It was just by luck that James' eyes had passed over his cousin and Jack as
the dagger hit home, or he would not have had a clue as to what the sudden
uproar was about. Twenty men shot to their feet, drawing their weapons as
they searched for the attacker, leaving Jack to crumple backwards in mute
agony. As Marin pushed through the suddenly alert crowd, James abandoned
all pretence of dignity and clambered over the chairs and tables to land
awkwardly beside Jack.
The pirate captain looked up with glazed eyes as he registered who it was who was leaning over him.
'James,' he croaked. 'Where's Marin?'
James swallowed his own concern for his cousin, knowing she knew how to look after herself and turned his attention to the dagger in Jack's shoulder.
'She'll be fine,' he assured the injured man, glancing up as Solomon and Gibbs knelt with him, the rest of the Pearl's crew keeping the crowd from trampling them all. 'Mr Gibbs, we need to clean and cauterise this wound.'
Gibbs' eyes widened, shocked that the commodore knew anything about medicine when he so rarely let himself get his hands dirty. Solomon, on the other hand, elbowed him in the ribs, his young face tense with concern for his captain.
'We can take him up to one of the whore's rooms,' he suggested.
One of the girls overheard him and bent over them, displaying a vast amount of cleavage and seeming not to care.
'You can take him up to my room,' she told them. 'Second on the right, first landing.'
James nodded, standing as Gibbs and Solomon manhandled their captain to his feet and began to make their way through the heaving crowd to the stairs. He grasped the whore's arm gently, making sure he had her full attention.
'We need clean water and bandages,' he told her. 'And some rum to clean the wound.'
She nodded, pulling him over to the bar, where she leant over and shouted something indecipherable to the tavern-keeper. He glanced at James and nodded to her, moving into the room behind the bar.
'He'll bring everything up to the room,' she told him. 'Do you need any help?'
James glanced up at the gallery where Gibbs had just managed to get the door open. He looked back down at the woman by his side.
'Probably,' he told her.
She grinned, taking his arm and drawing him behind the bar.
'We'll go up the easy way, then,' she said, leading him to the back stairs.
They hurried up, the tavern-keeper close behind them, fighting their way along the gallery to the room where Jack was now tossing and turning on the bed, refusing to lie still while Marin could be in danger. He turned pleading eyes on James as the commodore entered, shutting the door behind him.
'James, mate, someone has to find Marin,' he demanded, hissing as his movements knocked against the dagger still embedded in his shoulder.
Ignoring him, and his own worries for the diminutive woman, James gestured for Gibbs and Solomon to hold the anxious captain down. He knelt on the bed, one hand against Jack's chest as his fingers slipped about the dagger hilt. With one swift tug, the dagger came out, spurting blood over all three men. As Jack opened his mouth to scream in pain, Solomon force-fed him as much of the rum as he could take, wanting to dull the pain for the next part of the treatment.
They had all seen wounds cauterised before, and knew exactly how painful the process could be. They also knew just how quickly it had to be done. James drew one of Jack's wide blades from his boot, moving to hold the knife in the fire that burned merrily in the hearth. He gestured to the whore.
'Clean the cut with the alcohol,' he told her. 'Ignore him if he complains.'
Nodding, her face pale, she moved to do as she was told, not exactly gentle as she wiped the blood away. Jack swore vehemently up at her, his eyes slightly crossed from the huge amount of alcohol that had just been forced down his throat. Gibbs withdrew a bit of toughened leather from his pocket, forcing it between Jack's teeth as the captain bit down hard to avoid crying out in pain.
'Bite down on that, Jack,' he told the irate man, still kneeling on his legs to prevent the pirate trying to get away.
He glanced up at James, seeing the commodore nod. The blade was ready. He moved to kneel on the bed once more, pushing the blood-stained shirt away from the wound. Solomon pressed his knees against the captain's shoulders, holding his wrists so that he would not be able to fight them off. Likewise, Gibbs sat himself firmly on Jack's legs as James pressed the red hot metal against the open wound.
The scream that issued from Jack's throat was animalistic in the extreme, hoarse and full of unimaginable pain and agony. He tried to arch up, away from the burning blade, but could barely move. Solomon closed his eyes, trying to breathe through his mouth as the smell of burnt flesh filled the room.
Mercifully, the job was done swiftly, Jack passing out within seconds of the blade being taken away. James bandaged the wound, cleaning it again with what rum was left. They replaced the shirt on the captain, deciding against waking him as Gibbs hauled the unconscious body over his shoulder.
'Solomon, put out people to find Marin and send her back to Governor's House,' he ordered his shipmate, turning to steer the commodore towards the door. 'Come along, sir, lets get him settled.'
They pushed their way out through the crowd, slipping quickly through the darkened streets, each hoping that Marin had not got herself injured, or killed. Lord knew how the inert captain would take that news on his waking.
*~*~*
Jack groaned, grimacing at the dull throbbing in his right shoulder as it pulled him from the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness into painful waking. From the feel of things he was in a bed, though the smells that reached his nose told him rather swiftly that he was no longer in the tavern, but back in Governor's House.
Someone was sat beside him on the bed, watching him silently. Not inclined to open his eyes just yet, he found himself wondering just why he was there. The last thing he remembered was bloody Norrington pressing a red hot dagger to the wound in his shoulder. He must have passed out, but had Marin been there? Had they found her?
His eyes snapped open as he sat bolt upright, and found himself looking into a familiar pair of stormy grey eyes. Marin gave him a sardonic look, raising an eyebrow in amusement as he stared at her.
'Something wrong?' she asked.
Jack sighed, feeling his entire body relax.
'Bloody hell, love,' he murmured, pulling her into his embrace with a low laugh. 'I thought you'd gone and got yourself killed.'
'Not me,' she said, an odd tone to her voice as she laid him back against the pillows gently, letting him kiss her before she sat up again. 'I'm told you almost screamed the tavern down, though.'
His eyes grew sarcastic as he held her gaze.
'So would you if your cousin had set fire to your shoulder,' he said acidly, reluctantly smiling as she laughed at him. 'It bloody hurt.'
'Oh, poor you,' she said teasingly, tweaking his beard gently as she stood up.
He grabbed at her hand as she moved away, holding her fingers tightly.
'Where are you going?'
Marin squeezed his hand gently, disentangling her fingers from his.
'You need to sleep,' she told him, looking pointedly out the window to where the moon danced on the waters of the Caribbean. 'And so do I.'
He held her gaze for a long moment, drawing her gently down to his lips for another lingering kiss. He had no other way of telling her how afraid he'd been that she might get herself killed on his account. She seemed to understand, pulling back just enough to let him see her smile.
'I'm fine, Jack,' she told him softly, once again pushing him back down onto his pillows and drawing the sheets over him. 'Sleep.'
He smiled wearily up at her, waiting until the door shut behind her before closing his eyes and letting sleep claim him, secure in the knowledge that she was well and safe.
Marin leant heavily on the wall outside the door, her eyes closed as she fought to come to terms with what she had done. In the fury of those moments she had known nothing but anger that someone had dared to hurt Jack, vengeance filling her heart. She swallowed against the guilt, knowing that soon someone would discover the body she had left in the street behind her.
She had never killed in cold-blood before tonight. Hester had meant to kill her, of that she was certain, and she had acted in self-defence. She could not tell anyone, not even Jack, of what she had done to save her own skin. But nothing could wipe away the blood that now stained her hands, the blood of an almost innocent woman who chose the wrong time to tangle with her.
*~*~*
Am I forgiven? I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist putting a cliffie there . . . after all, I don't do them very often and it was a scene that just begged for it, don't ya think? Still, if you're still in a mood to make your displeasure (or pleasure) felt, then you know what to do . . . Point and click on the little blue button!
The pirate captain looked up with glazed eyes as he registered who it was who was leaning over him.
'James,' he croaked. 'Where's Marin?'
James swallowed his own concern for his cousin, knowing she knew how to look after herself and turned his attention to the dagger in Jack's shoulder.
'She'll be fine,' he assured the injured man, glancing up as Solomon and Gibbs knelt with him, the rest of the Pearl's crew keeping the crowd from trampling them all. 'Mr Gibbs, we need to clean and cauterise this wound.'
Gibbs' eyes widened, shocked that the commodore knew anything about medicine when he so rarely let himself get his hands dirty. Solomon, on the other hand, elbowed him in the ribs, his young face tense with concern for his captain.
'We can take him up to one of the whore's rooms,' he suggested.
One of the girls overheard him and bent over them, displaying a vast amount of cleavage and seeming not to care.
'You can take him up to my room,' she told them. 'Second on the right, first landing.'
James nodded, standing as Gibbs and Solomon manhandled their captain to his feet and began to make their way through the heaving crowd to the stairs. He grasped the whore's arm gently, making sure he had her full attention.
'We need clean water and bandages,' he told her. 'And some rum to clean the wound.'
She nodded, pulling him over to the bar, where she leant over and shouted something indecipherable to the tavern-keeper. He glanced at James and nodded to her, moving into the room behind the bar.
'He'll bring everything up to the room,' she told him. 'Do you need any help?'
James glanced up at the gallery where Gibbs had just managed to get the door open. He looked back down at the woman by his side.
'Probably,' he told her.
She grinned, taking his arm and drawing him behind the bar.
'We'll go up the easy way, then,' she said, leading him to the back stairs.
They hurried up, the tavern-keeper close behind them, fighting their way along the gallery to the room where Jack was now tossing and turning on the bed, refusing to lie still while Marin could be in danger. He turned pleading eyes on James as the commodore entered, shutting the door behind him.
'James, mate, someone has to find Marin,' he demanded, hissing as his movements knocked against the dagger still embedded in his shoulder.
Ignoring him, and his own worries for the diminutive woman, James gestured for Gibbs and Solomon to hold the anxious captain down. He knelt on the bed, one hand against Jack's chest as his fingers slipped about the dagger hilt. With one swift tug, the dagger came out, spurting blood over all three men. As Jack opened his mouth to scream in pain, Solomon force-fed him as much of the rum as he could take, wanting to dull the pain for the next part of the treatment.
They had all seen wounds cauterised before, and knew exactly how painful the process could be. They also knew just how quickly it had to be done. James drew one of Jack's wide blades from his boot, moving to hold the knife in the fire that burned merrily in the hearth. He gestured to the whore.
'Clean the cut with the alcohol,' he told her. 'Ignore him if he complains.'
Nodding, her face pale, she moved to do as she was told, not exactly gentle as she wiped the blood away. Jack swore vehemently up at her, his eyes slightly crossed from the huge amount of alcohol that had just been forced down his throat. Gibbs withdrew a bit of toughened leather from his pocket, forcing it between Jack's teeth as the captain bit down hard to avoid crying out in pain.
'Bite down on that, Jack,' he told the irate man, still kneeling on his legs to prevent the pirate trying to get away.
He glanced up at James, seeing the commodore nod. The blade was ready. He moved to kneel on the bed once more, pushing the blood-stained shirt away from the wound. Solomon pressed his knees against the captain's shoulders, holding his wrists so that he would not be able to fight them off. Likewise, Gibbs sat himself firmly on Jack's legs as James pressed the red hot metal against the open wound.
The scream that issued from Jack's throat was animalistic in the extreme, hoarse and full of unimaginable pain and agony. He tried to arch up, away from the burning blade, but could barely move. Solomon closed his eyes, trying to breathe through his mouth as the smell of burnt flesh filled the room.
Mercifully, the job was done swiftly, Jack passing out within seconds of the blade being taken away. James bandaged the wound, cleaning it again with what rum was left. They replaced the shirt on the captain, deciding against waking him as Gibbs hauled the unconscious body over his shoulder.
'Solomon, put out people to find Marin and send her back to Governor's House,' he ordered his shipmate, turning to steer the commodore towards the door. 'Come along, sir, lets get him settled.'
They pushed their way out through the crowd, slipping quickly through the darkened streets, each hoping that Marin had not got herself injured, or killed. Lord knew how the inert captain would take that news on his waking.
*~*~*
Jack groaned, grimacing at the dull throbbing in his right shoulder as it pulled him from the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness into painful waking. From the feel of things he was in a bed, though the smells that reached his nose told him rather swiftly that he was no longer in the tavern, but back in Governor's House.
Someone was sat beside him on the bed, watching him silently. Not inclined to open his eyes just yet, he found himself wondering just why he was there. The last thing he remembered was bloody Norrington pressing a red hot dagger to the wound in his shoulder. He must have passed out, but had Marin been there? Had they found her?
His eyes snapped open as he sat bolt upright, and found himself looking into a familiar pair of stormy grey eyes. Marin gave him a sardonic look, raising an eyebrow in amusement as he stared at her.
'Something wrong?' she asked.
Jack sighed, feeling his entire body relax.
'Bloody hell, love,' he murmured, pulling her into his embrace with a low laugh. 'I thought you'd gone and got yourself killed.'
'Not me,' she said, an odd tone to her voice as she laid him back against the pillows gently, letting him kiss her before she sat up again. 'I'm told you almost screamed the tavern down, though.'
His eyes grew sarcastic as he held her gaze.
'So would you if your cousin had set fire to your shoulder,' he said acidly, reluctantly smiling as she laughed at him. 'It bloody hurt.'
'Oh, poor you,' she said teasingly, tweaking his beard gently as she stood up.
He grabbed at her hand as she moved away, holding her fingers tightly.
'Where are you going?'
Marin squeezed his hand gently, disentangling her fingers from his.
'You need to sleep,' she told him, looking pointedly out the window to where the moon danced on the waters of the Caribbean. 'And so do I.'
He held her gaze for a long moment, drawing her gently down to his lips for another lingering kiss. He had no other way of telling her how afraid he'd been that she might get herself killed on his account. She seemed to understand, pulling back just enough to let him see her smile.
'I'm fine, Jack,' she told him softly, once again pushing him back down onto his pillows and drawing the sheets over him. 'Sleep.'
He smiled wearily up at her, waiting until the door shut behind her before closing his eyes and letting sleep claim him, secure in the knowledge that she was well and safe.
Marin leant heavily on the wall outside the door, her eyes closed as she fought to come to terms with what she had done. In the fury of those moments she had known nothing but anger that someone had dared to hurt Jack, vengeance filling her heart. She swallowed against the guilt, knowing that soon someone would discover the body she had left in the street behind her.
She had never killed in cold-blood before tonight. Hester had meant to kill her, of that she was certain, and she had acted in self-defence. She could not tell anyone, not even Jack, of what she had done to save her own skin. But nothing could wipe away the blood that now stained her hands, the blood of an almost innocent woman who chose the wrong time to tangle with her.
*~*~*
Am I forgiven? I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist putting a cliffie there . . . after all, I don't do them very often and it was a scene that just begged for it, don't ya think? Still, if you're still in a mood to make your displeasure (or pleasure) felt, then you know what to do . . . Point and click on the little blue button!