Chapter Fifteen: The Redcoats
"Brit soldiers, by God! Dozen o' so! Comin' up the yard and head'd here!"
Jack knew immediately that something was amiss when Maren's gaze darted upward, gasping in shock. "Do'n tell me, let me guess," his palms were haltingly held up, "Some daft emergency requires our immediate and absolute distraction, thereby, yet 'gain preventin' me from fornicatin' with ye."
"Aye, emergency all right," she added, glaring, "and we were not goin' to fornicate!"
"Ye tell yerself that dear," he muttered then begrudgingly got off the floor to stand, "What's the disaster this time? Possession? Barbossa? I do'n look like a skeleton 'gain, do I? Honestly, I do'n see what all the fuss was 'bout, fanci'd it a good look for me really. It has a certain style one must concede." To prove his statement, Jack struck a careless pose, hands on hip and hip cocked to the side.
Frustrated, Maren barked, "Kristy says a dozen English soldiers be skippin' up the walkway this very moment, so get off it already and do somethin'!"
If ever there was an occasion that Jack didn't need to be told twice!
Swearing under his breath, he roughly grabbed Maren by the wrist and pulled her along behind him, out of the room and into the hallway. She found herself dragging behind his hurried strides before he tossed her towards the Turners' bedroom, "Wake up the whelp and whelpett, tell them to hurry 'fore this gets ugly."
Flustered and breathless, Maren called out after his retreating figure, "But where are ye goin'?"
"To fetch me pistol and sword," he bellowed over his shoulder and disappeared down the hall. Maren felt this statement to be so ominous that had a well-timed thunderclap boomed in the distance Maren would not have been the least bit surprised, but the clear Caribbean sky was contrarily clear.
However, the sudden explosion of violent rapping on the front door more than made up for the atmospheric lack of dramatics. From outside, Maren could hear the animated shouting of many men. They had arrived and time was running out fast!
"Whelp-I mean, Will!" Maren skidded to a halt at the bedroom door and bombarded the solid wood with her fists, "Elizabeth! Wake, up hurry! We got trouble!"
Muffled shuffling and mutterings were all that answered her at first. Ever resilient, Kristy stuck her head through the door and laughed, "Thems a tad busy." She whistled, impressed, and waggled her eyebrows while, Maren gulped nervously, embarrassed for all their sakes'.
Finally, Elizabeth raised her voice, it was a tad breathless to tell the truth, "Is this an absolute necessity, Maren? We are…preoccupied at the moment." In the distance, Maren heard Jack stomping down the stairs, colorful curses exhaled as if they were breaths of air.
Her blue eyes rolled, sarcasm dripping "Shall I tell the Brit soldiers breaking down the door to come back when ye've finish'd yer snog then?"
"Soldiers?" Will's clipped tones rose up followed by a mumbled vulgarity that even the bawdy Kristy was impressed with. The thumping of his hastened bare-footsteps sounded on the wood floor and the door was thrown open, revealing the master of the house nude from the waist up with a satin sheet wrapped in mock-modesty around his vibrant hips. This young man could have been sculpted from the marble of Michelangelo, he's physique was so extraordinarily perfect. Screeching in excitement, Kristy threw her arms in the air and cheered.
Startled by the appearance of yet another naked man, (two delicious specimens in one night, what luck) Maren squeaked and covered her face. Through the gaps in her fingers, the red of her face glowed as bright as a star. "Aye, soldiers, in a tizzy too," her muffled voice hid behind her hands.
"Goodness' sake Will, at least put on your trousers," behind him, Elizabeth spoke, also donning a satin sheet to cover herself.
"What do they want?" Will pressed, his eyes severe.
For a moment, Maren was about to scathingly retort that the answer should be blatantly obvious enough to any fool, however, on second thought, Will seemed to bring up an excellent, if somewhat a very simple, point. "Kritsy, what are they here for?" speaking outloud, Maren ponderingly cocked her head.
"How the devil am I suppos'd to know?" defensively, the ghost flailed her fists about, "I be dead! Not like a can mosey on over to one o' them buggerin' blokes and say, 'Pardon me, me good man, but may I ask as to the purpose o' this fine visit?' Bloody hell, what ye expect from me, a written inquiry?"
"Oooh…shit," Maren mouth struggled with her expressive words as her mind struggled indecisively with what course of action to take. Holding up her finger to the sheet-wearing Will and Elizabeth, she hastily decided, "Jack might be fixin' to do somehtin' really stupid and I should probably go and stop him." With a quick nod goodbye, Maren sprinted across the hall, down the stairs, and to the landing, staring skeptically at the quaking door before her, which shook from the force pounding beyond it.
Suddenly, Jack appeared dressed in his full regalia, effects secure about his person. "We might be escapin' out the cellar," he glared pointedly and resentfully at the door, "Did Kristy perhaps mention if the redcoats had us surround'd yet?"
"Jack, I do'n think they be here for ye."
"What?" in an odd way, Jack felt his pride bristle, ergo he snipped, "Do'n be daft woman, what the hell else would they be here for?"
Maren snipped right back, "Damn'd if I know, but I figure, ifen you were the one huntin' down the most notorious pirate presently sailin' the seven seas," grinning pleasantly, Jack laid a flamboyant hand upon his chest and blinked innocently, "would ye not attempt a more stealthy approach? Bangin' on that door for eternities on end aint exactly what I'd be callin' a 'surprise attack'!"
Stillness, except for the incessant shouts and pounding, reined as Jack absorbed this new information.
"Oh yeah…good point."
"Good point," Jack and Kristy nodded enthusiastically, unaware they did so in unison.
Suddenly, the chorus of chaos outside the oak door ceased and an eerie silence rang out only to be interrupted by a genteel voice, authoritative and prominent, "This is Commodore Norrington of the King's Navy. Open this door, I say!"
With grand resolve, Jack definitively drew his pistol and aimed smiling at the door. "No!" hissing, Maren tugged his arm down, "Ye bloody lunatic, ye want to hang from the gallows come mornin'? Let me handle this Jack, they do'n know me."
"Ye?" incredulously, Jack's eyebrows shot up, wrinkling his forehead, "What ye aimin' to do, eh? Serve 'em drinks o' contact their dead mothers?"
"I'm aimin' to fuckin' talk to them Jack! Ask them what all this," she waved frantically at the door, "is 'bout!"
"O' perhaps," Jack grabbed her when Maren attempted to make a start towards the door and tugged her roughly back. Swiftly, Maren was subjected to the stare, "ye might be plannin' on turnin' ole Cap'n Sparrow over to the authorities and reaping the generous rewards."
Puffing up with indignation, Maren bit, "Ye insinuatin' that I'd turn traitor."
"Well, 'fresh me memory Maren-me-dove," Jack's hands danced about his head, "was'n it this very mornin' ye point'd a pistol at me head and later escap'd to alert the guard of the Pearl's presence."
"That was 'fore!"
"'Fore what exactly?"
"'Fore-," Maren was dangerously close to divulging her affection for him and screaming at the top of her lungs 'fore I lov'd ye', but somehow contained her composure, "-'fore I made me own choice and gave me word."
"I'm not big on faith, luv, why should I trust ye with me life?" this was a rhetorical question and, honestly, Jack hadn't expected any sort of answer.
"'Cause…ye owe me a backrub," and, to add a perfect punctuation to her collateral, Maren tugged Jack down by his collar to hungrily meet his lips in a promising kiss. It might have been short in duration, because the infernal knocking had commenced again, but the kiss was no less zealous or passionate. Their mouths met solidly like a punch to the face and Jack was contentedly startled to feel her witty tongue swipe deliciously against his own. Still, it was all too brief.
"Now hide," she broke away from him, elated at the unveiled desire that she had flamed in Jack. A dark continence, almost menacing in its sheer control, clouded over the pirate's face and slowly the most sinister of his smiles bloomed. Yet he said nothing, only playfully swatted at her backside and jogged into the cover of the sitting room.
Waiting until Jack was secreted from sight, Maren then walked purposely toward the front door. Surprisingly, she found herself calm in spite of her situation. After all, she had a lust-mad pirate to contend with, in comparison, English soldiers didn't seem all that threatening. She raised her hand to unbolt the door…
Click…
The door banged open, barely missing a collision with Maren, but that was all right, because Norrington's callous arm pushed her rudely out of the way instead. "Awaken your master and lady, immediately," was all he said to her, rather gruffly, while he strode self-assured into the Turner household. Then he ordered out to the soldiers behind him, "Inside men, hurry." There was a clumsy bustle at the entryway, which was suddenly and absolutely interrupted.
Smack!
The redcoats gaped frozen and Jack from his vantage point behind the drapes snorted, swallowing his laughter.
Maren's dainty hand was still raised, almost anticipating another reason to assault the Commodore again and, on Norrington, the red mark of her hand was blazing brightly upon his pale cheek. Sure, Maren could have punched him. Punches hurt more and do more damage, anyone would agree, but slaps aren't about pain…slaps are about embarrassment, which stings better then any cheek.
"How.Dare.Ye." gritting her white teeth, Maren seethed at Norrington, who stood mutely shocked with an unbelieving hand held to his smarting cheek. Truthfully, this was the fist time the Commodore had even noticed the robust blonde on any real conscious level. He gave her his undivided attention, "Who do ye think ye are! Marchin' on in here like ye own the place, while the Turners are still in bed! The nerve! And then to shove me aside, like some…some…thing that got no importance! Is that how ye treat a lady! I bet ye call yerself a gentleman too, ha! I have half-a-mind to report ye to yer superiors, ye villain. Where ye get off on orderin' me 'bouts anyway? For yer information, I be a guest here, not a servant! Aye, but yer the type to judge a poor gel, are'n ye? Think 'cause I do'n speak like the bloomin' Queen that I do'n got no class, eh? Well, bugger ye! Just 'cause I aint be holdin' no money, do'n make me any less o' a lady! I demand respect too and if ye ever, ever lay a hand upon me person univit'd 'gain, I swear to God Almighty as me witness that ye and yer shovin' hand will very soon part!"
All was quiet as Maren fumed, panting after her tirade. Norrington tried several times to formulate an apology, but found himself distracted by the fierce sparkle in those blue eyes and the hypnotic rise and fall of her heaving bust under her robe. Shamefully he averted his eyes, conceding that the young woman was right about his inept gentility. What sort of gentleman cast coveting eyes upon a woman-lady, he corrected his thoughts-in her nightclothes?
Finally the silence was broken by an inhuman moan pouring from the doorway. Confused and brows knotted, Maren stepped around Norrington to discover the source of such an ungodly noise.
Four men were haphazardly carrying a distressed officer. His face was deathly pale and in spite of the breezy cool night, the suffering man was sweating rivulets. Confused, he blinked at his surroundings before grimacing like the devil himself was scourging me and crying out in pain. The source of this pitiful fellow's suffering was a broken leg, so mauled it swayed boneless.
"Forgive me," the Commodore finally managed to speak, when Maren stifled a squeaking gasp with her hand, eyes widening in panic, "but there was an accident not far from here and in concern for my man's health, I was brutish and offensive towards you. I apologize."
Her gaze traveled from Norrington to the confused soldiers standing uncertainly in the entryway. "Well do'n just sit there," she cried out, "Bring him in for mercy's sake! Imagine, wastin' time listenin' to me babble when a poor bloke's sufferin'. Come, come, set him on the couch and careful, mind his leg!" Muttering onward, she flustered about clearing the way for the struggling men. Behind her, about six more soldiers filed in, peering concerned into the living room at their comrade in pain.
"What is happening here?" from the top of the stairs, a disappointingly dressed Will boomed, bounding down. Elizabeth followed behind him, securing the tie of her dressing robe. Several maids and the cook had also awakened and appeared sheepishly into the room.
"Mister Turner," stepping away from his wounded officer, Norrington approached the blacksmith, "Lieutenant Upton was thrown from his horse up the road about half a mile from your household and now bares several serious brakes in his left leg. I've sent a rider to fetch a doctor, however, due to the extensive damage Upton has received, it would be incredibly hazardous to move him anymore then necessary. Please friends, I trusted I could bring him here to await treatment."
"Of course," Elizabeth said, huffing prettily when her eyes fell upon the mangled leg, "Oh poor man! Rose, Annabel," she addressed the maids, "Fetch a pair of scissors, bandages, and heat some water. When the doctor arrives, retrieve him anything else he should require." They scattered away like flighty cats, graceful but very quick.
"Brandy, for the pain," snapping his fingers, Will hustled towards the spirits cabinet.
"Nay, not brandy Will," Maren also approached the liquor cabinet and recited a famous saying that every barmaid knows by heart as is her oath, matter-a-factly, "Brandy for headaches, whiskey for bad teeth, port for stomachaches, red wine for weak hearts, vodka for hunger, rum for memory, ale for exhaustion, mead for depression, gin for broken bones, and beer for living and breathing!" She had counted down on her fingers and finished winded.
"Umm…so gin then?" uncertainly, Will procured a bottle of gin.
"I'll have not of it," the Lieutenant lifted his head with a great struggle, "'Tis Satan's tonic, sir."
"Come now," attempting to speak reason, Norrington laid a gentle hand upon the man's shoulder, "it will help the pain, Upton."
"And what of my soul, Commodore?" moaning terribly, he gritted his teeth against the hurt, "What perverse destruction will that sinful drink inflict?"
As a way of explanation, one of the soldiers that had carried Upton addressed the Turners and Maren in an upraised voice, "The Lieutenant's got a Puritan streak in him somethin' awful. Never touches drink, not a drop."
"Regardless," Norrington's posture was perfect and straight, "In a matter of minutes Doctor Dobsin will arrive to set that bone correctly and if you, in a hysteria of suffering, flail or fight…well, I myself have no medical education, however, I am quite certain that the difference between relaxation and tension in this situation might also be the difference between the hope of walking again or utter crippling."
"If it be the Lord's will, so be it."
"Well sod that, 'fore it aint me will!" snatching the bottle from Will, Maren stalked up to Upton who lied weakly prone on the couch. She loomed high and menacing above him, "Now are ye goin' to be reasonable and remember that our Savior, Christ hiself, did turn water to wine for the pleasures of people and have yerself a little nip to save yer leg. O' are ye goin' to be stupid?"
The Lieutenant meekly shrank further down into the plush protection of the cushions he was on, but still shook his head.
"Very well then," she turned on heel and dug around the liquor cabinet for a few tense moments before evidently finding what she was searching for, "Be stupid." In her left hand, Maren clutched the bottle of gin and in her right hand, Maren had a white-knuckled grasp upon a tin funnel. "Mister Turner, Commodore Norrington," approaching the couch, Maren gestured towards Upton, "Secure his arms, please. Ye other blokes, hold down his good leg, thank you." Straight-faced, the men obeyed, keeping a weary and curious eye on Maren. Upton watched her fearfully.
"Here be the skivvy," abruptly, Maren vaulted atop the reclining man and straddled his chest. Her nightgown had risen to show off the lovely curve of her bare calves to petite feet. Every man in the room, both seen and unseen, gasped and dropped their eyes to the pretty peach limbs now revealed to them, before quickly composed themselves to turn their eyes modestly away, encouraged by Elizabeth's glare and warning cough. The hapless Lieutenant tried to scream at her irately, but couldn't on account of the funnel that was swiftly shoved into his mouth. With an iron fist that any tyrant would be envious of, Maren held the man's jaw closed, effectively preventing him from expelling the foreign object. "Ye either swallow o' drown, savvy?" tugging the cork from the gin with her resourceful teeth, she spat it to the floor and began pouring 'the devil's water' directly down his unwilling throat.
0000000
"Let glory see-er, um be
unto thy Lord.
Let his mercy be upononon…on
UPON MEEEEEEE!"
Apparently, Maren wasn't the only one that succumbed to song when drunk. Presently, the zealot religious Lieutenant Upton was belting out his favorite hymn and occasionally he'd even managed to remember the words correctly.
"Every day I bless…mmm, thee!
I will RAISE! I mean PRAISE!
Thy name forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever-."
"He drank an entire bottle of gin, half the whiskey, and the port has disappeared," Will gazed in awe at the still singing and drinking, the brandy at the moment, Upton and Doctor Dobsin double-checking the immobile leg brace, "Surely the man should be dead by now."
The doctor nodded and Upton squealed in delight as he was hefted up by his comrades by means of a stretcher and escorted outside to an awaiting carriage. Everyone sighed gratefully when his tortuous songs began fading in the distance along with the clip clops of the horses' steps.
Humming to herself, Kristy suddenly cried out in bitter frustration, "Aaaah, ye cocksucker! That damn'd song is stuck in me head now!" She attacked her ears and desperately tried to replace the hymn with 'May Done Be the Maiden'.
The other soldiers had been given leave an hour ago when the doctor arrived, so now only Norrington remained. "Thank you again, Mister," he nodded to Will then politely to Elizabeth, causing Maren's senses to prickle at a distant bout of sadness and leaving a dry taste in her mouth, "and Missus Turner. I knew I could depend on your infallible generosity and Christian hospitality this night."
"You are more than welcome," Elizabeth smiled beautifully.
"And please allow me another apology, Miss…"
"Attle," offered Will, having already thought of a lie, "Miss Maren Attle. She is visiting from London for the summer, my late godmother's cousin's niece…a friend from childhood, needless to say."
"Ah, well Miss Attle," bowing slightly, back still perfectly straight, Norrington said to Maren, "Welcome to Port Royal, may she make her first impression better than her Commodore did." Tentatively, he raised his hand to his cheek.
"I be sorry 'bout that, honest sir," Maren fidgeted, "It's just I got a right temper on me, I do."
"Please no apologies," he hurried, "It 'twas better then I deserved. To be truthful, it was an entirely new experience and there is something to be said for new experiences." Finally, the Commodore consented to smile.
"Oooh! Look who be flirtin' with ye," Kristy clapped like an audience.
"I guess as long as ye aint angry."
"Angry? Hardly," taking a slight liberty, Norrington stepped closer to Maren, "I dare think I shall remember this meeting quite fondly. Indeed Miss Attle, if I might be so bold, I shall confess that your bold resourcefulness and brilliant confidence have," he flustered for word, "inspired me this very night."
"Hey Pet, did he just babble what I think he just babbl'd?" scratching her head, Kristy added, "Somethin' 'bout thinkin' o' you while he jacks off tonight?"
Somehow Maren managed not to laugh while Norrington continued, "And perhaps, with Mister Turner's permission of course," the Commodore indicated Will, "I might call one of these days to tour the naval base and other local sights, if you wish."
Barely audible, but still noticeable to those who were listening for it, the curtains swore, "Ye bastard!" in a slurring drawl.
"I think I would enjoy that very much, thank ye," consciously, Maren ran a hand over her hair.
"Splendid," bowing again, the Commodore bid her farewell and again bade the Turners goodbye. He marched out, shutting the door behind him and that slight, pleased smile still graced his lips.
"Oh Miss Attle!" all three were startle by the sound of an overly falsetto voice, nasally speaking from behind them. Jack had suddenly appeared relaxed and sprawled out on the very couch that Upton had been treated on only minutes prior, his booted feet up on the cushions, "Yer busty resources and bitchin' confrontations inspir'd me to make an absolute git out o' meself." Finishing his unflattering impersonation of the Commodore, Jack drank greedily from the bottle in hand.
"I have located the missing port, darling," pointing at the drink in Jack's hand, Elizabeth and Will exchanged meaningful glances.
"Bah, do'n be like that Jack," Maren was feeling strangely giddy from quite so many manly attentions and openly sat next to Jack's half-reclined body. Neither did she complain nor move when Jack started absently rubbing her knee, "I thought he was sweet."
"Sweet?" he repeated her, skeptically and slightly moody.
Hastily she explained, "Only ye describ'd him as a pompous, ignorant creampuff what was more snob then man. "
"Aye, and he is!"
"No, he's not," Maren gazed off, smiling gently, "he's…sweet."
"Sweet," repeating again, Jack held tenfold more contempt and menace this time, "I did tell ye how he almost had me hang'd, right?"
Ignoring him, Maren yawned and Jack had to swallow his own yawn from blooming. Honestly, Maren's dreamy demeanor had very little do with Norrington and everything to do with Jack's obvious annoyance at the Commodore's flirtations. Was the dread pirate captain jealous? Over her? How enthralling! "Goodnight Jack," she kissed his forehead innocently, but was prevented from pulling away by Jack's hand wrapping around her neck.
"Come Will, bedtime," Elizabeth quickly grabbed Will and hurried up the stairs, blessing them with a little privacy.
"Mother Mary and Joseph," floating up, Kristy trailed behind the Turners, blatantly excited, "please let them continue their romp!"
The eyes flashed dangerously as they stared at each other. Deliberately slow, Maren leaned even closer to Jack and tugged the bottle of port out of his hand. She brought the bottle toward her mouth and Jack fixed his glare upon those mauve lips of hers, which wrapped wet and warm around the bottle head as she knocked her head back to gulp, almost more hungry then thirsty. The brief jealousy that had flared as a result of the Commodore's flowery compliments were nothing compared to the scorching envy that Jack felt over that damnable, lucky bottle. Of their own mindless accord, Jack's fingers had progressed from careless patterns at Maren's knees to purposefully caressing her thigh. Nonchalantly, she handed the port back to him, even though Jack would have much preferred it if she had kept drinking, preferably in that same enticing style.
"I said, goodnight Jack," Maren whispered sternly, "and do'n bother with pickin' the lock, I'll have a chair shov'd under the doorknob, savvy?" And to Jack's utter shock and complete disappointment, Maren stood up and walked out, hips swaying as she climbed the stairs.
For a while, Jack remained in total denial. She did not just go to bed, her bed, all alone. She did not just leave him wanting on the couch! She did not just tease him mercilessly with a bottle of port! Any minute now Maren would return stark naked o' clad in exciting red underwear…any minute now…any time now…really, not kidding this time, any minute now…oh shit.
Jack barely had enough sense to grab a pillow to smother over his face, before screaming and raving at the top of his throat and as hoarse as his voice would allow. His muffled curses echoed in the now empty sitting room and into the hallway.
