A/N: I don't particularly like this chapter, and it is one that I had been planning for some time. The conversation between Pintel and Ragetti was one of the first ideas I had for this story. I started this chapter last week, and it was originally tacked on the end of Chapter 13. Oh well, I am glad to be done with this one. The title is inspired by Warren Zevon's song "Lawyers, Guns, and Money". Hey, I told you guys that I like some off the wall music! And Warren Zevon, the man, whose claim to fame was "Werewolves of London", is quite a bit on the normal side for me!
Oh well, and my thanks go out to my enthusiastic readers and reviewers. Catgirlutah, thank you, thank you, thank you! I will return the favor soon. My computer has had a slight nervous breakdown of late, and it has taken it two days to get back into full working order . . . well, sort of. All my docuements aren't back in there yet, but it will survive for awhile.
Thanks again to you, PeiPei. I am inspired by a comment that you made about marita getting into trouble over Pintel's interesting activities. I hope I can pull this one off. I look forward to reading more about Elizabeth.
Arendi Star, your story is still very excellent story. Ah, poor Ragetti, he kind of got roped into this life, between being the 11th of 15 and Pintel's bright ideas. Besides, he looks the part! :)
Anyway, enough said. On with the chapter. . .
Chapter 14: Wives, Pistols, and Money
Having been properly chewed out about certain poker games, being played with a certain little girl, that they were not suppose to be associating with, much less teaching her their bad habits (Of course, they were used to being yelled at and being threatened with asundrious forms of bodily harm for doing truly stupid things.), the two pirates were further punished by the confiscation of their evening rum. Oh well, Ragetti had managed to stow away a few bottles of cooking sherry in that disaster area that they called their sleeping quarters. It wasn't much on the taste buds, but it did get them there. Ragetti and Pintel laid back in their respective beds, and that simple action didn't sit well at all with the younger man. His rather over toasty back hit the collaboration of the mattress, the piles of dirty clothes, and many sundries, that didn't rightfully belonged in his bed, much less his possession, and he let out a distressed yelp of pain. It had been ten years since his body had truly acknowledged the pain of a new sunburn, and his back didn't take it in a sporting way. Ragetti arched his back away from the comfort of his bed, and he turned over and laid on his belly. He stared across the room in a quiet thoughtful way, as he swirled the vile liquid around in its bottle. Since his mind was on the reflections of memories and emotions and not exactly intellectual endeavors, his brain didn't feel the need to revolt the activity.
Pintel laid sprawled out on his back in the bed. He was in an exceptionally grouchy mood. He wanted his regular good night drink, and all his daily takings, that Marita had confiscated. Empty pockets and the foul sherry really didn't do much for him. After a really bad day at work, all he wanted was to get some sleep and be done with the day. He was receiving some nasty growls from Lucy, who was laying across his legs. The dog didn't care too much for the cooking sherry either, and he knew whose fault it was that that was all they had.
"Oh, shut up, ye mutt!" the older man growled, as he took a good swallow of the sherry. Wincing slightly, he allow the volatile drink slither done his throat. He pushed himself up and poured some of the contents of the bottle into the dog's lapping mouth, thus staining his sheets and already dirty clothes with the drink and dog slobber.
Ragetti smiled at them. He took up his bottle of cooking sherry and swigged a good size mouthful. Screwing his eyes closed and wincing, he swallowed it down. He choked for a time, then he slouched back down to his bed and laid his head in the crook of his blistered arm. He swung the bottle over the side of the bed.
"Pintel," he asked as he turned his head to look at his grumpy companion, "Do ye like it 'ere?"
"What ye talkin' 'bout, boy!" he shot back, "It be like bein' in prison! I need to get back out to sea, get a proper drink, and fill me pockets!"
"I like it 'ere. I ain't ne'er 'ad a real job 'fore," the younger man mused, "Me da, 'e tried to teach me 'bout the carpets and all, but it were all woodwork, and I got confused. When I lost me eye in the accident there, da gave up on me. Said I be nuttin' but a lousy littl' street rat. But, Mrs. Marita, she says I do a pretty good work. Maybe she thinks that I be worth something."
The older pirate sat up suddenly, and Lucy growled about the movement. The pirate and the dog had a mild staring contest, where Lucy finally snuffled and laid his head back down to the bed. This was not because the dog felt intimidated. It was because he didn't feel the man was worth the effort of a chew toy right now. He just wanted to his partner to lay the hell back down and be still and let him get some well earned sleep. Nevermind the fact that he had slept or ate most of the day while on duty with Pintel.
"Ragetti, my boy, she ain't foolhardy 'nough to think such a silly nonsensical of a thing!" Pintel pointed out. The older man drew in a deep breath and was ready to go into one of his long lectures from his vast stores of wisdom. No wonder they were always in trouble. "'Sides, we be full blooded pirates now. That means that we be black hearted lowlife no good fer nuttin' thieving bastards! We don't do 'onest jobs. It be 'gainst our very nature!"
Ragetti sat up on his elbows with a mild cringe of pain from the crispy complaints of his arms. Confusion crossed his red burned face. "I ain't no bastard! Me mum and da were married when I were born!"
"Ye missed the point, me boy. Don't ye miss the sea, the adventure, the treasure?" the elder asked.
Ragetti crossed his arms and laid his chin on them as he laid down. He was still able to swish the bottle of sherry about in his hand by his ear. "Aye. I do miss bein' out to sea, and I miss the wind on me face as we sailed, but if I leave 'ere, I'd miss 'ere, too."
"We've all got choices to make, boy. Me, I be glad to be 'way from the 'Ell bitch in the kitchen. If I wanted a bossy woman 'bouts, I'd 'ave stayed 'ome with Penny."
Ragetti relaxed and blinked his eyes, as he stared at the headboard of the bed. "'Ow old am I?" he asked.
"Boy, if ye don't know that one, I can't be 'elping ye!" the older man remarked in a condescending tone.
"Well, I mean, am I 34 or 44? Does the ten years of bein' an undead cursed pirate count? Mrs. Marita says I look like be in me 30's."
Pintel frowned, and having the luxury of having both eyes, he was able to cross them in concentration. "Well," he said after much consideration, "I guess ye be 34, since bein' dead, time kinda stopped fer us, ye know. Ain't ne'er 'eard of the dead growin' old 'n ' all. I says, then, I be 46. I certainly don't want to be 56 yet."
'Then I guess it is alright to like Mrs. Marita this way," the younger man remarked with a distant smile.
"Now, boy, don't ye be thinkin' of that woman that way! After all, she just offered to castrate ye this e'enin'! That ain't me idea of a romance made in 'Eaven, ye know."
"She don't mean it. She was just mad 'cause we taught 'Stella to drink like a real pirate while she played poker. She were a bit less mad when she found out that it weren't rum in that bottle and it were reall' just milk," he remarked happily.
"Och! And what would be wrong with that. I were drinking rum at 'er age!" Pintel snorted.
"I would reall' like to be 'Stella's da. She's such a cute littl' bugger, and I think she likes me, too."
"Now, boy, don't ye be thinkin' like that! Let me tell ye, married with children be a worse curse than what we 'ave just survived!" he pointed out like a man with experience.
"Ya don't miss Mrs. Pintel and yer wee ones back 'ome?"
"Like the gout, boy!" he growled, "Now, put those awful thoughts out of yer 'ead and get some sleep 'fore the task master cracks the whip 'gain."
The younger pirate grimaced and downed the rest of his sherry in one gulp, that caused him to screw his face up further. He pounded his chest and coughed, Finally, he did an award winning belch, that would rival his partner's specialties. With a happy thought and smile, he popped his wooden eye out and placed it in its cup with the flower and the dirty sock. He finally laid his head down on his arms, embracing the pillow and clutching the goodies underneath. He fell into a peaceful joyful sleep with dreams that would earn him a good hearty smack.
Pintel turned over on his side and stared out the window at the last quarter moon and the surrounding stars. He heaved a heavy sigh and gave a distant smile. "Well, watcha know," he whispered, " I be 10 years younger, Penny. If only I can find me way back to ye, I wonder 'ow ye feel 'bouts me now?"
Thursday morning and day went on in its usual manner. Marita got up early to make the bread and the pastries. Late morning, she tackled the jungle of dirty clothes and woke up her lazy employees with little to no trouble. Lucy did the fang work on Pintel, and she needed only poke Ragetti in the back to get him up howling.
"What have you done to yourself now?" she asked exasperated.
"Uh . . . well . . . I . . . . uh . . . kind of got sunburned yesterday. I ain't used to doin' the laundry and the wood in the afternoon," he explained.
She frowned and pushed some of the peeling skin from his face. "I have some salve for that, too. You'd think as long as you have been a pirate, that sunburn wouldn't even be noticeable to you."
Pintel ran through the room with Lucy hot on his track. The dog was having the time of his life, and this was the most exercise he got out of the day. No one paid them any mind. This was a normal everyday occurrence. The taller pirate did an unnoticeable blush. "I'm a bit of a wuss when it comes to pain," he confessed.
"Take off your gown, and I'll get the salve," she told him.
Pintel rushed across the room again followed by the rather sizeable dog. Marita left, and Ragetti got up to dress himself, as his companion ran passed him and tumbled out of the window with an ungracious growl and an obscenely cursed thud, then followed by the pursuing dog, another thud, and a gasp of the wind being knocked out of him.
Marita returned to the room with the salve. The remaining pirate smiled up at her from his position on the bed. She cleared off a space on the table and placed the jar on it. She stood up straight, crossed her arms and glared daggers at him.
"Off with the shirt," she ordered.
His smile brightened in a frightening way. "Mrs. Marita! I di'n't know ye be that type of woman!"
He dodged her swing and bashed himself on the head board of the bed. Oh well, it achieved the same results. She rolled him over and stripped down his shirt and applied the ointment. She snorted at the scars. She bet he passed out when he received those marks. What a wuss, indeed, she thought. When her task was done, she poured a pitcher of cold water on his head, and he sat up suddenly.
Marita shoved the jar of salve into his hands. "Wash off your hands, arms and face, then put the ointment there, too."
"You're not gonna do it fer me?" he complained hopefully.
The look she shot back at him made him cringe appropriately back on his bed.
"Yes, Mrs. Marita," he surrendered.
"When you are done, I want to show you how to make the bread better, . . . yet again. No red peppers, bell pepper, cayenne pepper, or anything else that is hot and spicy this time.
She turned and left the room. Within a very few minutes, the taller of the two men was ready for his job of the day. The mistress of the bakery eyed him over. The white pasty ointment was gathered in clumps on his face, making him look like his nose was a bit longer and crooked like a decrepit hag with white eyebrows and a white mustache to boot. She placed her hand over her mouth to laugh at him, as she rubbed the stuff into the pores of his face. He twisted a smile and moved in nearer to her. Unnoticed, he moved his hands closer to her face, but fortunately, he was interrupted. Pintel burst into the room followed by his panting canine companion. He grumbled some not so nice obscenities as he slouched his way to the front of the store.
Ragetti was still in a daze as she began her instructions. She finally noticed her attentive audience and kicked him in the knee caps to regain his true attention. He gave her a clueless smile and listened up to her instructions. Although eager to learn and please her, he had serious trouble keeping his mind on his work, and it was a wonder that he got anything done at all and all his limbs were kept in tact and whole, since they had the tendency to roam to places where they did not belong. After a couple of hours work and reprimands about the misuse of some rather nasty and hot spices, Marita went to the front of the store to deal with her other obnoxious problem.
Pintel was less grateful for her help. She had well aimed kicks for whenever he tried to do some pocketing of profits. He couldn't turn a good shilling or a gold cuff link with her around, because she was just as skillful at returning the stolen item back to its proper owner. She showed the disgruntled pirate how to close up for the night. Some of the suggestions the older man had for the procedure were quite amusing even for Marita, and he was lucky to keep everything in tact also.
Since the men were not left to their own devices that day, they did not get into too much trouble, and they were entitled to their dinners and bottle of rum. Marita took her and Estella's meal upstairs and left the two to their meal. Ragetti fetched the rum and picked up that pistol from the previous night. Pintel made a comment about the load in his pants, but didn't venture further into investigation. There was some places that other men did not go! Anyway, the younger would have to stash his find somewhere in the room, and he'd find it sooner or later. Anyway, the two of them got to got to bed happy that night.
Oh well, and my thanks go out to my enthusiastic readers and reviewers. Catgirlutah, thank you, thank you, thank you! I will return the favor soon. My computer has had a slight nervous breakdown of late, and it has taken it two days to get back into full working order . . . well, sort of. All my docuements aren't back in there yet, but it will survive for awhile.
Thanks again to you, PeiPei. I am inspired by a comment that you made about marita getting into trouble over Pintel's interesting activities. I hope I can pull this one off. I look forward to reading more about Elizabeth.
Arendi Star, your story is still very excellent story. Ah, poor Ragetti, he kind of got roped into this life, between being the 11th of 15 and Pintel's bright ideas. Besides, he looks the part! :)
Anyway, enough said. On with the chapter. . .
Chapter 14: Wives, Pistols, and Money
Having been properly chewed out about certain poker games, being played with a certain little girl, that they were not suppose to be associating with, much less teaching her their bad habits (Of course, they were used to being yelled at and being threatened with asundrious forms of bodily harm for doing truly stupid things.), the two pirates were further punished by the confiscation of their evening rum. Oh well, Ragetti had managed to stow away a few bottles of cooking sherry in that disaster area that they called their sleeping quarters. It wasn't much on the taste buds, but it did get them there. Ragetti and Pintel laid back in their respective beds, and that simple action didn't sit well at all with the younger man. His rather over toasty back hit the collaboration of the mattress, the piles of dirty clothes, and many sundries, that didn't rightfully belonged in his bed, much less his possession, and he let out a distressed yelp of pain. It had been ten years since his body had truly acknowledged the pain of a new sunburn, and his back didn't take it in a sporting way. Ragetti arched his back away from the comfort of his bed, and he turned over and laid on his belly. He stared across the room in a quiet thoughtful way, as he swirled the vile liquid around in its bottle. Since his mind was on the reflections of memories and emotions and not exactly intellectual endeavors, his brain didn't feel the need to revolt the activity.
Pintel laid sprawled out on his back in the bed. He was in an exceptionally grouchy mood. He wanted his regular good night drink, and all his daily takings, that Marita had confiscated. Empty pockets and the foul sherry really didn't do much for him. After a really bad day at work, all he wanted was to get some sleep and be done with the day. He was receiving some nasty growls from Lucy, who was laying across his legs. The dog didn't care too much for the cooking sherry either, and he knew whose fault it was that that was all they had.
"Oh, shut up, ye mutt!" the older man growled, as he took a good swallow of the sherry. Wincing slightly, he allow the volatile drink slither done his throat. He pushed himself up and poured some of the contents of the bottle into the dog's lapping mouth, thus staining his sheets and already dirty clothes with the drink and dog slobber.
Ragetti smiled at them. He took up his bottle of cooking sherry and swigged a good size mouthful. Screwing his eyes closed and wincing, he swallowed it down. He choked for a time, then he slouched back down to his bed and laid his head in the crook of his blistered arm. He swung the bottle over the side of the bed.
"Pintel," he asked as he turned his head to look at his grumpy companion, "Do ye like it 'ere?"
"What ye talkin' 'bout, boy!" he shot back, "It be like bein' in prison! I need to get back out to sea, get a proper drink, and fill me pockets!"
"I like it 'ere. I ain't ne'er 'ad a real job 'fore," the younger man mused, "Me da, 'e tried to teach me 'bout the carpets and all, but it were all woodwork, and I got confused. When I lost me eye in the accident there, da gave up on me. Said I be nuttin' but a lousy littl' street rat. But, Mrs. Marita, she says I do a pretty good work. Maybe she thinks that I be worth something."
The older pirate sat up suddenly, and Lucy growled about the movement. The pirate and the dog had a mild staring contest, where Lucy finally snuffled and laid his head back down to the bed. This was not because the dog felt intimidated. It was because he didn't feel the man was worth the effort of a chew toy right now. He just wanted to his partner to lay the hell back down and be still and let him get some well earned sleep. Nevermind the fact that he had slept or ate most of the day while on duty with Pintel.
"Ragetti, my boy, she ain't foolhardy 'nough to think such a silly nonsensical of a thing!" Pintel pointed out. The older man drew in a deep breath and was ready to go into one of his long lectures from his vast stores of wisdom. No wonder they were always in trouble. "'Sides, we be full blooded pirates now. That means that we be black hearted lowlife no good fer nuttin' thieving bastards! We don't do 'onest jobs. It be 'gainst our very nature!"
Ragetti sat up on his elbows with a mild cringe of pain from the crispy complaints of his arms. Confusion crossed his red burned face. "I ain't no bastard! Me mum and da were married when I were born!"
"Ye missed the point, me boy. Don't ye miss the sea, the adventure, the treasure?" the elder asked.
Ragetti crossed his arms and laid his chin on them as he laid down. He was still able to swish the bottle of sherry about in his hand by his ear. "Aye. I do miss bein' out to sea, and I miss the wind on me face as we sailed, but if I leave 'ere, I'd miss 'ere, too."
"We've all got choices to make, boy. Me, I be glad to be 'way from the 'Ell bitch in the kitchen. If I wanted a bossy woman 'bouts, I'd 'ave stayed 'ome with Penny."
Ragetti relaxed and blinked his eyes, as he stared at the headboard of the bed. "'Ow old am I?" he asked.
"Boy, if ye don't know that one, I can't be 'elping ye!" the older man remarked in a condescending tone.
"Well, I mean, am I 34 or 44? Does the ten years of bein' an undead cursed pirate count? Mrs. Marita says I look like be in me 30's."
Pintel frowned, and having the luxury of having both eyes, he was able to cross them in concentration. "Well," he said after much consideration, "I guess ye be 34, since bein' dead, time kinda stopped fer us, ye know. Ain't ne'er 'eard of the dead growin' old 'n ' all. I says, then, I be 46. I certainly don't want to be 56 yet."
'Then I guess it is alright to like Mrs. Marita this way," the younger man remarked with a distant smile.
"Now, boy, don't ye be thinkin' of that woman that way! After all, she just offered to castrate ye this e'enin'! That ain't me idea of a romance made in 'Eaven, ye know."
"She don't mean it. She was just mad 'cause we taught 'Stella to drink like a real pirate while she played poker. She were a bit less mad when she found out that it weren't rum in that bottle and it were reall' just milk," he remarked happily.
"Och! And what would be wrong with that. I were drinking rum at 'er age!" Pintel snorted.
"I would reall' like to be 'Stella's da. She's such a cute littl' bugger, and I think she likes me, too."
"Now, boy, don't ye be thinkin' like that! Let me tell ye, married with children be a worse curse than what we 'ave just survived!" he pointed out like a man with experience.
"Ya don't miss Mrs. Pintel and yer wee ones back 'ome?"
"Like the gout, boy!" he growled, "Now, put those awful thoughts out of yer 'ead and get some sleep 'fore the task master cracks the whip 'gain."
The younger pirate grimaced and downed the rest of his sherry in one gulp, that caused him to screw his face up further. He pounded his chest and coughed, Finally, he did an award winning belch, that would rival his partner's specialties. With a happy thought and smile, he popped his wooden eye out and placed it in its cup with the flower and the dirty sock. He finally laid his head down on his arms, embracing the pillow and clutching the goodies underneath. He fell into a peaceful joyful sleep with dreams that would earn him a good hearty smack.
Pintel turned over on his side and stared out the window at the last quarter moon and the surrounding stars. He heaved a heavy sigh and gave a distant smile. "Well, watcha know," he whispered, " I be 10 years younger, Penny. If only I can find me way back to ye, I wonder 'ow ye feel 'bouts me now?"
Thursday morning and day went on in its usual manner. Marita got up early to make the bread and the pastries. Late morning, she tackled the jungle of dirty clothes and woke up her lazy employees with little to no trouble. Lucy did the fang work on Pintel, and she needed only poke Ragetti in the back to get him up howling.
"What have you done to yourself now?" she asked exasperated.
"Uh . . . well . . . I . . . . uh . . . kind of got sunburned yesterday. I ain't used to doin' the laundry and the wood in the afternoon," he explained.
She frowned and pushed some of the peeling skin from his face. "I have some salve for that, too. You'd think as long as you have been a pirate, that sunburn wouldn't even be noticeable to you."
Pintel ran through the room with Lucy hot on his track. The dog was having the time of his life, and this was the most exercise he got out of the day. No one paid them any mind. This was a normal everyday occurrence. The taller pirate did an unnoticeable blush. "I'm a bit of a wuss when it comes to pain," he confessed.
"Take off your gown, and I'll get the salve," she told him.
Pintel rushed across the room again followed by the rather sizeable dog. Marita left, and Ragetti got up to dress himself, as his companion ran passed him and tumbled out of the window with an ungracious growl and an obscenely cursed thud, then followed by the pursuing dog, another thud, and a gasp of the wind being knocked out of him.
Marita returned to the room with the salve. The remaining pirate smiled up at her from his position on the bed. She cleared off a space on the table and placed the jar on it. She stood up straight, crossed her arms and glared daggers at him.
"Off with the shirt," she ordered.
His smile brightened in a frightening way. "Mrs. Marita! I di'n't know ye be that type of woman!"
He dodged her swing and bashed himself on the head board of the bed. Oh well, it achieved the same results. She rolled him over and stripped down his shirt and applied the ointment. She snorted at the scars. She bet he passed out when he received those marks. What a wuss, indeed, she thought. When her task was done, she poured a pitcher of cold water on his head, and he sat up suddenly.
Marita shoved the jar of salve into his hands. "Wash off your hands, arms and face, then put the ointment there, too."
"You're not gonna do it fer me?" he complained hopefully.
The look she shot back at him made him cringe appropriately back on his bed.
"Yes, Mrs. Marita," he surrendered.
"When you are done, I want to show you how to make the bread better, . . . yet again. No red peppers, bell pepper, cayenne pepper, or anything else that is hot and spicy this time.
She turned and left the room. Within a very few minutes, the taller of the two men was ready for his job of the day. The mistress of the bakery eyed him over. The white pasty ointment was gathered in clumps on his face, making him look like his nose was a bit longer and crooked like a decrepit hag with white eyebrows and a white mustache to boot. She placed her hand over her mouth to laugh at him, as she rubbed the stuff into the pores of his face. He twisted a smile and moved in nearer to her. Unnoticed, he moved his hands closer to her face, but fortunately, he was interrupted. Pintel burst into the room followed by his panting canine companion. He grumbled some not so nice obscenities as he slouched his way to the front of the store.
Ragetti was still in a daze as she began her instructions. She finally noticed her attentive audience and kicked him in the knee caps to regain his true attention. He gave her a clueless smile and listened up to her instructions. Although eager to learn and please her, he had serious trouble keeping his mind on his work, and it was a wonder that he got anything done at all and all his limbs were kept in tact and whole, since they had the tendency to roam to places where they did not belong. After a couple of hours work and reprimands about the misuse of some rather nasty and hot spices, Marita went to the front of the store to deal with her other obnoxious problem.
Pintel was less grateful for her help. She had well aimed kicks for whenever he tried to do some pocketing of profits. He couldn't turn a good shilling or a gold cuff link with her around, because she was just as skillful at returning the stolen item back to its proper owner. She showed the disgruntled pirate how to close up for the night. Some of the suggestions the older man had for the procedure were quite amusing even for Marita, and he was lucky to keep everything in tact also.
Since the men were not left to their own devices that day, they did not get into too much trouble, and they were entitled to their dinners and bottle of rum. Marita took her and Estella's meal upstairs and left the two to their meal. Ragetti fetched the rum and picked up that pistol from the previous night. Pintel made a comment about the load in his pants, but didn't venture further into investigation. There was some places that other men did not go! Anyway, the younger would have to stash his find somewhere in the room, and he'd find it sooner or later. Anyway, the two of them got to got to bed happy that night.