And here it is another Saturaday morning and another chapter. This chapter was a bear to get funny. Thank Goodness for Pintel! What can I say, he is more straight forward funny! The sad thing is, usually my male characters that agrovate the heroine this much end up eventually marrying her. Don't worry. Pintel will be returning to his wife someday, but he does play off of Marita well!
Don't hate Marita for this chapter. Remember that she is a mother, she has had a bad marriage, and she is harboring two criminals. Like it or not, that is what Pintel and Ragetti are.
My thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! Hugs to you all. I would throw kisses to you all to, but I think you all female, and so am I! None of that please! :)
To Peipei, I greatly appreciate your reviews as always, and please don't get insulted by my portrayal of Barbosa in this story. you have to remember whose poitn of view this all is. I don't really think Pintel and Ragetti particularly loved the man. They feared him and they loved the rewards that he brought them. My firend James and I are coming up with a story about the judgement of Barbosa's soul, and please, don't shoot me for it!
Thanks to my new reviewers, Bornlevel-pooler and Piratedragon. I bow graciously to you both. Piratedragon is writing a rather interesting little piece about the return of that lovely curse in two different stories. And Bornlevel-pooler aka Undead poet 14, is writing about adventures of Will Turner's old er sister and pirate Arcelia Turner.
Anyone else, who reviews, I will happily read your goodies, trust me!
Fianl note, and this has been too long of a note, I am reposting chapters, but it is mostly proof reading. When I orignally came up with this story, Ragetti was not from England, and now he is. I am changing some wording in Chapter 1 concerning fish and chips, so if I am on your Author Alerts, that is what is going on here.
Chapter 11: Tea for Three
"What do you two lowlifes think you are doing?" she demanded with a low growl.
"Uh . . ." Ragetti intelligently replied as usual. He felt those disgusting butterflies doing their thing not only in his stomach, but they had migrated to places of his body that no butterfly should flutter. The way that they were eating away at the back of his knees, he could have sworn they were more like moths than butterflies. He bit his lower lip and squinted his eyes close. This wasn't the first time he had been on the receiving end of a musket, pistol, bayonet, or any other kind of firearm. He had spent most of his life in such compromising positions.
"We di'n't do an'thing wrong this time!" Pintel complained, "All I did was come in 'ere and pulled out burnt pastries!"
"There are reasons I give you nitwits rules, and I expect you to follow them!" she yelled at them.
The two men cringed, and Lucy crawled under the table. Finally, the smaller pirate sighed and lowered his hands. Marita eyed him warily as he moved to the table. He dug through his pockets and pulled out a small bag of coins, Mr. Brown's pocket watch, Mrs. Elliston's gold earrings, Captain Gillette's purse, his pistol, and his gold cuff links, not to mention other sundries from the populace of Port Royal, that defied the laws of space for any man's pockets. "Now, ye can put 'side the bloody blaster. Ya wouldn't be wantin' blood shed in front of the littl' miss, and 'sides, Ragetti nor me feel much inclined 'bout cleanin' the other's blood, body parts, and other things from the floor, stove, tables, each other, and anything else in the way."
The withering stare turned directly at him was strong enough to kill a young healthy palm tree. Oh well, he'd seen worse. He sighed dejectedly and with a mild pout, and he pulled out Gillette's sword from his pants leg and laid it on the table along with Mrs. Powers ruby necklace and matching bracelet, and finally, with a great effort, he laid young Miss Clavert's corset on the table. "Ya be a 'ard woman, Mrs. Marita!" he grumped.
She looked at the vast collection on her table with disgust. She wasn't about to ask about the how and why he stole the corset, and why he was petting it so lovingly with that lecherous smile of his on his lips. She was only gone for two hours! She shook off the disturbing thoughts and turned her fierce glower upon the older pirate. "That's not what I mean, you scurvy dog! My rooms and my child are my business!" she barked, as she buried the musket into Ragetti's golden hair.
A startled whimper came from the younger man. His eyes grew wide and his mouth was agape. He felt those darn butterflies invaded his bladder. "I-I di'n't go upstairs, ma'am. I've been in the kitchen the 'ole time!" He pointed out with the hope of appeasing her. "'Stella, she came to me. She was losin' 'er marbles, ye see . . ."
The little girl put her hands behind her back. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red, as she looked down at her feet. She shuffled a bit as Marita's scrutiny fell on her. "I told you to stay away from the bad men downstairs!" she spoke sternly holding back her intense anger.
"Uncle Tony and Uncle 'Enry aren't bad men," she protested, "They were really nice to me and really fun to play with. Uncle 'Enry says the funniest things, and Uncle Tony plays marbles with me. They aren't mean like daddy used to be."
"Enough, young lady!" she cried out with more fear than actual anger, "Go to your room NOW!"
The child bit her lower lip and held back the tears. Pintel scowled at the mistress of the bakery, as he crossed his arms. He could be his bold obnoxious self. After all, it had been a few minutes since the musket was trained on him. "Bit 'arsh on 'er, don't ye think?" Pintel remarked. She turned on him. Her blazing eyes met with his. He had seen a mother tiger's eyes like that once, as he held onto one of her squirming cubs. There was no one there to yank him away this time. Ragetti was otherwise occupied in keeping control of his bladder, and Lucy just whimpered under the table.
"You keep out of this!" she demanded, as she gave him another intense killer look. The older pirate only smirked. He'd seen worse from Mrs. Pintel.
Ragetti started to think about all those prayers for this particular situation that his mother had tried to teach him. He just wished that Rachel, in her lack of clothing, that more times than not revealed more than what was tastefully accepted, was not so much on his mind then. If he hadn't been trying to figure out how to acquire three shillings for her esteemed services, he might have learned something useful. Given that his rescue from this particular problem rested in a man, who had the tendency of mooning the Royal Navy every time they came close enough to port, he didn't feel too confident in the preservation of his life, and he best be thinking about that afterlife thing.
"Well, seein' 'ow it is that ye got the barrel of a musket aimed at me partner's 'ead, I believe I be in this al'eady. 'E's 'ard 'nough to be 'round with that pea brain of 'is, and I ain't gonna 'bouts with 'im 'eadless and all. 'Sides, I be the one to be cleanin' up 'is mess! I 'ave got 'nough work to try and get out of as it is."
The taller pirate swallowed the lump in his throat. He started praying to any god out there that might hear his plea, including the heathen Aztec gods that once cursed him. Oh well, at least they knew each other. Tears started to roll down his cheeks. It wasn't like this was the first time he was held at the mercy of a woman, but Eliza had removed the dagger from his throat as soon as he handed over all his money and got out of her bed. This situation was a bit different.
"Mommy!" Estella cried out, "You're making Uncle Tony cry! You are being mean like daddy used to be!"
"I told you to go to your room, Estella! I mean it! Do what you are told!"
"But, mommy!" she sniffed.
"Go now!!" she demanded, "I will deal with you later!"
The little girl pouted and ran up the steps in tears. The baker pulled the musket away from Ragetti's head, and the tall man fell to his knees, relieved in more than one way. She lowered her weapon, and she looked to each of them in their turn.
"Let me make this absolutely clear. Stay away from my daughter or else one of you . . ." She gave a meaningful glance to Ragetti, who didn't notice because of his weeping, " . . . will met his end by St. Peter." She looked at the defiant Pintel. "The other will find himself unconscious and soon at the end of a noose. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Mrs. Marita," Ragetti answered obediently through a cracked voice, as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
She gave a sidelong glance to Pintel. "Hmpf!" answered the older pirate, "I like me women a bit older," he grunted, as he went back to the front of the bakery.
"I mean especially you, you foul mouthed lousy piece of mule manure!" she shouted after him, as she went to follow him. She paused at the doorway. The younger pirate quietly picked up the marbles. "Clean up your mess," she ordered him, as she continued to the main part of the bakery. She would blow off her steam with the abuse to the one who most needed it, then she could calmly deal with her daughter.
Two days later, Marita went out to make the final arrangements to get the goods for the bakery delivered. The household had been quiet since the incident with Estella. Of course, a lot of this had to do with the lack of the rum flow. No one felt inclined to cross Marita again. Lucy just sat behind the counter and looked up at Pintel as if it was all his fault. The pirate was none too happy with Marita either. She had returned all his rightfully stolen goods to the proper owners. How was a pirate to make a living in this place!
Ragetti continued to clean the kitchen, but Marita had not offered to show him anything new about the baking. He had not only enjoyed the attention given him and having someone believed that he could actually do something right for a change, but he enjoyed being near her. He touched the little pouch of marbles he had tied to his belt. He'd never been a father before, and it wasn't for the lack of trying. He sighed and returned to his normal routine right down to the images of Marita in differing states of undress. He hummed, then sang (and not too badly. His voice wasn't all that good, but, at least, it wouldn't make Lucy howl in pain.) a bit of a dirty pirate ditty, that Pintel did teach him, as he swept the dirt on the floor towards himself. He stepped backwards and swept, stepped backwards and swept, stepped backwards and stumbled over Estella, who had appeared out of nowhere. He dropped the broom with a cry.
Estella covered her mouth as she giggled at the frightened man. He recovered himself and coughed briefly. He turned around and knelt down to the girl. "What are ye doin' 'ere, poppet? Ya got me and Pintel in a might bit of trouble."
"Sorry, uncle Tony. I was lonely, me and Miss Alice," she answered, as she held up a fancy dressed rag doll.
"Why, hi there, Miss Alice. Glad to met ya," Ragetti greeted with a nod of his head.
"Uncle Tony, what's 'the grand ole brothel in Piccadily'?" she asked sweetly.
The pirate's face turned twenty shades of red and his tongue felt like lead. "Uh . . ." he answered, then he remembered the girl's marbles. He undid the pouch and handed them to her. "Ye forgot 'em the other day. Ye must keep track of yer marbles!" he told her hurriedly.
"Thank you, Uncle Tony," she said with a proper little curtsy. "Miss Alice and me, we would like to know if you would like to come to our tea party?"
Ragetti opened his mouth to deny her request, but she flashed those big dark eyes up at him. His shoulders drooped. Oh well, one must die someday. He gave her a big carefree smile. "Ne'er been invited to a tea party 'fore!"
"Miss Alice say for you to bring the crumpets," the child added.
"Alright," he answered. He looked at the different pastries and breads he had pulled from the oven in confusion. "Uh, which ones are the crumpets?" he asked.
The little girl laughed and pointed out the little cakes. He nodded and picked out three of them, then he followed her upstairs.
Marita returned from her business. The delivery would be that evening. She entered the bakery to find Pintel leaning back in a chair with his feet on the counter and completely engrossed in picking his nose. She frowned and coughed loudly. He continued to ignore her and continued to dig for those buried treasures. She grabbed hold of one of his ankles forcefully and made him fall from the precarious chair and land hard on his backside. He quickly got up, and she grabbed him by the collars.
"Yes?" he asked nonchalantly.
"Where's the feather duster I gave you? You need to do some cleaning instead of sitting around doing nothing!"
"Oh, was that what that stick with the feathers was fer? It made one hell of a great back scratcher once Lucy ate all the feathers off of it."
She dropped the obnoxious little man to the floor, as she turned her glare at the large black dog behind the counter in the corner amongst the ruined feathers. Her intense glare made the giant devil dog whine and cringe. She sighed exasperated and shook her head.
"Clean up this mess," she ordered.
She huffed her way into the kitchen. She stopped dead in the silent empty room. She frowned. Trays of pastries were laid out on the tables, and nothing was in the oven. That was the good part. Her worker was nowhere to be seen. She returned to the front. It was best not to discuss what the dog and the man were doing with the destroyed feathers. Lucy looked up and wrinkled his brow in confusion. Pintel looked no better. She threw up her hands. She gave up! She wasn't about to ask either.
"Where's that cur Ragetti?" she demanded, somewhat fearing the answer.
Pintel looked up from his collected feather fuzz. "What do I look like?" He didn't want to know that answer! "'Is keeper? I ain't that daft!"
"I take it you don't know," she answered bluntly.
"'E were sweeping the last time I saw 'im," he replied, as he spat out some of the feather fuzz. "'E could be out doin' that call of nature thing, ya know. 'E's been tryin' out new things in the stew, and some of 'em things don't sit too well down in the belly. The boy be a bit shy a few upstairs, ya know . . ."
Suddenly something terrible dawned on her. She ran from the store front and through the kitchen to her rooms. She found her lost employee. He was sitting cheerfully at a miniature table with his long legs sprawled out at either side. He sipped from a blue and white china cup. The rag doll sat to his right with a full tea cup and a an untouched crumpet on her plate. Ragetti's crumpet was a fond memory and only a few crumbs remained on his plate. Estella stood to the left with the tea pot in hand. Her place setting had a full cup of tea and crumpet cake with a few delicate bites missing out of it.
The little girl curtsied to the pirate. "More, tea, sir?" she asked fitting well into her part of the proper lady.
"Thank ye, mi lady," he answered, trying to do his proper role. She filled his cup. he turned to the rag doll and asked, "Will ye be eatin' that crumpet, ma'am?" he continued, "Can I 'ave it then?"
Marita put her fists to her hips and cleared her throat loudly. "What do you think you are doing up here?" she demanded. Somehow, she was not as angry as the other day.
Ragetti leaned backwards and looked up at her grim foreboding face. "I be 'avin' tea with Miss 'Stella and Miss Alice, if ye please. Miss Alice said that I 'ad to bring the crumpets since I was the one who worked in the bake'y and all."
"Not only are you not allowed around my daughter, but you are strictly forbidden to go upstairs!"
"Oh yeah," Ragetti exclaimed as his eyes grew wide with the sudden enlightenment that dawned on him. This may well have been a brand new experience for him.
Having rushed up the steps in such a hurry, she had forgotten her faithful business partner St. Peter. Oh well, not only was she not as mad as she thought she would be, but she would have to clean up the mess that the musket made. So, she grabbed him physically by the collar and dragged him across the floor. He cheerfully waved "Bye" to the little ladies. Marita dropped him on the steps and gave him a proper push with her foot. He landed soundly in the kitchen and his wooden eye popped out to roll across the floor. "And stay out! " Marita shouted down at him. The door slammed with an ominous bang.
Pintel, with the remains of feathers stuck in the most unusual places, stood at the doorway to the store front. He stopped the happily rolling eye with his foot and shook his head at the disheveled mess of his partner.
"Ye are goin' to be the death of yerself yet!" the older pirate remarked, as he stuck the eye in Ragetti's hand.
Don't hate Marita for this chapter. Remember that she is a mother, she has had a bad marriage, and she is harboring two criminals. Like it or not, that is what Pintel and Ragetti are.
My thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! Hugs to you all. I would throw kisses to you all to, but I think you all female, and so am I! None of that please! :)
To Peipei, I greatly appreciate your reviews as always, and please don't get insulted by my portrayal of Barbosa in this story. you have to remember whose poitn of view this all is. I don't really think Pintel and Ragetti particularly loved the man. They feared him and they loved the rewards that he brought them. My firend James and I are coming up with a story about the judgement of Barbosa's soul, and please, don't shoot me for it!
Thanks to my new reviewers, Bornlevel-pooler and Piratedragon. I bow graciously to you both. Piratedragon is writing a rather interesting little piece about the return of that lovely curse in two different stories. And Bornlevel-pooler aka Undead poet 14, is writing about adventures of Will Turner's old er sister and pirate Arcelia Turner.
Anyone else, who reviews, I will happily read your goodies, trust me!
Fianl note, and this has been too long of a note, I am reposting chapters, but it is mostly proof reading. When I orignally came up with this story, Ragetti was not from England, and now he is. I am changing some wording in Chapter 1 concerning fish and chips, so if I am on your Author Alerts, that is what is going on here.
Chapter 11: Tea for Three
"What do you two lowlifes think you are doing?" she demanded with a low growl.
"Uh . . ." Ragetti intelligently replied as usual. He felt those disgusting butterflies doing their thing not only in his stomach, but they had migrated to places of his body that no butterfly should flutter. The way that they were eating away at the back of his knees, he could have sworn they were more like moths than butterflies. He bit his lower lip and squinted his eyes close. This wasn't the first time he had been on the receiving end of a musket, pistol, bayonet, or any other kind of firearm. He had spent most of his life in such compromising positions.
"We di'n't do an'thing wrong this time!" Pintel complained, "All I did was come in 'ere and pulled out burnt pastries!"
"There are reasons I give you nitwits rules, and I expect you to follow them!" she yelled at them.
The two men cringed, and Lucy crawled under the table. Finally, the smaller pirate sighed and lowered his hands. Marita eyed him warily as he moved to the table. He dug through his pockets and pulled out a small bag of coins, Mr. Brown's pocket watch, Mrs. Elliston's gold earrings, Captain Gillette's purse, his pistol, and his gold cuff links, not to mention other sundries from the populace of Port Royal, that defied the laws of space for any man's pockets. "Now, ye can put 'side the bloody blaster. Ya wouldn't be wantin' blood shed in front of the littl' miss, and 'sides, Ragetti nor me feel much inclined 'bout cleanin' the other's blood, body parts, and other things from the floor, stove, tables, each other, and anything else in the way."
The withering stare turned directly at him was strong enough to kill a young healthy palm tree. Oh well, he'd seen worse. He sighed dejectedly and with a mild pout, and he pulled out Gillette's sword from his pants leg and laid it on the table along with Mrs. Powers ruby necklace and matching bracelet, and finally, with a great effort, he laid young Miss Clavert's corset on the table. "Ya be a 'ard woman, Mrs. Marita!" he grumped.
She looked at the vast collection on her table with disgust. She wasn't about to ask about the how and why he stole the corset, and why he was petting it so lovingly with that lecherous smile of his on his lips. She was only gone for two hours! She shook off the disturbing thoughts and turned her fierce glower upon the older pirate. "That's not what I mean, you scurvy dog! My rooms and my child are my business!" she barked, as she buried the musket into Ragetti's golden hair.
A startled whimper came from the younger man. His eyes grew wide and his mouth was agape. He felt those darn butterflies invaded his bladder. "I-I di'n't go upstairs, ma'am. I've been in the kitchen the 'ole time!" He pointed out with the hope of appeasing her. "'Stella, she came to me. She was losin' 'er marbles, ye see . . ."
The little girl put her hands behind her back. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red, as she looked down at her feet. She shuffled a bit as Marita's scrutiny fell on her. "I told you to stay away from the bad men downstairs!" she spoke sternly holding back her intense anger.
"Uncle Tony and Uncle 'Enry aren't bad men," she protested, "They were really nice to me and really fun to play with. Uncle 'Enry says the funniest things, and Uncle Tony plays marbles with me. They aren't mean like daddy used to be."
"Enough, young lady!" she cried out with more fear than actual anger, "Go to your room NOW!"
The child bit her lower lip and held back the tears. Pintel scowled at the mistress of the bakery, as he crossed his arms. He could be his bold obnoxious self. After all, it had been a few minutes since the musket was trained on him. "Bit 'arsh on 'er, don't ye think?" Pintel remarked. She turned on him. Her blazing eyes met with his. He had seen a mother tiger's eyes like that once, as he held onto one of her squirming cubs. There was no one there to yank him away this time. Ragetti was otherwise occupied in keeping control of his bladder, and Lucy just whimpered under the table.
"You keep out of this!" she demanded, as she gave him another intense killer look. The older pirate only smirked. He'd seen worse from Mrs. Pintel.
Ragetti started to think about all those prayers for this particular situation that his mother had tried to teach him. He just wished that Rachel, in her lack of clothing, that more times than not revealed more than what was tastefully accepted, was not so much on his mind then. If he hadn't been trying to figure out how to acquire three shillings for her esteemed services, he might have learned something useful. Given that his rescue from this particular problem rested in a man, who had the tendency of mooning the Royal Navy every time they came close enough to port, he didn't feel too confident in the preservation of his life, and he best be thinking about that afterlife thing.
"Well, seein' 'ow it is that ye got the barrel of a musket aimed at me partner's 'ead, I believe I be in this al'eady. 'E's 'ard 'nough to be 'round with that pea brain of 'is, and I ain't gonna 'bouts with 'im 'eadless and all. 'Sides, I be the one to be cleanin' up 'is mess! I 'ave got 'nough work to try and get out of as it is."
The taller pirate swallowed the lump in his throat. He started praying to any god out there that might hear his plea, including the heathen Aztec gods that once cursed him. Oh well, at least they knew each other. Tears started to roll down his cheeks. It wasn't like this was the first time he was held at the mercy of a woman, but Eliza had removed the dagger from his throat as soon as he handed over all his money and got out of her bed. This situation was a bit different.
"Mommy!" Estella cried out, "You're making Uncle Tony cry! You are being mean like daddy used to be!"
"I told you to go to your room, Estella! I mean it! Do what you are told!"
"But, mommy!" she sniffed.
"Go now!!" she demanded, "I will deal with you later!"
The little girl pouted and ran up the steps in tears. The baker pulled the musket away from Ragetti's head, and the tall man fell to his knees, relieved in more than one way. She lowered her weapon, and she looked to each of them in their turn.
"Let me make this absolutely clear. Stay away from my daughter or else one of you . . ." She gave a meaningful glance to Ragetti, who didn't notice because of his weeping, " . . . will met his end by St. Peter." She looked at the defiant Pintel. "The other will find himself unconscious and soon at the end of a noose. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Mrs. Marita," Ragetti answered obediently through a cracked voice, as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
She gave a sidelong glance to Pintel. "Hmpf!" answered the older pirate, "I like me women a bit older," he grunted, as he went back to the front of the bakery.
"I mean especially you, you foul mouthed lousy piece of mule manure!" she shouted after him, as she went to follow him. She paused at the doorway. The younger pirate quietly picked up the marbles. "Clean up your mess," she ordered him, as she continued to the main part of the bakery. She would blow off her steam with the abuse to the one who most needed it, then she could calmly deal with her daughter.
Two days later, Marita went out to make the final arrangements to get the goods for the bakery delivered. The household had been quiet since the incident with Estella. Of course, a lot of this had to do with the lack of the rum flow. No one felt inclined to cross Marita again. Lucy just sat behind the counter and looked up at Pintel as if it was all his fault. The pirate was none too happy with Marita either. She had returned all his rightfully stolen goods to the proper owners. How was a pirate to make a living in this place!
Ragetti continued to clean the kitchen, but Marita had not offered to show him anything new about the baking. He had not only enjoyed the attention given him and having someone believed that he could actually do something right for a change, but he enjoyed being near her. He touched the little pouch of marbles he had tied to his belt. He'd never been a father before, and it wasn't for the lack of trying. He sighed and returned to his normal routine right down to the images of Marita in differing states of undress. He hummed, then sang (and not too badly. His voice wasn't all that good, but, at least, it wouldn't make Lucy howl in pain.) a bit of a dirty pirate ditty, that Pintel did teach him, as he swept the dirt on the floor towards himself. He stepped backwards and swept, stepped backwards and swept, stepped backwards and stumbled over Estella, who had appeared out of nowhere. He dropped the broom with a cry.
Estella covered her mouth as she giggled at the frightened man. He recovered himself and coughed briefly. He turned around and knelt down to the girl. "What are ye doin' 'ere, poppet? Ya got me and Pintel in a might bit of trouble."
"Sorry, uncle Tony. I was lonely, me and Miss Alice," she answered, as she held up a fancy dressed rag doll.
"Why, hi there, Miss Alice. Glad to met ya," Ragetti greeted with a nod of his head.
"Uncle Tony, what's 'the grand ole brothel in Piccadily'?" she asked sweetly.
The pirate's face turned twenty shades of red and his tongue felt like lead. "Uh . . ." he answered, then he remembered the girl's marbles. He undid the pouch and handed them to her. "Ye forgot 'em the other day. Ye must keep track of yer marbles!" he told her hurriedly.
"Thank you, Uncle Tony," she said with a proper little curtsy. "Miss Alice and me, we would like to know if you would like to come to our tea party?"
Ragetti opened his mouth to deny her request, but she flashed those big dark eyes up at him. His shoulders drooped. Oh well, one must die someday. He gave her a big carefree smile. "Ne'er been invited to a tea party 'fore!"
"Miss Alice say for you to bring the crumpets," the child added.
"Alright," he answered. He looked at the different pastries and breads he had pulled from the oven in confusion. "Uh, which ones are the crumpets?" he asked.
The little girl laughed and pointed out the little cakes. He nodded and picked out three of them, then he followed her upstairs.
Marita returned from her business. The delivery would be that evening. She entered the bakery to find Pintel leaning back in a chair with his feet on the counter and completely engrossed in picking his nose. She frowned and coughed loudly. He continued to ignore her and continued to dig for those buried treasures. She grabbed hold of one of his ankles forcefully and made him fall from the precarious chair and land hard on his backside. He quickly got up, and she grabbed him by the collars.
"Yes?" he asked nonchalantly.
"Where's the feather duster I gave you? You need to do some cleaning instead of sitting around doing nothing!"
"Oh, was that what that stick with the feathers was fer? It made one hell of a great back scratcher once Lucy ate all the feathers off of it."
She dropped the obnoxious little man to the floor, as she turned her glare at the large black dog behind the counter in the corner amongst the ruined feathers. Her intense glare made the giant devil dog whine and cringe. She sighed exasperated and shook her head.
"Clean up this mess," she ordered.
She huffed her way into the kitchen. She stopped dead in the silent empty room. She frowned. Trays of pastries were laid out on the tables, and nothing was in the oven. That was the good part. Her worker was nowhere to be seen. She returned to the front. It was best not to discuss what the dog and the man were doing with the destroyed feathers. Lucy looked up and wrinkled his brow in confusion. Pintel looked no better. She threw up her hands. She gave up! She wasn't about to ask either.
"Where's that cur Ragetti?" she demanded, somewhat fearing the answer.
Pintel looked up from his collected feather fuzz. "What do I look like?" He didn't want to know that answer! "'Is keeper? I ain't that daft!"
"I take it you don't know," she answered bluntly.
"'E were sweeping the last time I saw 'im," he replied, as he spat out some of the feather fuzz. "'E could be out doin' that call of nature thing, ya know. 'E's been tryin' out new things in the stew, and some of 'em things don't sit too well down in the belly. The boy be a bit shy a few upstairs, ya know . . ."
Suddenly something terrible dawned on her. She ran from the store front and through the kitchen to her rooms. She found her lost employee. He was sitting cheerfully at a miniature table with his long legs sprawled out at either side. He sipped from a blue and white china cup. The rag doll sat to his right with a full tea cup and a an untouched crumpet on her plate. Ragetti's crumpet was a fond memory and only a few crumbs remained on his plate. Estella stood to the left with the tea pot in hand. Her place setting had a full cup of tea and crumpet cake with a few delicate bites missing out of it.
The little girl curtsied to the pirate. "More, tea, sir?" she asked fitting well into her part of the proper lady.
"Thank ye, mi lady," he answered, trying to do his proper role. She filled his cup. he turned to the rag doll and asked, "Will ye be eatin' that crumpet, ma'am?" he continued, "Can I 'ave it then?"
Marita put her fists to her hips and cleared her throat loudly. "What do you think you are doing up here?" she demanded. Somehow, she was not as angry as the other day.
Ragetti leaned backwards and looked up at her grim foreboding face. "I be 'avin' tea with Miss 'Stella and Miss Alice, if ye please. Miss Alice said that I 'ad to bring the crumpets since I was the one who worked in the bake'y and all."
"Not only are you not allowed around my daughter, but you are strictly forbidden to go upstairs!"
"Oh yeah," Ragetti exclaimed as his eyes grew wide with the sudden enlightenment that dawned on him. This may well have been a brand new experience for him.
Having rushed up the steps in such a hurry, she had forgotten her faithful business partner St. Peter. Oh well, not only was she not as mad as she thought she would be, but she would have to clean up the mess that the musket made. So, she grabbed him physically by the collar and dragged him across the floor. He cheerfully waved "Bye" to the little ladies. Marita dropped him on the steps and gave him a proper push with her foot. He landed soundly in the kitchen and his wooden eye popped out to roll across the floor. "And stay out! " Marita shouted down at him. The door slammed with an ominous bang.
Pintel, with the remains of feathers stuck in the most unusual places, stood at the doorway to the store front. He stopped the happily rolling eye with his foot and shook his head at the disheveled mess of his partner.
"Ye are goin' to be the death of yerself yet!" the older pirate remarked, as he stuck the eye in Ragetti's hand.