A/N - before I begin, just wanted to say another big thank you to everyone who's reviewed - it makes me a happy bunny :) Sorry this chapter's fairly short, and that nothing really happens,but the next one will be very looooong. They really belong as one, but that would make it too unwieldy, and you'd get bored...
Oh yeah - the bit at the end is a flashback, I'm sure you'd have realised, but thought I'd just point it out...
"For ----- sake!" Sparrow's first day on land had evidently not improved his mood. It was evening, and once again he was standing before a closed door. Only this one wasn't just locked, it was boarded up.
As were the windows, the sign 'The Faithful Bride' was hanging askew and a bird has made a nest in a hole on the roof.
"Three weeks! Three ------- weeks we're away. And they close the bar. My favorite bar!" His tone was that of anger mixed with deep injury.
This tavern, as Sparrow had been enthusing to me all afternoon, had the cheapest rum – fermented in the cellar to the landlord's secret recipe. The worst "Cutthroat bastards a man could wish to meet" frequented it. And the girls, "Oh the girls Cathie, you've never seen such girls. Take you to heaven and pick your pocket in a matter of minutes."
From this I gathered these were all to be considered good things. However, the people of Tortuga evidently didn't hold the same view, now it was nothing more than a shut up old shack.
Sparrow leaned against a wall, and slowly slid in a slouch on the uneven cobbled street.
Ana shot me a look. It was a look I often received when we were in the presence of Sparrow. It meant 'Say nothing and wait'. While we waited, I heard a noise lift up and distinguish itself from the general clamor of a Tortuga evening.
It was Billy, the cabin boy, kicking up a stink as only a pirate can. The reason for this soon became clear. Gibbs was dragging him along by his ear.
Sparrow looked up, all dark eyes and shining teeth under his hat.
"Tell your Captain where I found you." Intoned Gibbs, every inch the patriarch. Billy sulked, and scuffed his boots. He may have muttered something, but it was unintelligible and ended in a cough.
"William."
"A house of ill repute, Cap'n." He rushed out Sparrow sat up straight at this.
"Oh aye, where?"
"Captain! He's only twelve! I told you a full share was too much for him! A half share is enough for any cabin boy." Sparrow shrugged.
"I always had a full share as a lad."
"You stole it!"
"Then, if you think about it." Sparrow replied with a flourish of his hand. "I'm stopping the boy from stealing."
Gibbs spluttered, and gave up – wandering off muttering "Daft, daft. As. A. Brush."
Sparrow held out his hands, Billy grabbed them and dragged him up, the pair shared a grin.
"Ill repute, you say?" Sparrow clapped Billy on the back and strolled off. "Lead the way!"
Ana glanced at me, and with a sigh peeled herself off the wall she had been leaning against, uncrossed her arms and headed off after them.
"Oh, Ana – no!" I cried out, aghast.
"Catherine, you're in Tortuga now." She swayed and waved her arms about, in a fair impression of our captain. "Savvy?"
We opened the door, above which hung the banner 'Visco's Pneumatic Traveling Theater And Music Hall Show'. As soon as I walked in the, the smell of lead face paint and cinnabar hit me……
"……Cinnabar; a little here, here, oh – and just there." My mother dusted me with a red powder, it made me sneeze. "Now, let's see how you look."
She took me by the shoulders and spun me round to face the mirror – a small round face looked back at me. My eyebrows had been covered up with wax, and thin arches painted above them. My lips were an exaggerated cupid's bow, my cheeks red with cinnabar rouge, and a heart shaped beauty patch set off the pale paint underneath it all. I grinned, making the powder crack round the edges of my mouth. Surely I was the prettiest ten year old in the world.
"Beautiful." My mother's face, thinner and older, but painted to match my own, appeared in the mirror next to mine. She started to fuss with my hair, draw it back into ringlets as she spoke. "It's like a mask, isn't it Cath-a-bobbin? A beautiful, beautiful mask. You wear masks for all the best parts, you know that? And that's what life's about – playing a part, and playing it well. Because the whole world is just a stage. Shakespeare said that. 'All the world's a stage; and the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his life plays many parts'." She smiled quickly and sharply. "Always remember that Cath-a-bobbin. It's all just a play, a show." Her eyes met mine in the mirror, and I squirmed in her grip.
"Tell me about how you met Daddy." I demanded, dragging her to the comfy chair and settling myself at her feet.
"Very well." She brushed down her skirts, and took up the familiar tale, starting as she always did; "It was opening night of the Beggars Opera, and we were running late because Elsie had lost her wig. About we ran, all of a fluster, when in barged this merchantman. He was dressed in his finest silks, hair powder flying everywhere, demanding to know why the play hadn't started…"