from the bed. A lady would have tried to cover herself up, even a whore would have dragged a bed sheet around her frame, but Anne strode across her room without a stitch. Power incarnate, master of her domain. Jack watched, fancying himself in heaven. Anne was in front of the wall next to the roll top desk, she pushed lightly against the wood and a hidden door swung open to reveal her wardrobe and a locked sea chest, the name Bonny engraved on the top. She picked through her clothes pulling out a light purple shirt and black cloth breaches. The later she pulled on first, waiting till she retrieved her corset before pulling on the shirt. Jack was surprised to notice a few dresses hanging within the rabble of fine men's clothing. He wondered, bemused, what she would look like in one, and found the thought unsatisfying. He much preferred her in tight pants and flowing shirts.
"I thought we could sail from Tortuga this night, you ship is prepared, my men have had their fun. What say ye to taking a turn round th' Leeward Islands an seein' if we could pick us up a nice fat Spanish brig. Between yer twenty-four guns..."
"Thirty-four." Anne corrected. "We've ten above deck."
"Between yer thirty-four guns." Jack winked. "And my forty. I think a brig would be no problem. Ye'd sail yer ship in the lead. The Pearl won't be havin' trouble keepin' up. And when we see's somthin' fer the takin' Ye can rake em' sending whatever craft it be right into the Pearl's guns. At which point they, whoever they be, surrender and we relieve them o' their cargo, savvy?"
"Savvy. But we're goin' t' need some sort of signal system fer if things don't play out like they's supposed to."
"That bird o' yers trained?"
"Yeah. What ye be thinkin'?"
"I'm thinkin' that I got a mate with a parrot, and ye've got yer bird, and ifn' we can work it right, they could fly between the ships and we wouldn't have t' be worryin' bout signals."
"Right. Good idea. We'll just wing situations when trouble arises."
Jack laughed.
"What say ye t' goin' back into port fer a while. Seein' if anyone's got the skinny on who be sailin' what where. Havin' a nice bit o' grog and grub before we weigh anchor. Can ye have one o' yer men send a message t' me ship?"
"Sure, I'll send Stiles. He'll crap his breaches a'fore he get's there. But it'll do him good t' be seein' yer ship fer his own eyes."
"Wonderful. Toss me m' pants would you."
~Excerts from "The Ballad of the Pirate Queens" by Jane Yolen can be read in this chapter. I do not own the poem and all rights belong to Jane Yolen and Harcourt Brace & Company. Likewise this chapter is dedicated to Jane, who's wonderful poem inspired me to add Anne to this story in the first place. I hope she doesn't mind. Please don't sue me. Also, two of the shipmates on the Vanity are loosely based on characters from C.S. Forester's "Horatio Hornblower Saga." Matthews and Stiles are added with love, but are somewhat out of character.~
The Vanity Waits
------------------------
Tortuga
The Vanity lay softly rolling at anchor in Tortuga bay. Her figure head, a greying sculpture of a unicorn riding waves, seemed to watch as the two captains approached the ship. She was a wraith, painted from stem to stern a light grey with silver fixtures dotting her surface. Jack could imagine the schooner appearing out of a sea fog to the tune of cannon fire, jolly roger flying. She was a site, indeed. Her crew bustled about the deck, some seemed busy, and others merely lounged against railings waiting for orders. One prime seaman spotted their captain and blew the whistle alerting the crew to her presence. Anne Bonny and Jack Sparrow boarded the ship and were immediately greeted by the smiling face of a short man with grey curly hair wearing the typical outfit of a blue and white striped shirt, blue pants and boots, a red bandana circled his neck. He saluted his captain, and eyed Jack, not knowing what was a foot.
"Matthews, this be Captain Jack Sparrow o' the Black Pearl, he be our distinguished guest." Anne spoke to the man before making further introductions. "Captain Sparrow, this 'ere be m' first mate Matthews, a wise sea dog, if ever there be one."
"Captain." Matthews saluted. "Welcome aboard."
"Please report." Anne intoned.
"Aye, aye Captain. All be well, we be expecting a large shipment o' rum within the hour. The topsails been repaired. Water an powder's already on board an Stiles is seein' it properly stowed. Everything should be on schedule to disembark by this evenin'."
"Thank ye Matthews, that be all fer now. Report when the rum arrives."
"Aye, aye Cap'n." Matthews scuttled off below deck after once again saluting the two captains.
Anne then turned to Jack, who stood watching the crew and marveling at the ship with an experienced eye. All seemed well to him. If anything Anne seemed to run a much more disciplined ship than he did. Her crew following a predetermined course of protocol. Jack supposed, when a female ran a ship she would have to be a bit on the strict side to receive respect and prevent mutiny. Something Jack himself had experienced first hand. For a moment he wondered if, had he been stricter with his own crew, Barbossa and his men would have had the opportunity to over throw him and cast him marooned on a supposedly deserted island.
"She's a right beautiful ship, Captain Bonny, me bonny Anne."
"Would ye like to see more o' her?"
"Aye."
"Then follow me."
Jack trailed Anne as she descended to the mess. It was a considerably smaller berth than the Pearl's, but considering the Vanity's smaller size, this was to be expected. It was a cozy room in which the small crew could enjoy salt beef and pork as well as commandeered fruits and vegetables. Several of the crew were at the grub singing the Vanity's favorite song of valor.
~"And sliver the coins and sliver the moon,
Silver the waves on top of the sea,
When the pirate ship comes sailing in,
That gallant Vanity!"~
Anne smiled at the song, which died when the crew spotted her. All started to rise, but she motioned them down with her hand. A large, gruff man with short brown hair and a pitted face did rise, however, and approached her saluting.
"Ah, Stiles." She said to the sailor. "This 'ere be Captain Jack Sparrow, our guest. Spread the word to the crew, if he likes what he be seein' here today tomorrow we sail wit' the Black Pearl."
His eyes grew wide. The Black Pearl was a ship of myth, few acknowledged it's very existence. To some it was a ghost ship, cursed to sail with an undead crew until it sailed itself right up the River Styx and into Hell.
"But, my pardon, Cap'n. The Black Pearl 'tis only a spook story. Somthin' Muthers tells there children t' scare them o' pirates. Fairy tales Cap'n."
"Ah, my good man," Jack swung around Anne and looked up at Stiles, who was a good head taller than himself. "But the Pearl does exist. Why just an hour ago yer good Captain was strolling her decks saying, 'Why Captain Jack Sparrow, such a lovely ship you have.' And that she be, quite a lovely ship. ifn' I do say so me'self, which of course, I do."
Anne smiled, taking Jack by the arm leading him away from the mess, and Stiles, towards the back of the ship where they descended another set of stairs. What Jack saw was quite pleasing to a pirate's eye. Two rows of large cannons stretched out before him. Twenty-four to be exact, twelve on each side. Grape, shot, and large cannon balls flanked the side of each cannon. At the end of each row was a door. Ann pointed to one towards the stern, where the ship grew visibly thin.
"The magazine is down there accessed by steps. Can't be havin' it to near the hot stuff. The other door behind us be leadin' t' me cabin."
"Ah, yer cabin, I do remember ye sayin' ye'd show it t' me."
"I didn't say I'd show it t' the likes o' ye. I recall ye askin t' see it, but I remember me not answering."
"Don't play coy love. Ye want t' show it to me as much as I want t' be seein' it."
Anne opened her door. A startled raven fluttered on it's perch giving a 'caw' of warning before the bird flew past her out the door. The cabin was much smaller than Jack's and crammed with everything imaginable. Collected riches from Anne's years of piracy. Three portholes let the daylight streaming in playing round circles on the blue carpeted floor. Below them was her bed, satin sheets, the colour of royal purple lay rumpled across the fat mattress. Two people would have to squeeze to fit on that bed. An image Jack didn't altogether mind. A small table flecked in gold leaf sat against one wall, charts maps, and a compass fought for space with a crystal decanter filled with rum. Twin gold lamps hung on short chains from the low ceiling. For extra light two silver sconces flanked the door. Several paintings lay against the wall, propped up with a heavy golden statue of some obscure elephant god. A heavy roll top desk sat parallel to the other desk, this one came equipped with drawers. With the top up Jack spied an ornate ink pot complete with a quill pen sitting on top of parchment. Several baubles each bigger than the next lay haphazardly around the table, as if Anne had been cataloguing them.
She crossed the small room and opened one of the drawers in the roll top, pulling out a pair of crystal glasses. She tossed one to Jack, and he helped himself to the rum. Letting the spicy liquid burn it's way pleasantly down his throat. Anne sat her glass down and removed her belt, then her coat, letting them drop to the soft floor. Then, she returned to her glass and poured herself a generous helping gulping it down in two monstrous swigs.
Jack was watching her, like a panther watches it's prey. His brown eyes shone twinkling in the morning light. He watched her remove her outer clothing, watched her drink. Watched the motion of her throat as she knocked back the rum. He didn't need rum to be intoxicated. He could drink the sight of her and find his head swooning. He was lost now, he didn't even realize his feet were moving until they stopped an inch from Anne. Her hands were slower this time, finding, first, his face tracing her thumb across his lips. She grinned as he nipped at her fingers. They were tete-a-tete, eyes locked as their lips met. Jack ran his hand across her upper back in a soft caress. She twined her hand in his dreads giving a soft tug, pulling his head back as she claimed his throat. She minded not the rough stubble rather enjoying the coarseness against her lips. Things were just coming to a head, Jack was already tugging at buttons, Anne had his coat halfway down his shoulders when the knock sounded upon the door.
"Captain." It was Matthews, the knock sounded again. "Captain?"
Anne sighed and opened the door. A few inches of her corset glittered under Matthews bashful eyes, blood quickly going to his head as he turned a rather odd shade of red. Jack waved at him from the center of the cabin.
"I... I wus just t' inform you about ... um... th' rum's come aboard. Beggin' your pardon. We're having it stowed now."
"Yes, yes good. I'm not to be disturbed." Anne all but slammed the door in poor Matthews face. Jack was immediately pulling her towards the bed, his coat now off. She turned on him and again their lips meet, this time there was nothing gentle about the situation. Jack ripped Anne's shirt open exposing her corset, it sparkled under Jack's dexterous fingers as he undid each tiny clasp. Anne herself was popping each of Jack's shirt buttons, the maroon material sliding off his tanned shoulders. She gave a tug on his belt tossing aside his gun, as he tossed aside her bodice. It was a struggle for Anne to squirm out of her breaches, the hot cabin had made her sweat as much as the nearness of Jack. She was free of them soon however, her long lithe form seemed made of the sun as it shone through her golden hair. Jack was made of bronze, his deep tan breaking a likewise sweat as they tumbled onto the small bed. Anne pulled off his boots then jerked off his pants. His hand ran up and down her back, marveling at the feel of her. Her soft skin, the salty sweet scent of her. It wasn't long before they were moaning together. Jack learned some new things about her, an anchor tattoo graced her protruding hipbone.
"Mmm, I didn't notice this last night." He said huskily as he kissed it.
"It was dark." She answered breathlessly as he moved even further down. She gasped as the fire was lit. An experienced sailor would have known that fires and ships are a dangerous combination, but the two Captains were bent on extinguishing those flames the only way they knew how. By letting them burn themselves out. Every bit of skin was explored, every erogenous zone explored, and some newly discovered.
The sun had risen to midday before they were sated. They lounged together, naked, basking in their after glow. Now and then touching each other. Anne looked at him suddenly, her countenance changed.
"Ye know Jack, there are probably things we should be discussin'."
"Mmm? Like what?"
"Like tactics, battle plans, traps, where we're going t' sail first." She whacked him on the arm, trying to bring him around.
"Now who said I decided t' have this bucket sail wit' the Pearl?"
"Don't make me hurt ye Jack. I know ye want me t' sail with ye. Think o' the booty."
"Aye, I am thinking o' booty." Jack raised his eyebrows and slid his eyes along her backside. "And a fine, rich booty I seems t' have found."
"I give up." Ann exclaimed as she rose from the bed. A lady would have tried to cover herself up, even a whore would have dragged a bed sheet around her frame, but Anne strode across her room without a stitch. Power incarnate, master of her domain. Jack watched, fancying himself in heaven. Anne was in front of the wall next to the roll top desk, she pushed lightly against the wood and a hidden door swung open to reveal her wardrobe and a locked sea chest, the name Bonny engraved on the top. She picked through her clothes pulling out a light purple shirt and black cloth breaches. The later she pulled on first, waiting till she retrieved her corset before pulling on the shirt. Jack was surprised to notice a few dresses hanging within the rabble of fine men's clothing. He wondered, bemused, what she would look like in one, and found the thought unsatisfying. He much preferred her in tight pants and flowing shirts.
"I thought we could sail from Tortuga this night, you ship is prepared, my men have had their fun. What say ye to taking a turn round th' Leeward Islands an seein' if we could pick us up a nice fat Spanish brig. Between yer twenty-four guns..."
"Thirty-four." Anne corrected. "We've ten above deck."
"Between yer thirty-four guns." Jack winked. "And my forty. I think a brig would be no problem. Ye'd sail yer ship in the lead. The Pearl won't be havin' trouble keepin' up. And when we see's somthin' fer the takin' Ye can rake em' sending whatever craft it be right into the Pearl's guns. At which point they, whoever they be, surrender and we relieve them o' their cargo, savvy?"
"Savvy. But we're goin' t' need some sort of signal system fer if things don't play out like they's supposed to."
"That bird o' yers trained?"
"Yeah. What ye be thinkin'?"
"I'm thinkin' that I got a mate with a parrot, and ye've got yer bird, and ifn' we can work it right, they could fly between the ships and we wouldn't have t' be worryin' bout signals."
"Right. Good idea. We'll just wing situations when trouble arises."
Jack laughed.
"What say ye t' goin' back into port fer a while. Seein' if anyone's got the skinny on who be sailin' what where. Havin' a nice bit o' grog and grub before we weigh anchor. Can ye have one o' yer men send a message t' me ship?"
"Sure, I'll send Stiles. He'll crap his breaches a'fore he get's there. But it'll do him good t' be seein' yer ship fer his own eyes."
"Wonderful. Toss me m' pants would you."