Hey!
Yup. Two chapters tonight. Go me woot, woot. ;-)
Thanks to all my lovely reviewers. Give yourselves cookies.
And in response to ChewedGum's very prompt review; Yes, Lizzie sure is shaping up to be a badass. What will she do next, I wonder? ;-)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Elizabeth had the distinct feeling of a carpet being pulled out from underneath her. All her boldness and banter with the despicable Barbossa of the morning seemed to be as waste. That day faded past like smoke. Elizabeth haunted the bamboo walkways like a ghost. Men avoided her gaze as though she was just that; many of them had seen right through her. She was the unofficially unmentioned crewmember. They needed all the help they could get, and yet no task was assigned to her, and she was not involved in their plotting and scheming.
It was driving her mad.
If she did not help rescue him then all her guilty thoughts and private apologies were for nothing. She must be the leader, who guided the tired but determined crew, to death or glory.
Not the silent wench in the corner whom everyone ignored.
Even the children in Tia Dalma's village seemed to be mindful of her reputation. They watched her, wide eyed and silent. Their mothers clutched them tight, and led them away. So this was her reputation. An aristocrat gone to the bad. A story to get children to behave.
By the time the evening birds had begun their calling, Elizabeth was quite at the end of her tether. In a fury she sought out Gibbs, and found him enjoying a foul smelling pipe with some other men from the crew.
"Mr Gibbs! I will not drift about any longer! Let me do something!"
Gibbs fixed her with an odd gaze; half disgust, half fear.
"Don't ye think you've done enough, Miss Swann?"
She had no answer for that. She stuttered but no words assembled themselves. Gibbs turned away and took another drag on his pipe.
"Be grateful ye'll be coming at all, lass. If t'was me, you'd be on your way back home. But Mr Turner won't hear o' that."
"Will?"
"Aye. He don't want ye travellin' back alone. The lad's in a right funny mood, though."
Gibbs turned back toward her slightly. Elizabeth fought the blush, but the other crewmembers would not look at her, and even if they did, she doubted they knew. But Gibbs… He knows.
"Must be the shock of losing Ja-, the Captain."
"If'n you think that, Miss Swann, you're a bigger fool than all o' us poor souls put together."
With that he turned away once more, the conversation ended.
At first, she took this as upsetting. She felt once more lost and sad. She returned to the place where she had spent her night, and stood, leaning against the wall. But it took mere minutes for her to change viewpoint. Pirates were not this easily disheartened. Gibbs had not upset her. He had snubbed her. And now, as in every upper-class party she'd ever been too, she would play the part of the haughtily offended victim. Pirate style.
"A hat?"
"Yes, Tia Dalma. A hat."
Tia Dalma raised her eyebrows. Men visited her to purchase many things, nearly all occult. She sold love potions, lucky charms, and more recently un-dead monkeys. Not hats.
"Do you not have any hats?"
"Ai'm sure ai may do."
Slowly, she began to search. Eventually, she found a rather battered tri-corn, with thick black stitching around the edges.
"This! This is a truly great hat."
Elizabeth took it and examined it. She looked up at the jangling witch-woman suspiciously.
"It looks like a very old piece of low quality leather that has seen better days to me."
Tia grinned.
"Ah, you be a sharp woman, Miss."
"How much?"
"Twenty gold pieces."
Elizabeth said nothing.
"Fifteen gold pieces."
To Tia's excellent eye, Elizabeth looked worried. She didn't have fifteen gold pieces. She didn't have any. Tia cocked her head on one side. Despite her rather dubious actions, there was something likeable about the girl. She had spirit.
"Tell you what. Ai'll accept a trade."
Elizabeth looked unsurely down at herself. She wore no jewellery. Carried nothing valuable.
"What of?"
"Your hair. Ai find et good practice to make thread from et for my charms. Agreed?"
Elizabeth reached back and felt for her plait. A thought struck her.
"All my hair?"
"Hmmm. The entire plait. Nothing more, nothing less."
If only she'd managed to keep hold of her other hat. But it was gone now. Her plait was a tiny sacrifice. It wasn't as if it wouldn't grow back. Yet somehow Elizabeth felt it was worth more than the previous amounts of gold. Her hair had come a long way with her. Still, she needed this hat.
"Done."
Will found himself restless that night. He paced the verandas, thinking over the plans to find Jack. Yet they were butted aside constantly by thoughts of his father. He felt every second was being wasted here in the bayou. Plotting to find Jack while Jones's heart was God knows where, being used for anything but Bill Turner's benefit. Will was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the approaching footsteps until they were almost upon him. Looking up he saw Elizabeth, striding purposefully past, an unfamiliar hat upon her head.
"Evening, Mr Turner."
Her voice was light, but on the serious edge of cheery. For a few blissful seconds, Will forgot yesterday's conversation and its cause.
"Good evening, Elizabeth. Why 'Mr Turner'?"
She stopped in front of him, and gave him a wondering look. His memories returned.
"Evening, Miss Swann."
He sounded resigned, slightly angry. His face set, a slight scowl suggested upon his features. He watched her back as she walked away. Then realisation hit him.
"Wait! Your hair!"
"Yes, Mr Turner?"
She turned her head slightly.
"Where is it?"
"On my head. Where I usually keep it."
"No. I mean your… plait."
"Oh. I sold it. If you want to buy a lock of it, I believe Tia Dalma can be quite reasonable."
She left him standing, gaping and amazed.
It was very wrong of her. As she rounded the corner though, joy filled her and she nearly floated off the walkway. She was strong, and she was powerful. It was wrong to feel so good at his shock but she felt it anyway. If he would persist in believing her hopelessly in love with Jack, then she would persist in being curt with him.
Because she was a pirate, free to do what she damn well liked.