Moonchild-believer: Hahey! New reader! No problem - I'd love to read your story, and I'm very flattered that you've asked me to. Don't be too put out if I'm a little while getting round to it though, ok? GCSEs are like small children - they need alot of love, care and attention, they stress you out like nothing on earth and they just won't go away!!! Thanks for joining us, m'luv.
Dell-Doo: Has it been a long time, or has it been a long time? Welcome back! Nice to hear from you again. And thanks for sparing from your evil smiles - they freak me out *O-o* Hopefully this chapter will hold 'Dera's BIG ANNOUNCEMENT at bay for another few weeks, so maybe that'll put your mind to rest for the moment.
Starscape Dream: *blushes* Oh dear! I'm making you jealous?! Sorry about that...Is this more enough for you? *sheepish smile* Titter titter...
Savy: Hey - it's our hoe! *grin* Glad you loved it, and I promise - though I've said it countless times before - I really promise that I will make a huge effort to update more regularly and dispel at least some of your misery. Just so you don't...you know...die...
bobo3: Um, I don't know - where did you wander off to? Yeah, Jack's not here this time - sorry! I sent him off to dote on 'Dera, because I think she deserves a little doting-on at the moment ;) Aren't connections great?
Karis: *authoress hides behind her chair trembling* I think that just about draws level with Savy's plank!
Ildera: It is coming. I promise you - it is coming. Is this enough to keep you satisfied for now? And by the way, where's your update? *gives 'Dera an enormous hug* I think you'll find this chapter in particular quite interesting, m'luv. Irish accents, leprechauns and shamrocks all the way!
Sparrow's Pearl: Savvy. How's this? =) Thanks for your kudos.
Storm13(): I'm always appreciative when people give me praise for Kate and Ioade - I try my hardest. I hope this lives up to expectations - can I make it three intriguing chapters in a row?
jigglykat: Yyyyyes...cheese indeed *O-o*
-~*~-
There is nothing quite so strange as the lull after a storm: its surreal, dream-like stillness was on the ship, on the waves, and its silence smothered the deck like invisible feather pillows.
Jack grimaced slightly and leaned heavily against the helm. His mistress had thrown some fine tantrums in his time, but last night's just about took the rum bottle!
He winced again as he breathed: it felt as though someone had stitched the muscles down his right side together with steel thread and then drawn it tight, pulling them into a ruck. During the storm, Jack had momentarily lost his footing on the slippery deck; that was all it had taken for a buffeting fist of wind to smash him against the ship's wheel - but if he suspected a broken rib or two, he wasn't going to admit it.
"What's the damage Mr Gibbs?" Jack asked his first mate. The stocky man's bulldog face was creased into a concentrated frown as he uncorked his flask and took a swig.
"Few o' the mizzen sails are torn, and a yardarm's been wrenched near clean in two, sir." He reported grimly. "Other'n that, few o' the lines snapped - there's one or two un-threaded deadeyes, Cap'n, but nuthin' a couple of days' hard slog won't mend."
Jack gave him a brief sidelong glance.
"Get the men to it, then." He ordered, and clenching his fingers around the handle of the wheel, drew air in sharply through his teeth as the pain in his side flared. Gibbs gave him a questioning look, but he merely jerked his head towards the main deck, and his first mate went with a shrug.
Jack turned back to helm, swearing and holding his side. The pain was starting to make him feel sick, and the idler parts of his mind were vaguely contemplating the idea of a barber-surgeon. He hadn't had much time to think before a gentle hand alighted on his arm.
"How long have you been steering for?" Kate asked softly.
"Since yesterday evening, luv; you know that." Jack replied testily; the sharpness in his ribs was shortening his fuse.
"Don't you think you ought to rest?"
The pirate captain rolled his eyes agitatedly.
"I'm fine, Kate! Just bloody dandy!"
He breathed in deeply without thinking, and had to clench his teeth to stop himself from making a noise.
"I saw you hit the wheel last night." Kate said very quietly. "It's likely you've broken a rib at least, if not worst."
"Luv," Jack turned on her with a great effort, his irritation candid. "I've managed just fine up until now without you feeding me from a milk-bottle, savvy?"
The grey light filtering through the clouds made little highlights in Kate's eyes. They were almost black with hurt as they gazed openly up into Jack's.
"I..." She hesitated, and then took a deep breath and looked away. "It's your choice. If it bothers you that much, I'm sorry - I won't interfere anymore."
As she started to leave, Jack's face softened a little, and he reached out to catch her arm.
"Kate, darlin'...I'm sorry - don't take it to heart. Really," He assured her gently, watching the calculating scepticism in her face. "I'm fine."
She moved her lips, too slightly for him to catch what she said, and then smiled in the accepting manner of a woman who knows she won't get the truth.
"Whatever you say." She told him mildly, and then retreated down the stairwell.
"False colours." Crowed Cotton's parrot from the rigging.
-~*~-
Lantern light sparkled in the sweat on Grapple's brow like a sunset on a newly pitched deck. Frowning, he cried out pitifully in his sleep, and struggled beneath the blanket, his black curls plastered to his skin.
Elizabeth settled herself on the bed, and laid a hand on his forehead, smoothing back his hair.
"He's still running a fever." She murmured.
On the opposite cot, Ioade raised her head from her hands.
"He'll be alright through." She said, sounding more than a little uncertain.
Elizabeth smiled.
"Of course."
Ioade heaved a tired sigh as she bowed her head again.
"Where's Will?"
"On deck, helping to clear up the mess." Elizabeth replied.
"I should thank the lad. Grapple wouldn't still be aboard this ship if it weren't for him."
"You're awfully sentimental for a pirate, aren't you?" Elizabeth wondered aloud.
Ioade looked up sharply.
"Swallow yer tongue, missy! I'm nothing of the sort - I'm just glad it'll still be the Cabin Boy swabbing the deck an' not me, that's all."
Elizabeth made an indelicate sound.
"Flimsy excuse, Captain Morgan. What's your quarrel with Jack, anyway?"
"None of your damn business."
"Fine."
Ioade picked at her cuff in the silence.
"It's something that goes back a long way." She grumbled finally. "A very long way; not that you've a right to know." The honey-haired captain added churlishly.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as she smoothed out Grapple's covers.
"Funny." She deadpanned. "I didn't see you as a grudge-holder."
"Bloody well am." Ioade argued stubbornly.
The other young woman broke a surreptitious smile.
"Course, he did go and blow up my ship, the scurvy bastard..." Ioade pondered darkly. "And steal me plunder, and sleep with me first mate..."
"That was your idea in the first place!" Elizabeth cut in.
Ioade glared at her, and then pulled an expression so familiar that Elizabeth began to laugh.
"What?" Ioade demanded testily.
The girl shook her head, biting her lip; her eyes were creased with mirth.
"What?!"
"Just something that Jack said to me once: 'Peas in a pod'."
Ioade scowled at the laughing Elizabeth, sprang to her feet to leave, and promptly tripped over her own boot. There was loud thud as she disappeared behind the cot, followed by a long silence.
"Oh, why won't Kate let me get drunk?"
-~*~-
"Luv?"
The shape by the window uncurled itself a little, and Kate lifted her head from her knees. Her face, turned to look at Jack, seemed unusually drained of its former colour in the grey light.
The pirate captain watched her for a few moments, and she him, both in silence.
"What?" He asked quietly, with a slight smile.
Kate regarded him peacefully, and he suddenly, secretly, wanted to smash the serenity that was slowly snuffing her out. As was often her way, she delivered a stunning emotional blow through the lips of her mask.
"Why won't you tell me the truth, Jack? Don't you trust me?"
Jack raised his eyebrows, and with some effort, gave a weak laugh.
"Is that what this is about?" He exclaimed. "Bloody hell, you had me worried - I thought it was something serious!"
Kate responded with a humourless smile.
Jack's laughter trailed off, and he re-studied her expression with some degree of surprise.
"Oh." He shrugged. "It's just some broken bones, darlin'."
That same hurt drifted back into her eyes again; Jack wished to high heaven, or hell or wherever she'd stop doing that.
"Luv..."
"No." She cut him off, smiling. "No no, it's alright. I understand."
Jack watched sadly as she turned her face back towards the window.
"Bit of a stalemate, this." He said after a while. "Your mask-"
"Your image." Kate put in.
"Touché."
She shook her head slowly with an air of pensiveness.
"I just thought...hoped, maybe that after what we'd been through, you'd have a little more faith in me. I was just being silly." She finished with a weary little laugh.
Seating himself opposite her at the other end of the alcove, Jack looked at her impassively.
"Kate, I'm a-"
"A pirate, yes I know." Kate said. "I know. No love amongst thieves."
Jack's brows knitted.
"Love?"
"Trust." The young woman replied, but there was a slight flicker of her eyes that Jack would have missed had he blinked.
"Just..." Kate paused for a moment, thinking. "Just...don't...don't hold me at arm's length." Then she met his gaze, smiling a little. "I'm simply looking out for my captain."
"Your captain?" Jack asked with a grin.
Kate shrugged.
"Well, I'd say you've fairly well demoted Ioade from that position of honour, haven't you? Understand, Mr Sparrow, I am a diplomat: as it stands, we're all interested in the same gain, and we will reach it that much faster if we co-operate, for better or for worse."
"I thought you were more the 'shoot first and ask questions later' policy."
"Only if they're wearing a red coat and a white wig."
"Oh, I see."
"But I do hope you agree."
"It's a perfectly reasonable approach, luv."
"Good." She hesitated for a moment. "Jack, will you talk to Ioade?"
Jack rolled his eyes.
"You're never nice unless you want something, are you?"
"A hypocritical observation in the highest. It's time you settled things."
"Things are fine as they are, luv. Let it lie."
"No!" Kate surged forward on the window seat, and touched Jack's face with her hand, gently smoothing his cheekbone with her thumb. "No, they're not." She said quietly. "Demons need to be laid to rest, Jack."
The pirate frowned at her, and one hand went up to pull his shirt back to reveal the bullet scars on his chest. Then he upturned his left palm and showed her the long, thin scar there.
"When you choose this life, you're asking for demons."
Kate took a deep breath, her face flawless and catlike in the grey light, framed by strands of her long, glossy dark hair that had fallen loose from its plait.
"I didn't ask for mine." She said quietly.
Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against Jack's. Jack responded, and pulled her closer, burying one hand in her hair and wrapping an arm around her waist.
"I love you, Jack." Kate whispered in his ear.
There was a silence as Jack pressed his face against her neck.
"I don't love you, darlin' - you know that."
"Yes, I know." Came the reply, and Kate moved back to meet his eyes; she was smiling, with some effort. "Talk to Ioade. She didn't ask for her demons either."
-~*~-
"What's your past with Jack?" Elizabeth asked. "Really?"
Ioade was her own age - perhaps a little older. Her hair was a stripy, tousled mix of dirty blonde, gold and tawny, like a lion's mane, and was twisted and braided in parts, though lacking the sort of trinkets that Jack wore. Her eyes were dark-lashed and kohl-rimmed - their stormy grey irises were strange and striking against their shady framing; above them, her brows were even, straight and fawn.
She had gone back to fiddling with the fraying cuff of her shirt again, and Elizabeth was suddenly hit with the realisation of how child-like she seemed: stubborn, coarse, resilient and determined, sitting with sullen prettiness opposite the Governor's daughter on the edge of an unmade cot.
"I was a cabin boy." She muttered after a long silence, almost against her will. "A very long while ago. Jack served aboard the same ship - the Esmerelle, or the Jolly Stripper, if you looked closely enough at where the paint was peeling." She laughed then. "Did you know it's bad luck to change the name of a ship? Ah, of course you didn't." She concluded, shaking her head. "S'true though..."
Southampton was covered with the bleak drizzle of late Autumn, and she had been standing on the street corner trying to find her was back home, but Ireland was a long way off. She had run away; she'd been gone for days, and now the novelty of being somewhere on her own had worn off. All she wanted to do was take herself and all her possessions home again.
But it was too late for that.
The young girl cried as she was roughly hoisted up by the scruff of her shirt. No more than nine, the child struggled in the strong grip that lifted her off the ground, leaving her toes dangling inches off the dirt. She hadn't a hope of moving even one of the large, grubby fingers that held her collar, though.
She bit her lip as she tried to hold the tears back. The sailor was heavy-handed, and smelt something awful - of tar and salt and body odour - and he pulled her along like a ragdoll, mostly in the air but sometimes letting her drop so suddenly and so steeply that she scuffed and banged her knees on stones and paving slabs.
There was something else she could smell of him too: alcohol. He was as drunk as...well, as a pirate.
"Zssshtop yer bell'yachin', whelp!" He slurred. His gutteral voice was so thick with a seafaring accent that Ioade could barely make head or tail of what he said. "Ol' cap'n'll," He paused to hiccough, and then belch loudly. "Zoon 'ave ye...zship-sssape."
The man shook Ioade roughly as she was overcome by fear and let a wail escape her trembling lips.
"Shtow it, lad!"
This brought to light the strange thing about the girl. Her hair, unlike that of many girls, was short and very roughly cut. She was clad in a shirt that was intended for a fully-grown man, and a well-built one at that, and a pair of patched britches rolled up so that they did not trail on the ground. So indeed, the fact that this particular street urchin was a girl would have been lost on anybody - particularly a sailor with more alcohol in his veins than blood - unless they chose to look very closely.
The docks loomed out of the mist, and the man, whose name was Levka - a Russian whose ancestry was questionable to say the least - chose, seemingly at random, one of the ships that lined a seedier-looking part of the quayside.
The ship he singled out was the most impressive of the lot. Beastlike, it reared out of the water; yet the figurehead showed a most peaceful-looking woman, casually removing her undergarments and winking. But this was lost upon Ioade as she was dumped unceremoniously on the deck, still crying.
Surrounding her were a dozen or so other little ragamuffins - all boys - with dirty, thin faces and ragged clothes. They crouching shivering in the freezing damp drizzle, rubbing their hands frantically up and down their arms in an attempt to keep warm. Then a barked command told them to line up along the deck and hold out their hands. Ioade vaguely recalled being told at the school she had attended to hold out her hands; she also remembered that a sharp pain generally followed this when a lack of willingness was displayed.
All the boys and the little girl lined up on deck, with obedience that only frightened children can ascertain.
Levka joined a rabble of other evil-looking brigands, who were presently arguing about who'd brought the best boy. Each of them was convinced it was he.
Then two things happened at once.
One irate crew member - a sour-face, sinewy Laskar - pulled out a pistol and shot the man he'd been quarreling with. His shipmate promptly dropped to the deck with a thud, writhing and crying out with pain; the children recoiled with horror at the sight of the dark blood blooming over his shirt and the hand clutching his stomach.
The second thing to happen was that right at that moment, the doors to the Great Cabin swung open, banging back against the woodwork, and out loped a tall man in his late fifties, with iron grey hair, a nose that looked as though it should have been used to peck flesh off corpses, and a wooden leg.
"Well done, gentlemen." He said in a voice like the tide over shingle. "I see we actually managed healthy youngsters this time."
There was a murmur of malcontented mutterings that rose up amongst the men.
"What was that?" The captain asked in a dangerous undertone.
"Aye, Cap'n!" The sea rats snarled. Ioade noticed that not a few of them were fingering a wide array of weaponry tucked into their belts.
The attention of everyone on deck, however, was averted by a hunched, weasel-like man dressed in decaying garments that he wore like finery, who scuttled horribly and eagerly in the captain's footsteps like an overgrown spider.
"Smale." Captain Vautour turned to the grovelling man. "Maintain your worth - what little there is of it - and pick out a suitable cabin brat."
"Yes, of course Captain." Smale simpered. Vautour brushed past him on his way back to his quarters, and when he was gone, the disgusting smile that Smale had been wearing slid off his volcanic face like slime off glass. Then he turned his attention to the urchins, who stood quailing in what poor excuse remained of their line.
"Ah, fresh blood." He smirked, grabbing hold of the chin of the nearest boy, and yanking it from side to side so roughly that the ragamuffin began to wimper.
"Belay yer tongue, ye bilge-sucking swab!" Growled one of the hands. "Molest 'em in yer own time!"
Smale travelled down the line of boy, inspecting them as thoroughly as one could without stripping them; his snide comments caused the weeping children to cry ever harder, and stutters to become greater. At last he came to the girl.
"Name, brat!" he snapped looking down his over sized nose.
"Oi-oi-oioade M-Morgan." The girl brought herself up to her full height - barely level with Smale's chin - trying to look brave, but with her eyes shut tight. "Grandchoilt of Cap-"
"That's what they all say, boy!" Smale cut in. "Hands!"
He snatched Ioade's hands from behind her back where they had been gradually working the hem of her shirt into knots.
"They'll soon filth up. How old are you?"
"Oi-oi doin't knoi." The girl bit her lip till it bled in the silence that followed. But then, she brought her head up, squared her shoulders and swallowed her fear. "And oi doin't care noidder! So tare ain't much yois can doi aboit eht."
"Oh, t'be sure, t'be sure..." Smale mocked at her strong Irish accent. He grabbed Ioade by the neck, and lifted her so that she stood on tiptoes; his hand felt clammy and cold against her skin, like a wet fish. "Take the others to the slave market! This one's got some manners to learn. And some sea-legs to gain."
The rabble of crew grumbled and protested and bitched that their finds hadn't been picked, but they turned on the other boys and drove them from the deck like frightened sheep anyhow.
"SPARROW!" Smale called, his vice-like grip now making Ioade turn blue in the face. "Get up here now you useless bilge rat!"
The little girl in his clutches heard jeers from below deck, and the distinct thump of someone falling over a few times. Finally, a large black bush appeared at the hatch, closely followed by a pair of shoulders, and after that a fairly gangly body of someone who seemed to be going through a late and somewhat accelerated version of puberty.
'Sparrow' tripped on some rope left trailing across the deck, and landed flat on his face. Then, adjusting himself so that he sat upright, the boy lifted a matted bunch of hair from one eye and gave the volatile Smale a questioning look before letting the black mass swing back into place, once again obscuring his vision.
"Ye ain't dumb, lad!" Smale bellowed.
'Sparrow' shrugged.
"Get up!" Smale spat disgustedly. Stepping forward, he seized the boy and hauled him to his feet; in return, 'Sparrow' gave him a look of secure distaste. "Now, you show that...that..." The pock-faced man motioned towards Ioade, who had begun to shiver again. "Where to go, tell the galley master there'll be another mouth to feed, and get out of my sight!"
With that, he turned and left. The deck was empty now apart from the boy and girl, and the few hands that were keeping watch, splicing, patching sails or simply trying to look busy.
"So who are you?" Sparrow demanded, leaning into her and blowing on her face. His breath smelt so foul that Ioade couldn't help but wrinkle her nose. "Or what?" He added with a grin.
"Henry Morgan's grandchoilt, tat's hoi!" Ioade shot back indignantly, setting her bottom jaw. "Bet tat's more'n can be said fer yoi."
The boy narrowed his dark eyes.
"Jack Sparrow."
"Tat can't be yer real name." Ioade said stubbornly. "Jack's short fer John, so John must be yer real name."
"None of your business."
"Foin." Ioade glanced around nervously. "Tat man - is he always loik tat?"
"Loik waht?" Jack imitated her accent with another grin.
Ioade thumped him angrily on the arm.
"Yeah." Jack said, suddenly serious again. "Bar your door at night, boy."
He turned away from her, walked across the deck and climbed down the hatch. When he disappeared from her sight, Ioade went running up to the edge of the square opening, and peered down into the darkness, but her eyes weren't adjusted enough to see anything.
"Coming or not, boy?" Jack's voice called.
Gingerly, Ioade descended the damp, creaky stairwell, clutching onto the side beam and waiting to put both feet on each plank before going down to the next one.
When she reached the bottom, she was completely blind. Turning about, she felt this way and that with her hands, seeking Jack's arm or his shoulder or his hand; anything to tell her which way was up and which way was down in the pitch blackness.
A moment later, she was sprawled on the floor with a bloody nose, sniffling.
Removing his leg from where he had stuck it out infront of her, Jack bent down and said quietly in her ear:
"Rule number one: never trust a pirate!"
-~*~-
As she sat on the cot, seeing Elizabeth's attentive tilt towards her in her peripheral vision, Ioade let out a little sigh. Her memory was blurred a hazy world of insults, punishments and fast learning; it had been so long since she'd thought about any of this, though whether out of denial or unwillingness or plain forgetfulness, she wasn't sure.
"I hid my real self from everyone. It was easy at first, when I was younger, but when I started to...well, you know..." She trailed off awkwardly, glancing up at Elizabeth, who knodded comprehensively.
"As you might guess, it was Jack who worked it out first. We spent so much time around each other, and as I grew up he couldn't really fail to notice. To be honest, I'm surprised the rest of the crew did." Ioade shook her head slightly. "Mind you, I was very thankful for that."
"I can imagine." Elizabeth said.
"That didn't mean that I was completely immune to trouble though - Lord knows we seemed to attract more than most. Or rather, one of us did, and then the other used to dive in head first after them..."
"BOY!" Smale's voice echoed in the darkness and Ioade came to the man's side. "I have a task for you. And naturally you will be rewarded handsomely for your effort."
Ioade sighed, because there was no choice in the matter. She would perform whatever task was asked of her unquestioningly and face the consequences unquestioningly.
"Take this." A small bottle was pushed into Ioade's hand. "Rub it on the inside of the Captain's chalice before you serve him his wine tomorrow evening. Double my spirit ration is in store for your service."
"And what if oi doin't?" The 'cabin boy' decided that some sort of rebellion was only natural under the circumstances.
"I'll pour the contents of that bottle down your throat!" Smale hissed in Ioade's face; a weaker stomach, and she might just have vomited. "And don't get any ideas about telling no one, my lad 'else you'll find yourself missing a tongue by sunrise, savvy?"
The man strode off through the empty brig and left Ioade to continue scrubbing the floors.
She dipped the brush from bucket to floor, back and forth, whistling an old shanty until something cold, sharp and offensive touched the back of her neck.
"Double that pervert's rum rations, eh? That's...hmm...very interesting." The voice was calculated, almost ritual and to some point forced, like one trying on a front for the first time. "I think you and I have some talkin' to do."
"Hoi long were yoi listening?" Ioade questioned while continuing to scrub the floor.
"Whole time mate. Whole time."
"And what is tare yoi feel we should talk aboit, Jack?"
She turned her head and neck beneath the cutlass blade and looked at the young man in the darkness. Hair still flopped over his now kohl-rimmed eyes, but over the years he had acquired many trinkets, which now adorned the dark creeper like mass. He was also trying to grow a beard, but was failing rather miserably as much of it refused to grow at any conformative rate. It had to be said in his defence, however, that since the first time they'd met, he had grown rather handsome. In his own roguish way.
"Ah, you see I've got a little deal of my own to make." The young pirate smiled so that Ioade was unnerved the way his narrowed eyes sparkled black in the dim light. "Now I - like any respectable pirate - am partial to a touch of rum. So..."
"Let me guess!" Ioade cut in. "Your amazingly complicated plan ehs to blackmail me into giving yoi my reward for tis task oi doin't want toi doi?"
There was a silence.
"Goodness, Mr Sparrow!" Ioade spoke into the quiet. "Oi'm quite sure even a bilge rat couldn't have come up with tat one!"
The pirate grabbed her and pulled her close to his face and placing the sword blade up against her neck.
"Your tongue's too quick for its own good mate." He hissed. "Now, we're going to do it my way; you keep your mouth shut, or I'm going to be forced to reveal more about you than just your hobbies. Savvy?"
The pirate pushed her away.
"I think we understand each other." His eyes smouldered through the darkness. "Just remember we've been friends till now; don't ruin it for yerself, luv."
The young girl frowned at him, unable to quite grasp his meaning.
"Say what yoi mean Jack."
"I always do!" The pirate grinned at her, bowed extravagantly and turned away. "It's just that people don't listen"
"Oi still doin't grasp your meaning."
"It all comes down to a few basic facts." He turned back and advanced on her. "You, by all means, intensive purposes knowledge and otherwise, are assuredly and undoubtedly a pirate. It's also true that you have a certain lack of padding - not unusual for your age, I'll grant you - but it's more than most cabin boys have, and in some rather odd places, too." He glanced down at her chest and momentarily flicked the corner of his mouth up before turning it back to her face. He came closer. "Of course, there is always the alternative option."
"And what, pray, ehs tat?" She was breathing heavily as Sparrow brought his head close to her ear.
"You could always be a eunuch?"
Ioade anticipated his hand and grabbed it before it could test her maleness, or lack thereof. She flung it to one side and making a swift retreat, promptly slipped on the wet floor boards and landed in the mop bucket. With a cry of alarm, she folded her arms to cover her chest and rolled over: the water had made the thin material of her shirt considerably more insubstantial.
Jack grinned.
"Not fast enough, luv."
But it was Ioade who had the last laugh when he turned and knocked himself out by walking straight into a beam.
Looking around, the girl saw an abandoned mug. Darting to it and back, she splashed the remaining contents over Jack's prone form and cast the mug itself down near his hand. Now if he told, no one would believe him.
"And there it was - the true shrewdness of Jack Sparrow laid down in stone." Ioade smiled slightly. "I've never been sure how long he'd known the secret I was keeping, or even whether or not it was just a guess on his part, but he was soon to find out exactly how deep my secret ran..."
"Land ho!" A raucous voice bawled from the crow's nest. The noise of the ocean was defeaning.
"Perhaps you'd like to settle into your cabin, sir." Smale suggested, wearing his most repulsively subservient smile.
Over by the stairwell, Ioade looked up from belaying a line, her brows bent as she locked onto the conversation. Across the deck, Jack's eyes flickered from her to the two men and back.
"Perhaps you would like to continue your duties." Voutour replied turning to Smale, whose facade seemed to falter for a moment under his cold, telescopic gaze. "Well spoke the man who once said that it is foolish to trust a pirate, even when he is yourself."
The captain took a step closer towards Smale, who had begun to back up against the woodwork, looking more than a little nervous.
"But I wouldn't trust you beyond as far as I could place my foot." Voutour concluded quietly. There was the 'shing' of a cutlass being drawn, and the eyes of everyone aboard that ship were suddenly on her captain and Smale.
"Rather stupid to be planning on killing me when we haven't even a decent booty laid."
"Captain!" Stammered Smale. "I'm but your humble serv..."
"I don't think you know the word." Voutour cut across him, his cutlass blade moving ever closer to Smale's miserable neck. "You choke on it. If you fancy a drink by all means have one! The young cabin boy came to me this morning." He held a bottle out and Smale took it it hesitantly, with quivering fingers. "I asked him to test it for me and I saw fear in his eyes."
"I don't see why." Smale gave something of a weedy laugh that quickly wilted beneath Voutour's intimidating presence.
"Virgin Mother knows where you got it from, Smale, but it's poison, and well I believe you know it, though I wouldn't want to squander too much credit on you. You are worthless, a waste of deck-space, a waste of food and a waste of rum. Know this - there be little but a whisker of reason as to why my blade's not embedded in your throat, maybe not that much even. That withstanding, I would be appreciative if you would keep your vile intoxications to yourself!"
Smale's face had turned the ugly pallor of an overcooked cabbage by the time Voutour lowered his cutlass.
Ioade quickly made herself scarce. But Smale found her later that night.
And he made her pay.
"You mean he..." Elizabeth trailed off, sounding horrified.
Ioade shook her head.
"No, but as good as. A belaying pin leaves an awful lot of bruises - you wouldn't believe!" The honey-haired captain went quiet for a moment. "You know, I think that might have been the first time that Jack ever used a pistol...thank God I repaid the debt back then, when I still cared whether I did or not."
It seemed to Elizabeth now that in the candlelight, Ioade's face was suddenly older than it had been; more world-weary; more womanly. She ruffled an idle hand through her mane and sighed. Then she looked up at Elizabeth with such sharp eyes that the Governor's daughter almost jumped.
"You sure I haven't had anything to drink today?"
What a strange question! Elizabeth shook her head.
"I don't think so."
"Oh."
Ioade rested both her forearms on her thighs and continued...
She sat alone in the galley in front of the small smoking stove, a cup of warmed water and rum on the floor beside her. With a slight shiver, she hugged her knees and gazed into the lazy embers. Her tunic lay next to an abandoned needle and thread by her feet; her shirt was ripped and showed signs of her femininity that she did not want on display; and worst of all, the dark bruises that covered every limb, and her swollen lip and black eye.
She heard footsteps come up the galley and she clutched at the front of her shirt protectively.
Sparrow sat down beside her - there was a rosy stain across one of his cheekbones - and picked up the mug to take a swig. Then he passed it into her waiting hand. Ioade drained it. So they sat in silence.
"Thanks." Sparrow muttered briefly. "But next time luv, keep to the code. A fist fight ain't no place for a girl."
"Oi'm not..." She started, but Jack raised an eyebrow and she gave in.
"You don't make a bad bloke, really." He mused. "I think it was when you never used the gunports that I got suspicious - either that or you had a very large bladder."
"Oh." Ioade was subdued.
She barely noticed when he put his arm around her.
"Then it was...well, you understand how boys' minds work." He whispered. "You did a fairly good job of kissing other girls. You really didn't want to get discovered, did you?"
"Oi did what was necessary, Jack." She answered plainly. "Nutting more and nutting less."
"Then there was me." The young pirate smiled suggestively at her. "I always thought you were too good looking for a lad. Why didn't you want the world knowin' you were a girl?"
Ioade gave a shrug that was more like a twitch of her shoulders.
"Oi've seen hoi awful poirates trate women."
Jack gave her a sour look.
"But you're beautiful." He whispered so quietly in her ear that she didn't quite understand at first.
When she did, she turned her face to look at him. With his chin resting on her shoulder, their nose tips were so close they touched.
"Jack..."
He smiled, and getting to his feet went into the shadows in the corner of the unlit galley. And Ioade came to him there.
-~*~-