Chapter 8
Disclaimer: Pirates are now mine. I stole them and Disney can't have them back. In fact, I stole all of them in the whole world and I'm using them for my own twisted purposes. Except for Barbossa. Anyone want him? Didn't think so.
Author's note: Such nice, kind people. If Disney came knocking asking me to write a script for the second movie I'd get right on it. Of course contract negotiations would include my retaining ownership of the keys to certain actors' trailers.
Bad news, I'm afraid. The elusive Captain Jack Sparrow has temporarily escaped my grasp. Don't freak out, I said temporary. I'll get him back and I promise to share.
As for my screwed comment, honest-to-God I didn't even realize I slipped that in there, which is unusual for me. I must say that I rather enjoyed the effect, however. No, Norrington does not get screwed in that sense, you dirty little reviewers. At least...not yet. Not that Pearl isn't trying. I mean, the girl WAS raised by prostitutes and she's not very good at keeping her hands off of what she wants. But Norrington is a Commodore and it wouldn't be any fun if everything worked out perfectly. I could torture you great reviewers. Hee hee.
Without further ado:
"So are we going to starve to death or do the prisoners get food?" one of the regular crew asked.
"No. I brought you food. Thank you for reminding me," she said, springing up to retrieve a basket she'd left by the door. "It's only bread, but it'll fill your stomachs. I brought you drink as well. Wine for the stuffed shirts and rum for you scurvy dogs."
The crew cheered as she passed out the bounty. "Where did a pirate get wine?" Gillette asked, glancing at the bottle before drinking.
"Kept it on hand for Lizzie and Will," she answered with a grin.
"What if we throw the bottles at you?" Norrington queried.
She shrugged. "If you got me you'd still be locked up."
"Besides which, this one was raised up in Tortuga," one of the older crew said as he drew forward. "This one has plenty of experience dodging bottles. How's Diamond?"
Pearl grinned fondly up at the old man. "Very good, Port, thank you for asking. Sorry not to give you a proper greeting. I thought perhaps you wanted to keep some of your shadier dealings to yourself."
"Eh, let 'um holler. There are plenty of good ships as would be glad for an old sea dog like myself. Is she still dancin'?" he asked.
"Always," she answered with a grin.
"How about you?" Port asked.
She spun obligingly, grinning over her shoulder as she moved to a beat only she could hear. "Naturally. You can take a girl out of Tortuga but you can't take Tortuga out of the girl."
"It's a pity to be sure," another member of the regular crew remarked. "A lass pretty as you should have a partner to match."
"Volunteering, Match?" she asked, reaching through the bars to take his hand and sway back and forth as far as that would allow.
"Actually, I was thinking the good Commodore."
Pearl laughed outright at that. "Oh, yes. He'd fit right in at the Dancing Maiden."
"Pardon me, but are you suggesting that you're too good for me?" Norrington asked.
Pearl tilted her head for a moment, dropping Match's hand to take jittering steps over to his cell. "I suppose. My tastes to run toward heartier men, after all. You'd be shot before you set foot in the tavern."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" he objected.
"Hmm. Haven't spent much time around my father have you?" she asked. "You're bound to hear a good many more ridiculous things before you leave this ship. Asides, Match, I have danced with him. I must say he might be some fun if he would only loosen up." She chuckled at the look on his face as she twirled her way back to her chair.
"Is that how you got that black eye?" Norrington asked. "Loosening up? Or did your father lose his patience and hit you?"
"For the record, my father would never lay a hand on me," Pearl said.
"A pity he's never gotten the same guarantee from you," Port remarked with a laugh.
Pearl laughed as well before continuing. "Actually, this was a man in Tortuga. Lizzie bumped into him dancing and he wasn't wise enough to leave well enough alone. He ended up considerable worse off than me."
"Wait a moment. Elizabeth was dancing?" Norrington asked.
"Not very well. Not then, anyway. It took a considerable amount of rum to get her to dance properly."
"How be your brother?" Port asked, changing the topic as Norrington turned an interesting shade of red.
"Fine, so far as I know. Haven't heard from him in a while, but then that's hardly unusual."
"Is he a pirate too?" Norrington asked.
"Nope. Rum runner. He's the black sheep of the family."
"How's his daughter?"
"Great. She's getting bigger every day. You should have seen her hanging on Jack begging to come along."
"The lass wants to be a pirate?" Port asked.
"I don't rightly know. I think she just wants to get onto a ship. She's young yet. She doesn't understand the challenges that come of being a woman on a ship. She may yet change her mind."
"What's her mother think of all this?"
"Oh, terrified of course. The poor dear's spent the last ten years trying to get her husband off of the sea. Now I've run off again and her daughter wants to follow. I've tried explaining that it's in the blood but she's determined not to hear such things."
"As well she should," Norrington put in. "The sea is no place for a woman, Especially a young one. You of all people should know that."
"Aye, but the streets of Tortuga ain't either and I grew up there. The ships are considerably safer."
"That's very sad," he remarked.
"That's life," she answered. "If I can give you a little advice, marry a nice lass whose family has no head for sailing. Then you can pray your daughter has no yearning for it. Because if she does and you lock her in her room with her embroidery you shall have a very angry girl and no peace in your house."
"By those standards Elizabeth would have been a perfect candidate," Norrington pointed out.
"Judging by her father, aye. Her mother must have been a wildcat."
"I don't know," Port said, training his eyes on Norrington. "I'd wager the man would be bored stiff if he married some lovely example of nobility. He'd have much more fun with a lass like you, Pearl. Someone he could stand toe-to-toe with and argue."
Pearl laughed as she settled into her chair, pulling her hat down over her eyes. "Oh, aye. I can just see me moving into the mansion now. Afternoon tea with the Duchess and walks by the dock at night. Corsets and frills and lace. And if that didn't do it I'd go crazy being locked away from the sea. You know that, Port."
"Aye, I do. I'm just sayin' is all."
A knock sounded behind them. Pearl turned curiously toward the open door, wondering who would knock when there wasn't even a door and only prisoners to interrupt. "Yes?" she called. Elizabeth descended the stairs. "Lizzie, dear, there isn't any reason to knock. If I were in my private quarters there wouldn't be any reason to knock. You're on a pirate ship, not some fine ball."
Elizabeth shrugged. "Being polite never hurts."
"It hurts me," Pearl remarked. "Painful application of tedious rules, that's what it is. Did you want something?"
"Jack sent me. Wants your opinion. Something about the mast. He wrote it down, said I could never remember it properly," she said, anger coloring the last part.
"A word of advice. Jack's only joy in women he can't, ahem, covet, especially pretty ones, is in making them as heated as he it. Just be sickly sweet to him. It'll drive him right up the wall," Pearl advised as she took the parchment Elizabeth offered.
"I am glad to see you're well, Elizabeth," Norrington took the opportunity to put in.
"As I am glad to see you in a similar condition," she answered politely. "I am glad we could work something out to see you safely off."
"With the brilliant Jack Sparrow on the case how could he not come up with something?" Gillette remarked scathingly.
"But it wasn't Jack's idea," Elizabeth disagreed. "It was Pearl's."
"Brilliance runs in the family," Pearl put in. "Unfortunately, it's closely linked with insanity. I figure it's worth it, but that's just me. Tell him port side and three feet should do it."
"I will. Thank you, Pearl."
"Thank you," she returned. "Oh, and Lizzie? If I don't see you tomorrow, have a good time. I know I would."
Elizabeth laughed at the nasty glint in her eye. "Tortuga whore," she accused.
"So're you," Pearl returned with a laugh. "You just hide it under that proper Lady act."
"You're impossible," Elizabeth finally sighed, turning to ascend the stairs.
Pearl chuckled as she settled back in her chair, eyes falling on Norrington. "It is a pity, really," Pearl remarked. "I dare say you would have made a fair pirate."
"I beg your pardon?" he chocked out.
"You're just a victim of good breeding."
"I beg to differ," he replied.
"Oh yeah?" Pearl stood, moving over to the bars. "Let's play a game, shall we? Suppose you were born into my circumstances." She settled down cross legged on the floor. "Let's suppose you were born to a prostitute in Tortuga. Now, first off when you're born your mother's behind. Can't work when she's pregnant after all. Hopefully the one of the tavern owners has put her up, so right away she owes him a debt. Now, she needs to work but babies don't attract customers so she joins 'bout ten other prostitutes with little ones taking turns watchin' the other little ones. So not only is she in debt but one out o' every ten days she ain't workin'. And she has you to see fed and clothed as well."
"What about my father?" he asked.
"Your ma is a prostitute. No one knows who he might be."
"You did," he pointed out.
"Not until I was five," she answered. "And even then he didn't feel beholden to chip in. Growin' up you'd try to chip in by pulling what you can from lightening pockets. Gotta be careful, though. Most o' the people runnin' 'round Tortuga grew up there and know how it goes."
It was as if the memory drew out the crass, uneducated speech of the street. Suddenly there was no doubt that the woman sitting before them was anything but noble.
"Then you hit ten or so. Hear the sea a'callin' and leave yer mother, more of a blessing than a curse for her, I can tell you. Get yourself a job on some leaky tub the rum runners be usin' as a Cabin Boy."
"I could run a tavern," Norrington interrupted.
"Not unless you be the tavern owner's son and you can prove it, or you come upon a large sum of gold. No, you're on the straight track to piracy or starvation, and I'd wager you're all for piracy. So bein' a Cabin Boy is probably the worst job in the world but you learn the ropes and get a recommendation from the captain that gets you a real job. Now, you can stick with the rum runners but piracy pays more and it's considerable more exciting."
"I could become a merchant sailor," he pointed out.
"Aye, but that doesn't pay a'tall and anyone as ever learns you're from Tortuga won't be shy 'bout tellin' you you got no business 'round proper folk. It's all about where you're born and how much money you're born with," she told him. "Maybe you should think of that next time you go trying to hang the man as just saved a Lady's life." With that last bit of advice she returned to her chair, propped her boots up on the cell Norrington currently occupied, and pulled the hat low over her eyes. "I'd suggest you get some sleep, gents. It's a long time until dawn."
Norrington sat staring at the girl for a long time after that. He'd been confused at first, unable to see any remains of the sweet, caring, and rather innocent Bethany Maltrey in the pirate girl. After her story, however, he was certain he understood. She was the kind woman he had danced with at the wedding, she had merely had a life hard enough to obscure her true nature. He imagined it was only natural, hiding any sweetness she might maintain behind a gruff exterior in an effort to preserve it. It would take uncommon strength to live the life she had just described to him. He knew many of the children living on the street didn't survive. He wasn't certain he could have done it.
And she did care. He had seen it in her eyes when she spoke of the hard life her mother and sister had, perhaps with a touch of guilt at having escaped it. She rode the waves taking care of her father. Risking her neck--and it was a risk, whatever she might say--to see them safely returned to their ship without putting her father's crew into danger.
He remained in his sitting space on the floor, staring at her as the other men snored around him, lulled to sleep by wine and rum. He could have demanded the cot bolted to the wall, being the highest ranking officer present, but he knew he couldn't sleep anyway. Instead he studied Pearl intensely. He'd never met anyone like her.
Her hat was pulled low over her face but he could see just a glimpse of bright red hair having escaped the tale at the base of her neck. Her neck curved gracefully down into the neck of her man's shirt, laced up tight and close. The long jacket, so like her father's, was wrapped tight around her to ward off the chill of the moist air, her arms crossed over her chest to hold it closed with her hands tucked under the too-large sleeves to keep them warm.
Although the dark jacket was held closed over her chest none of the shiny brass buttons held it closed and it fell open around her legs. Norrington had to fight hard to keep from blushing at the idea of how clearly he could see the shape of her crossed legs through the soft men's breaches. Her belt was a plain black affair with a well-polished gold buckle. The sword hung down her left side, tip resting on the floor, hilt free should it be needed in a hurry. The soldier in him approved.
Her boots rested on the bars only inches from his face. He did blush when he realized that by shifting a bit he could look down the baggy leg and glimpse her ankle--the most erotic part of a woman, as everyone knew. He paused suddenly when he caught sight of something. It could have just been dirt but then her clothes were all immaculate and she seemed very clean, by pirate standards at least. Leaning further he looked more closely. Yes, there was certainly something dark on her ankle. A regular pattern. It looked deliberate.
Glancing up at her face he reached through the bars, wishing he could see her eyes. Gently as he knew how he caught the hem of the pant leg and pushed it up. Dark ink shown through in the murky light. A tattoo. Of–
"If you want to undress me, Commodore, all you have to do is ask." He looked up to find the hat pressed back to reveal her eyes. Eyes so like Jack's, and completely unlike them at the same time. The same color, certainly, but while his sparkled with near-constant jest, hers were dark and guarded. "After all, I am a mere whore."
He snatched his hand back guiltily, but didn't remove his eyes from hers. "No, you aren't," he disagreed.
She laughed at that, low and soft and nearly devoid of humor. "How would you know that?"
"I've seen it," he answered. "In your eyes."
"When?"
"When we were dancing."
She rolled her eyes. "Ug. You nobles and your romantic ideas. Asides, that wasn't me. That was Bethany."
"As you're fond of reminding me, you are Bethany," he returned.
Leaning forward she pulled up her pant leg. "I wasn't kidding. All you had to do was ask."
Turning her leg she displayed a sparrow flying over ocean waves. It was an exact duplicate of the one he'd seen on Jack's arm. "Like it? I did it myself."
"You?" he repeated.
"Me," she answered. "You should have seen the position I had to twist myself into to get to it. Half of the men in the tavern were howling and the other half drooling uncontrollably."
"Did you do your father's as well then?"
"Yep. And between you and me," she drew close to the bars to whisper, "he howled like a stuck pig."
Norrington chuckled. "I wouldn't have thought it of him. I assumed he was fairly tough."
"In front of others he is. When he's inflicting pain upon himself it's a completely different story. It was the same when I pierced his ears. Lord, you'd think I was killing him." She chuckled. "If you ever want one I could do it. I could tattoo 'Commandore' across your forehead."
He chuckled despite himself. "I'll remember that." He took a moment to study her face, all too aware that she watched him just as closely. He wondered how she broke her nose, but decided it was best to leave it alone in the end. It could be an unhappy memory, and in his experience women didn't appreciate people pointing out flaws in their face. While the pirate girl was hardly a proper Lady it wasn't worth chancing.
"What're you thinking?"
"Honestly?" he asked.
A smile flirted over her face. "I promise not to hold it against you."
He returned her smile. "You're the oddest woman I've ever met."
She grinned in truth then, looking very much like her father with a very distinctive feminine light. "Thank you."
"And the most beautiful."
The smile disappeared as if you had never been. A slight blush--he had to lean forward to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him--spread over her cheeks. Still the frown flitting over her face was anything but pleased, much like her voice as she murmured, "You shouldn't say such things."
"Why not?"
"People will talk," she answered.
"And a woman that just called herself a whore is worried about people talking?" he asked with a twist of one dark eyebrow.
"I do when they speak of ol' Pearl going soft. I've worked hard for my place in this crew."
"I'm sure you have," he answered. "But have you ever thought of settling down? I mean, you could become a maid or-"
Her laughter cut him off. "Do I strike you as the sort of person who would do well taking orders?"
"You could be a seamstress."
"I can't sew."
"Or a cook."
"I can't cook. Look, Commodore-"
"Edward," he broke in. Realizing what he'd just said he added, "Since everyone's asleep you may as well."
"All right, Edward. The only profession fit for me besides piracy is prostitution, and I've been very glad to escape that."
"I don't believe that," he put in. "Besides, you wouldn't have to do anything, really. You can behave in proper society. You could marry and just sit around all day doing as you please."
Pearl snorted. "I'd be a prostitute first. That profession is more honest. Marriage is prison. Babies and a gilded cage. Never me. Keep me from the sea and I'll whither and die."
"What if you fell in love?"
She laughed again. "Pirates don't love. Not ever," she answered knowingly.
"Why not?"
"Because it ends in disaster every time," she replied with a grin. "If they aren't killed in a raid an enemy will get to them just to get to you. Much easier to avoid the whole affair."
"Lass?" They both looked up to find Gibbs standing behind her. "Not interuptin' anything, am I?"
"No," Pearl laughed. "Just the good Commodore here trying to talk me into playing it straight."
Gibbs snorted. "Good luck with that. You can go, lassy. M' turn to keep watch. Do yerself a favor and get some sleep."
"Ah, no rest for the wicked. Is father still up?"
"Last I knew," Gibbs answered. "Sleep well girlie."
She found her father at the helm. Despite the fact that the anchor was down and they weren't moving at all he seemed to feel the need to guide the gently rocking ship. Used to his eccentricities and fanatical obsession with the ship, his daughter didn't comment on his odd behavior as she moved to stand beside him, looking out on the dark ship.
He caught her around the waist, pulling her close to rest his chin on her shoulder in a fatherly manner. Pearl sighed heavily, leaning back against him. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," she answered.
"Luv, you're a good liar to be sure, but not around me. Really, what's wrong?"
She shrugged. "I can't but my finger on it. Something about Norrington throws me off."
"Not fallin' for him, are you?"
"You know me better than that. I'm young, but I'm not stupid."
"What about him? You tend to have that effect on men."
She shrugged again. "You'd have to ask him. Honestly, I don't think love is that important to him. If I started hinting about I could probably pry a marriage proposal from him."
"Have you considered doing it?" he asked.
"Are you daft?" she returned.
"Aye, but that's beside the point. Think about it, luv. Married ain't chained down and you'd practically be guaranteed immunity. Marry him and run for the sea with open arms and a bond that gets you out of prison any time."
"They haven't come up with a charge yet I couldn't weasel out of," she informed him.
"I'm not arguing that, Pearl-me-dear, I'm just saying it's worth considering."
"I'm a pirate, Jack. We don't marry."
"We do if the benefit is good enough."
She chuckled. "Indeed."
"Are you at all nervous about tomorrow? I could send someone with you. You could claim they were your brother or-"
"Stop, please. I'm fine. Not nervous a'tall, nor should you be. I should get some sleep, and so should you."
"I'll be here just a little longer, I think. I'll go to bed soon, I promise," he added when she gave him a severe look.
Everyone who's reviewed: Thank you so much. I'm glad you all love Pearl as much as I do.
To Romilly-thank you. I knew one sank and I couldn't remember which but I knew I'd pick the wrong one. I like the Interceptor better because I like the picture of Pearl at the helm of a sleek, fast ship. And it had to be fast to catch the Black Pearl. I'll fix it next chapter.
Final Note: well, that's all for now. Be happy you got this much–midterms are running me over. I'll try to get the next out soon. Honest. Next Pearl takes the helm and becomes a little more...insistent.