Revenge of the Fox

Chapter 35

Antonia, Elizabeth and Gwen had shared their stories by the time Annamaria let herself in the Captain's cabin of the Black Pearl. "How is she?" Gwen asked.

Anna shut the door and set the brandy on the table. "She's asleep. I fed her some brandy, helped her bathe and put her to bed. She's okay, Gwen. Not much physical damage."

"How about mentally?"

"Again, she'll be all right. It may take a little time, but she'll get over it." Annamaria settled into a chair. "She told me about it. It wasn't as bad as it could have been."

Antonia shuddered. "It could have been any of us."

"And nearly was," agreed Gwen.

"I'll invite her to stay with Will and I when we get back to Port Royal," Elizabeth decided. "It will do her good."

"You aren't match making, are you?" Antonia asked severely.

"Of course I am," said Elizabeth serenely. "Don't you think she and Richard would make a nice couple?"

"We don't know how he feels about what happened to her," warned Antonia. "It may put him off."

"We'll see about that," said Elizabeth complacently.

--

Will shuddered a bit as the boat neared the Pearl. It was near dusk, and it had been another long day. He'd heard stories about the cruelty of pirates, but he'd never actually witnessed it. Jack was usually so - well, civilized wasn't quite the right word, but he usually wasn't vicious. Maybe he'd been naïve, Will mused. He certainly didn't blame Jack for feeling the way he did, and the Good Lord knew that Reynard deserved to die, but still, it had been hard to watch.

Gibbs, Joseph, Captain Hale and the rest of the Pearl's crew had arrived on the beach shortly before noon that day, chagrined to find out they'd missed all the fun. The traveling had been more difficult than they had anticipated, so they'd arrived much later than they'd planned. With the increased manpower now available to him, Jack had rounded up the Vixen's crew and had them watch the execution of their Captain. Jack had done it himself on the main deck, with his slightly dull knife, and it had taken quite a while. Afterward, Joseph had calmly gathered up what was left of the late Reynard the Fox, and dumped the body overboard. What happened next was easier to think about. From his reading of the log books, both the Vixen's and the Lady Fortuna's, and his conversations with Ralf, Jack had singled out those ship's officers and crew members who had been instrumental in the planning and execution of the mutiny which had put the ship into Reynard's hands. These men, Ned MacKenzie included, had been hung. That had been justice, and not unexpected. Had Reynard ended like that, Will would not have been bothered by it at all. The remainder of the crew would be marooned on the island. Since there was fresh water available, and it was fairly near to New Providence, the men would most likely be rescued sooner or later.

"And Jack's reputation will grow," Will murmured to himself as he reached for the rope ladder to climb to the Pearl's deck. Elizabeth met him at the rail. Gratefully, Will had pulled her into his arms and rested his head on her hair. Sensing his mood, she asked him no questions, but merely pulled him toward their cabin. Will followed with relief. In the quiet peace of their cabin, and the warmth of Elizabeth's love, Will knew he would recover his equilibrium.

--

Jack rummaged through the Lord Marlby's chest of clothing, searching for something to wear that wasn't soaked in blood. His own shirt and breeches were a total loss. Like Gwen had earlier, he bypassed the silks and velvets, and finally settled for a pair of dark gray breeches and an off white linen shirt. Joseph watched him dress. "Will was mighty disturbed by what you did to Reynard."

Jack sighed wearily. "Aye, I could see it in his face." Summoning up a small smile he added, "He'd make a dreadful card player."

"He's idealistic," Joseph said with a slight shrug.

"He is," Jack agreed. "I'll talk to him tomorrow, see if I can make him understand. It was necessary, Joseph, you know that."

"Aye, Captain, I know that. The rest of the crew will be rescued, and they'll talk about this to everyone they meet for the rest of their lives. Not one of them will ever be a party to harming you or yours again. That's why you did it. Not just for revenge."

"Revenge wasn't a small part of it though," Jack admitted. "I've never wanted to hurt anyone that badly in my life. Not even Barbossa."

"Not even Barbossa?" Joseph raised his eyebrows.

"No. I thought about killing him for ten years, but I never had the urge to cut him to shreds. Dead was good enough." Jack nudged at the discarded, bloodstained clothing in a heap on the floor. "Part of me almost feels sick thinking about it, and the rest wants to bring him back and do it again."

"Let it go now Captain, and let's head back to the Pearl. Gibbs and Captain Hale can manage the Vixen until tomorrow." Joseph put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Mrs. Sparrow is waiting for you, and Anna is waiting for me. Let's go."

"Aye," Jack said and took a deep breath. "Let's go." He gathered up the ruined clothing and headed out. When he reached the main deck he went over to the rail and dropped the clothing overboard. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled his knife from where he'd replaced it in his boot, and flung it overboard as well.

--

Jack quietly opened the door of his cabin on the Black Pearl and looked around. From the light of the single candle burning on the table, he could see Gwen sleeping in the bunk. She was lying on her side, facing him, her arm extended onto his side of the bed. She looked every inch a lady, in her white nightdress with the blue satin ribbons decorating the bodice. He felt filthy. He left his hat on the table, and hung his sword belt carefully on the hook next to the bed. He took off his clothing and dropped it carelessly on a chest, and sat gingerly on the edge of the bunk, trying not to wake his sleeping wife. She'd changed the sheets, he saw. The crisp white linen felt smooth beneath his hand. He gathered up a lock of the long red brown hair that lay across his pillow and brought it to his nose. It smelled like the scented soap she liked to use – clean and fresh. He'd washed on the Vixen, but he could still smell the blood and the sweat. He'd just tortured a man to death – how could he just crawl into bed with Gwen with her clean white sheets, her soft white nightdress and her lavender scented hair? How could she want him to? Yet when he saw the bandage on her wrist and the faint shadow of a bruise on her cheekbone, he felt the vicious anger surge again.

Maybe he should let her go. Buy her a house in Port Royal, or Barbados or wherever the hell she wanted. He could give her enough money to live comfortably the rest of her life. God knew he had enough of it. Between the stash Barbossa had left on the Isla de Murta and what he'd collected himself over the last few years he could afford it. She could even go to England, change her name and forget she ever knew him.

"Jack?"

His eyes went to hers, and he saw she was awake now, and looking at him. She sat up with a sleepy smile and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, stroking it down his back. "You must be exhausted." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his jaw. "Lie down, love."

"I'm a filthy, stinking murderer," Jack said slowly. "How can you want me to even come close to you?"

"He's dead then?" Gwen pushed her hair out of her face and sat up straighter.

"Aye. Killed him meself, slowly and painfully, and threw him overboard. Made his whole crew watch. He's shark bait now. Then we hung most of the officers, and about a third of the crew."

"I heard you picked up Ralf in Nassau."

"Aye. Nice enough kid. Scared to death. I can't tell if he's relieved that Reynard is dead, or if he's terrified that he's next."

Gwen smiled. "You wouldn't do that."

"What makes you so sure?"

She took his face in her hands and looked him in the eyes. "Because I know you. Because I love you. Whatever you did to Reynard doesn't change that."

"You don't know what I did to him."

"I don't care what you did to him. I care what he did to me, to Elizabeth and Antonia and Annamaria and what his mate did to Jeannine. I care what he did to you, Jack."

"What he did to me?"

"He threatened everything you care about. Your wife, the wives of your friends, Anna, whom you've known and cared for for years and years. He wanted to take your ship, Jack. He wanted to take away everything you love."

"I killed his brother."

"That wasn't the reason for all this, it was just an excuse. He wanted to prove he was cleverer than you, stronger than you. He was wrong. And if you had to drive the lesson home so that it was well learned by all who were watching, then I'm the last person in the world who should blame you for it." Gwen moved closer and put her arms around his neck, her head on his shoulder.

Jack held her close and breathed in the clean scent of her hair. "You should blame me. I'm the reason this happened to you."

"No," Gwen said firmly, pulling back to look him in the face. "Reynard is the reason this happened to me, to us. You're the reason I made it through. It would have been easier to give in, to pretend a passion I didn't feel. To tell him everything he wanted to know about you. For heaven's sake, Jack, I could even have told him the best way to kill you. I didn't because I love you and because I know you love me."

Jack grinned, his teeth flashing in the candlelight. "So, what's the best way to kill me, luv?

Gwen assumed a haughty expression. "I'm not going to tell you. I may need the knowledge myself someday."

Jack laughed lightly and pulled her against him again. "I do love you, Gwen. You've taken a weight off my shoulders." He pulled her wedding ring off his little finger and slipped it back into place on her left hand.

She closed her hand around the ring and smiled at him. "I've missed this." She kissed him lightly on the lips. "Come to bed with me, my love."

His heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. He was in his own bed, on his own ship, with the woman he loved. He was home. His body, denied sleep for two stressful days, begged to be allowed to relax, to drift. But then Gwen's smooth hands stroked his chest and her soft lips touched his mouth, and he decided he could stand to stay awake for just a little while longer.

--