Disclaimer: Any names dropped here and found in the movie aren't mine, and anyone who claims otherwise owes me a lot of money.
Notes:
This fic is currently being re-drafted, and the
new chapters cannot be posted here until I've revised all of them.
For the latest redone chapter, visit my profile, where you'll find a
link. Feedback is still highly appreciated.
Also, please note that some author comments are embedded in the text since the brackets were taken out by TPB.
Forty-Six & 2, Chapter Three - Amorphous Acrimony
bitterness that lacks form or consistency
Elizabeth woke the next morning (at least, she assumed it was morning) to find threeâ€"make that four pairs of eyes watching her through her cell bars.
"Good morning, Miss Swann," Gibbs boomed.
Gibbs seemed oddly happy to see her alive and well, considering that he hadn't exactly been her advocate the day before. She sat up. "Umm…good morning, Mr. Gibbs, Mr. Cotton." Her eyes fell on another not-so-welcome face. He was donning his hat and coat this morning. "Captain."
Jack suppressed a grunt. "Gentlemen, we have business to conduct with the lady. Bring her to my refectory." He turned, exiting flamboyantly.
Gibbs unlocked and opened her cell. "Come along then, Miss Swann. 'T'won't be long before the men return."
Elizabeth nodded and stood, yawning as she followed them up the stairs to the main deck. Outside, all was still dark around the docks, and the small island still bustled with life, even though a misty haze was covering the area and clouds crowded the sky. She sighed. It seemed nature was mimicking what her future looked like. It probably wasn't a good sign.
They entered the dining room and Jack motioned for them to come over to the expansive table that was somewhat in the middle of the cabin.
"Have a seat."
Ignoring her impulse to immediately refuse his offer, she did as he bade, sitting across the table from where he stood.
"Time, Miss Swann, is of the essence, and since we haven't got much of it, I'll get right to the crux of matters." He pressed his hands together. "If you are to remain aboard the Black Pearl, the modification of your standing is ineluctable."
"My 'standing'?"
"Aye. Since you are unwelcome as a guest," he paused momentarily, "it would seem that there is necessity for us to find some other position suitable for you to accommodate."
She frowned. She should have known that last night's disagreement would haunt her. Apparently, Jack was willing to go to any extremes to ensure that he was proven right. "Which positions are available?" she inquired lightly.
The Captain smiled widely. "Since you are a stately woman, we'll be giving you a choice between prisoner," he held a bit, enjoying the display of something like horror playing across her features, "and crewmember."
She pursed her lips. Why did he always have to look so smug when he had the upper hand? It was probably some unspoken requirement of captains. Barbossa and Norrington both had given off the same air. The difference with Jack was that he wasn't permanently in authoritarian mode. In fact, he had seemed to be attempting to remain friendly with her earlier, but she had blown that. Now, here she was with an invitation to join the crew of the Black Pearlâ€"something that she had actually dreamed of not too long agoâ€"or become their prisoner. She figured that there would not be much difference between the two, knowing the Captain, but she thought that joining the crew would ultimately allow her more leaverage in Will's search. Plus, she was pretty sure that Jack believed that she would opt for incarceration just to inconvenience him.
"Well, Miss Swann?"
Elizabeth gulped, realizing that quite a few minutes had slipped by while she had been considering her options. "I…find that it will be more beneficial to us all if I join your crew, Captain Sparrow."
His game expression was darkened by impish delight. He held out his hands, and Cotton put into it a weathered scroll, which he then unraveled, never taking his eyes from hers. "These, Miss Swann, are the Articles that have been agree upon and signed by every soul aboard this ship, save yourself." Hehheh, Stabbing Westward fan; couldn't resist working that in. He slid forward the paper.
Hesitantly, she pulled her gaze away and began to read over the Articles. Most pertained to the distribution of "booty" and punishment of mutineers and any other bandits among the lot, while the rest merely set forth other standard behavioural guidelines, mainly reinforcing the code. "A pen?" she requested.
"Of course."
· § ·
Elizabeth set her jaw and kept her breathing particularly shallow as she focused on moving the lever up and down steadily while squatting before a large pump.
"Lovely aroma, wouldn't you agree?" Marty called across the bilge. He laughed when she began to speak but instead only gasped, failing her attempt at a response. "Don't worry, Lass. You'll grow to it soon enough."
"I'd really rather not," she managed, though brokenly.
"Aye. I know what ye mean. Kursar usually pumps her by himself, but with the Captain givin' her to you, and this downpour, I thought you might take to a friendly mug, such as me own."
She mustered a smile. "My thanks." They worked in silence for a bit. "Say, Marty, I hope you don't mind my asking, but why is it, exactly, that you've suddenly taken a shine to me?"
Sighing, his paused his task. "Seems that most stately ladies aren't too often found swabbing alongside the likes of m'self." He waited a beat, resuming his duties. "And I fancy we be in your debt, as ya did free us from the brig."
"Didn't seem that way at the time…" she muttered, but immediately cursed herself. "I meanâ€""
"Aye," he cut her off, "right you are about that. Suppose, then, that it works outâ€"you being aboard the Pearl now and joinin' with us."
After a while, she nodded, smiling. "Maybe you're right." Halting her own actions, she asked, "Do you think the rest of the crew will ever accept me?"
"Haven't ya seen it? They took to you a while back, when it was you shoutin' orders, keeping us afloat. I won't lie, though. We're a superstitious lot, and after what happened to Moises… Well, let's just leave it that with so few hands, we'd prefer no more were lost."
A contented silence stretched between them after that, and they worked amicably until Gibbs bellowed for them.
"Comin' up on a ship; all hands on deck!"
"Must be the Miseria for them to be callin' upon us. We'd best make haste."
Nodding, Elizabeth rose quickly, wiping her hands over her skirt before making her way above. As she arrived on the main deck, she found that everyone was facing towards the bow, watching the ship that was rapidly approaching. Though a tad complicated to make out through the drizzle that still surrounded them, Elizabeth was able to conclude that the ship was slightly smaller than the Black Pearl, with gray boarding and sails to match. The only thing untouched by the color, or lack there of, was the large, solid amaranth flag that proudly flew over her decks.
"Ahh, the Miseria Cantada," Jack announced, confirming Marty's speculation as he appeared beside her.
"I see she was named appropriately," Elizabeth observed flatly.
"That she was," he agreed. "But as you'll soon notice, Captain Curry ahem, not that that name is supposed to mean something coughTIMTIMTIMcoughcough isn't exactly overcome with jubilation."
Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, Elizabeth drew in a shaky breath, already making up her mind that she didn't want Will to be on this ship. It wasn't that she was afraid of it or its crew; seeing as Jack trusted them, she didn't really feel the need to be, but it had such an ominous and looming effect that she wasn't sure why anyone would want to sail aboard it.
"Enjoying your new position, Miss Swann?" Jack inquired.
Temperarily caught off guard, she smothered a groan. 'Doesn't he let anything go?' She turned so that she faced him instead of the other ship. "Why, yes, Captain, it's lovely," she countered melodiously.
His eyes lit up. "It's always good to hear that my bilgies are taking well to their duties."
Her jaw clenched tightly, and she twisted away before he could see the blood that was rushing to her face.
Satisfied with this reaction, Jack continued, "Well, Miss Swann, looks as though we will have to save the rest of this…provocative," he purred the word, "prodding for my return, as I've other pressing matters."
From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth watched as he walked past her to the portside bulwark, propping up a leg while patiently awaiting the halt of the Miseria Cantada.
"Look there, men. It appears that the tales are true. Old Captain Jack has reclaimed his prize, that pile of rotten wood and rusted metal that he likes to call a ship," a boisterous voice articulated. I do the rock, rock.
"Aye, Mate, though you seem to have confused me with yourself. After all, I think any pirate worth his salt would know better than to try to sail these parts in nothing more than a tub crewed by a band of marooners."
There was a great laugh, and the speaker finally showed himself, emerging from one of the ship's many shadows to lean upon the mainmast.
Elizabeth was surprised to find that he had Jack beaten in age by a good twenty years. He was well, but gloomily dressed, matching the Miseria's gray in his faded outfit. And while his voice gave away no sign of his presumed lugubriousness, his entire façade emanated it.
"Ah, marooners we be…or were, as it were, or is." He contemplated it momentarily, then moved on, "And any fellow marooner is welcome aboard my ship!"
"Quite gracious of you, Captain, as we have business."
"Business? What sort of business have you for me?" he asked, leaning forward.
Jack mimicked his movement, "The private kind."
"Ah. Very well, then. Men," he shouted, "prepare for our guest!" Then, to Jack with less volume, "Do come, Captain Sparrow." It sounded more like a command than an invitation.
As Captain Curry turned, heading for a door beneath the weather deck, Jack grabbed a nearby loose rigging and effortlessly swung himself onto the other ship.
"Back to work, mates," Gibbs ordered as Jack followed the other captain. "Miss Elizabeth!"
She froze, her foot hanging in the air as she perched on the stepladder, intending to return below to the bilge.
"The aftercabin is in need of a cleaning, and since ye be most qualified for the job, I assume you will not mind taking it on?"
She nodded slowly, almost giving into the urge to sigh in relief.
Smiling, Gibbs held out to her the mop and pail that he had previously retrieved once she stood, then led her to the refectory and through a closed door that was stationed along the left wall. beams I was actually making this up when I wrote it, but the archway to the Captain's quarters really IS there on the left wall!
She nearly dropped her cleaning supplies as she realized what he had actually requested of her. "Jack's?"
"Aye, the Captain's quarters. Don't think he finds the time to take care of matters himself very often."
Taking a look around, she could see exactly what Gibbs meant. The room was in terrible disarray; the floor was filled with an interesting mix of tattered clothing, books, and booty, but it wasn't exactly what one normally classified as dirty, considering most of the treasure was well-polished and many of the other items appeared nearly untouched. And despite a decent accrual of dust, the air was not stagnated; in fact, the place smelled of earth and sea.
"Make it all shine." He tossed her a large rag. "And you'll likely need this too," he said, dropping a sea sponge (Just where had that come from?) into her pail. Then, he left her alone.
Setting down her things, she began to go about the cabin, collecting all the discarded clothing. She supposed that being the Captain of such a large ship with such a small crew did have its disadvantages, as far as things went, but she had never really thought that one could lack the time necessary to keep their living quarters in some order. Knowing Jack, though, this probably was what he considered orderly. Shaking her head, she placed the clothes on his bed and moved to get the other things that had been strewn across the floor. Once all was out of the way, she mopped.
While she had been doing all of this, the weather outside had worsened again, mounting into a small tempest of sorts. Without warning, the ship reeled violently, and, losing the grip that her shoes had on the planks beneath her, she crashed into the floor, sliding over the slick surface as the ship lurched again, and she landed painfully against something hard.
"Think happy thoughts, Elizabeth. Think of strangling the life out of Jack Sparrow." Truthfully, the thought of watching the life drain from his eyes both delighted and saddened her at the same time.
Briefly stunned by the fall and her morbid contemplations, she waited to make sure that the sea and her mind had calmed a bit before slowly lifting herself to find that she had collided with a large chest Regrettably NOT the Jack kind. Surprised, she could not resist the sudden urge to take a peek. She placed her hands on the top and lifted it. A bit disheartened to find it was not locked (though she recalled there being specific rules that pertained to theft in the Articles), she struggled to open the cumbersome thing fully and looked inside to find that the trunk only held more loot. "How predictable," she muttered, letting it shut.
Getting up, she turned to find that her pail had somehow managed to stay upright through the whole ordeal and frowned, but then, an idea occurred to her as she braced herself on the chest and eyed the pail. Smiling slowly, she looked between her two items of interest, a plan quickly forming as she realized that the Captain of the Black Pearl no longer had the upper hand.
· § ·
Jack entered the cabin to find Captain Curry lounging sideways in what resembled a throne. Curry motioned for him to take a seat, and Jack opted for the small, rather battered sofa to his right.
Once Jack had made himself comfortable, four other men came in and sat around a square table.
"Captain Sparrow, I believe you're already familiar with Havok and Mr. Carson here. The other two, Pudget and Hunter, we picked up in the Americas."
The men nodded to Jack accordingly, and one pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and began to deal.
"I see you still find witnesses a necessity."
He chuckled. "Easier to leave the risk-taking for younger blood. Now, Jack, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he questioned, getting to the matter at hand.
Jack smirked. "I find myself in search of a man."
"You've come to the right place then, but I have to warn you, these boys are not exactly the playful type," he said, making a face.
"His name is William Turner, the son of Bootstrap Bill."
The coyness dissipated, and his face became impassive. "Any of you men know of a William Turner?" His eyes remained on Jack.
The men paused their play and glanced at Jack before replying negatively.
Jack twitched. "Odd, as some in Tortuga were swayed opposingly."
"Just what do you want with the boy?"
"So you do know of him, then?" He did not await a reply. "An old friend. Went missing."
"And the great Captain Sparrow is taking on the search. Why?"
"Collecting on a debt," he lied.
"This 'debt' of yours... Has it anything to do with the lady you've taken aboard?"
"Not really sure that's any of your concern."
"Ahh. So you say. She wouldn't happen to be sailing from Port Royal, now would she?" Taking Jack's silence as confirmation of this, he continued, "I thought she looked familiar."
Jack raised an eyebrow.
"The blacksmith freed us all from prison once, including himself. Showed us a likeness of his wench. Made us all promise not to scorn, nor harm, nor maroon her, but only to take her to the port of her request, should we cross her abroad and plunder her vessel."
Inwardly, Jack was beaming. The whelp had finally learned how to negotiate properly. "He was imprisoned?"
Captain Curry grinned sheepishly. "Yes, well, Commodore Jerrith did not take kindly to certain…" his eyes rolled to the side, and one of the card players coughed, "...advances," he finished brightly.
"So where is Will?"
"Mr. Turner jumped ship more than nine months ago, and we have not to see hide nor hair of him since."
"He was alive last you saw him?"
He nodded. "Aye, though whether or not his life continued is somewhat up in the air."
Captain Sparrow gazed at the other man in speculation. "Why's that?"
"He took his leave while we were docked at Fort Brine. Said he had found what he was looking for."
"And what was that?"
"Never really got around to asking."
A few moments passed, and the two pirate captains stared at each other.
"The box, Captain," Havok said suddenly, never taking his eyes from his hand.
"Box? Right, the box." Curry stood and went over to a little desk, sifting through the drawers and their contents before producing a tiny, wooden box. "Turner wanted Miss Swann to have this." At Jack's pointed look, "Said he had a feeling we would be meeting up with her," he explained dismissively, handing it off to him. "I assume you'll get it to the lady?"
Taking the box, he examined it quickly before securing it within his sash. "Of course."
"Fantastic! Now, how about we drown ourselves in a bit of libation?"
· § ·
Jack's cabin was now in perfect, harmonic order, and Elizabeth was putting the finishing touches on the…special surprise that she had been working on for him. Checking the door once again, she quickly slipped the last of the treasure back inside its chest. She was arranging the final piece when Gibbs yelled, "All hands to greet the Captain!"
Startled, she let the top of the chest fall from her left hand, and it slammed forcefully into her other wrist. Barely smothering a yelp, she removed her injured limb to see that the skin was broken only in a small area, but that bruises were quickly forming to show where the chest had smashed her, creating an odd bracelett. Trying to resist the urge to panick, she grabbed one of the nearby rags and wrapped it around her wrist.
"Elizabeth!" Gibbs insisted.
"Coming." She finished tying it up, then readjusted the trunk's lid and made her way to the deck, just in time to see the Miseria weigh anchor and begin to drift away.
"Hoist the sails, you cacophonous cockroaches! We've a new destination, and it seems that the wind might be willing to deliver us," Jack announced, jumping down from the forecastle. FYI, there are two forecastles on a ship; this is the one located at the bow, atop the upper deck. He caught sight of Elizabeth and sauntered over to her. "I couldn't help but notice, Miss Swann, that your entrance was not made from the hull. Where have you been?" he interrogated, eyes narrowing.
Gibbs beat her to a response. "The lady was keepin' her Captain's affairs in order."
"My 'affairs'?" he asked tightly.
"Thought you wouldn't mind if Miss Elizabeth tidied up your cabin a bit, Sir."
Jack looked down for a second. "Shall we go have a look-see?" he suggested, unknowingly grabbing her injured wrist.
Gasping in pain, she snatched it away immediately. "Certainly. This way." She gestured for him to follow her, and the two trekked to the aftercabin, leaving the bewildered quartermaster behind. She stopped just inside the cabin and let him enter. After a few moments, "As you can see, everything is neat and clean, and…and I'll just be getting back to my other duties." She was almost in his refectory when he grabbed her again, this time being sure to grasp her upper arm.
He pulled her back inside and spun her towards his bed. "Sit," he commanded when she had regained her bearings.
She obliged, trembling only for a second under his scrutiny. "Captain, I really mustâ€""
He slammed the door, cutting her statement short and stalked over to her. "Miss Swann," he began, delicately lifting her injured wrist, "would you care to enlighten me as to how you acquired this particular wound while scrubbing my cabin?"
She averted her gaze.
He sighed and stood, removing his hat and jacket and tossing them at the bureau that sat in one corner. "You did something stupid."
She chanced a look at him, confirming his accusation.
"Well…?" He moved in front of her.
She glanced around his flank.
Following her eyes, he turned and made the short journey over to the chest. He raised the lid, then let it fall a moment later. Swallowing the oaths that begged for sudden release, he inquired, "What's in there?"
"Treasure," she stated simply.
He gave a tiny, affirming nod. "And…?"
"And there might be a rotten apple or two."
He opened it again. "And?"
"Perhaps there could be," she squirmed a bit, shrinking away in anticipation of his reaction, "some bilge runoff and sediment."
Letting it close again, he turned slightly, half-succeeding in hiding the grin that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Abruptly, he swung around to face her. "I see," he said, returning to kneel in front of her, where he again lifted her arm. Without a word, he unwrapped her makeshift bandage and examined it. He clicked his tongue. "A lot of trouble to go to."
"You deserved it."
"Perhaps, but it was you who seemed to abhor the idea of friendship with a pirate."
"Yes, and I probably deserved this," she conceeded, flopping her wrist from side to side in order to check its mobility.
"Quite a pair we make." He rose to retrieve a brown bottle from one of the shelves. He picked up another rag and doused it in the pitcher atop his bedside table, then sat beside her. He drew her arm towards him and was about to clean her wound with the wet rag, when a thought occurred to him, and he looked up questioningly.
"It's fresh," she informed him, smiling.
He returned the smile and began to blot gently at her broken skin.
"Did Captain Curry…" she paused, carefully choosing her words. "Was there any news of Will on the Miseria Cantada?"
He glanced at her, then concentrated again on his ministrations. Clearing his throat, he said dispassionately, "The Captain confirmed that William Turner was once a crewman aboard the Miseria."
"Oh." She looked around dejectedly while Jack applied some sort of ointment to her wrist. "Is Will, is he…?" she hesitated.
"He jumped ship a few months ago."
She sat quietly while he fashioned a new bandage for her. "Where is the ship going now?"
"The good Captain says he's low on fittings; probably heading for Tortuga."
"I meant the Pearl," she clarified.
"We're going to Bermuda," he said, as though it were obvious.
She paled at that and hoped that he couldn't see that it was bothering her. She had heard and read the stories of the Triangle associated with the islands, and they weren't life affirming. She had not gathered that Will might be in that kind of danger.
"Is it all there?" he asked abruptly, pulling her from her thoughts.
She froze, momentarily perplexed, then, realizing what he was asking, blushed.
This time, he was unable to prevent a soft swear from slipping, but it seemed to go unnoticed by Elizabeth, who was looking anywhere but at him. He sighed. "What did you do with it?"
"You don't want to know," she insisted, fussing over her bandage. He stilled her motions with one hand and lifted her chin with the other, forcing her to look at him. Her mouth suddenly became parched, and she had to swallow a few times in order to regain her speech capabilities. "I flung it through the window and into the sea."
He closed his eyes for a second, mourning his loss. "And precisely what were you flinging?"
"Just a few goblets and plates. I needed more room for the apples," she rushed in a pleading tone, "and I figured that you had plenty of dining ware."
He let go of her chin and pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing another sigh. "According to the Articles," he said after a few minutes, "I should inform the crew and let them pass judgment."
She winced.
"However, since the crew suffered no losses, and I'd rather not put Gibbs in the position of enforcing Moses' Law upon you, here's what we're going to do."
Her brows furrowed as she wondered what he was about to come up with now.
"You are going to repay every cent that you stoleâ€"" he held up a hand when she moved to interject "â€"yes, Love, stole from me, and everything that occurred in this cabin today will stay here." He was gesturing animatedly as usual. "Furthermore, if we're ever going to find William Turner, we need to be able to communicate effectively without frequent amorphous acrimony or abjuration." He waited a bit, then pronounced in a softer tone, "I also find that you might want to restrain yourself from certain…misleading actions," he finished, looking down.
Bemused, she followed his gaze to find that she was unconsciously tracing patterns over the back of his hand with an index finger and toying with his many rings. "Of course," she agreed, pulling her hands away instantly and schooling her features against the embarrassment that she felt. She stood.
That sly grin of his was back where it belonged. "We have an accord, then?" he asked, offering his hand.
She eyed him for a second, then tentatively shook it. "Yes."
"Good. I assume you'll be heading for the galley?" he questioned as she opened the door.
"The galley?"
"Aye. It would seem that you are not very trustworthy when it comes to the bilge. Perhaps some cooking will be more…suited to your talents." A thought occurred to him, "You can cook, can you not?"
"Of course."
"Of course," he repeated.
She smiled again before turning and practically running from his cabin.
Closing the door behind her disappearing figure, Jack pulled out the box that Captain Curry had given him for Elizabeth. "What to do with you?" he asked, looking over it, then decided, "Probably best to wait…for the opportune moment."
Original Content: 2003.08.20
