SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1So sorry it's been so long, guys. I've been writing this chapter for a while now, trying to get a few sentences in here and there while I get myself situated in COLLEGE. BAH! I've been really busy, but I haven't forgotten about this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for all the reviews.
________________________
Ambrosia of the Sea
Chapter 5
________________________
"Ah, for Christ's sake..."
The door to the captain's cabin swung open two hours after it had shut on the youthful face of Elinor North. That face now hung over the side of the large bed occupying the area, eyes swollen shut, hair mangled and lips bright red from the pressure of mouth to bottle opening. And dangling from the woman's right hand was yet another bottle of Barbossa's finest rum.
The captain sighed as he approached the bed. Taking her limp left arm that hovered over the rug-covered boards, he flipped Elinor off the mattress and onto the floor. A loud thump was heard, as were a string of slurred curses and the pounding of a fist upon the cabin base. Barbossa limped over to the opposite side of the bed, his nostrils flaring and face set hard as stone. North was struggling to pull herself from the floor when the captain's boots came into her view. She had just enough time to look into his icy cold eyes before a pair of calloused hands–his hands–grabbed her under the arms, hoisted her clear off the ground and threw her into the drinking cabinet.
Despite a busted lip and countless sore muscles, North let out another series of inexplicables and pushed herself up as the bottles in the cabinet settled. Barbossa leaned over, took hold of a handful of brown hair, and jerked the woman's head up as he knelt down beside her. Tearing the bottle from her hands, he dangled it in front of her glazed eyes and hissed,
"If I ever catch yeh with a bottle of me rum in yer unworthy hands again...I'll kill yeh...simple as that."
After slamming her head back into the cabinet, he turned and threw the half-empty bottle out the window and into the sea.
"What good is a cabinet full of rum if it's not for drinking?" asked a soft voice from behind him. Barbossa turned to see North standing fully erect, fists clenched as she swayed from side to side. Whether her drunken movements were really from the alcohol or if they were from her beating, the captain could have cared less. Pulling his pistol out, he aimed it at the spot between the two brown eyes of North, which slowly moved toward him.
"I should've let you drown," he whispered. Elinor stopped.
"But you didn't," she stated, eyes lighting up in mock fashion.
"Which I often wonder why..." the captain mumbled as he lowered his side arm. The woman in front of him stepped up to meet his nose.
"Because I intrigued you, remember?" she said, running her hand over the lapels of his jacket. "I am a challenge." She gazed longingly into his steel eyes as he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
"Indeed," he replied in a low growl. His finger traced her jaw line, then up to her split eyebrow. Elinor flinched when he touched the injuries he himself had inflicted. When he reached her cut lip she stepped away and fell onto the mattress.
"If you don't want me drinking your rum, you best not keep me locked up in here as you do now." Barbossa folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at her. "Alcohol is my ambrosia, Captain. It allows me to forget all my troubles—"
"As it does with all of us," he said quickly. "But if yeh want a drink," he started as he walked toward her, "ask fer it." North shook her head.
"That isn't my point. I need to get out of here. There's nothing to do. Out on deck I could be useful—"
"You could be useful in the bedroom, too," Barbossa replied, that hungry look invading his eyes. There was a moment's pause before North retrieved her knife and lifted it in an attempt to stab the captain. Barbossa was quick to react, and the two proceeded to wrestle on the bed, with the captain easily overtaking Elinor. He pinned her arms over her head and straddled her waist. Both were breathing heavy.
"Don't rape me," the woman pleaded quietly. Barbossa was taken back by her request, but showed it only a moment. Quickly he twisted North's left wrist and her dagger fell from her hand.
"Yer lucky I already had me fill of Maria," he said, letting her arms go and pocketing her weapon, "otherwise yer plea would be in vain." He lifted himself from the woman, who sat up in the bed and bore into his eyes with a fire unlike any he had ever seen.
"Why do you insist on keeping me in here? I present no harm to you, your crew, or your ship. I cannot escape, because I don't know where I am—nor would I know where to go..." She looked down at her wrists, gently rubbing the pain away.
When her eyes were off of him, Barbossa grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over to the door. It crashed open, allowing extreme sunlight into the area. Elinor squinted into the light as he pushed her outside. He kept a tight hold on her as they stopped, and as her eyes adjusted to the harsh sun, she noticed several of the crew curiously stepping up to them.
They looked malicious, dirty...hungry.
A few attempted to tame their wild hair: others licked their lips. Elinor stood fast as they surrounded her and the captain. She flinched, however, when he whispered into her ear.
"They are the reason I keep yeh to meself. Unlike me, their hunger for a woman's touch is ne'er satisfied," he said as he traced a finger down the front of her shirt, all eyes of the crew watching him.
"You seriously underestimate my capabilities if you think I can't handle your motley crew," the woman hissed back. Barbossa snorted as he let go of her. A few of the men took a step forward; the silence was deafening. Elinor scanned the crowd, winking at one extremely filthy mate with a toothless grin. He clenched and unclenched his fists as the captain grabbed North's hand and placed his pistol in it.
"Let's see yeh handle 'em, then, Missy," he said in response to her curious glare. "Shoot one of them." The woman smiled as the crew straightened. Turning to the man she winked at, she quickly shot him in the foot. He howled and hopped—cursing her and his captain—until he fell backward over the railing and onto the deck below. His howls could still be heard as Elinor tossed the gun back to Barbossa, who looked furious.
"Yeh were supposed to kill him," he hissed. North shook her head.
"You said 'shoot one of them', not kill," she said as she brushed passed him. He waved off his mates and they dispersed, continuing with their work aboard the Black Pearl. "You should be more specific next time." She came to rest against the starboard railing, running her hands over the coarse wood of the Pearl. Behind her she could hear the captain mumbling as he stuffed his weapon back into its holster. The sound of his steps turned Elinor around. She kicked her legs up to meet his chest—not to push him away, but just to keep him from coming any further.
"I'll not go back in there, Barbossa." The captain looked from her boots to her eyes.
"Take yer boots off me chest," he threatened. The woman obliged, folding her arms and waiting for his decision.
"Think about your rum," she said as he thought. The captain gave a hint of a smile as he straightened his coat.
"Fine," he finally said, moving toward her and lifting a string of hair, "but if one strand of this beautiful brown hair steps out of line—"
"I know, I know," she said, pushing his hand away. Barbossa grinned as he stepped back. "My dagger?" she inquired, holding out her palm.
"Oh no," he replied, patting the pocket that held her weapon. Eleanor's face contorted as she lowered her hand.
"How am I supposed to defend myself against these ruffians, then?" Barbossa shrugged.
"Improvise," he said, turning on his heal and marching back into his cabin.
Elinor North stood on the bridge, hands at her side, mouth hanging open, mind racing. Below her, the man with the hole in his foot was still recovering, his mates not really bothering to help him. They were more interested in the defenseless woman who stood outside the captain's quarters.
"Cap'n's givin' yeh up teh us now, is he?" observed Ragetti as he and his fellow crewmembers dropped what they were doing. Elinor froze, but her eyes darted in their sockets, looking for a weapon. Ragetti was on the top step of the bridge by the time she found it.
"Back off, you craven one-eyed maggot pie," the woman yelled as she swung a wet mop from its bucket and into Ragetti's face. Taken so back by the sudden action, the man lost his balance and followed in the steps (or lack thereof) of the pirate previously shot in the foot by North—over the railing and onto the forward deck. His mates froze.
"And that was just a mop, gents," Elinor threatened as she moved down the stairs, sweeping her weapon from side to side, keeping an eye on the crew. She swung it round and round, until a voice startled her and cemented her to her spot.
"Get back teh work, yeh dismal-dreamin' miscreants!" came an impatient voice from the bridge. Barbossa had returned—with a sober monkey and a banana. As soon as he saw that no one was working, he commanded them to return to their posts and threw the rest of his fruit into the crowd. Immediately every man aboard went back to work, leaving North to lower her mop and wonder what to do with herself.
Her question was answered when a hand came from behind her and roughly stole her weapon. Turning swiftly, she saw a tanned-skinned sailor, tall and dark-haired, with deep brown eyes and a strong jaw line.
"I beg your complete pardon, sir," she demanded sternly, placing her hands on her hips. The man ignored her at first, continuing to wash the deck.
"You'd better make yerself useful," he warned after some time, pointing to a rope that needed to be gathered up. Elinor sighed and went to work while the tall man stuck close by her.
"Where are we headed?" she asked as she finished with the cord. The man stopped wiping down the boards and rested his hands on the handle of the mop.
"Teh do what we pirates do best, o' course." Elinor raised an eyebrow. Her comrade sighed. "Find us some buried treasure, lass." North rolled her eyes before asking the sailor's name. The tall man moved toward her and extended his hand. "William Turner." She took his palm in hers, keeping her eyes on his. He coughed. "Or Bootstrap Bill…yes, Bootstrap to most."
"Well, William. It is refreshing to meet a real gentleman aboard this God-forsaken ship." Bootstrap winked, returning to his duties. Elinor followed his back, smiling to herself, until another line caught her eye.
________________________
"Elinor!"
Several pairs of eyes followed the source of the call to its destination. The said woman was bent over, positioning several ropes in a way so as they wouldn't trip any of the crew—or maybe in one that they would.
"Elinor!" came the call again. And again, the woman did not answer. Noticing the captain's red face, William moved slowly toward North, stopping a few feet away.
"Captain North," he whispered. Immediately Elinor's head snapped up. The man pointed toward the upper deck where Barbossa stood with his arms folded across his chest. When the woman met his glare, he stuck his neck out and opened his eyes wide, demanding silently why she hadn't answered his previous calls.
As Elinor realized how William had referred to her, she turned swiftly on him, her mouth gaping and her eyes on fire.
From above, the captain cleared his throat. North mouthed to Bootstrap Bill, informing him that they needed to talk. Barbossa stood still as she walked up the steps and stood beside him. His gaze was not fixed on her, however, and as Elinor followed his line of sight, she gasped.
"My sentiments exactly, lass."
________________________
Please review.