Usual disclaimer – bah humbug!

Many thanks for your reviews, it's always a thrill to read your comments.

Richgal – thank you for pointing that out. I have to confess I never even knew it was a take on a Shakespearian quote!

Sorry, but there won't be any naughtiness for a few chapters yet!

Chapter Thirteen

Celia dreaded gettin up the following morning, but to her astonishment, Jack behaved as if nothing happened. 'Maybe he wasn't really awake,' she thought, drawing some comfort from it. She dressed quickly, pulling on the still hated breeches and adjusting the shirt to ensure she wasn't exposing too much of herself, then stepped out into the main cabin, smiling uncertainly at Jack who was leaning over the table with Myles Burford and pouring over a chart. "Where are we going next?" she enquired.

"We're headin' fer th'Turks," Myles informed her. "An' then out into th'ocean."

"Oh. Why?"

"Ships, my dear Miss sweet an' innocent," Jack grinned. "There's plenty of ships comin' over from Europe an' we're hopin' ter welcome them to th'Caribbean," he chuckled, winking at his laughing crewman.

"I see," Celia replied in a tight voice. "I will go and find Mister Gibbs for some work."

"You do that, luv," Jack smiled, staring deep into her eyes and shaking her from her earlier complacency as she now knew that he had been awake. "I'll see you later, eh?"

"Y-yes," she nodded, hurrying from the cabin to get away from his probing eyes and colliding with Noah Trinity on the deck. "Oh… I-I'm sorry."

"S'all right, Miss," the burly black man smiled. "I should've been lookin' where I was goin' to."

"H-have you seen Mister Gibbs?" she stammered, still uneasy amongst the crew.

"He's down in th'mess. If yo hurry, there should still be some grub left."

"Oh. Thank you," she smiled, hurrying over to the hatch and hoping she could remember the way to the mess. 'Goodness, I must have slept in,' she thought as she tentatively made her way along the gloomy corridor. 'Why didn't he wake me?'

"I see yer remember th'way," came Oliver Fernan's brogue from behind her.

"I am going the right way then?" she asked, relief evident in her voice. "I wasn't too sure."

"When yer get settled, I'll ask th'Cap'n if I can show yer around th'ship – so yer don't get lost, like."

"That's very kind of you, Mist… Oliver," Celia smiled. "I don't think I shall ever get used to calling you by your christian name."

"You'll be callin' us much worse by th'time yer leave us," he chuckled. "Here we are."

"Just in time," Tobias Pellew observed. "There ain't much porridge left."

"I'm sorry," Celia blushed as all eyes swiveled to her. "I did not realise the time. I shan't be late again."

"Ah, don't yer worry about it. There's always summat ter eat," the cook winked, handing her a wooden bowl with the last of the porridge in.

"Come an' sit here, Miss," Elliot Deane beckoned. "There's still some water in th'pitcher."

"Thank you," she smiled shyly, sitting besides him and eating her gruel in silence as the men talked and joshed amongst themselves.

"So, d'yer enjoy keepin' th'Cap'n's bunk warm?"

Celia's head shot up and she stared in dismay at the speaker, a tall, swarthy looking man, with a long sailor's plait trailing down his back.

"That's enough of that," Toby warned Adam Butler. "Th'Cap'n says she's ter be treated with respect, an' respect is what yer'll show her."

"Just askin'," Butler shrugged. "It ain't like she's a pure virgin any longer, is it? 'Sides, she lived with Aggie an' Giselle, didn't she?"

Celia bowed her head once more, tears of shame prickling her eyes. She desperately wanted to defend herself but she guessed that Jack would not take too kindly to his prowess with women being disputed by her insistance that she was still a virgin.

"You will show her respect," Oliver Fernan growled, hoisting his crewmate to his feet and shoving him towards the door.

"Or else, Paddy?" Celia's tormentor snarled, pushing Oliver's hands away. "Yer've got too big fer yer boots since ya were made helm."

"Don't call me Paddy," Oliver warned. "Say sorry ter Celia then piss off."

"Why should I do what yer tell me, huh?"

"Because he is senior ter you, an' you insulted Miss Hammond, by all accounts," Jack snapped angrily from the corridor. "Now apologise ter both Miss Hammond an' Mouse, then report ter Gibbs fer swabbin' duties, savvy? I think th'whole gun deck an' perhaps the quarterdeck should do it, don't you?"

"Aye, Cap'n," Butler replied in a surly tone. "Sorry," he muttered before stalking from the mess.

"You all right?" Jack enquired, looking at Celia with a frown.

"Yes," she whispered, not daring to raise her head and show her tears. "Fine."

"What did he say?" he asked his helmsman, feeling ready to throw Butler in the brig.

"He asked if I enjoyed keeping your bunk warm," Celia sighed, wiping her eyes with her shirt sleeve.

"What?" Jack exploded. "He'll have more than' bloody swabbin' ter worry about!"

"Leave it, Jack. He's got his punishment – I don't want him to dislike me any more than he already does."

"He disobeyed a direct order by being rude ter you, an' it's Captain…"

"Oh," she gasped. "I-I'm sorry."

"I'll let you off this once," Jack smiled gently, sitting beside her. "He's still goin' ter be punished, though."

"Why? I'm here for the next few months, I'm going to have to get used to it, I suppose," she shrugged. "Please don't punish him further."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite," Celia nodded. "Shall I help Mister Pellew with the dishes?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yes please," the cook beamed, imploring his captain with his eyes.

"If you like," Jack agreed. "You sure you're all right?" he asked, raising her chin with his finger until she was looking him in the eyes.

"I'm fine," Celia smiled weakly, feeling as if she was drowning in dark brown pools and grateful that she was sitting down. "I'll have to be, won't I?"

"That's my girl," he grinned, gettin to his feet. "See Gibbs when you've finished an' he'll get someone ter teach you how to mend sailcloth, savvy?"

"Savvy," she replied, standing and collecting the dirty bowls together, then following the cook into the galley where she could wash them.

Celia eased her aching back as straight as she dared and looked at Jacob Sumner, hoping he would not give her anything else to repair now that she had finished mending endless pairs of smelly breeches, shirts and small squares of sail. She sucked on a finger which was red raw and bleeding from needle pricks, and smiled gratefully as he shook his head.

"Nah, that'll do us fer today," Jacob grinned. "Yer did a good job, considerin' yer've never sewed like that before."

"Thank you," Celia replied gratefully, accepting his hand to help her up and wobbling slightly with the sway of the ship as they sailed through some of the many Bahamian islands. "I just hope there won't be any more to do for quite some time."

"I'd best not tell yer there's another pile waitin' ter be done, then," he chuckled. "Sorry."

"Oh," she groaned, closing her weary eyes. "Come back Mister Penhalligan's."

"What was he like ter work fer?" Sumner asked inquisitively. "I hear he's a lecherous bastard."

"Not to me, he wasn't," she shrugged, ignoring his coarse language. "But then I think he was a little afraid of Syndony."

"Who wouldn't be!" the pirate laughed. "Gawd, she's a harridan."

"I shouldn't say it, but yes, she is," Celia agreed as they walked towards the captain's cabin.

"After what she did ter ya, yer've every right ter say what yer want about th'old hag."

"Who's an old hag?" Jack enquired as he came down the quarterdeck steps.

"Syn Chester," his crewman informed him. "Th'bloody witch. I just hope Marlow is treatin' her how she deserves ter be treated."

"That's not very christian," Celia chided gently. "None of the women deserved to be kidnapped."

"It's not just that," Jacob shrugged. "She makes… everyone's lives a livin' hell, includin' my Mary."

"Mary?" Celia frowned.

"My woman, she works, worked fer Syn at th'brothel. Used ter come home black an' blue some mornings, an' it wasn't th'men that did it."

"I see," the young woman frowned, well believing what he had said, having seen the madame's behaviour from her time at Penhallick's mansion. "Well, thank you for your patience with me," she smiled.

"'Tis a pleasure, M'am," Jacob winked. "See yer in th'mess, later."

"No you won't, we're dinin' in my cabin," Jack told him, smiling wryly at Celia's look of alarm. "Not so long ago, you didn't want to dine anywhere but my cabin…" he teased her.

"Not so long ago, you were reasonably well behaved," she retorted.

"You could always halve your debt, have less time ter put up with my terrible conduct, eh?"

"You don't give up, do you?" Celia observed, shaking her head ruefully. "How many times do I have to… oh!" she stopped dead upon seeing the table laid out nicely and looked at Jack suspiciously. "What is the occasion?"

"It's Christmas Eve," he smiled. "Don't tell me you've forgotten – a religious lass like yourself? Tsk, tsk!"

"Oh my goodness!" Celia exclaimed, her hands going to her face in horror. "I have completely lost track of time. I haven't observed Advent or anything," she wailed.

"You've been through a lot lately," he soothed. "I'm sure your God will understand, eh?"

"He will have to be very understanding where I'm concerned," she sighed dejectedly. "I have not kept to my vows or promises at all."

"Still doesn't make you a bad person," Jack shrugged. "At least you do try."

"Hmpf! And the road to hell is paved with good intentions," she snorted. "I shall go and wash, if that's all right with you?"

"Of course, luv. I'll just sit here an' start on th'rum."

'As usual,' she thought to herself as she walked to the side cabin and then in to the head. 'I can't believe I have forgotten about Christmas. What sort of christian am I?' she lamented as she stripped out of her working clothes and dipped a rag into the bowl of cold sea water, washing herself as best she could. 'Oh bother! I've forgotten to fetch a dress now!' "Jack," she called. "Could you bring me that blue dress from the trunk, please."

"You'd forget your own head if it wasn't attached ter your shoulders," he quipped with a laugh. "I've put it on th'bunk," he said a few moments later, close enough to make Celia's heart jump.

"T-thank you," she replied a little shakily.

"Were you religious before you joined th'nunnery?" he asked, his voice fading as he moved from the side cabin.

"Not especially," she confessed, stepping into the side cabin and pulling on the dress hastily, rueing the fact that she had no undergarment to put on beneath it. She certainly was not going to ask him to fetch that! "We went to church every Sunday, but that was about it, really."

"So you were runnin' away, then?"

"It doesn't mean that I don't want to serve God now," she stated firmly.

"Only because they filled your head with hellfire an' damnation, I'll warrant," Jack remarked. "I'll bet you're scared that if you don't totally devote your life to God, you'll meet your punishment in th'afterlife, eh?"

"No!" she protested, an uncertain edge to her voice. "It's not like that at all! Why must you be like this?"

"I've seen too much ter believe in a supreme being. An' been through too much…"

"Such as?" Celia asked as she opened the door into the main cabin and looked at him, leaning against the doorframe.

"If I told you, you'd never believe a word of it," he chuckled ruefully.

"Try me," she challenged, jutting out her jaw.

"When you've had a few rums inside you, then maybe…"

"You know perfectly well I do not drink, Jack."

"Not even fer Christmas?" he pouted theatrically, looking at her beneath his lashes.

"Especially not for Christmas," she glowered, huffing at him and trying to ignore the lurch in her stomach at his doe eyes.

"So how did you celebrate Christmas before you got all religious, I wonder?" he enquired, an innocent expression on his face.

"We went to church," Celia sniped, pushing past him and stomping over to the table. "And had friends for dinner."

"Did you drink?"

"I was too young."

"Ah… of course you would have been. Talkin' of family, did you write that letter fer your parents?"

"Yes. I will post it the next port we reach. I just wish I'd had time to post it before we left Nassau."

"It probably wouldn't have reached England from Nassau anyway," Jack shrugged. "In fact, I'd be surprised if th'priest's letter ever arrives at your parents – that is if he writes one at all."

"Why wouldn't it arrive?" she frowned. "Ships arrive and leave all the time."

"Aye, they might leave, but whether they reach their destinations is another matter. Th'pirates know what is goin' on each ship an' if they deem it profitable enough ter hit, they do."

"But then ships will stop using the port, surely?" Celia mused.

"Ah! You've just proved you have more sense than most of th'pirates of th'Spanish Main," Jack laughed, picking up a bottle and toasting her with it.

"And I suspect you have more sense than all of them put together," she remarked, arching an eyebrow.

"Now that, Miss Hammond, is by far an' away th'nicest thing you've said ter me, an' I thank you," he declared, bowing elaborately, being careful not to spill the precious contents of the bottle.

"Oh, stop being so melodramatic," she scolded without malice.

"Supper, Cap'n," came Tobias Pellew's voice from outside.

"Well come in, before it gets cold," Jack urged, putting the bottle on the table and rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Hope yer like chicken, Celia," Toby grinned as he and Elliot carried a couple of platters in and laid them on the table.

"Yes, I do," she affirmed. "But this smells like no chicken dish I've ever tasted."

"It's arqui chicken - what th'natives use ter preserve their meats, with spices an' th'like," the burly cook told her. "An' it makes th'meat very tasty."

"It smells it," Celia smiled, blushing as her stomach growled. "Thank you, Toby. I think I'm ready for it!"

"Th'men are tuckin' in?" Jack enquired.

"Oh aye, like there's no tomorrow," Elliot laughed. "Which I suppose, there ain't!"

"There's always tomorrow on board a ship, young Master Deane," Jack reminded him. "I remember how Norrington managed ter capture George Francks last Christmas by cancellin' leave fer all th'Navy."

"Aye, that he did, th'bastard!" Toby spat as he doled out the food onto two pewter plates. "Sorry, Miss."

"It's all right," Celia sighed jadedly, gettin far more used to the swearing than she imagined she would.

"Right, well… enjoy th'food," Toby beamed, putting the plates before Jack and Celia. "It's good even if I say so meself."

"We shall," Jack grinned, picking up his knife and fork. "Keep me informed if there's any trouble, savvy?"

"Shall do, Cap'n," the cook deferred as he and Elliot turned and left the cabin.

Jack paused as Celia bent her head to say grace then carved up a piece of the spiced meat, savouring the flavour as he ate it. "Get stuck in," he mumbled through a mouthful.

Celia picked up a small piece of the chicken on her fork, eyeing it doubtfully. In spite of her assurances to the cook, she was not really looking forward to trying it.

"Won't kill you," Jack teased, his eyes dancing with merriment. "Starvation might, however…"

"All right," she replied, tentatively putting it into her mouth and chewing. "Oh, goodness, it's…"

"Spicy?" Jack chuckled. "Aye, but you'll get used ter that."

"It is nice," Celia admitted, picking up a goblet and taking a sip to rid her mouth of the strange, hot sensation. "This is wine," she observed caustically.

"They have wine at communiun, don't they?"

"Stop being pedantic."

"Stop being fussy."

"You are impossible!"

"As are you…"

"This is ridiculous," Celia retorted, though a mouthful of food. "You're behaving like a child."

"I'm behavin' like a child?" Jack echoed. "You started it! Can we please just have a nice quiet supper, fer once?" he pleaded.

"All right," she sighed. "And I had used to drink wine occasionally at home," she admitted, "so I doubt this will make me any more of a sinner than I already am." Celia looked up as she heard what sounded like music from the deck and glanced at Jack quizzically.

"Th'men get together every now an' then an' have a sing-song. "We'll go an' join them later, eh?"

"Yes… we shall," she nodded, eating her food in wonder at yet another surprise on board the pirate ship. "So, how do you spend Christmas?"

"Same as we will this year," he chuckled. "Have fine food, fine wine and get as drunk as humanly possible."

"And before you were a pirate?" Celia enquired innocently, sighing with exasperation and he grinned at her and shook his head. "Why is your past life such a secret?" she demanded irritably.

"Because it's piqued your interest," Jack laughed. "An' that can only be a good thing, eh?"

"It can?" Celia enquired acerbically.

"Of course. You see, women are like cats - they have th'most terrible curiousity. Therefore if you keep a secret from a woman, she'll become more an' more interested in you, savvy?"

"Well, it won't work with me," Celia declared firmly.

"It already is," Jack laughed. "Why else do yer keep bringin' up my past, eh?"

"Oh…" she sighed crossly, glowering at him and vowing to never ask another question about him again as she finished off her meal.

"Come on, let's go an' enjoy th'entertainment before they get too drunk ter play or sing."

"All right," she agreed, still glaring at him as he helped her from her chair and offered his arm. "But I don't intend staying on deck 'til all hours," she stated, slipping a reluctant hand into the crook of his elbow and allowing him to escort her on to the main deck.

"Of course not," Jack murmured, glancing sideways at her with a knowing grin on his face.

"Day is nearly over now, the night will soon be gone,
And I must leave my lady with the coming of the dawn,
Though short our time together, yet there's love to fill a heart,
And keep us close whenever we must be so far apart.

I wish my love could come with me
or I with her could stay,
But she can't go and I well know
that I must be away.

I think about the many times I've been far from my home,
That place wherein my lady dwells whilst I am forced to roam
I think about the happy times, returning for a while,
Again to see the face that says: "I love you"; with its smile.

Around the world and back again or gone for just a day,
It matters not how short the time, away is still away,
A world is only half-explored by someone on his own,
And soon we two together round this whole wide world shall roam.

(I must be away.)"

Celia gasped in amazement at the sound of Matthias Swain's baritone voice as he sang the song, joined in by the crew for the chorus, and she glanced at Jack, an incredulous look on her face.

"Told you they could sing," he chuckled, shifting his position on a barrel to get more comfortable. "Do you want another drink?"

"I really shouldn't," she slurred. "I'm feeling quite dizzy…"

"Then you need another drink ter help with th'dizziness."

"Really…? Why is that?"

"It makes it go away, savvy?"

Celia frowned, unsure as to whether to believe him or not but he jumped from the barrel and swayed his way over to where Adam Butler was dispensing the rum, before she could say anything.

"You all right, Miss Celia?" Oliver Fernan enquired as he picked his way over to where she was sitting, also on a barrel.

"Fine," she giggled, feeling decidedly light headed. "Just waiting for the captain to return with another drink."

"Do you think it's wise havin' another one?"

"Oh, yes. He assured me that it's just what I need to make the dizziness go away..." Celia shrieked as she overbalanced and fell off the barrel, only saved from crashing to the deck by Oliver's quick reaction. "Oh dear… I feel quite…"

"I think she's had enough, don't you, Cap'n," the Irishman frowned as Jack returned with two beakers full of rum.

"That's fer me to decide," Jack retorted, leaning forward and squinting at Celia even though she was a mere six inches away from him. "I think yer've had enough," he declared, shoving the extra beaker into the helmsman's hand. "You have it, Mouse."

"But I want it!" Celia pouted, reaching for the drink. "It's not fair!"

"I think yer need ter sleep," Oliver suggested, holding the drink out of her reach.

"I don't need to sleep, I'm wide awake. Now give me the drink!" she shouted, aiming a kick at his shins.

"Shall I take her to yer cabin, Cap'n?"

"No you bloody well won't! Come on young lady," Jack cajoled. "Time fer bed."

"I am not tired," she shouted, pushing Jack away and cannoning into Oliver, sending both her and the tall Irishman crashing to the deck.

"You may not be tired," Oliver commented, trying to move his hand which was trapped between the deck and her breast without drawing attention to the fact it was there. "But yer sure are drunk."

"Mister Fernan! I most certainly am not drunk."

"Mouse is right," Jack drawled, grabbing her arms and pulling her to her feet. "You are drunk an' you need ter sleep it off, savvy?"

"Oh, Jack," Celia sighed histrionically. "I do feel rather…"

"Sweet Mary," Joshamee Gibbs swore as he looked at the young girl, leaning heavily on Jack. "What have you been giving her to drink?"

"Only a goblet of wine an' two beakers of rum," Jack defended, looking hurt. "That's all…"

"Two beakers of rum too many, if you ask me," Gibbs chided. "Let me help you get her to the cabin."

The two men half carried, half dragged the drunken woman across the main deck to the captain's cabin, almost gettin trapped in the door as they tried to manoeuvre themselves inside.

"I'll take her now, Gibbs," Jack told him, shifting so he took Celia's full weight. "Come on, missy."

"Oh, Jack…" she murmured dreamily, nuzzling his neck.

"Eh? You don't want ter be doin' that," he chuckled, grateful for the fact that his quartermaster had left the cabin. "Wait until you're sober an' know what you're doin', then you can do it all you like, savvy?"

"But I want to do it now," Celia pouted. "It's so horrible, everybody only wanting me because my ca… cer… cherry! That's it - my cherry hasn't been eaten."

"Picked, luv," Jack laughed. "Picked."

"Picked, eaten – whichever. That's all people want me for. I'm so unloved!" she cried dramatically, somehow managing to move herself round so she was in Jack's arms. "Love me!"

Jack's eyebrows shot up as she kissed him forcibly and pressed her body into his, her hands cupping his buttocks as her tongue thrust into his mouth and explored with little expertise.

"Whoa," Jack gasped as he pushed her away gently. "Slow down."

"No. You want me, I want to not have a cherry, so let's do it." Celia pressed her lips against his once more and tangled her fingers in his hair, anchoring him firmly in place whilst Jack wound his arms around her and returned the kiss with equal fervour.

"You really should wait until you're sober," he murmured into her ear as he explored it with his tongue whilst manoevering them both towards the side cabin and bunk.

"Why? I will still feel the same," she replied, pulling away from him and undoing the laces down the front of her dress.

"No, you won't," he chuckled, batting her hands away and untying them quicker than she had been doing. "But don't let that stop you, eh?"

"I do not intend to, Captain Sparrow," Celia delcared, nodding her head firmly and reaching for his shirt buttons. "I'll undress you and you can undress me."

"Let's get you out of your things first, then we can concentrate on me, eh?"

"All right," she giggled, shrugging her dress from her shoulders and exposing well rounded, snow white breasts.

"Bloody hell," Jack murmured, cupping them in his hands and rubbing his thumbs over her pert nipples.

"What's wrong?" she asked, suddenly anxious.

"Oh, nothing," he sighed contentedly, his eyes feasting on her generous bosom. "Nothing at all… let's get this dress off you." He tugged at the material until it slid past her hips and she stood before him, naked. "Beautiful," he smiled, raking her body and feeling his manhood harden further, which he had not thought possible.

"Why thank you, Captain," Celia tittered, turning away from him and walking unsteadily over to the bunk and flopping down on it. "Maybe Mister Fernan was right – I do feel a little tired…"

Jack watched in horror as she closed her eyes, a dreamy smile playing on her lips as she drifted quickly off to sleep. "No, no, no, no…!" he wailed, throwing his hands up in the air. "No…"

Author's notes:

Carqui is another name for jerk, which does exactly as it says in the tin!

The title of the song is Away and I don't own the words to that either.

I didn't time the sequence of my chapters very well – if I had, you'd have read this two weeks ago!

Ani