NOTE: So I'm not exactly sure how pirates bathed back in the early 18th century – this is my take on it.
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Ambrosia of the Sea
Chapter 4
"Very well, Captain," Elinor spat as she bowed deeply in mock-fashion, keeping her eyes on Barbossa the entire time—while he did the same. He enjoyed her boldness, sarcasm, and the way her upper lip twitched when she was angry.
It did that now, as she stood and took a step toward her trunk.
"Now if you wouldn't mind, Sir, I would very much like to change out of these rags I am currently wearing." She didn't wait for his approval, but proceeded toward the chest, opened it, and began shuffling through for a new shirt and pants. She stood up after she found what she was looking for and furrowed her brows at the captain. He looked at her curiously, she pointing to the shirt she was wearing and then to the shirt she'd like to put on without having him around to watch her. He smirked.
"Might I suggest," he said, moving toward her, "that yeh wash yer...travels...off before yeh put those on." Elinor was appalled. Sure she had realized that she was filthy, but the fact that a pirate thought she could use a bath was down right degrading. Her mouth hung open as the captain put a hand on her shoulder. "No offense, Missy. You are indeed in the company of pirates; but we know when our time is due." He leaned in close to her ear. "And yers was probably a week ago..." He sniffed. "At least." He laughed as North pushed him away, gathered up her clothes (mumbling/cursing the whole way) and slammed the case shut.
"Going to throw me a line then, so that after I'm done in the sea I can be dragged aboard this vociferous vessel once more?" she said, tapping her foot.
"A line? Nonsense! There's no need teh be throwin' yeh back out to the fishes." His voice faded as he opened the door to his washroom and motioned for her to follow him.
What met Elinor's eyes made her gasp.
"How is this possible?" she asked, her eyes roaming over the exquisite porcelain tub that occupied a corner of the room.
"The miracle that is pipes, my dear," he answered, pulling her to the back of the washtub. There lay a series of metal tubing connecting the basin with what she assumed was the ocean beneath. "Just turn this handle...and there! Fresh water straight from the Caribbean herself! Ran through a few filters, o' course. Wouldn' want teh bath in a lake of salt right after a battle, eh?" He laughed again while Elinor ran her hand through the water, flinching at its less-than-comfortable temperature.
"Filters?"
"Small squares of metal netting—traps a decent amount of the salt," he answered while tightening one of the pipes. When he finished he stood up and headed toward the door, nodding to Elinor as he passed. She had to smile to herself; here was a ruthless pirate captain who had made sure he was able to bath in the privacy of his own chambers.
"Thank you," she said softly as he passed through the doorway. Barbossa didn't reply, quickly closing the door instead.
The bar of soap she used was coarse enough to break through the layer of dirt caking her skin. How she had let herself get so grimy was beyond her; she hardly even remembered any of the events leading up to her arrival aboard the Black Pearl.
Elinor shook her head and cursed herself—her lack of memories, she knew, was due to the alcohol.
After scrubbing herself to the point of turning the water around her a dirt brown, she laid her head back against the rim of the tub and closed her eyes. The water was getting colder now that it had been sitting for a while, but she either didn't care or didn't notice.
Just as she didn't notice the door to the room creep slowly open.
She did, however, take heed of the scratching of nails against porcelain. The woman opened her eyes just as Barbossa's small monkey fell into the tub along with her. She screamed, fishing for the primate, sloshing mud brown water onto the floor. Her racket naturally called the captain to her attention.
Slipping through the door, Barbossa came upon an unusual sight—a now very clean, very naked, young woman frantically searching her bath water for something unknown to him. Her eyes were on fire as her arms flailed about the tub. She had moved toward the end of the basin, and behind her came the answer to the captain's curiosity.
His laughed snapped Elinor to attention. Barbossa had tears in his eyes.
"Ah Jack," he sighed, moving toward the tub. The monkey had resurfaced behind Elinor, looking frightful. Barbossa lowered his hand to allow the primate to grab hold of it and escape. When he did, the man took a towel from a chair and rubbed Jack dry. While he did this, Elinor slowly lowered herself beneath the muddy waters, so as not to let the captain take a leisurely view at her exposed body. When he was done, he dropped Jack to the floor, pushing him out the door. Then he hung the towel over the window ledge and took a seat upon the chair adjacent from the tub.
Elinor's eyes widened, and subconsciously she crossed her arms over her chest—even though they were safe beneath the water.
Barbossa also crossed his arms, leaning back into the chair to observe the new woman before him—well built indeed, with enough curves and muscles to please any man. Now that she had cleansed her skin of the dirt, he noticed plenty of scars dotted over her shoulders, collarbone, and face. One in particular caught his attention; the one above her left breast that was not a slash of a blade, but represented a wave—like the sign for the zodiac Aquarius.
As he stared, Elinor's lip began to twitch.
"You're still here."
"I am," he stated matter-of-factly. North moved to the left side of the bathtub, crossing her arms over the rim and pressing herself against the porcelain to keep herself as hidden as possible.
"Why?" Barbossa leaned slowly forward. In the small room the chair was put close to the tub, so as he bent forward their noses nearly touched.
"Wouldn't want ol' Jack teh be sneakin' back in, would yeh?" The woman leaned back, reaching for the soap once again.
"No," she said truthfully. Then, as she lifted her right leg out of the water and began to scrub it with the bar of soap, she stated sarcastically, "thank you for your concern, Captain. I'm sure sitting just outside of the door wouldn't at all keep Jack from entering." She heard Barbossa snort.
Elinor continued cleaning her already-cleansed legs, in hopes that the captain would grow tired of seeing just her limbs. When it seemed he would never leave, she decided to speak.
"So how long have you known Maria?" Barbossa blinked, then readjusted himself.
"Few years." Elinor raised her left arm to wipe the soap duds from her legs. Barbossa cocked his head at the sight of a leather band wrapped around her wrist. He wondered why she hadn't taken that off when a splash of water hit his face.
"Are you listening to me?" she asked, even though it was obvious he wasn't. Barbossa calmly wiped the water from his cheek, even though his patience was at a point where he could have strangled her.
"Forgive me if I seem...distracted," he said, the glint in his eyes frightening the woman.
"I asked you to hand me a towel." The man took a cloth from a pile below him, then proceeded to stand at the side of the washtub, opening the towel and waiting for Elinor to stand up.
"Don't even—" she threatened, attempting to pull the towel away. Barbossa held fast, smiling maliciously at her—especially as she gathered herself up, mumbling "sick bastard" as she stood. He laughed.
"Yeh be forgettin' whose company yer in," he said as he wrapped the cloth around her body, lingering for longer than he probably should have.
"And whose is that?" she inquired, tearing herself away from him.
"The company of a pirate," he said, taking one more look up and down her body before exiting. Elinor watched to make sure he was gone—out on the bridge—before closing the door and pulling on her clothes. No matter how clean her skin was she still felt unclean—violated.
When she drained the tub and hung out her towel to dry she re-entered the main room. There behind his desk sat Barbossa, scribbling notes in his usual fashion. Elinor pulled her sleeves down and threw her rags into the chest, pulling out the dark brown jacket.
"Those clothes fit yeh awfully well, fer bein' yer father's," came a curious voice from behind her. Elinor rolled her eyes as she pulled the coat on.
"My father was short...and trim," she said, turning to face the captain—who had set down his quill and moved to the bed. He crossed his arms and raised a brow at her. Elinor folded the collar down violently before rushing toward him. "Fine. I'm a pirate, Barbossa. Is that what you want to hear? I'm a pirate, just like you. I pillage and plunder...for Christ's sake!" She sat next to him on the mattress, nostrils flaring. Barbossa remained silent, still waiting for the truth. Elinor noticed his look.
"What? You don't believe me?" He shook his head, pulling his pistol from his belt and fondling it in his hands.
"Yer not a pirate, because yeh talk like those elite British bastards that occupy Port Royale." He placed the gun under her chin. "But yer not one of those, either." His unspoken threat was obvious.
"My mother died giving birth to me," North started without being told. Barbossa lowered his weapon. "I had no where else to go but with my father...aboard the Three Fates. I lived with him on that ship up until the day he died. I never took part in his activities; he wouldn't let me. He protected me from becoming just like him...just like a pirate. But I learned about sailing, among other things. I know how to use those weapons in my trunk, the only things of worth my father left me...his sword, cutlass, daggers—" she stopped upon hearing a "Hmm..." from the captain.
"So yeh lived on a pirate ship for..."
"Twenty-six years."
"For twenty-six years. But yer not a pirate."
"If I was, you would have found the mark you were looking for earlier," she said as she reached for his right hand and pulled up his sleeve. "This mark." Barbossa looked down at the small 'P' that was branded atop his wrist so many years ago.
"And after yer father died?" he asked, pulling his arm away and lowering his sleeve.
"I went to the funeral, naturally. That's where I was kidnapped; the rogues crashed the service, taking whatever they could lay their grubby hands on...including me. I was supposed to serve as restitution for what my father took of theirs. They couldn't kill my father, so they had to settle for the next best thing...his kin."
"Seems appropriate," muttered Barbossa. "And the Three Fates? What happened teh her?"
"My father left it to his first mate. I haven't seen it since the day of that battle." Elinor raised her head and gazed out the window. "I'm here because I am at home with pirates...no matter how insane that seems. I am here because I want her back. That ship should stay in the family." She stood up and unbuttoned the cuffs of her jacket. "The Fates is my past, present, and future, Captain. She's a magnificent galleon, worthy of only those that bare the name 'North'. I mean to take her back."
"And how precisely were yeh plannin' on doin' that? Don't think that the Pearl has her own plans...we can't go gallivantin' across the Caribbean lookin' for a ship we've never seen, for a price that doesn't exist."
"Naturally," Elinor stated, her eyes glassy in their sockets. "She'd be worth your time, Barbossa. Trust me on that." She turned to meet the captain's chest. "All I ask is that if we see her, you'll help me take her."
A breeze floated through the open window, pushing a strand of dark brown hair across the tanned face of Elinor North. Barbossa moved the hair behind her ear, tracing her jaw with his finger afterward.
"I'm not making any promises I'm likely to break," he said sternly, his fingers lingering on her cheek. Elinor nodded, pulling away from him. The captain picked up his pistol from the bed and replaced it before heading toward the door.
"I do have one question for you, Captain." The sound of her voice stopped him. He turned to see her with her arms folded across her chest. She looked so comfortable in the 'pirate garb'.
"What's that?" North walked slowly toward him.
"If I recall, wasn't the Pearl first registered to a man by the name of Jack Sparrow?"
The sting from Barbossa's hand sent her flying to the floor. She grabbed her cheek as tears sprouted in her eyes.
"Don't you ever mention that name again aboard my ship," he threatened, pointing at her with narrowed eyes. Elinor shouldn't have been surprised to get hit—he was, after all, a pirate, and this sort of behavior was common among thieving men—but she had almost believed he was different. Her lip twitched as she pulled herself from the floor. She would not let herself become weak in the eyes of this man.
"You mutinous bastard," she hissed through clenched teeth. She screamed and cursed at the captain as he slammed the door shut on her. Elinor's anger subsided only when the throbbing of her cheek did...only when she found a bottle of rum, hidden inside a small compartment behind the captain's desk.
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