Chapter Eight: Le Petite
Maren's conscious bobbed to the surface of wakefulness like a buoyant lure in a fishing pond. "Ye deaf gel?" Kristy shouted, "Ye not hear all that commotion?" The ghost waved her hands in Maren's face.
"Mmm…what the devil?" cheek creased with pillow marks, Maren begrudgingly sat up. Above, hurried footfalls and excited shouts were carrying down. "What time?" she mumbled through drowsiness.
"Littl' 'fore noon," scolded Kristy, "Lazy arse!"
'Noon?' hopping from the soft embrace of the bed, Maren picked up her old dress from the floor. She was a taken slightly aback, when had she ever managed to sleep so late? Maybe the time when she was struck with that fever, but she was more on her deathbed then sleeping. The truth was Maren probably would have enjoyed a longer slumber schedule but could never have afforded it. Now was a different story though, she could get used to this. 'Why ye not wake me up?' she busily dressed, the brown wool so much harsher than the slick satin of the night before. 'I be havin' the strangest dream.'
"I be havin' the most entertainin' night!" grinning evilly, Kristy didn't finish, hunting for some coaxing from Maren.
'Fine,' Maren sighed, brushing her hair viciously, 'what ye see?'
Kristy exploded, "First, 'member Paulson, that pirate light-on-his-feet, ask'd ye for a corset? Well, he fancies this older fellow, name o' Newall, now Newall he knockin' boots with this other lad, Teller. Teller and Paulson us'd to be lovers, only Newall do'n know it. Last night, Paulson corners Newall under stern deck and they have a tumble, then Teller catches them in the act! So I 'spects, 'Oh there's goin' to be a bitch o' a row here,' but no! Inteady, Teller jumps in, swear to God! Now it be like one o' them Roman orgies ye hear tell of, right in front o' me! Could'n believe me luck!"
Maren paused in plating her pale hair to stare blankly at Kristy, 'Anythin' else?' she asked sarcastically.
"Aye," beamed Kristy, "Jack sleeps in the nude!" The red blush detonated, while Maren tried to concentrate on her braid. "Got dozens o' tattoos, by the way, I was right 'bouts the horse reference," as sweetly as if she was singing in a choir at church, Kristy chimed.
More stomping and yelling sounded, 'Would ye go have a look-see already? Find out what all that hubbub be 'bout, I've got to wash me face,' desperately Maren changed the subject. Her disobedient imagination spun out of control, decorating Jack's naked form with all assortments of exotic body art. The cool water from the washbasin helped a bit, at least washing the flush away, but not the delicious images.
Kristy stubbornly waited for Maren to finish and they both wandered to the deck together. Hustling pirates, shouldered past Maren, not even acknowledging her presence, performing hurried tasks. Something serious was happening, no doubt, it reminded Maren of a kicked up anthill, seemingly chaotic order. She caught sight of Gibbs and Jack on the upper deck. The Cap'n stood at the starboard railing, one eye squinting through a telescope and Gibbs was next to him, gazing intently at the horizon. At her approach, Gibbs noticed her and smiled.
"My sleepyhead," he laughed, "ye miss'd breakfast."
"Leave her alone, Mister Gibbs," Jack spoke, still with the telescope pointed out to sea, "I keeps tellin' ye, I ravish'd her completely senseless last night, into the wee hours of the morn. Then we had at it again, o' course, the poor gel be exhaust'd and bowlegg'd to boot, I bet."
Gaping, Maren beseeched Gibbs, "He's lyin'!" she proclaimed.
"I know me dear," assured Gibbs, "Ye be too clever to fall for the Cap'n's hogwash."
"I can hear ye, Mister Gibbs," Jack sang over his shoulder, tearing his vision from the telescope.
"Aye sir, yer type be hearin' everythin'," agreeing, Gibbs left to shout orders at half a dozen men tightening sails.
"What's goin' on?" Maren inquired to Jack, who had returned to studying the distance.
"An ole friend," smiling darkly, he gestured her closer and gave her the telescope, "Take a gander, luv."
Maren uncertainly peeked into the eyeglass, "It's the bloody ocean Jack." She jumped when he laid one agile hand on her hip, spinning her northward and another equally nimble hand, raising the telescope a little. He leaned his head over her shoulder, his beaded beard tickling her neck. The scent of rum and salt seeped from him and Maren inhaled deeply to better acquaint herself with it. Numbly, she raised the telescope to Jack's eye, transfixed by the sight of his handsome features so near her. Subconsciously perhaps, she held the telescope close to her face, so that Jack had to brush his cheek against hers to gaze through the eyeglass. Gracefully, he readjusted her stance again then relented the telescope to her. Still, he kept his hands upon her and his head inclined next to hers. Maren looked through the eyeglass and saw a speck of ship in the distance. "What 'tis it?"
"A boat," Jack slurred in her ear, matter-a-factly, "big wooden things, what floats on water."
Instantly, Jack knew his wisearse comment was a mistake. Under his fingers he felt her tense up and she turned two slitted eyes to glare daggers at him, "Ha ha," she said without humor, "Now what type o' boat-," she shut Jack up before he answered, "-serious now!"
"That is a pirate ship," he spoke slowly, against her hair, "The ship be Le Petite-,"
"LeBlanc?" Maren's interrupted.
"Aye, Cap'n Jean-Pierre LeBlanc, the only decent seaman that France ever retch'd up, still a slimy Frog though," what might, in the vast alternatives of space, have been jealousy edged Jack's voice, "Ye know him?"
"No, but I heard 'bout him and Le Petite in the pub," concentrating, Maren stared out through the telescope, totally forgetting the pirate captain still hanging on her. "Givin' chase?"
"Aye, Le Petite's a fine ship, but aint nothin' compar'd to the Pearl. Reckon we'll catch her in 'round two hours, maybe less, if LeBlanc decides to take his chances in a fight."
Abruptly Maren lowered the scope, "Fight?" she peeped anxiously.
"Ahh," Jack hugged her waist, resting his chin on her head, "Do'n fret none, me bonnie medium, ole Jack's here to protect ye. Aint no scary pirates goin' to be stealin' me newest acquisition."
"Why are ye still touchin' me?" sharply, coldly Maren spat. It was the 'acquisition' part that got Jack in trouble, she hated it the first time he called her that and she hated it even more the second time around. Why hadn't he just hugged her and reassured her like a gentleman? She would have loved to abandon herself, wrapped in his comforting arms, leaning her body against his, and burying her face in the crook of his neck. 'But no! He goes and ruins the moment!' she thought bitterly.
Jack was feeling two things simultaneously, offended and an impulse. Well Jack had lived thus far on a series of lucky impulses and he survived to tell the tale. So without any delay whatsoever, Jack did as the lady requested and dropped his arms away…then promptly bit her shoulder.
Maren shrieked and flailed away from him, quite undignified.
"I knew it! What I say, eh?" like a champion boxer, Kristy hefted her arms up in victory, "A biter! That's what I said, a biter!"
"What is wrong with ye!" Maren screamed several pirates, turning about to see the show.
Jack innocently laid his fingers upon his chest as if to ask, 'Who me?' but remained quiet, clearly enjoying Maren undone. Gibbs and Anamaria, the lady pirate still wary of Maren, approached to investigate the fuss.
"He bit me!" she pointed accusingly at Jack.
"She's crazy, too much sun, thinks she can talk to ghosts," twiddling his finger next to his temple, Jack gazed at Maren with mock-pity.
"Now children, do'n make me separate ye two," Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Crazy!" Maren advanced on Jack, clenching her fists. "Ye the looniest man I ever met! And ye bit me!"
"Just a littl' one," Jack demonstrated by pinching his thumb and forefinger together, keeping the tiniest space between them and baring his gold teeth.
"To hell with ye Jack Sparrow-,"
"Captain, luv."
"Who cares! Go play ye childish littl' war games and chase Frenchmen to the River Styx and back. Blow big holes in each other ships like the big manly blokes ye are and have a pissin' contest for kicks. Poke yerself with swords till ye puke for all I bother! But save yer pervert'd innuendos and yer filthy gropin' hands for someone, anyone else! Hear me Sparrow! Leave me ALONE!" She marched off, red-faced and now embarrassed that the entire crew on deck watched her every move fixedly. Jack saw her disappear below deck, then reappear again, "And for Christ's sake…be careful!" and there it was. Concern and fear as plain as the sun in the sky and Jack had been too daft to notice.
"Nicest thing any woman's ever said to me," he joked with the crew, who chuckled loudly then set back to work when they caught Gibbs' warning glare. How could he have missed it? She was concerned for him, not for herself. Oddly enough that really was the most flattering thing a woman had ever done for him, so what does he do? He mocks her. Oh he didn't regret the bite, he considered the bite and her reaction hysterical really, and on general terms he never regretted anything, just wasn't iiihisiii way to regret things. But he was disappointed, which is slightly different. He should have scooped her up and whispered sweet securities into her ears until she relaxed properly…then bit her.
"Jack," Gibbs artlessly smirked at him, "Did'n ye ever grow out of that phase, ye know the one, where ye went 'round tuggin' littl' girls' pigtails and hittin' them 'til they cried?"
"Nope," proud, Jack stood tall, hands on hips.
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An hour passed while Maren was sulking in her room, Kristy driving her batty with lectures and mingling, then finally gave up being ignored and rejoined the action upstairs. Hearing the looming roll of the canons being moved, Maren was overwhelmed with curiosity and decided that watching the fight was much better than not watching it.
The first thing that greeted her, besides the bright afternoon sunlight, was a Nathan pouting. "Hey now, what's this long face for?" Maren consoled smiling.
"Cap'n's orders," he ground his teeth, "Cabin boy stays bellow deck."
"Oh I be sorry boy," honestly, Maren was relieved, but some lies are worth telling. "So we're catchin' up to Le Petite?"
He stared at her oddly and said clearly, "We're right on top o' her," pointing an obvious finger towards the port and sure enough, the French galley, barely half the size of the Pearl was steering about, baring its canons like a wicked grin. "She'll never get the chance to fire," Nathan added almost bored, still moping, "Cap'n Sparrow's pullin' a stud," he clarified, "Maneuver where ye swing 'bouts and nab her by the stern, normally a ship this size can't be doin' somethin' that dexterous, but the Pearl's not just any ship."
Maren didn't respond, she bolted to the upper deck to Jack strutting like a king with Gibbs and Anamaria flanking. Gaily Kristy waved from atop the crow's nest shouting, "View's great up here!"
"Cap'n what's happinin'?" she skidded to a halt in front of him, breathless.
"Piracy," Jack furrowed his brow, "Could've sworn ye were here for that part."
"I mean what's the plan!" the panic etched her voice, so she took a deep calming breath, aware a sweat had broken out on her temple.
"Plan?" Jack asked incredulously, "well, we be plannin' to shoot at that other ship there," exaggerating, he gestured to Le Petite, "then jump aboard," another punctuated physical demonstration, "indulge in some elaborate swordplay," hands waved about violently, "steal whatever's not nail'd down, and burn their sails." The blank stare he received urged him to continue with snapping fingers, "Oh and a victory party tonight where we drown in liquor, vomit and piss, most likely some song and dance too, is that what ye steerin' towards?"
"That's it?" stunned, Maren gaped her mouth like a drowning fish, "That be the bloomin' brilliant strategy o' the piratin' genius, Cap'n Jack Sparrow?"
"There is one more thing," Jack removed his hat and coat lovingly, "Be a dear, Maren and tuck these 'way in me quarters, please."
Maren's logic was dumbstruck, so she just did what Jack instructed her to. Dazed she took his things and walked dumbly to Jack's cabin. A pirate battle, what was she doing here? Her thoughts either sprinting in her mind too fast to see or there were no thoughts to see because none were there, Maren dutifully entered Jack's quarters and set his possessions on the dining table.
Wham! The door slammed shut and there was no denying the metal click as the lock was secured from the other side. "No worries, Maren, ye'll be safe in here," Jack called through the door.
"Jack! Ye can't-," but he could, Maren threw herself against the unyielding wood and shook the iron lock, it didn't budge. He tricked her, hands down fooled her! Pounding, no longer anxious but angry as the devil, Maren shouted, "Jack ye bastard! Let me OUT! NOW!" Needless to say, aid wasn't forthcoming.
Blood pounding, Maren crawled onto one of Jack's worktables, carelessly scattering the gadgets and papers on top. She pressed her face up to the window like a hungry child lusting after pastries in the bakery shop. "Please do'n be doin' anythin' daft Jack…like diein'," she whispered to no one.
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This was Jack's element. The adrenaline was tenfold more potent and addicting then any drug or drink. The Black Pearl was perfectly perpendicular to La Petite's stern, he imagined the delightful sneer on LeBlanc's pointed face, when he realized he was fucked, his canons aimed uselessly at starboard and no time to rearrange them to fire from stern with the Pearl's crew leaping aboard any moment. That very moment was vast approaching. Jack unsheathed his sword, admiring young William Turner's craftsmanship as it glinted gemlike. His mind raced ahead to Port Royale, where the happy Turner couple was doubtless flaunting their happiness in one-way or another. A small pang in his gut reminded Jack that he missed them, his friends.
Returning to the present, Jack yelled, commanding and menacing, "Open FIRE!" The boom of the canons rippled the ocean water and shook the Pearl like a cough.
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It couldn't be helped, Maren was terribly, guiltily excited. The flash of steal, the roar of canons, and all presented right in front of her nose, a twisted epic stage. Initially, Maren squeaked pitifully and bit her fingers raw when Jack first engaged a beastly French pirate in combat. But around the eleventh man he soundly walloped, Maren wasn't so worried anymore. In fact, she prayed for more challengers to affront the Pearl's great Cap'n. Jack was breathtaking and magnificent in warfare, Mars himself would turn green with envy. Such ferocity, such skill, so very virile and she mourned how irrational she was the night prior, when she wasted the chance to experience all that pirate exuberance firsthand. Why hadn't she kissed him, really kissed him?
In ten minutes, though it stretched to days for Maren, the majority of the conflict was over. Cap'n LeBlanc, wisely avoiding a slaughter, or worse, the sinking of Le Petite, drew the white flag himself, doing so with dignity and honor. The blaring cloth looming over their heads, LeBlanc's crew obediently cast their weapons aside. Laying his hat at Sparrow's feet, LeBlanc guaranteed the unconditional surrender of Le Petite for the next seventy-two hours. By taking the hat and tossing it back to LeBlanc, Jack agreed to spare the ship, all went according to the Code.
Except there was always that one…the one fellow who figured he'd make a quick and easy name for himself. Always looking for shortcuts, cutting corners, his ambition far surpassing his ability, and this witless pirate was named Roberto, who wasn't a particularly cruel man, just an intolerable one. Patiently, he waited for the advantage and this wasn't to be confused with cowardice, it was only piracy at its most basic level.
Le Petite's crew was rounded up, each squatting on their knees, hands clasped behind their heads, except Cap'n LeBlanc who, because of his station, was authorized to stand stoically, guarded by Gibbs with a pistol drawn on his back. Pompously, Jack oversaw the removal of Le Petite's cargo, deducting enough supplies for one-week adrift, common courtesy if a ship surrenders so cordially. Munificent in mood, Jack consented to forgo the burning of the sails and settled on dousing them instead, a procedure in which the aforementioned cloth was brutally torn down, the damage extensive but repairable, and cast the sails into the ocean. The benefit for the losers being that wet sails can dry and still function, while sails in ashes are worthless. The profit for the winners, the defeated ship is dead in the water for a few valuable days and the grudge between the two adversaries is less formidable. This action caused Jack to receive an amiable nod from Cap'n LeBlanc.
Satisfied, Jack walked leisurely up to LeBlanc, some well deserved gloating coming; ready and willing, Roberto swept his sword off the ground and sprang up, thrusting towards Jack. The flicker of movement allowed Jack barely a second's response, he deftly had dagger in hand and deflected the blade, but didn't stop its forward motion…
Maren cried out and covered her eyes, falling off the worktable hastily. Agile with alarm, she grabbed a heavy chair and assaulted the window next to the locked door with it. The glass shattered, braking shards crackling in a strange destructive song. She hauled herself over the tall window with the help of the chair as a step. It was a miracle she didn't critically cut herself when she landed solidly on her side, wind escaping her lungs in a hardy gasp. Adeptly, she bounced to her feet, her side sore. Maren ran, skirts hoisted up to her knees, damn modesty, panicked sobs tearing from her mouth, damn dignity too.
The gangplank loomed ahead, in another world and another life, Maren would have stalled, a tad frightened of heights, but not now, not when Jack was bleeding to death aboard a piddling French galley ship. Her boots pounded the planks as she bounded across, never wavering in her course or speed. Paulson, called out to her confused, but she was beyond noticing, Jack was hurt!
…Jack was fine. She saw him healthy as ever, laughing and conversing with Cap'n LeBlanc, quite definitely not withering on the blade of a sword.
"Jack!" Maren howled, surprising both captains by throwing her weight pleasantly against him, her arms wrapping stoutly around his neck. She hugged with all her might, face tucked under his neck, relieved tears wetting his vest.
"Hello Maren," uncertainly, Jack peered unfocused at the top of Maren's blonde head. Quickly, she leapt away, bending down to Jack's waist, pawing his shirt and un-tucking it from his trousers. "That tickles!" Jack giggled girlishly, then quipped, "Later ye naughty gel!" to LeBlanc's questioning gaze, Jack explained, "Madly in love with me, can't keep her hands off."
Raising his shirt to expose a lean-muscled stomach, kissed copper by the sun, and purposely ignoring an alluring tattoo peaking out from the waist of his trousers, Maren ran an unbelieving hand over unmarred skin. Jack scarcely could swallow the raspy groan in his throat. "But I saw him stab ye!" aghast, she spun him by the waist to inspect his back, "Ye were skewered right through!" Owlishly, her wide eyes sparkled as she straightened out, marveling at Jack's luck.
"That buffoon?" Jack's thumb jerked over to a trampled Roberto, three of the Pearl's men tying him ferociously to a mast, faced into the unrelenting wood. Smiling conspicuously, Jack lured Maren closer with his wiggling index finger "He miss'd, couldn't hit a whale with harpoon," Maren puffed daintily when Jack spread his loose shirt and vest away from his frame, revealing a set of blade-sized holes that went straight through his clothes, "'Tween ye and me, 'twas a littl' close for comfort."
Maren's laughter quaked her entire body, enormous guffaws of release, surged from her mouth like a testament. "I-I thoughts ye were done for!" her dimples were so vast, there was very little face left, "I broke-I broke yer window!" Wiping her tears away with the palm of her hand, the other clasped her aching stomach, breathless from her excursions. "I flew out here…like a bat out a hell! I think I scar'd Paulson half to death!" she took great gulps of air into her spasming lungs, 'Kristy, curse it where are ye?' More infectious giggles, "I even sprint'd cross the gangplank, I hate heights! All for nothing, I be such an idiot!" Attempting to calm down, she sighed heavily, occasionally sniggering to herself.
Cap'n LeBlanc gibbered something smugly in French, Jack grinned threateningly back, "Yer one to talk."
"What ye doin' to him," Maren inquired about Roberto, the shirt now torn from his back.
"Flogging, mon bella," LeBlanc winked.
"Maren! Where ye been?" Kristy floated up from lower deck of Le Petite, glowing with enthusiasm. "'Twas a spectacular occasion to be sure, that there Coliseum in boy-lovin' Rome do'n stroke balls to this!" The ghost lewdly paused to examine a passing pirates rump, while indifferently saying, "Tell Jack, there be a safe hidden in the wall behind a picture o' that tart Venus wossoname, in LeBlanc's cabin. Threw a gigantic tiara in there 'fore the mayhem commenced."
"Kristy says, Capn' LeBlanc has a tiara lock'd up in a safe behind a picture o' Venus in his quarters," Maren passed on.
Hissing, LeBlanc muttered in French, before realization dawned, "Why ov course, I sought 'twas peculiar for Jacque to travel wiz a voman…uneless, you be ze medium he waz searshing for, may wee?"
Suddenly, Jack took a step meaningfully intimidating, piercing eyes wiping the sneer off of LeBlanc's face, "No more Jean-Pierre, yer man attacked me after surrender, I be in me rights to sail Le Petite in a fiery inferno directly to Davey Jones's with every Frog aboard blazing too. Insteady, ye and me are goin' to fetch that bleedin' tiara and whatever else be in that iron box o' yers, then we have a heart-to-heart, 'bouts if the subject should come up, how old Sparrow's gone soft and is sailin' with his latest mistress, 'cause right now I'm takin' the word medium out o' yer English vocabulary, savvy?" He cocked his pistol and gestured LeBlanc towards the captain's quarters.
"Cap'n Sparrow?" a large pirate, in charge of flogging Roberto waved Jack over, "I-I got a problem!"
"What?" Jack was loosing his cheery disposition, annoyance creeping into his voice. He left LeBlanc to Gibbs' guard and stalked over to see what the massive sailor was pointing at, "Why ye clever bugger ye," tattooed over every inch of Roberto's bare back, was a colossal portrait of Jesus Christ.
"Please Cap'n Sparrow," the ogre blubbered, "Do'n make me whip our Lord and Savior, me mum would roll over in her grave if she knew!"
Sighing and shooing him away, "Fine, fine," Jack took the lash himself. Now as Jack had stated before, he wasn't a religious man, always having the doubting certainty that if Jesus of Nazareth ever personally met Jack in the flesh, the Son of God might recant on his declaration of all men being spared from Hell. Yet, with the King of King's gazing benevolently from some cur's back, brown eyes so loving and forgiving, Jack just couldn't bring himself to do it. Better safe than sorry, he declared. Resentfully, he tossed the whip away, mumbling frustrated to whoever might be listening. Compromising as best he could, Jack punched the bound Roberto squarely across the jaw, "Let that be a lesson to ye!" he waggled his finger.
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"Sing me a song,
Of a lad that is gone!
Say could that lad be I?
Merry o' soul
He sail'd on a day
Over the sea to Skye!"
Maren was drunk, and when Maren was drunk, she sang, her trilling mezzo-soprano delighting her pirate audience. It was night and the crew of the Black Pearl was celebrating their victory and Le Petite's embarrassment. Some pirates were playing instruments, some were dancing, all were clapping, and more were drinking. They whistled to Maren, not demeaning and lewd, but admiring and fondly. Flattered, Maren curtsied, spreading her satin skirts like wings, she had changed into the olive dress for the festivities.
"Miss Attle," Nathan piped up, and immediately regretted it, his face purple from mortification. The activities all silenced and gazed expectantly at the red-hair-and-faced boy, "Would…would ye care to dance with…with me?"
The chorus of cheers that burst from the crew was deafening, a chanting looming up, "Nathan! Nathan! Nathan!"
"Why I be honored," Maren reached her hands out to take his and they twirled around the deck when the music commenced, Maren leading and ignoring the occasional stomp on her feet as Nathan garbled apologies. The song was lively and quick and the crewmembers jeered playfully at their little 'lady charmer'.
In the crow's nest, high above, Jack had retreated to better watch the fun. He wasn't being antisocial, wasn't Jack's way, he needed to be alone with his Pearl was all, suitably thank her for all her talents. As he stared down, feeling the slightest twinge like God must feel, he followed Maren's every movement. From the mugs of mead she knocked back like any man, employment in pub must honed that particular skill, to the pretty chanteys she belted out, more on key than Jack ever hoped to be. She was so merry, spinning Nathan about the floor, laughing and singing along to the music. Jack decided he required a dance too, but for now contented himself with watching her.
The number was over far too soon and Nathan said a hurried, "Thank ye!" his pubescent voice cracking, before bolting down below.
"Hope he do'n go to the port closet to wank off," Kristy spun around dancing as well, "That be where me threesome headin' tonight!" On cue, Paulson, Newall, and Teller strolled away from the carousing and nonchalantly existed below. Kristy applauded, "Ooh! There they go, see ye 'round Maren!" The wraith sunk under the floor, grinning sadistically.
'Bye, ye deviant pervert ye!' Maren said outloud the universal motto of all drunks, "I love her, she be a good friend, God I love her!" The music picked up again, a gay Irish jig this time. Tipsy but stable, Maren hunted for another face she knew, "Mister Gibbs!" she cried, swooping down upon the first mate in a crowd of drinkers, "Mister Gibbs dance with me!"
"No, no, no," Gibbs resisted her feeble tugging on his arm, "I do'n dance a lick!" However, he was powerless to oppose the unanimous shove the group gave to his back, bellowing their teasing. He staggered unsure along with Maren, eyes bolted to their prancing feet, sweating bullets and occasionally chortling at his clumsiness.
"Anamaria, will ye dance with me?" some unlucky pirate was struck firmly across the face.
"Ye doin' fine Mister Gibbs," Maren twittered, "A natural, I swear!"
"Liar!" he retorted, panting for air.
Again the song ended and Gibbs bowed grandly to Maren, then to the heckling assembly around them. John "Cupid" Thomas, nicknamed Cupid because of his pretty boyish looks he still wore at age twenty-five, approached Maren, and it could've been her imagination or the booze but she swore the revelry quieted a bit. "Will you dance with me?" he asked gently, heavy-lidded.
Jack saw Cupid strut over to Maren like a peacock and talk with her, no genius required to guess what he was saying. 'I want me dance now,' glaring, he climbed down from the crow's nest.
Charmed, Maren nodded happily, swooning into his arms as he led, unlike her two prior partners who dragged behind her like sagging meat. She lost herself in the cheery music, dizzy from the spinning, but unwilling to stop. The dance was a polka, upbeat and catchy, Maren hummed along, leaning her head onto Thomas's shoulder. Her vision pointed away from him, so Maren missed the bawdy wink he gave his fellows or the lick of his lips.
"Psst! Cupid, Cap'n's coming!" a hoarse whisperer warned Thomas, who promptly released Maren and disappeared.
"Hey," Maren complained before focusing her vision on Jack's smirking figure, "Jack!" gleefully she stretched her arms out to him, "Dance with me!" she juvenilely whined.
"Ye know the song boys!" bellowing, Jacked motioned to the players to begin. A familiar and favorite tune sounded, chorusing the splendid pirate's life. "Ye gave me a start ye," Jack said conversationally as he gathered her in his arms, one hand draped around her waist, urging her closer, and the other hand clasping hers tenderly.
"How's that?" allowing Jack to set the pace, she was reminded of the overpowering waltz he swept her into in Tortuga after he'd kissed her. This time she moved willingly with him, fully appreciating his grace and enjoying the flex and ripple of muscles pressed against her. They danced closer than her three previous partners and their teasing eyes never separating.
"Heard that singing, thought some mermaid had swam aboard me Pearl."
"No," Maren furrowed her brow, mock-confused, "a mermaid couldn't iiiswimiii aboard a ship, she'd have to sort o' swim and then jump like a dolphin does!"
"Would ye just take the bloody compliment, Maren?"
"Would ye just say the bloody compliment, Jack?"
He laughed down at her and conceded, "Ye have a very beautiful voice."
"Thank you," Maren toyed absentmindedly with Jack's looped earring with her free hand, oblivious to Jack's sharp inhale. "Did it hurt?"
Of course Jack had speculated many times prior on the sexual experiences of Maren, could hardly call himself a man if he didn't wonder. Until then, he hadn't been completely convinced of her virginity, women were notoriously devious when it came to their maidenheads and Jack had been tricked before. But this was the irrefutable proof, Maren was absolutely ignorant that by fiddling with something as supposedly innocent as an ear, she was electrocuting every nerve in his body, charging his flesh with erotic intentions. She had no clue whatsoever. He finally answered, hidden chuckles seeping out, "Only the first time luv, littl' sting is all, the others were quite…enjoyable."
"Enjoyable? Be barbaric if ye ask me, shovin' metal bits in one's skin," shuddering Maren, peered curiously at Jack who was slowing their dance, a decisive sheen in his eye.
"Maren," Jack drew their dance to an end, but kept his hands lingering in place, "I just 'member'd, I wanted to show ye the tiara Kristy found…she here now?"
"No," she answered evasively, "Should I fetch her?"
"No!" he said perhaps louder then intended. For what he really wanted, the absence of Kristy was a necessity, "I'll just be showin' ye, for now anyway."
Like Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, Maren went freely to Grandma's House. The fact that the Cap'n was retiring to his cabin with a beautiful woman, didn't escape the attention of the crew, but they grinned silently and saved their heckles for the morning.
Upon reaching the door, Jack scolded Maren as he gestured to the mangled window now bordered up, "Ye broke me window!"
"Aye well…ye bit me!" Maren said matter-a-fact, "Even!" Thrusting the door open, Jack motioned for Maren to enter first, she did. "Where is it?" eagerly Maren asked.
"Dining table," before shutting the door, Jack caught the leering glances of some of his crew, he winked and held his finger up to his pursed lips for silence.
"Wow!" the shock in her voice informed Jack that Maren had located the tiara. She was examining the small diamond and sapphire crown dreamily in her hands, eyes alight like those jewels, "No wonder LeBlanc took the trouble to hide it, it's incredible-,"
The locking of the door spoke clearly and concisely through Maren's intoxication. Spinning around, she glared at Jack propped up leisurely against the door, twirling the keys around his fingers and staring at her darkly. "Third condition, Cap'n, no sportin'," she cautioned him in a singsong voice.
"Aye I know, I know," mournfully Jack tossed the keys aside and swaggered towards Maren, "But I got somethin' else in mind, believe it or not."
"Drinkin' involv'd?" the question stopped Jack dead in his tracks, shocked. Maren rolled her eyes, "Right, course there is."
"And," Jack raised a finger, jogging towards his latched trunk.
"Chocolates?" excited, Maren interrupted.
"Aye chocolates too, if ye like," offhandedly he added, striking the chest with his fist to unclasp the locks. Opening it, he retrieved a bottle of champagne, a bigger, Maren had annihilated the box last night, bag of chocolates, and finally, "Close them blue eyes Maren."
"Yer out o' yer mind," she snipped, "not with a knave like ye 'bouts."
"Please," he exaggerated a pout, swaying to and for as his lip stuck out, "it be a surprise, honest!"
Like a martyr she sighed, clamping her eyes tightly shut, but keeping keen ears for Jack's boots approaching too close. She heard some rustling and clinking, then Jack rising to his feet, but he stayed his distance, "Right me dear, have a look-see!"
Blinking, Maren saw Jack before her, his eyebrow quipped and the devil's own smile gracing his lips. In his proffered hands, an ornately decorated pipe with a glass bowl attached to the top, "Opium?"
"Aye," Jack explained, "have to be makin' this a secret though, 'tween ye and me. Found this in LeBlanc's safe too. Now, I do'n allow me men to be chasin' the dragon while they sail on me ship and usually, what I do'n permit them to do, I do'n be doin' either," shrugging flamboyantly, Jack made the excuse, "but this bein' yer first pirate battle and all, I decree it a special occasion."
Maren shook her head, skeptically, "I be flatter'd Jack, but I do'n hold with no opium."
"Oh," masking his disappointment, Jack commented dryly, "I suspects ye right, dainty thing like ye mixin' alcohol and opium, be retchin' up in me quarters all night."
Biting the bait, Maren fixed fists to hips and bristled, "Dainty thing? For yer information Cap'n Jack, I have'n vomitt'd since I was thirteen-year-old gel. If ever there was a woman what could hold her drinks, I be that woman!"
Slamming the proverbial trap shut, Jack offered her the pipe, "Prove it," he challenged.
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"So like," Maren hushed Jack even after he finally managed to stop giggling, "What if…we agin' backwards, ye know, like we be born all old and then instead o' diein', we just be crawlin' back up into our mother's womb? Eh? Think about it."
"Whoa," Jack exhaled more smoke, waving his hands in the cloud it produced.
Maren and Jack, in drug induced inspiration, had removed all the pillows and blankets and even Jack's mattress to spread about on the floor, to create their very own opium den, Jack insisting this was how things were done in the Orient. Now they reclined on the ground head to toe from each other, gazing happily glazed eyes towards the ceiling, Maren even wore the tiara on her head, but it was lopsided. The champagne and chocolates were ingested long ago, but they still had the opium pipe, which they passed casually between them. Every time, Maren pressed her lips to the mouthpiece, she imagined Jack's lips upon it as well.
"Ye know, I envy ye," at her persistent tapping, he handed her the pipe, "Ye goin' to converse with the Cap'n James Romulus, the Father of all Pirates."
"The father of all pirates," Maren repeated for no reason other than it sounded neat. "Pir-ates, pi-rates, pirates," she said somewhat satisfied.
"What the hell was that?" Jack started laughing again.
"It be a fun word, ye know?" Maren reiterated, "Pi-rates sort o' like a pie with rats…I do'n know, stealin' it o' somethin'."
"Maren?" fidgeting, he grasped her hand and started examining the fingers, "Maren, Maren, Maaarreeen, that be a fun word too. Its also one o' them…wossaname…tip o' me tongue…means two things, same time, innuendo!" Jack beamed triumphantly.
"Inn-uen-do," spoke Maren.
"Aye, yer name means 'from the sea' like marine, get it?"
"Whoa," she blew more smoke, this time from her nose.
"I like yer name."
"I like yer name too, Jack," they giggled to themselves.
"Jaaaack?"
"Maaareeen?"
"What ye feel like right now?" stretching, Maren reached her arms above her head, straightening out the tiara, which only increased the amount of tangle in her hair. She couldn't be bothered, only extended further, hissing as every muscle in his body twitched suggestively.
"What?"
"Ye know, what does opium do to ye? It be different for everyone."
"Do'n know, maybe relaxed? Definitely thirsty, everything be a damn lot funnier I can promise ye that," vaguely, he sensed a strange vibration from Maren as she stretched again, sniggering as bones popped, tugging away at Jack's hazy comprehension. "Why? What ye feel?"
A laugh, so deliciously intriguing it slapped Jack's libido cross the face, basked from Maren's mouth, "I feel…sensual…very, very sensual." Maren was becoming deeply enthralled with this new emotion, like a seducing wine, a delicious chocolate, soft inviting satin, Maren was feeling desirable.
Jack felt his blood simmer to boiling and they lulled into silence. Reluctantly, Jack accepted that she probably didn't know what she was saying and resolved himself to a change in subject matter, "Quit hoggin' the smoke, Maren, give Jack a puff."
"Too…out o' it Jack, get it yerself," whispered Maren. Grudgingly, Jack sat up, ignoring the slight vertigo that touched his head. Maren still had the opium pipe clasped in her right hand which was stretched above her head. Crawling gracefully like a cat, Jack leaned over her strewn form, reaching for the pipe, "Jack?" Maren murmured quietly, causing Jack to peer down at her, their heads now level, faces a foot apart. "Do ye want me Jack?" her eyes reflected blue flashes in the candlelight.
"Aye," Jack replied plainly, huskily.
One small hand curled around the collar of Jack's shirt and pulled him down to her. Their lips touched lightly at first, just a solid press of mouth, testing the waters, but Maren's tug was insistent and the kiss deepened deliciously. Tongues caressed lovingly, and lips stretched to claim the other. The movements were slow and languid, nothing like the frenzy experienced in Tortuga. Opium had loosened Maren's voice and now she was exotically moaning deep alto delights into Jack's questing mouth.
He still hovered above her, propped up on his hands in the world's most pleasurable push-up. Maren's hands were beginning to travel, one dove into the mass of charmed hair upon Jack's head, the other meekly stroked his neck with her fingernails. Breaking the kiss, glad to hear Maren's wanton groan, Jack muttered, breathy, in her ear, "Do ye want me Maren?" then sucked her lobe aggressively into his mouth, nibbling teasingly.
"Oh Jack…yes!" she choked, turning her mouth to meet his again. The rising temperature between them gave way to more fevered kisses, now loudly smacking in the quiet room.
Suddenly, Jack's quite unfamiliar conscious became obnoxiously talkative, 'She be drunk, Jack.'
'So am I,' he retorted.
'You did this on purpose, Jack'
'So what?'
'So she'll be mad, Jack.'
'She'll get over it.'
'She'll be hurt, Jack."
'…no she wo'n,' but there was less conviction there, 'She said so herself, she wants me.'
'So why drink and drug her, Jack?'
'That's not how it went!' the defense was viable in Jack's opinion.
'Sure Jack, whatever ye say.'
'Shut it, ye talk too much. Did'n I drown ye in alcohol along time ago?'
'Ye cheat'd to have her.'
'Pirate,' was all Jack replied.
Resolutely, Jack's thoughts returned full force to the withering barmaid below him. She was arching her body, with some ache she couldn't name yet, frustrated that there was no other contact against it, Jack still suspended out of reach. Using his elbow to prop himself up next to her, he freed his left hand to caress her bare shoulder. This tiny touch was exactly what Maren was searching for and she greedily sucked Jack's bottom lip in her stimulation, begging for more. Jack growled his appreciation, viciously attacking her elegant neck, nipping and licking a trail from ear to collarbone. Maren tossed her head from side to side, dizzy from the passion and the opium in her blood, somewhere something stirred, a strange new sensation craved acutely like a ravenous hunger.
Desirous fingers swooped from tickling the shoulder, to groping her left breast, demanding and rough, while he still voraciously sucked at her throat. "Oh…god," Maren whimpered, now intensely aware of Jack's breathing, it was ragged and shallow, almost animalistic and all together blatantly male. His slick tongue lapped down her chest and to the generous swell of cleavage he had admired since their first encounter. Two dark eyes pinned their sight onto Maren as he sank his teeth greedily over the crest of her heaving bust, erotically enchanted by the harsh cry that fell from her swollen lips and the curving of her neck while she tensed, then abruptly relaxed.
"Did'n mind that bite, did ye now?" blowing cool air against her wet bosom, he kissed it tenderly, and then licked dreamily, "In fact Maren, ye'll have to ask me nice and sweet-like to bite ye again." Silence and stillness answered, "Maaarreeeennn?" he cooed childishly, "Come on, beg a littl'-," Jack was interrupted, not by an imploring medium, or by a moan, not even a snivel, but by a delicate tiny snore. "No, no, no," quickly, he brought his face to hers, indeed Maren's eyes were closed and lips partly open, unquestionably asleep. "Son o' a bitch!" pounding his fist on the wood floor, he groaned, his erection now painful in its strain against its bindings. Vainly, he attempted to wake her by tapping her cheek lightly, "Come on now luv, ye can't be leavin' ole Jack like this, he needs ye real bad!" The slumbering maiden was as stubborn as Sleeping Beauty in her tower. He kissed her desperately, shoving his tongue into an unresponsive mouth, "Please Maren, lookie, I be the one beggin' now, aint that fun?…Oh Shit!" Bitterly, he accepted a cruel and, in his opinion, unjust defeat. Jack rolled off of Maren, mindful of his swollen organ, before methodically and precisely banging his head upon the floor a few times, "Ye'll be the death o' me."
'And that's how Jack learn'd his lesson 'bout mixin' alcohol, drugs, and sex!' the conscious returned.
'Oh…sod off!'
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Kristy was gazing at the stars in the crow's nest, ignoring the sleeping Nathan who should be alert and on duty. It had been a good night she decided, even though she couldn't partake in the more carnal pleasure of the evening, it was still a terrific spectacle to behold. Dancing, music, bawdy tales and jokes, and to top her off, the three handsome devils in the port closest not only performed an energetic show, but rallied the strength to make an encore. Quite an evening…
A door banging open and shut stirred her from her musings, but failed to arise the cabin boy from his slumber. Most of the crew had already retired, to Kristy's dismay for people are categorically boring in sleeping, Kristy had thought Maren was among them. Only a skeleton crew kept the ship sailing. Daring to dream something of interest was happening, Kristy sunk down the mast and steadied herself upon the upper deck. Well indeed, something of interest was occurring. She blinked her ghost eyes twice, but the image before remained the same, Jack was carrying Maren like a babe, her olive skirt draping down and a magnificent tiara perched upon her hair. Maren's head was limply resting against Jack's shoulder, mouth gaping as she quietly snored. Hustling, Kristy reached the couple, snarling, "If ye responsible for this Sparrow, I'll swear I be goin' poltergeist on ye sorry ship!"
The Black Pearl focused onto the irate spirit and Kristy felt it watching, "Course Maren be a big gel, what can take care o' herself," she added hastily, nervously avoiding any conflict with a thing that shouldn't technically be able to focus in on anything.
Jack slipped below deck and down the hallway, kicking open the guest quarters. Unceremoniously, he plopped Maren onto the bed, sighing again in self-pity. He stalled before leaving, tenderly swiping her hair away from her face with ringed fingers. Sentimentality got the better of him and Jack removed her boots for her, tickling her toes briefly to check for any response, there was none. Peeling the blankets from under her, he tucked her in. Sure, he could've stripped her naked and rid himself of the tension in his trousers right then, but that just wasn't Jack's way, he'd rather hump a corpse. "Kristy," Jack spoke to thin air, "If ye here, ye be me witness, did'n lay an indecent hand on her, savvy?"
Kristy, who was lying on the bed next to Maren, nodded though, of course, Jack didn't see. He peered suspiciously about and left shutting the door behind him, with one last regretful look at Maren seducing, but still very unconscious, body. Then the door burst open again-
"Almost forgot something," Jack nabbed the tiara off of Maren's head, smiling to himself before placing it on his on head and swaggering off.
"Is that opium I smell?" tsk-ing Kristy abandoned Maren to sleep it off, continuing her track in permanent insomnia.
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Her head hurt, Maren's head really hurt, and the sorry dog-romper shouting, "Land ho! Port Royale!" didn't help.
