Chapter five: Raised eyebrows.
"Did you have to go off and tell everyone?" Demanded Abigail, who's face was slightly pink.
"Not really, no." Clara smiled innocently. Jack was watching bemused, as the pair of captives left sat at the long galley table, bickering.
"Girls," He said warning, when they both seemed to want to kill each other. Abigail glared over at Jack, who merely shrugged.
"Don't 'girls' me, Sparrow," She snapped after staring at him long and hard. "Its her." She pointed a perfect little finger at Clara, who wanted to chop it off. She seriously thought about it...ok, she was planning to do it, but she could find nothing sharp enough.
"Just shut up!" Abigail closed her mouth at the captains roar, and looked slightly scared. She had been on this ruddy ship for almost a month, and it was starting to grate on her last nerve. All she wanted to was to go home, and curl up in her bed. That's it. It wasn't that hard, was it? Apparently so.
"Well maybe if you just let us go, we would–"
"Oh just shut it!" Clara and Jack yelled in unison. She glared at them both.
"Well, why did you call us down here then?" Clara asked Jack, turning from the frazzled woman.
"We are heading to Italy, dear one." He smiled at Clara, which caused her to frown. "Then, after we collect your ransom, we're off to Kingston for the lovely Abigail. Savvy?" Clara was chewing on the inside of her cheek, clearing thinking.
"Why not drop off Abigail first? We are certainly closer to Jamaica then Italy. And who said Italy in the first place?" Jack raised an eyebrow as Abigail let out a small delicate snort.
"Oh...so its not in Italy? With a name like Sandiniti, I should think it would be...and"–he said, pointing to the silently fuming other woman. –"she gets dropped off last because I say so. Bigger treasure first, love."
"You're a vile lot," Abigail said quietly, then got up leaving.
"Hey! Im a captive, just like you!" Clara called after her, but if the other woman heard it, she didn't answer back.
Jack looked around, and his eyes fell on the sight of Clara, sitting on the bulwark, her legs jutting out of the railing, and dangling freely. That damn girl was too much of a handful.
"The reason you are here, and not in the brig is...?" He walked up to her. She threw her head back all the way and looked at him upside down.
"Cause I didn't like it."
"You're not supposed to, idiot. How the hell did you get out?" She pulled from her drudges' skirt pocket the vile she had taken from Abigail, shook it lightly, and laughed.
"Oh, it was quite easy, really. The guard was snoring already. I picked the lock, gave him a few drops, and voila...here I am." She said it like it was a song.
"Here you are," Jack echoed, shaking his head. He grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her up easily, banging her knees on the top railing.
"Ow!" She protested, writhing in his hands so, that he was forced to drop her. She stood up, and glared at him haughtily. He was quite a few inches taller then her, but she gave off the impression of looking down her long nose.
"Get back in the brig, or I will make you." He said simply, and watched her sulk down below, letting forth a scathing amount of curses.
"Parkinson? PLEASE go down there and help the other guard. Don't, however, fall asleep, or eat anything she offers you."
"That dead set on killing us?" Parkinson laughed at his own pun and followed the slight woman.
"Now what are you doing?" Abigail asked wearily, rubbing her temples.
"Fixin' a way to get out." Clara snickered, and set the piece of cheese outside the cell, in the pathway.
"Going to enlist the help of some rats?"
"Oh just be quite...Parkinson is coming back.
"That was brilliant."
"I know." The two women stood there, side by side, and looked down at the unconscious Parkinson.
"Who knew." Two days after she had put the hunk of cheese there, she retrieved it, though hard and uneatable, and waited for Parkinson to come back from the lavatory. Like she planned, the cheese left behind a considerable amount of grease, causing the young man to slip, fall, and become prostrate. It was great.
"Yeah...just think of all that you eat...just with cheese." Clara bent down and grabbed the keys from the man's pocket, just in her reach.
"The captain is gunna be pissed."
"So?"
"'so?' Are you kidding? He would probably beat you."
"He cant...he needs to keep us intact. Otherwise the price goes down." Abigail opened her mouth, then shut it, shrugging.
"You have a point."
"I always do."
Clara undid the lock and jauntily stepped over Parkinson, smiling.
"I think Im gunna have a bit of fun." She mock saluted Abigail, and walked out of the brig. Abigail sat back down on the bunk, and watched the silent form of Parkinson.
After a while, the ship's cat came ambling in, and walked around, sizing everything up. It jumped up onto Parkinson's back, and started kneading its claws. It woke him with a start.
"Wazzat?" He cried, jumping up, pulling a dagger from his belt and looking wildly around.
"A cat," Abigail said, trying hard not to laugh. Slowly, Parkinson relaxed, and even grinned sheepishly. He pulled over his chair–careful to avoid the grease–and sat outside of the cell.
"I take it the other wench is long gone? Thought so. No use goin' after her. She is her own woman." He leaned back in his chair, his long legs up on one of the bars, balancing him.
"What's your real name?" Abigail asked suddenly. He was quite for a moment, then looked over to her.
"Why?"
"Parkinson is more of a last name."
"Then call me Park, or Son..."
"I want your real name," He sighed, and then smiled.
"Just as stubborn as the other one. My real name is simply Joe."
"Short for Joseph?"
"Aye. But if you ever call me that, I will gut you."
"Ill take my chances...Joseph."