Passage to St. Kitts
Chapter 11
Joseph sat on Annamaria's bunk as she daubed some ointment into the cut on his brow. "There, that should help." She wiped her fingers on a towel and sat down on the bunk a little distance away from him. "I'm sure both Jack and Gwen will thank you when next they see you."
Joseph regarded her steadily. "It's happened to you, hasn't it?"
She looked away. "What has?"
"Some man, forcing his attentions on you."
"Man? Try men," she said bitterly. "You know what happens to pretty slave girls, don't you?"
"I do," he said quietly. "Tell me."
--
Norrington looked up as Antonia came down the stairs. He'd come to anticipate her visits. She came to see him at least once, sometimes twice a day when her future sister-in-law did not need her attention. "Good morning, Miss de Salazar. I hope you slept well?"
"Indeed, Commodore," she replied with a smile. "I dare hope you did as well?"
"As well as can be expected," he answered, "although, I could wish for a softer bed," he said with a smile, indicating the thin pallet on the floor of his cell.
Louder footsteps came down the stairs. A moment later Captain Natalez appeared. "Ah, Miss de Salazar. I'm sure the Commodore will excuse you." Antonia curtsied briefly and hurried away. "Well, Norrington, Have you decided to be reasonable?"
"What do you mean by reasonable, Captain?" asked Norrington mildly.
"I'm interested in knowing the strength of the Royal Navy in the Caribbean, of course. Tell me, how many ships are based on Jamaica?"
"One less than there used to be," said Norrington dryly.
"How many on St. Kitts? Or Antigua?" Captain Natalez went on. "I believe the Dauntless is your usual ship, is it not? Why were you on the Defender?" Norrington said nothing. Natalez sighed. "Ah well. I was afraid you'd be difficult." Turning slightly he called, "Pedro!" A large man appeared. "The Commodore is reluctant to speak to me. Loosen his tongue a bit, will you?" He unlocked the cell and let Pedro in, locking it again behind him.
--
Jack lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Gwen lay sleeping, her head on his shoulder, her red-brown hair trailing across his chest. The sheets and blankets were tangled around their naked limbs. Jack held her to him, thinking hard. As he'd said to her earlier, she was his. Not because he'd taken her, but because she'd given herself to him. Freely. Generously. He'd never known unconditional affection before, not since his mother died when he was a boy. He'd never realized how much more it meant to be with someone who loved him, both in bed and out. She'd given him so much. Had he given her enough in return? Even just now, during their argument and the lovemaking that followed, he'd avoided saying he loved her. Did he love her? He wasn't sure. What was love supposed to feel like? All he knew was that the thought of losing her made him feel almost physically sick. And the thought of some bastard putting his hands on her...he forced the thought away, taking a deep breath. "Don't go getting riled up again, mate," he muttered to himself.
Gwen stirred. "Mmmm, Jack?"
"Shush, love. Just talking to meself. After all, I'm mad you know." She smiled sleepily and settled back down. Jack returned to his thoughts. He'd always been aware that many of the respectable citizens of Port Royal preferred not to associate with Gwen. Hell, they didn't associate with him either, and no loss felt. Jack Sparrow had never been precisely respectable. Gwen had, however. Did the loss of her respectability matter to her a great deal? It wasn't something he'd thought about before now. He hadn't been aware of how many incidents there had been, how many insults she'd been obliged to ignore. Damned if he'd let Cotton escort her anymore. Either that or he'd need to learn to translate what that idiot parrot said. He wondered how many of the crew knew more about this than he did. Drat the woman, she'd probably been forbidding his own crewmen to tell him things they bloody well ought to have. That was going to have to change.
What should he do about Carey? The man had assaulted his woman. If he'd been a pirate, Jack would have no compunction in killing him outright. Unfortunately, the man was a British soldier and any punishment was really under Gillette's jurisdiction. Yet, if Jack did nothing, he'd lose face before his own crew - not a healthy thing for a pirate - or privateer for that matter. In addition, he knew his crew adored Gwen. Not only did she treat their physical ailments, from wounds to illness, but also she took time to know each one of them. If he did nothing to punish the man who'd assaulted her they'd be outraged. He'd have to talk to Gillette in the morning. The beginnings of an idea tickled the edge of his mind. Hmmmm, maybe he'd take a page from Will Turner's book.
--
Joseph sat back on Annamaria's bunk, leaning against the wall. "So after they brought you back, what happened then?"
Annamaria shrugged. "More of the same. The master whipped me bloody. I was returned to work in the kitchen, but spent my nights locked in a shed outside rather than in the house. The women in the kitchen were told that if I ran away again they'd be the ones to suffer, so I didn't try it again for four years. The master made me available to any of his guests who wanted a woman, and occasionally to one or another of the male slaves who pleased him for one reason or another. I learned that if I didn't fight, it usually didn't hurt. My mother died when I was sixteen. She was pregnant again, and something was wrong from the beginning. She was already weak when she went into labor. The baby died too. After that, I knew there was nothing to keep me there."
"How did you get away?"
"One of the master's guests fell asleep when he was finished with me one night. It was late, and the house was quiet. Because I'd been in his charge rather than the women in the kitchen, I thought they might escape punishment. I'd stolen his purse, so I had money. I made my way down to the docks and stowed away on a merchant ship. I was lucky again. No one discovered me and I slipped ashore when the ship docked in Florida. I signed onto another merchant ship as a cook's assistant."
"How did you get from a cook's assistant to a pirate?"
Annamaria smiled. "Accidentally. Pirates took the merchant ship one day. The Captain of the pirate ship took a fancy to me, and took me captive. I was his mistress for two years. He's the one who taught me to fight. After we parted ways I signed on to a number of different ships, mostly pirate ships. The biggest problem I've always had, though, is convincing the men that I am not only as good a sailor as they are, but that I'm not interested in a roll in the hay."
Joseph replied, "I can see why you are not interested in men. Have you never met a man whom you cared for?"
She shrugged. "I was fond enough of old Captain Jessup, but shed no tears when we parted. I'm very fond of Jack Sparrow and Will Turner, but as friends only."
"What you need, Annamaria, is a man who sees you not only for a beautiful woman, but a first class sailor and fighter. A man who admires the person you've become, who appreciates your strength." Joseph spoke in a low, almost hypnotic voice.
Annamaria shook her head slightly. Was he trying to seduce her? "I have no interest in looking for a man," she said defensively.
"No, why should you?" he said, "You don't need a man to protect you."
"Right," she said uneasily. "What would I want a man for?"
"This, perhaps," he suggested, leaning forward and kissing her. He did not seek to pull her to him, nor to hold her in any way. His hand stroked her cheek and neck, cupping lightly around the nape. His mouth was warm and sweet, but not demanding. He pulled away and stroked her cheek again. "I don't want to compel you, Annamaria. I want you to come to me. Not because you feel you must, but because you want to. I would never hurt you." He kissed her again and rose, leaving her cabin and shutting the door quietly behind him. Annamaria sat where she was, unable to move, staring after him.
Chapter 11
Joseph sat on Annamaria's bunk as she daubed some ointment into the cut on his brow. "There, that should help." She wiped her fingers on a towel and sat down on the bunk a little distance away from him. "I'm sure both Jack and Gwen will thank you when next they see you."
Joseph regarded her steadily. "It's happened to you, hasn't it?"
She looked away. "What has?"
"Some man, forcing his attentions on you."
"Man? Try men," she said bitterly. "You know what happens to pretty slave girls, don't you?"
"I do," he said quietly. "Tell me."
--
Norrington looked up as Antonia came down the stairs. He'd come to anticipate her visits. She came to see him at least once, sometimes twice a day when her future sister-in-law did not need her attention. "Good morning, Miss de Salazar. I hope you slept well?"
"Indeed, Commodore," she replied with a smile. "I dare hope you did as well?"
"As well as can be expected," he answered, "although, I could wish for a softer bed," he said with a smile, indicating the thin pallet on the floor of his cell.
Louder footsteps came down the stairs. A moment later Captain Natalez appeared. "Ah, Miss de Salazar. I'm sure the Commodore will excuse you." Antonia curtsied briefly and hurried away. "Well, Norrington, Have you decided to be reasonable?"
"What do you mean by reasonable, Captain?" asked Norrington mildly.
"I'm interested in knowing the strength of the Royal Navy in the Caribbean, of course. Tell me, how many ships are based on Jamaica?"
"One less than there used to be," said Norrington dryly.
"How many on St. Kitts? Or Antigua?" Captain Natalez went on. "I believe the Dauntless is your usual ship, is it not? Why were you on the Defender?" Norrington said nothing. Natalez sighed. "Ah well. I was afraid you'd be difficult." Turning slightly he called, "Pedro!" A large man appeared. "The Commodore is reluctant to speak to me. Loosen his tongue a bit, will you?" He unlocked the cell and let Pedro in, locking it again behind him.
--
Jack lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Gwen lay sleeping, her head on his shoulder, her red-brown hair trailing across his chest. The sheets and blankets were tangled around their naked limbs. Jack held her to him, thinking hard. As he'd said to her earlier, she was his. Not because he'd taken her, but because she'd given herself to him. Freely. Generously. He'd never known unconditional affection before, not since his mother died when he was a boy. He'd never realized how much more it meant to be with someone who loved him, both in bed and out. She'd given him so much. Had he given her enough in return? Even just now, during their argument and the lovemaking that followed, he'd avoided saying he loved her. Did he love her? He wasn't sure. What was love supposed to feel like? All he knew was that the thought of losing her made him feel almost physically sick. And the thought of some bastard putting his hands on her...he forced the thought away, taking a deep breath. "Don't go getting riled up again, mate," he muttered to himself.
Gwen stirred. "Mmmm, Jack?"
"Shush, love. Just talking to meself. After all, I'm mad you know." She smiled sleepily and settled back down. Jack returned to his thoughts. He'd always been aware that many of the respectable citizens of Port Royal preferred not to associate with Gwen. Hell, they didn't associate with him either, and no loss felt. Jack Sparrow had never been precisely respectable. Gwen had, however. Did the loss of her respectability matter to her a great deal? It wasn't something he'd thought about before now. He hadn't been aware of how many incidents there had been, how many insults she'd been obliged to ignore. Damned if he'd let Cotton escort her anymore. Either that or he'd need to learn to translate what that idiot parrot said. He wondered how many of the crew knew more about this than he did. Drat the woman, she'd probably been forbidding his own crewmen to tell him things they bloody well ought to have. That was going to have to change.
What should he do about Carey? The man had assaulted his woman. If he'd been a pirate, Jack would have no compunction in killing him outright. Unfortunately, the man was a British soldier and any punishment was really under Gillette's jurisdiction. Yet, if Jack did nothing, he'd lose face before his own crew - not a healthy thing for a pirate - or privateer for that matter. In addition, he knew his crew adored Gwen. Not only did she treat their physical ailments, from wounds to illness, but also she took time to know each one of them. If he did nothing to punish the man who'd assaulted her they'd be outraged. He'd have to talk to Gillette in the morning. The beginnings of an idea tickled the edge of his mind. Hmmmm, maybe he'd take a page from Will Turner's book.
--
Joseph sat back on Annamaria's bunk, leaning against the wall. "So after they brought you back, what happened then?"
Annamaria shrugged. "More of the same. The master whipped me bloody. I was returned to work in the kitchen, but spent my nights locked in a shed outside rather than in the house. The women in the kitchen were told that if I ran away again they'd be the ones to suffer, so I didn't try it again for four years. The master made me available to any of his guests who wanted a woman, and occasionally to one or another of the male slaves who pleased him for one reason or another. I learned that if I didn't fight, it usually didn't hurt. My mother died when I was sixteen. She was pregnant again, and something was wrong from the beginning. She was already weak when she went into labor. The baby died too. After that, I knew there was nothing to keep me there."
"How did you get away?"
"One of the master's guests fell asleep when he was finished with me one night. It was late, and the house was quiet. Because I'd been in his charge rather than the women in the kitchen, I thought they might escape punishment. I'd stolen his purse, so I had money. I made my way down to the docks and stowed away on a merchant ship. I was lucky again. No one discovered me and I slipped ashore when the ship docked in Florida. I signed onto another merchant ship as a cook's assistant."
"How did you get from a cook's assistant to a pirate?"
Annamaria smiled. "Accidentally. Pirates took the merchant ship one day. The Captain of the pirate ship took a fancy to me, and took me captive. I was his mistress for two years. He's the one who taught me to fight. After we parted ways I signed on to a number of different ships, mostly pirate ships. The biggest problem I've always had, though, is convincing the men that I am not only as good a sailor as they are, but that I'm not interested in a roll in the hay."
Joseph replied, "I can see why you are not interested in men. Have you never met a man whom you cared for?"
She shrugged. "I was fond enough of old Captain Jessup, but shed no tears when we parted. I'm very fond of Jack Sparrow and Will Turner, but as friends only."
"What you need, Annamaria, is a man who sees you not only for a beautiful woman, but a first class sailor and fighter. A man who admires the person you've become, who appreciates your strength." Joseph spoke in a low, almost hypnotic voice.
Annamaria shook her head slightly. Was he trying to seduce her? "I have no interest in looking for a man," she said defensively.
"No, why should you?" he said, "You don't need a man to protect you."
"Right," she said uneasily. "What would I want a man for?"
"This, perhaps," he suggested, leaning forward and kissing her. He did not seek to pull her to him, nor to hold her in any way. His hand stroked her cheek and neck, cupping lightly around the nape. His mouth was warm and sweet, but not demanding. He pulled away and stroked her cheek again. "I don't want to compel you, Annamaria. I want you to come to me. Not because you feel you must, but because you want to. I would never hurt you." He kissed her again and rose, leaving her cabin and shutting the door quietly behind him. Annamaria sat where she was, unable to move, staring after him.