Hello again. Thanks for the reviews :) Happy dance! Oh and yes, Bonny is named for Mary Read and Anne Bonny. I hope I got the timeline right. Oh well, enjoy...

Bonny decided to hide for the rest of the night. Her face was lit up like a tomato. Mortified, not exactly sure why she had kicked him, she found a seat in a quiet corner where he couldn't see her. Still, she did feel a small amount of triumph. At least he wouldn't be sleeping with any other women tonight. With any women tonight, she corrected putting a hand to her head. Where did the 'other' come from? Not that she cared, she decided firmly. No way did she care what that maddening chocolate-eyed deliciously sensual--- she put a stop to that thought before it went further.
"Oh no! No no no!" she muttered. "Don't even think it."
She covered her eyes with her hand, then remembered she was wearing his coat. Its smell filled her senses; a scent of the sea, rum and a tantilising whiff of basic Jackishness.
She suppressed a scream with difficulty. She tried to distract herself from thinking anything incriminating. Oh, there was a tankard of rum in front of her. She knocked that back and grimaced at the taste. Didn't help.
She tried staring around her, noticed a pirate and a woman nearby. She looked away quickly. Definatly didn't help. There were two of the crew from the pearl nearby. She focused on them with difficulty. She recognised one as Jenkins. A quiet sour-looking man who usually leered at her when she was nearby. The other was a short, plump man who normally spent the day up the mast doing something nautical or something. Owens was his name, she remembered hazily.

"What'll we do 'bout Gibbs?" Jenkins was saying.

The other man grinned. "That son of a biscuit eater? Just get 'im loaded to the gunwhales and hang 'im from the yard arm."
Bonny wondered if they were speaking another language.
"Then what about the Cap'n? He's a crafty bilge rat."

"Ah, we'll 'ave to think o' somethin' special for 'im, that bloody pigeon-gut, nat brain, chicken livered, lyin' weasel."
Bonny felt like clapping. Those were some good words, she thought. She should add a few.
Jenkins grinned. "I know. We 'ave our nasty way with the wench, makin' sure he's there, then tie 'em both to a cannon and send them down to ole Dave."
"Yeah!"
A warning signal went off somewhere in Bonny's brain. She wasn't sure why, but she began to feel uneasy. Maybe she was drunk, she thought. Then shook her head. She didn't feel drunk. She didn't feel sick, or sleepy. The ground was just uneven, and her feet were heavy. And the inn was badly built, spinning in the wind and all.
"Who else we got?" Jenkens said.
"We got French, Jacobs-they're plottin it right now. And Patch and Able. Graham is deciding-he says the cap'n really takes mutinys personal. Wants to make sure we got the treasure first."
Bonny sat up, her attention fully focused.
"We wait till we get the map, then move."
"And how-" Owens stopped, and held up a hand for Jenkins to hush.

Bonny slunk down in her seat, but they had spotted her. Before she could even look for Jack, Jenkins had scrambled over the chairs and slapped his hand over her mouth.
"Don't move a muscle." He angled himself into the seat beside her. Giving a sweaty smile, he slung an arm over her shoulder and pointed his dagger against her left ribs.
Owens sidled into a seat facing her and glanced nervously around the room.
Bonny glared at them, and tried not to grimace at Jenkins body odour.
"Now sweety, I'm going to take my hand away. I expect you are wise enough not to scream."
He lowered his hand, keeping an anxious eye over his shoulder. "Nice and easy. Give a smile, don't want anyone getting suspicious."
Bonny made an unpleasant grimace, then winced as the dagger inched into her clothes.
"How much did you hear?" Owens said, his beady eyes narrowed unpleasantly.
"Enough to know that you are dead men!"
The point reached her flesh. She caught her breath sharply at the sting.

"You're dead if ye breathe a word of this." Jenkins glanced at Owens. "Face it, yer dead anyway."
Owens stared at Bonny thoughtfully, scratching his stomach in concentration.
"Jack has the map, doesn't he precious."

Bonny refused to answer until the blade jerked sharply. "Yes," she gasped.

Owens nodded to himself.

"I say we take her outside and gut her," Jenkins leered.

"No no," Owens said slowly, "I've got a plan. Precious, you want the treasure don't you."

She didn't reply.

"And Jack said you could have, how much?"

"10 percent," she said with a poke from Jenkins.

"Only ten?! There must be a lot if you're happy with that." He patted his chin, then a slow smile spread across his face. Bonny noticed the sinister look the men exchanged. "Tell you what, since we're reasonable men, we won't kill a pretty thing like you."

"Yeah, cos Jack'll kill us if he finds out," Jenkins added and recieved a glare from Owens.

"We'll give you twenty percent." Owens leant forward into Bonnys face. "And first choice of the plunder if ye don't say a word. A better deal than before, if I don't say so myself."

Bonny's head was spinning. She could feel the effects of the alcohol more now. Infact she felt ill. Swallowing, Bonny raised her eyebrows, trying to appear nonchalant.

"How do you know I won't tell Jack?"

"How do you know we won't kill ye," Jenkins snarled, and gave a quick jab with the dagger.

Ignoring the warm trickle of blood as well as she could, she said, "That was going to be my next question. I see no guarantees for me here. I'm not going to take the word of mutineers."

Jenkins raised the dagger again, but Owens grabbed his arm. "Precious, it's all ye got. You can agree, not speak of this and get more treasure. And," he licked his lips, reminding Bonny of a lizard, " ye get to survive. Or choose the other option, and ye won't. Dangerous places ships are. Small lass like you could fall overboard, accidentally fall from a mast, fall on a knife...Are we clear?"

"As chrystal," she snapped.

Jenkins made to move away, but Owens held up his hand. "And precious, if yer thinking of telling Jack, he won't be able to protect you. More than half the crew has agreed, and the rest are just waiting for the terms. Jacks dead, either way. But if you open your mouth, it'll be sooner rather than later."

They stood up to go. Jenkins patted her face, appearing light-hearted, but with a threat. She winced and watched them walk back to the crew. With hands that trembled she touched her side and gasped. The side of her bodice was damp with blood.