Chapter XIX – The First Mate

Jennifer sat at the edge of the ship, against the bulwark near the bow. She had her knife out and was trying to unlock her restraints. After a few grumbled curses and frustrated screams, Jack stood from the group at the mainmast – the rest of the crew, talking about how Michael was really a girl – and went over.

Anamaria said she had the feeling all along. A few things had tipped her off, like the pennyroyal comment, or the fact that Cutthroat's chest was already bound up when she had to bind his ribs, but she was never quite sure.

"Ye need free, love?"

She glowered up at Jack. "Aye. Now."

Smirking he grabbed her arm and helped her onto her knees, then put her hands on either side of the bulwark so the chain was on the gunwale. He began hacking at it and the chain finally broke. Now, like the captain, she had wristlets.

"Nice, Jack." She sat on the edge this time and resumed picking at the locks.

"When yer done, love, could ye consider gettin' mine off me?" He held up his hands and she just nodded, not bothering to look.

Leaning over, he whispered in her ear while squeezing her thigh, "Thanks, love." Then he walked back over to the group, who were still discussing the female Michael situation.

Hearing them speak about her, she tried to keep her anger down. She had nothing to defend. She hadn't done anything wrong, she had only done her job, only lived her life as she could. Still they wondered how a weak female was able to fool them for so long, but that didn't bother her. Anamaria could set them straight on that one away.

She heard a click in one of the shackles and she pulled it free. Now for the hard part, getting the right one off. Working diligently, she kept her ears open, wondering what other codswallop they would spew.

"'Ow could a woman run a ship?"

"I don't know," Jack said calmly, picking at his nails with his knife, "but she did."

"An' 'ow did she fight all those men – she's too weak!"

"I don't know, but she did."

"A woman just does not act like that!" The crewmate quickly looked to Anamaria, whose hand was slowly going to her cutlass, and nodded. "'Cept ye, o'course, Ana."

"I don't know, but she does." Jack looked around at them all, knife still going as a smirk appeared on his mouth. His dark eyes scanned them all. "Yer all thick as mules. She's always been a woman, always done those things as a woman. Jus' because ye've never known, doesna make her a man and it doesna change who she is."

Looking over when he heard another clatter, Jack leapt up. He strode over, leaving the pirates to look to one another and to deal with a virtually fuming Anamaria.

"Got yerself free than, lovey?"

She looked up just as he leaned over. His hands clamped her waist, and she could feel his nose down her cheek and nearly feel his intense eyes peering into her head.

He faced her, nose to nose, his forehead pressed to hers. Hands moving from her waist, they appeared before her.

"Well," he said softly, in a nearly mocking tone, "get to work then, love."

She glared at him, but grabbed his wrist, digging at the lock.

"Easy there love," he said as the metal dug into his arm. A few minutes of struggle later and both the captain's hands were free. He flexed them a few times, then looked to his first mate. "Ye gonna sit?" he wondered, gesturing over.

"Nay," she growled, sliding down the side of the ship, crossing her arms. "I'm just a weak female, remember?"

Giving her a look, he returned to the group.

"Monkey!" they heard her roar, and Monkey came scampering over, leaping on his master's shoulder.

The group of pirates were still befuddled and uneasy by the events the day before. It was like Michael and Jennifer were two different people to them, separated by that one rip of clothing. The binding on her breasts had been torn, taking along with it her beat up clothes from fights, exposing her for what she really was. She had been a woman the whole time, fooling them.

This registered with some of them, and they realised she was still branded, still tattooed. Still scarred, tanned and the first mate. She wasn't a different person, and never had been. She was just herself, dressing as a man to be accepted. But most of the men there couldn't realise this. Jennifer was a woman, and they wanted their Cutthroat back.

"I think we shoul' jus' git rid of her," one pirate whispered. A second later, a knife imbedded itself in the mast right above his head. He peered up meekly, recognising it at Cutthroat's knife. They all looked over and there he was sneering at them. There she was. No different from the past year they had known him. Her.

Jack stood and took the knife out of his ship, then put it away to give back to Jennifer later.

"I'm sure," the captain said calmly, looking out at them, hand on his hip, "that she woul' gladly take ye all on. And slit every onea yer throats."

The group put their hands to their windpipes and slowly rubbed in consideration at Jack's words.

"But she kept a woman in 'er room," one mumbled. "Tha, tha's disgustin'!"

Jennifer didn't care much about defending herself, but when it came to her best friend, well, she had to. She stood to her full height of six foot, one of the reasons why she was never suspected of being a woman, and strode over to the pirates. Her muscles rippled, her scarred face stern, gaze intent. Her blonde, dreaded hair hung about her, fresh clothes tight to her firm body. She, like the others, was as bronzed as could be. Her rough hands shot out and she lifted the pirate right off the deck, bringing him to eye-level. Then he was slammed against the mast, her breath fanning on his face, eyes blazing.

"Repeat what ye said," she snarled, fingers tightening around her crewmate's clothes.

"Ye," he squeaked, then cleared his throat, "ye kept a woman in yer room!"

"And?"

"What did ye do with 'er! Ye were sleepin' wit 'er!" A few men looked curious, some understood the implications of a statement like that, and the others couldn't understand why he was so disgusted by it – some for different reasons than the others.

Jack stepped over, eyes narrowed. "Cutthroat sleeps with me."

The whole crew was immobilised, immediately understanding what that meant. They what! And so then how long had the captain known? They all looked up at the brutally powerful pirate-woman standing with one of their men crushed against the mainmast. Knowing she was female they noticed that a few of her features were slightly feminine . . . But not knowing you would have never guessed. Except her hips (which gave her that cocky pirate swagger) she was lean and built like a boy. A scarred up, run-through-the-mill-multiple-times pretty boy, but built like one nonetheless.

A flush of pride went through at least half of them as they watched her body heave in anger. The pirate looking up at her could also see her features distorted in fury, looking about ready to attack.

"I am," she said slowly, in a deep, rasping voice, slamming the pirate against the mast with each groups of words, "the first mate, of this here, ship. If ye dunna like it, ye can dance wit me knife!"

"C-Cutthroat sir," he mumbled, "I, I . . ."

Disgusted, lip curling in obvious distaste, she dropped him to the deck. Whipping around, grabbing her knife off Jack as he handed it out to her, she spat:

"If ye want any reminders to my name, I'll be more than happy to gie them to yeh!"

The group gulped at the same time, except Anamaria, whose eyes glimmered with what seemed to be pride.

"No takers?" she growled, tossing her knife from one had to the other, walking around the group.

"But what do we call ye now, m-m –" He was stopped from saying "ma'am" by Jennifer sliding across the circle to him on her knees, knife outstretched. The tip pressed into his skin, but didn't break it.

"Ye say that word, I'll kill ye here and now, matie. Sir and Cutthroat are the only ways ye'll address me," she gave him a vicious sneer, lone gold tooth flashing, "savvy?"

He breathed heavily through his nose, eyes wide and made an attempt to nod.

She cocked her head and grinned wickedly, showing a few more gold teeth of her own. "Good." Standing, she brushed her hands off, then stood by the captain. They stood in nearly identical stances, a force to be reckoned with. The men slowly heaved themselves up off the deck, feeling that this was over. They mumbled to each other as they left, most heading down into the hull to sleep, but a few others taking their night-time positions.

Jack and Jennifer looked at each other, both heatedly nonplussed by the reactions of their men.

Then he reached up and patted his first mate's shoulder.

"Dunna worry, love. After the next fight they'll be singin' yer praises." A slight gleam in his eye, he said; "They just need to see ye in action . . . savvy?"

She smirked back. "Perfectly, Jack."