Usual disclaimers…
Thank you for the reviews. Ducky – no, I won't be updating every week-end as before. You'll get each chapter when you get it – sorry, folks!
This follows on from the same night as the previous chapter.
…
Chapter Four
"Go on, dearie. You go home – you've already done enough covering for Margaret," Sarah, the cook smiled kindly. "At least that rain has stopped."
"Are you sure?" Celia asked. "Thank you, I could do with a rest before evening service tonight."
"Dunno why you bother," Judith, the other serving wench remarked. "Even those who are churchgoers don't go."
"It's what I came over to the Caribbean for," Celia shrugged. "I might as well try and convert the disbelievers here as anywhere else. See you tomorrow!"
"Bye, love. You take care of them pirates!"
"I will, Sarah," she chuckled headed out of the back door, her now dry clothes wrapped up in a sack, for she intended washing her unifrom that night.
…
"Why are we doing this?" Matthias Swain grumbled as he and some of his crewmates followed their captain through the town and towards the ramshackle church.
"Because yer need to learn stuff like God an' th'devil – heaven an' hell," Jack Sparrow informed him, his arms wide and his hands dancing and weaving as he spoke. "You're always sayin' that I'm a good captain, teachin' you stuff – well this is part of yer education, savvy?"
"Aye, Cap'n," Gabriel Jennings replied without conviction. "But surely Mister Gibbs could've taught us about them things?"
"That he could," Jack agreed, nodding vigorously at his crewman. "But it's best learned from a real religious person, an' that's why we're goin' ter evening service."
Celia closed her prayer book, sighing heavily. It was not the first time she had waited alone in the church for someone – anyone, to attend, and she reasoned that no-one would be turning up now. She started down the aisle, checking as she heard voices outside, then moved backwards, towards the alter table which she had righted when she arrived earlier that evening. Her heart almost stopped as the door creaked open and the voices ceased.
"W-welcome to God's house," she stammered, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.
"It's a pleasure ter be here," came a now familiar drawl.
"C-Captain Sparrow!" she gulped, blushing deeply as the pirate captain and three other men entered the church. "W-what are y-you doing here?"
"Come fer evening service," he replied, slurring his words. "Besides, you look a bit lonesome…"
"No wonder he was so eager ter come," quipped Matthias, nudging the man next to him as they looked at the blonde woman standing at the top of the aisle, obviously curvaceous despite her shapeless dress.
"I-I was just leaving," Celia stammered, still backing away. "It will soon be too dark to be walking back home on my own."
"So it will," Jack agreed, advancing on her. "A pretty young thing like you shouldn't be on her own anyway, eh?"
"Perhaps you can come another week?" she suggested, ignoring the implication of his words as she felt her way around the table.
"Ah," Jack sighed ruefully. "I don't think we'll be here next week. I tell you what, how about we walk yer home after th'service, eh?"
"Pardon?"
"No-one in this town dares cross th'captain an' crew of th'Black Pearl, eh, men?"
"Nah," his crew chorused proudly, puffing out their chests.
"B-but…"
"We've walked all this way," Jack pouted theatrically, looking at her beneath his lashes. "You're not goin' ter turn us away, are you?"
"Of course not," Celia sighed, standing behind the alter table and opening her prayer book, watching as the strange captain and his men sat on the only pew still intact.
"My Heavenly Father, I thank You through Jesus Christ, Your
beloved Son, that You have protected me by Your grace.
Forgive, I pray, all my sins and the evil I have done. Protect me, by Your
grace tonight.
I put myself in your care, body and soul and all that I have. Let Your holy angels be with me so that the evil enemy will not gain power over me.
Amen"
"Amen," the men chorused.
"That was beautiful," Jack slurred. "You have such a lovely voice."
"Gawd, yer layin' it on a bit thick, Cap'n," John Orchard whispered into his captain's ear.
"Am I?" Jack wondered, pressing his finger to his lips as he thought. "Y'reckon I should ease off a little?"
"Just a tad…" Gabriel Jennings advised. "She looks ready ter bolt out th'back door."
"Do you wish me to continue?" Celia asked acerbically. "I would have thought you could chat amongst yourselves in the tavern…"
"Sorry, luv. Forgive my crew their manners."
"Our manners?" John hissed. "That's rich…"
"You havin' a go at me, Orchard?" Jack growled, turning to glare at him.
"No, Cap'n, sorry…"
"Carry on, luv," Jack smiled graciously. "We won't interrupt any more."
Celia jumped as a loud bang sounded close by and she looked anxiously at the door.
"Jennings, Swain, check that out," their captain ordered. "It's all right, luv," he assured Celia. "Probably just some idiot who can't handle his pistol, eh?"
"Captain Sparrow… I may be naïve but I am not stupid. That was quite clearly not a pistol shot," Celia replied acidly.
"I was just tryin' ter reassure you," Jack muttered darkly, turning to look as his two crewmen came back into the church.
"Looks like th'feud between Ezra Barrentine an' Simon Marlow has started up again – in a big way!" Gabriel Jennings informed him. "Th'Dirty Duck is up in flames…"
"Bloody hell," Jack sighed. "Why can't those two just kill each an' be done with?"
"Do you mind not talking that way in God's house? I really cannot understand why you came here at all," Celia retorted. "It's patently obvious that you are not interested in the service. How did you know about it anyway?"
"Ethan mentioned it, in passing," Jack chuckled. "Thought I'd come an' give my crew an education in religion."
"Hmpf! I'm sure you did. Now if you will excuse me, I'm going home."
"Not alone, yer not, missy," Jack declared. "Not if those two fools are battling it out."
"And will I be safer with your escort?" she sniped, looking Jack up and down with distaste.
"I never hurt women, an' my crew know that if they hurt a woman they'd have me ter deal with," Jack told her seriously, all trace of slurred speech gone.
"Oh. I-I…" Another loud bang made Celia's jump again and she found herself being escorted out of the back door of the church by the four men, all with their swords drawn. "Is it likely to be dangerous?" she asked a little fearfully. Although there had been fights in the town since she had arrived, this was the closest she had been to one and it scared her.
"Not if we keep to th'back alleys," John Orchard told her. "Where d'yer live, anyway?"
"With Aggie and Giselle."
"What?" Jack exclaimed, looking at her incredulously. "You live with a couple of whores?"
"Those whores rescued me and looked after me," she defended. "There's nothing wrong with them, only what they do for a living."
"Hey! I wasn't critising," Jack replied, holding his hands out in mock surrender and nearly hitting Gabriel with his sword.
"Didn't know ya cared, Cap'n," the crewman grumbled, dodging out of the way.
"How did you know who the fight was between?" Celia wondered as they walked down a narrow street, which lead to the stream that meandered through the town.
"Th'Dirty Duck is th'drinkin' hole of Ezra Barrentine. We saw Simon Marlow headin' that way when we were comin' to th'church. It doesn't take many brains to put two an' two together - even Swain managed it!" Jack chuckled. "Y'know, it really isn't that safe for you to be out alone at night – or even in th'day, come to that."
"I know," Celia sighed. "I've already had this from everyone I know."
"So why d'ya do it, then?" Gabriel enquired. "Yer obviously don't have many people attendin' yer services."
"It's what I'm here to do," she shrugged. "Convert heathens to God."
"A thankless task here, then," Jack sympathised. "Can't understand why th'church sent a young slip of a girl to the most notorious pirate town in th'Caribbean."
"They didn't," Celia sighed ruefully. "I was meant to go to the Virgin Isles with a friend, but our ship hit a storm and sank – I ended up here."
"Maybe it was meant to be, eh?" Jack suggested, looking meaningfully into her eyes. "They say God works in mysterious ways."
"Hmm," she replied unconvincingly, edging away as he moved closer to her.
The group looked around as the sound of rioting increased and Celia clutched her rosary beads, working them as she prayed silently.
"Looks like tonight might be th'night one of them does finally get it," Matthias Swain remarked. "Ain't been a fight this bad fer a while."
"True," Jack agreed, glancing at the young girl he and his men were escorting. "You all right, Celia?"
"F-fine," she whispered, wishing she were anywhere but this hellhole of a town.
"Soon be home, eh?"
"Not that that is likely to be any safer," she shuddered. "I hope Aggie and Giselle are all right."
"They can look after themselves, believe me - especially Giselle," Jack commented dryly, having felt the sting of her slap on more than one occasion. "They'll run as far away from trouble as quickly as they can, savvy?"
"I know," Celia sighed as they reached the house. "Well, thank you for your escort," she smiled.
"You sure you don't want me ter keep you company until th'girls return?" Jack enquired hopefully.
"No! No, I'll be fine," Celia assured him. Thank you again, Captain Sparrow."
"Goodnight, Miss Hammond," he sighed ruefully. "Sweet dreams, luv."
…
The following day
"Jack! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Ethan Penhallick looked up from where he and Syndony Chester were lying on a blanket beneath a tree in the gardens of his mansion.
"Sorry, I didn't mean ter interrupt," Jack apologised, shrugging his shoulders ruefully at his friend's companion, who glared angrily at him. Jack could not understand Ethan's attraction to Syndony – she was good looking, that was plain to see, but she was too sharp tongued for Jack's liking, and he could not remember ever having seen her smile. "I have a proposition for you," he told Penhallick.
"I'm all ears," the pirate king grinned, sitting up and taking more interest in what Jack had to say. "Sit down," he offered.
""Nah, I'll stand if it's all th'same. I have it on good word that a shipment of tobacco will be leavin' La Havana in three days, heading fer Europe, which gives us enough time ter position ourselves to attack."
"How many guard boats?" Penhallick enquired, already working out in his mind which ships could accompany the Black Pearl in the attack.
"Four, from I've been told. I reckon with th'Pearl an' perhaps th'Serpent an' Sea Nymph, we could take them on…"
"Sea Nymph? So you've already spoken to Curzon then?"
"Not yet," Jack grinned. But have you ever known Abe turn down a chance like this?"
"No," Ethan laughed, shaking his head. "Your source…?"
"Stays my source," Jack replied firmly, wagging his finger. "Are you in?"
"Is your source reliable?"
"Hasn't let me down yet," the pirate captain shrugged. "Of course, if yer not interested, I'm sure I can find others who would be…"
"But no-one else has a ship that can match the Pearl for speed."
"You don't have a ship that can match th'Pearl for speed," Jack retorted. "Th'Serpent is fast, I grant yer, but not that fast."
"All right, all right," Penhallick conceded with a grin, whilst holding his hands up in surrender. "Y'know I like to wind you up."
"So, I'll have a word with Abe Curzon then?"
"Aye, do that, Jack, and tell me what he says over dinner tonight?"
"That I will," Jack grinned, clasping his hands together and bowing his head. "See you at eight?"
"Eight's fine. I'll make sure your favourite little nun is on duty for you," the younger man teased.
"I'll have ter have a wash then!" Jack grinned. "You can have him back now, Syn."
"'Bout bleedin' time too," the madame grumbled sulkily, pulling a face at Jack's back as he turned and made his way across the manicured lawn.
"That's enough of that," Ethan chided gently as he leaned over and started undoing the laces on the front of her dress. "Let me make it up to you…"
…
"I dunno why you had ter work tonight," Margaret sympathised as she watched Celia hurriedly wolf down some food. "Yer've been here since th'crack of dawn."
"I know," the blonde woman sighed resignedly. "But what Mister Penhallick wants, Mister Penhallick has," she shrugged. "At least I have time for something to eat."
"Barely," Margaret snorted. "Oh gawd, here we go," she groaned as a servant's bell rang out.
Celia put down the hunk of bread she had been eating and straightened her skirts as she stood, picking up a tray containing a shoulder of mutton, stuffed with oysters, whilst Margaret took a tray laden with vegetables out of the kitchen, up the stairs and across the hall to the dining room, where their employer was entertaining a guest. Margaret carefully knocked the door and opened it when called, setting the tray down on the table, but leaving enough room for Celia to place her tray down.
"Thank you, girls," Ethan Penhallick acknowledged.
"Good evening, Celia," Jack greeted with an easy-going smile.
"Captain Sparrow," she acknowledged, her cheeks reddening. 'Is there no escape from this man?' she wondered, noting in spite herself, that he was dressed in finer clothes than she had seem him in previously.
"Were you safe last night?"
"Safe enough, thank you, Sir."
"Glad ter hear it," he grinned, bowing his head to her. "I kept thinkin' about you all night."
"Oh…" Celia stammered, fixing her eyes on a pattern in the rug, wishing that her face were not glowing as much as it was.
"I was worried that yer weren't safe on yer own," Jack explained with a broad grin. "Why, were you hopin' that I had lain awake burnin' with desire fer you?"
"No! Of course not," she asserted. "E-excuse me…" Celia turned tail and fled the room, a perplexed Margaret close behind.
"Yer know Jack Sparrow?" she gasped as they reached the relative privacy of the corridor leading to the servant's stairs.
"No!" Celia exploded. "That is, I had the misfortune to bump into him yesterday and he turned up at the service last night. Said he wanted to educate his men in religion," she snorted.
"I wouldn't put it past him," Margaret chuckled as they climbed down the stairs. "He's a strange one, from what I hear – not like yer usual pirate."
"I had noticed," Celia remarked dryly. His comment about lying awake all night had struck closer to home than was comfortable for her, for she had not been able to sleep the previous night, thanks to the rioting in the town, and had found it extremely difficult to budge the image of the pirate captain from her mind as she tossed and turned.
"You really shouldn't tease my staff," Ethan laughed after the door closed behind his servants.
"Ah, but she's such an easy target," Jack chuckled. "I'm surprised no-one's tried it on yet, though."
"She's very good to the whores from what Syn's told me – looks after 'em and patches them up if a punter beats them. They, in turn look out for her and have threatened to go on strike if any man harms her."
"Still a risk," Jack mused.
"Aye, and one she's prepared to take," Penhallick shrugged. "Now, enough about my staff, have you spoken to Curzon?"
"Aye, an' he's in. So we'll have ter move quickly if we're goin' to be in th'right place at th'right time."
"It'll take a couple of days to sail up and move to position," Penhallick reasoned. "So we'll have to go tomorrow."
"I'm ready, an' so is Abe," Jack informed him as he sat down, eager to tuck into the delicious smelling food.
"My ship is ready as well, so sail on the first bell of the afternoon watch?"
"We have an accord," Jack replied, holding his tankard up in toast.
…
Authors notes:
The prayer is by Martin Luther and is copywritten, so I don't own those words, either.
The Dirty Duck was and still is an informal name for a pub/tavern called the Black Swan.
First bell afternoon watch is 12.30pm.
