NOTE: Here it is…what I know you've all been waiting for. I finally managed to finish this, in-between writing a MILLION papers and pulling a MILLION strands of hair out of my head.
I hope you appreciate the efforts :)
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Ambrosia of the Sea
Chapter 9
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"You—"
There came a chuckle from the door, as the dark form stepped in from the bright morning. He was tall and lean, dressed in the traditional British Naval officer's uniform. His dark hair was slicked back under a tricorne, which shielded his icy blue eyes from the burning sun. Smiling a devilish smirk, he raised a brow and advanced further into the room.
"Aye, lass, 'tis me," he replied, winking at her. Both North and Barbossa wrapped their sheets tight around their bodies. The captain of the Black Pearl noticed a spiteful look flash across Elinor's face.
"You bastard," she hissed. "You disgustin', villainous spawn of Satan!" Her voice gradually rose to a level that even shocked Barbossa. The man at the door had a glint in his eye as he pulled a pistol from his pressed uniform.
"Those are some awfully harsh words, Steelwater," he said, polishing his gun on his jacket, avoiding her blazing glare.
"'Steelwater'?" came an inquiry from behind the woman. Both North and the intruder looked up to meet the questioning look of Barbossa. He saw the smile spread across the stranger's face as he wrapped a strong arm around the torso of Elinor and held the pistol to her temple. Rather than looking frightened, she was enraged. Kicking and cursing, she attempted to break free; her captor only laughed.
"Didn't she tell you her name before you ravaged her, Captain?" he asked, grinning at Barbossa's red cheeks.
"She said her name was North," he answered through gritted teeth.
"Indeed," the man answered, pressing his cheek against her hair. "As cold and proud as the wind that blows and the sea that sprays. Pray tell, Captain, did she tell you her given name?" At this, Elinor's eyes widened. She shook her head in an attempt to warn Barbossa not to speak it. After considering the notion, his curiosity got the best of him.
"Elinor."
"Ah, so that's it, is it?" the stranger confirmed, subduing a struggling woman. He held her so tight she could hardly breathe. He laughed at what seemed to be a "bastard" come out of her mouth. Barbossa watched the spectacle calmly, seizing his chance as the stranger pushed the edge of the sheet off of North's shoulder. But as he reached for the nearest weapon—Elinor's sword, lying atop her chest—there came a warning.
"Not so fast, Captain," the stranger said. "I'm not quite finished introducing you both." With the woman in his grasp, he took a few steps toward Barbossa. Elinor remained tense under his touch, but no longer struggled. "Allow me to introduce Captain 'Steelwater' North, of the Three Fates. Or should I say, formally of said ship." Barbossa raised a brow, looking from the man to Elinor, who looked helplessly back.
"I was going to tell you—" she started quietly, but was cut off by a hideous laugh.
"How can it be true? Yer father—" Barbossa began, ceasing the laughter while not quite believing her.
"Father? Is that how you covered?" the stranger asked. "Skeptical, Captain? Just take a look at that cutlass you're holding." Elinor winced as he readjusted his grasp of her. Barbossa unsheathed the weapon. Engraved in the blade was the name Captain Elinor 'Steelwater' North. He read the name allowed, before lowering the steel. His shoulders dropped with his eyes.
"That is interesting," he said, coming to terms with her lies. She is a pirate after all, he thought.
"It is indeed. And did you wonder, Captain—as you took her last night, perhaps even this morning as well—what this mark was above her breast?" the intruder asked, stroking the spot on Elinor's skin. He didn't wait for the answer; instead, he took the pistol from her temple and wrapped his arm completely around her neck while reaching in his coat for a knife. Retrieving it, he slid it softly across the scar.
"I gave it to her." She started thrashing again, but the man only laughed.
"Who the hell are you?" Barbossa demanded.
"My apologies, sir," he said mockingly, "Captain Nigel Morissey, of the King's Navy." As he said this, he straightened his posture, pulling back his shoulders and North with him.
"Captain," came a call from the door. A young officer poked his head into Barbossa's cabin, pausing momentarily to survey the scene before him.
"What is it?" Morissey demanded without looking at him.
"We've gathered them all and are ready to re-board." Nigel smirked.
"Very good, Mr. Dennison," came the response. The officer smiled to himself. "Lock them in the brig. I shall join you shortly." As the man's shadow disappeared, Morissey turned back to the matter at hand. "Well, shall we, my dear?" he asked into Elinor's ear. She jerked away as he snorted.
"Hasn't a captain at least have the righ' teh be clothed when captured?" Barbossa asked from the window. Morissey narrowed his eyes before speaking.
"I suppose."
Barbossa shifted uneasily when the captain and Elinor did not move.
"On with it, then," the man persisted. Barbossa took the hint, walking around the room and gathering his clothing. He turned his back to the two occupants as he dressed. He has been insulted, belittled in front of this pig, thought Elinor. No dignity left. As Barbossa straightened his hat, he spun slowly around. The humiliated look on his face was unmistakable.
"Put these on," Nigel said as he threw the captain iron shackles. Barbossa stared at them for a moment, not believing what was happening. "Now," came a stern, loud voice. Elinor watched sadly as the captain of the Black Pearl bent down and picked up the cuffs, slipping them over his wrists and securing them. Her eyes filled with tears to where she had to blink them back. "Out with you," Nigel commanded when he was finished.
"Wait, what about my clothes? Aren't I a captain as well?" North protested. Morissey snorted.
"Captain of what?" Elinor nearly bit the tip of her tongue off as she gnashed her teeth together.
"Why you—" She lashed violently against Nigel's chest. As he was trying to regain control of her, Barbossa saw his second window of opportunity. He came charging toward the captain, whose back was now turned to him. Before he could crash into him, however, he had a gun pointing at the spot between his eyes.
"I wouldn't do anything foolish if I were in your position, Captain," the man threatened.
"I'm goin' teh swing anyway," he retaliated, his nostrils flaring. Nigel grinned.
"That you are." Elinor could hear his excitement. "Get out."
"What about my clothes!?" Elinor screamed as she was dragged from the cabin.
"Oh no, Elinor. I have plans for you," he answered, smiling to himself. He held her tight as they walked behind Barbossa across to the adjacent ship. The sulking captain turned to look once more at the three ladies at the bow of the vessel.
"Magnificent, aren't they?" Morissey asked from behind, receiving no answer. "Lady Lachesis will have the last say in your life, I'm afraid." The other captain hung his proud head and proceeded up the plank to the Fates.
"Mr. Dennison," commanded Nigel as they boarded, "the Black Pearl needs a crew. See to it that she arrives safely in Port Royal." The officer rounded up ten of Morissey's men to board the opposite ship.
"A fairly decent addition to the British fleet, wouldn't you say?" he asked Barbossa, who still would not speak. North thought his behavior odd. "Mr. Merret?"
"Yes, sir?" A lofty, lean officer stepped out of the crowd.
"Take this man below," he said, looking toward Barbossa. Merret obeyed, grabbing hold of the captain's arm and leading him away from Elinor and Nigel. "You've missed her, I can tell," he whispered into her ear as he led her to her old cabin. North bit her tongue to stop from cursing. "She's missed you, too," he said as the door to the room opened and her eyes fell upon the space.
Her old bed, just as it was—dark blue coverings accenting Caribbean blue pillows. The high headboard of hand-crafted mahogany was untouched; as was everything else in the room—save for the clothes in the wardrobe and the papers on the heavy matching desk in the back corner of the room. Even all her books seemed to be accounted for; Elinor had an expansive library—everything from Chaucer to Shakespeare.
Nigel left her standing in the middle of the room in just her sheet as he turned to lock the door. She heard him set his pistol down on an end table behind her.
"Sit," he said as he gently pushed her down onto her own bed. The woman watched him go through a doorway to her left that led to the dining area. She caught a glimpse of her table and rug imported from India, along with the magnificent chandelier that hung over them both. It was a beauty given to her by her uncle—the one from whom she learned to love apples. "Here," Nigel said as he re-entered the room, handing her a slice of bread and a goblet of water. Elinor took them tentatively, surprised at his generosity. "Don't look at me like that; everyone needs to eat."
What? She thought quietly as she took a bite of the loaf, keeping her eyes on Nigel as he took off his coat and hung it in the massive wardrobe at the far side of the room, then returned to sit beside her.
"Well, shall we get on with it then?" she asked after she downed the goblet.
"On with what?" Elinor raised her brow. Nigel laughed, almost embarrassingly. "Ah yes, with that." He pushed back a strand of her hair. "As enticing as that sounds at the moment, I have work to do."
"You what?" she demanded. "Who the hell are you?"
"Obviously not who you thought I was." Morissey smiled as he got up and walked over to a chest sitting beside the desk. Opening it, he pulled out a full, long plum dress, lined with gold trim and black layers beneath. It was beautiful.
"It was my mother's," he said as he brought the dress to North. "She was just about your size." The woman stood up as he held it against her. "Yes, it will fit." He held it out to her. "Go on, take it. By nightfall that sheet will be awfully cold to walk around in."
Elinor gingerly took the dress into one hand. She looked up into Nigel's cold blue eyes before she went to the washroom, noticing a small spark in them.
The dress did indeed fit fairly well—save for her waist (and ribs) nearly being crushed while slipping it on. She buttoned the front, scowling at the promiscuous choice of clothing of Mrs. Morissey and her likeliness to show off her chest. After washing her face, Elinor turned to a vase sitting on the porcelain wash bin filled with blood-red roses.
She acted quickly, plucking the flowers from their resting place and pouring the water into the sink. After wrapping the glass tightly in the elaborate dress, she tensed and smashed the vase against the wood floor. It shattered without a sound. Elinor let out her breath while she unwrapped the remnants, smiling to herself as she chose the sharpest shard of glass. Setting it beside her, she held its companions within the folds of her outfit and carried them to the open window.
Outside she could see the Pearl drifting gently beside them. The glass fell into the Caribbean as tears into a pool of rainwater. After retrieving her weapon from the ground and placing it carefully between the layers of her bosom, she returned to the bedroom.
Nigel sat at her desk, scribbling on parchment. His guest sat herself back upon the edge of the bed.
"Am I to hang as well?" she wondered out loud. The sound of writing stopped.
"That all depends," the captain replied.
"On what?" Elinor inquired, forgetting herself.
"On you," he said, as if the answer was blatantly obvious. He smiled and Elinor scowled. "On your cooperation, that is," he clarified, rising from his chair. The woman rested her chin on her hand, curiosity taking over.
"With what?"
"The capture of every last pirate in the Caribbean," he answered, his eyes smiling. Elinor straightened.
"How am I supposed to help with that?" The questions kept coming. "I have no idea where every pirate ship makes berth. This is precisely why you have not captured them all already."
"I see," Morissey answered, thinking. Soon his smirk returned. "Then perhaps we will have to formulate another plan." He proceeded to tell Elinor his idea of a "high seas brothel", in which she and her all-female crew would lure pirates into an island harbor, where his ship and crew would be waiting just around the peninsula. The plan sounded eerily familiar.
"You want me to do what?"
"You won't have to do anything," Nigel soothed, pulling up a chair to sit across from North. "We will be upon them before they unlace your bodice."
"Good Lord," Elinor exhaled, shaking her head. Nigel watched patiently through forget-me-not eyes.
"Do this," he urged, placing his hand upon her cheek, "and you shall live longer than your companions downstairs." The woman sighed, avoiding his gaze.
"Live for what? I'm not so sure anymore." Morissey caressed her skin gently with his thumb.
"You can start anew."
"With you, I suppose?" Nigel's face brightened.
"You read my mind." Elinor leaned in close; their noses nearly touched.
"Never," she whispered. "I'll never succumb to you or your ridiculous, degrading plan." She attempted to lean back, but the captain grabbed a handful of her hair and held her tight.
"Then you shall hang for being the drunken whore you really are," he hissed into her ear. Elinor struggled—but not to break free. Nigel laughed only for a moment. Soon he felt the cool sting of sharp glass against his cheek.
"Clever girl," he praised, releasing the woman's hair from his grasp. Elinor stood.
"Do not underestimate me, Captain," she warned, moving toward the door.
"I never did," he answered, crossing his arms and gazing at her amusedly. "What is your plan now? Off to see that dog of yours?" North tightened the grip on her weapon, ignoring the blood now flowing from her palm. "You deserve better, Elinor."
"Better than life on the sea?"
"Better than Barbossa."
"Better than you," she retaliated, opening the door to the afternoon sun. Nigel held his hand to his eyes to shield the bright light.
"I'll be seeing you," he said softly as Elinor ventured out onto the deck.
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Ten points to whoever can guess where my inspiration for Morissey came from.
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