You got to tell me, brave captain,

Why are the wicked so strong?

How do the angels get to sleep

When the devil leaves his porch light on?

~Tom Waits, "Mr. Siegal"

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Shifting uncomfortably where he stood, Gibbs knocked tentatively on Jack's cabin door.  The door opened quickly, and with a flourish, Jack invited him in for a chat.  Both men assumed a seat opposite the other at the small dining table in Jack's quarters, and presumed to discuss the troubling issue at hand.

"Ye'd best be tellin' me the details of this legend, mate.  Lest I make a mess o' things with the lass."

Gibbs shook his head.  "'Tis already a mess, to be honest, Cap'n.  Very complicated, the situation with Miss Hartwell."

"Is that her name?  Hartwell?"

"Aveline Hartwell.  Aye, I remember the lass quite well.  'Tis hard to forget such a bone chilling scream.  She was all but tortured aboard that ship, what with th' 'blessing' an' all.  A few of the boys an' I were so repulsed, we immediately turned on Cap'n Savage when the HMS Glorious did attack.  'Tis how I came to sail for His Majesty's Navy, under Norrington.  Did require our breakin' o' th' pirate code, but 'twasn't nothin' more than Savage 'imself were guilty of."

Jack nodded, his features sharp with interest.  "What's this 'blessing' ye speak of?"

"Don't ye know the legend at all, Jack?"

"Just the part about deflowering a virgin in the Canib Temple of Immortality, and that it guarantees immortality to he who does the deflowering.  The he being me, o' course."  A wolfish grin.

"Oh, Jack.  It ain't so simple.  The virgin must be blessed by the tribe's priest in order for the ritual to work.  Cap'n Savage abducted him upon findin' the island, and kept him aboard until he'd procured a virgin of 'is own.  After the man blessed poor little Aveline, Savage put a bullet in 'is back an' threw the man overboard.  Aye, 'twas an awful time.  He set sail for the island and was intercepted along the way.  But had he made it to his destination and brought the girl to the temple and stolen 'er virginity there, I venture to say Cap'n Savage would still be with us today, in an all-powerful form at that."

"How exactly does this bloody ritual work?"

"He who does the deflowerin' is said to absorb the life force of the blessed virgin, enablin' him to feed off it for the rest of his days, livin' ever on in his present state, lest he be otherwise killed."

Jack thoughtfully scratched his jaw.  "So the immortal man isn't really immortal."

"Oh, he's immortal.  Live forever, he will, barring any unfortunate encounters with blades, pistols, or His Majesty's Navy, if you catch me meaning."

"Aye, that I do."  Jack stood, pacing to the enormous window overlooking the Caribbean.  Night would soon be upon them, and Jack planned to have made all necessary decisions in dealing with the girl beforehand.  If he allowed himself to sleep on it, he was certain, he would change his mind a dozen times during the night.  Such is the curse of a bargaining man.  "So, all I have t' do in order to make myself immortal, as the ol' lady told me I'd be, is simply to find the island, get past the cannibals, and deflower the curvy shrew in the Temple of Immortality."

"Jack, we don't even know if she still be a virgin.  She never did give us an answer regardin' Traven, for one, and she seems to me a desperate girl, an easy target for the lad."

"I'm confident she is.  Were she not, she wouldn't be the key to my immortality, now would she?"

The older man shook his head.  "I'm not so sure."

"Well, leave that little detail up to me, man.  I have a way with women."  He grinned suggestively, the expression received only by his reflection in the thick panes of glass.

Gibbs grumbled a bit.  "How do ye plan on deflowerin' the girl without breakin' the Pirate's Code?"

Jack Sparrow turned to his friend, brow furrowed and eyes wide in disbelief.  "By the devil, I 'adn't thought o' that.  What would I do without ye, Joshamee?"

To this question, Gibbs had no response.

"She'll never go willingly.  I suppose I'll have t' seduce the lass."

"Oh, Lord, Jack, ye can't be serious."

A wink and a smile, courtesy of the daft Captain Sparrow.  "Aye, that I am, mate.  I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, ain't a challenge too grand for me.  Savvy?"

"Of course there ain't, Jack, but... Well, what about the girl?"

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The storm's impact on Port Royal had indeed been devastating, and Norrington's sailors rushed about, attempting to both repair the sails and swab the decks of the Dauntless.  Lord Faulkner stood idly by as Norrington oversaw the preparations, nervously wringing his white-gloved hands.

"Well, what of your progress, Commodore?  When do you plan on setting sail?"

"In due time," Norrington replied tersely, his irritation with the interfering earl festering like an open sore beneath the creaseless bandage of his composed veneer.  Tying the knot a little tighter, the accomplished officer continued to endure further harassment.

"In due time, in due time!  What about Aveline?  Her reputation is at stake, Commodore, you said so yourself!"

Norrington clenched his jaw.  "I'm quite certain that Sparrow has yet to harm Miss Hartwell.  This is a game, your Lordship, intended to provoke me into a chase, and not until he's certain of my attention will he attempt to disgrace your daughter."

Lord Faulkner opened his mouth to object once more, but was interrupted by a melodious male voice.

"Commodore Norrington, sir, did I hear you mention a Miss Hartwell?"

Both men turned in the direction of the voice, which belonged to a staggered and clearly distraught Lieutenant-Commander Alastair Fulbright. 

"I did, Lieutenant-Commander Fulbright.  Know you something of the young woman that may aid in her recovery?"

"Recovery from what, Commodore?"

Norrington rolled his eyes.  "From the clutches of that villain Sparrow."

"He's abducted her!" Faulkner exclaimed, waving his handkerchief for exaggerated effect.

"How could that be?  I only made the acquaintance of Miss Hartwell this afternoon, I... How could she have disappeared so quickly?"

A knowing look passed fleetingly over the face of her guardian.  "Made her acquaintance, you say?  And what did you think of my little angel?  Darling, isn't she?"

Fulbright's cheeks reddened, and he cleared his throat while he assembled his propriety and attempted to reassume the unruffled demeanor expected of all British officers.  "I was rather taken by the young lady, yes, and did request permission to call on her."

"Oh, yes, of course, Lieutenant-Commander.  You are always welcome in our home."  Faulkner offered a buoyant smile, which was quite abruptly dashed away by the stern look Norrington cast in his direction.

"I will remind you, Lord Faulkner, that in order for the Lieutenant-Commander to court your daughter, she must first be returned safely to Port Royal."

Mock severity darkened the earl's jubilant eyes.  "Of course, Commodore.  You needn't remind me."

"Commodore Norrington, I request permission to accompany you on your quest to locate Miss Hartwell.  I will rest better at night knowing that I am actively involved in recovering the young woman and returning her safely to the care of Lord Faulkner."

Norrington nodded.  "As you like, Lieutenant-Commander.  I'm certain that your motivated presence onboard will no doubt assist us in capturing Sparrow."

"Thank you, Commodore."  Fulbright marched down the pier and proceeded to board the Dauntless, Norrington's impassive brown eyes following his every movement.

Have the lady if you like, Lieutenant-Commander.  But you'll not steal the glory...

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Huddled on the floor of the tiny iron cell below the decks of the Pearl, Aveline encircled her knees with trembling arms and rocked gently, much as she had for the greater duration of her captivity aboard Captain Savage's ship.  Ladbroc had stripped her of both her dowry and her dagger, and the helplessness that had seeped in at the loss of the latter had all but paralyzed her.  Closing her eyes, she wrestled with memories and coaxed out the bittersweet recollection of her mother's tender voice, singing her children's songs.  The French words were foreign and indefinable, yet the most comforting ones Aveline knew.  She whispered them as she rocked:

"Il était une fois une fleur
Elle s'ouvre un peu, beaucoup
Un papillon arrive, il se pose sur la fleur..."

Reaching toward the rusty iron cage, she traced her fingertip along the grating, following her movements with great interest.
"Hum! que ça sent bon
Le papillon s'envole et il disparait
la fleur se referme, se fane et elle disparait..."

The unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps ended her song, and Aveline raised her chin and watched apprehensively as Captain Jack Sparrow boldly entered the room.  She moved nary an inch otherwise, rose not to greet him, but rather gave close assessment to his manner and attire.  He donned the dark blue, gold-trimmed damask waistcoat of a London gentleman, impressive albeit having been weathered by the pirate's numerous adventures.  A few white ruffles of a lawn tunic peeked out from behind a grey vest and over his embroidered lapels, and black breeches and boots clothed his lower half.  He wore his battered brown leather tri-corner hat atop his head, the edge of the red silk scarf wrapped beneath it lining the top of his brow.  A bulge near his right hip alerted her to the presence of his flintlock pistol, and she knew he carried a cutlass; she'd witnessed it for herself aboard Traven's ship. 

"What be ye singin', lass?"

Aveline remained silent; it seemed her only defense.

Nodding to himself as though he'd expected such a reaction from her, Jack crouched down beside the cell, his legs bent at the knee and parted like the wings of a butterfly at rest.  Calmness, relaxation, an unlikely state of being for Captain Jack, but it was the vulnerable stance that began to put Aveline at ease. 

"Tell me your name, lass."

"Aveline," she replied softly, still hesitant about the pirate captain and his intentions.

"Ahh.  Be ye a Frenchwoman?"

She shook her head.  "English.  My mother was French."

"And why were ye stowin' away aboard the Mary Alice?"

Aveline gnawed on her lower lip; 'twasn't any of his business.

Accepting her silence as a response, Jack reached into his coat and retrieved a familiar object, its dull shine barely catching the light of a nearby lantern.  "Ladbroc says he found this on your person.  What's a pretty little strumpet like yourself have use for a nasty dagger like this?"

She quickly averted her eyes; the dagger reminded her of her failure, and of that, she was disgusted.

"Listen, lass," Jack started, his voice taking on a hardened edge.  "I'm willin' to make negotiations with ye should ye be a bit more forthcoming with your information."

Slowly, Aveline shifted her eyes to readdress the captain.  "What kind of negotiations?"

"Well, for instance, bein' that I ain't a fool, I know that people without a destination don't make a habit o' stowin' away on trade vessels.  I may be able to help you reach said destination, under a few conditions, one of which bein' ye answer me questions.  Savvy?"

She nodded her acceptance. 

"Why the dagger, love?"

"Protection," she lied. 

"An' why be a stowaway?  Where ye headed?"

She hesitated.  "Le Havre.  I have some unfinished business there."

"Le Havre," Jack repeated, over-accenting the French pronunciation.  "Well, while I must say I've never been to Le Havre, it wouldn't be terribly difficult to locate th' bearings."

Wise to the ways of pirates, Aveline narrowed her eyes in suspicion.  "And what's in it for you, Jack Sparrow?  Where do you profit from our arrangement?"

"Conditions, love, I already told you."

"What kinds of conditions?"

Jack waggled one finger before her pretty face, and waggled another with the addition of each condition.  "One.  Ye continue to be cooperative.  I want no trouble from ye, lass, no splittin' me belly in my sleep, and no more screamin' like the devil's whore.  Two, as far as the crew is concerned, you're aboard the Pearl as my mistress.  You'll sleep in my cabin and more or less live by my side.  This is for your protection, ye understand, as I wouldn't want the crew thinkin' ye be at their lusty disposal."

"But you had a woman onboard, and it seemed to me as though she wasn't in any particular danger."

"Aye, but Anamaria hadn't your dungbie, love."  The meaning of this declaration went unrecognized by Aveline, and Jack merely smiled inwardly at the comment and continued with his demands.  "Three, you are to perform one favor for me, when I require it.  I'll not say what that favor is yet, as I'm not yet sure myself, but when the time comes, you are to submit to my request happily and willingly.  Savvy love?"

Aveline considered the terms of their agreement a moment.  No, her conscience pleaded, desperate that she not hand herself willingly over to a pirate's disposal.  But a different sort of desperation, that borne from her obsession with vengeance, was ripe in her belly and winning the war with her head.   "Would I actually have to perform the deeds a... a mistress would?"

Perform the deeds?  Jack beamed his usual smile.  "Only if it be pleasin' to ye, love."

"It isn't," she replied hastily. 

"Then I do solemnly swear, ye needn't lay a hand on me, except for show, in th' presence o' me men."

But Aveline remained unconvinced.  "You solemnly swear?  You are a pirate, Captain Sparrow, and a pirate's oath is of no use to anyone."

Removing his hat, he pressed it earnestly against his heart.  "I swear on th' Pearl, love.  You'll not hear a more solemn oath than that."

This, Aveline recognized as a truth.  She had heard the sordid tales of Captain Sparrow's long-fought, arduous quest to recover the Black Pearl.  Perhaps his words held some weight…  "Well, if I am only to be your mistress in appearance, then... I suppose... I could consent to the terms of this agreement."

Jack considered her words very carefully, and decided that her hesitation to 'perform the deeds' of a mistress should be evidence enough that she had preserved her maidenhead.  Still, to be certain...

"I will admit, I'm saddened that ye wish not to be me actual mistress.  Did that whelp Traven sour you to the ways of men?"

She flinched.  "I'm afraid I've not yet been exposed to the ways of men, as you describe it.  Neither by Captain Traven, nor any other man."

"My apologies, fair maiden.  I wouldn't want to tarnish your good reputation with my vulgar tongue." 

Ahh, a virgin she be.

"Worry not, Captain Sparrow.  My reputation is of no use to me once my business in Le Havre has been carried out.  You may tarnish it all you wish.  Just, please, refrain from using your tongue."

Jack grinned at her.  "Glad t' see you've regained your senses.  Can I trust you to wander freely about my ship without attemptin' to do it or me any harm?"

"I will give you my solemn oath, if you will give me my dagger."  Jack eyed her incredulously, and she smiled a soft, innocent smile.  "That I may prove my trustworthiness to you."

"I'll tell ye what.  Ye pass a full day without an outburst, an' I will return your dagger.  Fair enough, love?"

"No.  I want it this instant."

Jack shrugged, as though helpless in the matter.  "Unfortunate, that is.  I'll have t' keep ye locked up."  He stood immediately and moved toward the door.

"No, stop!  Please wait!"  The raw desperation in her voice unnerved him somewhat, and he made mental note to hide the dagger at once.  "Fair enough.  Will you now release me, Captain Sparrow?"  Using the grating to support her weight, Aveline lifted herself to a standing position. 

Smiling triumphantly, he unlocked the cell and opened it for her liberation.  "Ye best follow me, love.  I'll show ye to our cabin."

She swallowed hard, for a lump had formed in her throat.  "Our cabin, Captain Sparrow?"

"You're my mistress, Miss Hartwell.  We be sharin' a bed, in the eyes o' the crew."

Aveline narrowed hers.  "How do you know my name?"

Bloody hell… Momentarily caught off guard, Jack combed his cunning for an appropriate response.  "Traven," he answered quickly, hoping the lad had been wise enough to get the lass's name before agreeing to take her aboard, and that she had been unwise enough to provide a fake one.

"Oh.  I see."  Accepting his answer, she nodded a little for him to proceed, and he directed her from the dank room, out into the tiny corridor that would lead them to the captain's quarters. 

Ladbroc had remained in the hallway outside the door, keeping watch, and they encountered him upon their exit.

"Ye let 'er go, Cap'n?"  His face expressed his alarm.

"Aye, that I did.  The lady and I have reached an accord."

Aveline looked up at the sailor, her eyes murderous.  If she was locked away once more, she'd…

"But Cap'n Sparrow—"

"Back t' work, ye scurvy dog.  Tell the boys to brail the fore and the main, we sail north tonight.  And announce to all that I have taken Miss Hartwell here as my mistress, and nary a one o' you blighters is to lay a hand on 'er."

Ladbroc nodded in resignation.  "Aye aye, Cap'n."

When the sailor had departed, Jack continued to lead Aveline down the corridor, and when they arrived at his quarters, he opened the door for her to enter.

"Listen, lass.  There's a trunk in th' corner, you'll find a dress or two in there.  Dress quickly, an' I'll return shortly."

Jack started to leave, but Aveline reached out to hastily grasp his arm.  At her touch, Jack turned, looking down on her with a lusty smile.  Terrified, she released him.

"Wh-where are you going?"

"I'll just be takin' a look about up on deck.  Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."  A quick hand produced her beloved dagger, dangled it before her huge eyes, and just as quickly tucked it away.  "I'll be back."

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AN:  I've provided an English translation of "Il Etait une Fois une Fleur," as taken from

"There Was Once a Flower"

There was once a flower

It opened a little, then a lot

A butterfly comes and rests on the flower

Mmm, how nice that smells

The butterfly flies away out of sight

The flower closes up, withers, and disappears