Usual disclaimers – pah!

Many thanks for your reviews and to Kat for correcting my mistakes.

Hils wishes to send an apology – she had hoped to upload the new story which we had devised between us, by now, but unfortunately her editor's computer has given up the ghost. When it is finally published, I shall let you all know!

Ani

Chapter fifteen

"Twenty gold bars!" Elliot Deane exclaimed with wide eyes. "That is good, ain't it?"

"Not as good as I'd hoped," his captain informed him with a theatrical sigh. "But yes, young Mister Deane, it is good." In fact it was better than Jack had hoped for after he and his crew had stripped the galleon of all good armourments and replaced them with older and less powerful ones from the Black Pearl, and swapped good sails for patched up ones. It was much, much better and he felt a grin creep across his face. 'What can I buy Celia by way of celebration?' he mused, pressing his finger to his lips as he thought. 'A new dress? Nah,' Jack dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, nearly hitting Gabriel Jennings in the face. 'Shoes? Books? Jewels? Oh, bugger it! I'll ask Aggie…'

"Cap'n?"

"Hmm?" Jack shook his head as the voice of Matthias Swain penetrated his thoughts. "What?"

"Are yer comin' ter th'Bride?"

"Later," Jack replied vaugely, waving his men on. "I'll join yer later."

"Bloody hell, he's got it bad fer her," Elliot sniggered once they were out of earshot. "He's even more daft than usual."

"That ain't possible," Adam Butler snorted scathingly. "An' he'll soon tire of her once she's learned all th'tricks."

"Don't talk about th'cap'n like that," John Orchard warned, flexing his muscular frame. "He's th'best cap'n I've ever served under, pirate or no."

"He's still daft though," Elliot shrugged.

"Yer th'one who's daft fer thinkin' th'cap'n is," the ship's carpenter snapped. "I think I'll head fer Scarlett's first," he told his crewmates, feeling his blood rising and not wanting to get into a fight with them. "Catch yer later."

"Th'Bride'll be dry by th'time yer an' th'cap'n get there."

"Scarlett'll be dry by th'time I've finished with her," John replied, roaring with laughter as he made his way down an alley towards where the whore usually bartered her trade.

Celia went to hurry across the small town square as she spotted Jack, then stopped as he bent to kiss a woman on the cheek, scolding herself as a pang of jealousy stabbed at her. 'You do not like him,' she told herself. 'He is a pirate…' But her words to herself did little to alleviate the unease she felt. She backed away as he turned, but was too late and forced as smile as he saw her and waved.

"Celia, luv!" Jack beamed, striding across the square. "Just th'person…"

"Yer cheated me!" a voice snarled from a doorway as Jack passed. "Yer bid over th'odds fer her, just so I wouldn't have her."

"Eh?" Jack puzzled, his step faltering as he looked at the glassy eyed, drunken figure with a frown, which turned to a look of concern as he saw a dagger being waved mere inches from his face. "What th'fuckin' hell are you on about?" he snapped, dropping a parcel he'd been carrying and reaching for his sword belt.

"One hundred guineas fer that'whore. Thought yer'd show me up, did ya?" He lunged forward, aiming the tip of the stiletto at Jack's heart and cursing the quick reactions of his quarry as the pirate captain dodged out of the way at the last moment.

"Jack!" Celia shrieked, her hands flying to her mouth in shock and fear. "Oh, dear Lord…" She took a couple of steps forward and stopped as Jack mounted a counter-attack with his own dagger, forcing the assailant back into the doorway.

"I don't even know who th'hell you are," Jack retaliated. "Why th'fuck would I want ter show you up, eh?" He darted forward, hoping to at least disarm the man, but found himself falling backwards as his aggressor tackled him and pinned him to the ground.

"No!" Celia screamed, running for all she was worth as the stranger drew out a pistol and cocked it, aiming straight at Jack's head. She hurled herself at him, knocking him off balance just as a shot rang out.

"Yer bitch!" the man spat, before smiling a nasty smile. "Well, well, well…" He reached out and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling her towards him and over Jack's prone body. "Look who it is… I think yer an' me'll be goin' somewhere quieter an' I won't have ter pay a hundred guineas fer ya."

Celia glanced down in horror at Jack, his best shirt already stained red with his blood, which was pooling on the cobbles beneath him. "Over my dead body," she hissed, smashing her head into his face and making him reel back.

"Yer can join him after I've finished with ya, slut!" he growled, reaching for her once more.

"No yer bleedin' won't," another voice bellowed and Celia looked in amazement as Jack's attacker went flying through the air away from her.

"John," she gasped, looking up at the ship's carpenter as he advanced on the combatant with his pistol drawn. She winced and looked away as he took aim and fired without hesitation, showering onlookers with blood.

"Celia, Cap'n!" the burly man exclaimed, turning and hurrying back to them.

"H-he's dead…" she gulped, tears springing to her eyes. "Oh, dear Lord…"

"No he's not. Come on, get him back ter th'ship."

"He's not?" she echoed, staring at John and then down at Jack, blanching at his pallid features. "How do you know?"

"He's breathin', but we need Matty ter look at him."

"Surely there's a qualified doctor in town? It will do him more harm if he is dragged all across town."

"He belongs on th'ship," John insisted. "Grab his feet."

"Why?" Celia pressed as she scrambled to her feet and slid her hands under Jack's boots.

"If he's on board, no matter in what state, th'men'll accept he's still cap'n. If he's not an' they think he's dyin', there could be mutiny. If he lives then he's lost th'most important thing in th'world, yeah?"

"But this will kill him!" she cried, straining as she lifted his dead weight up.

"Just get him to th'Bride – th'crew are there."

Celia did not reply, concentrating her energy on carrying the heavy, immovable burden, but sending up thanks that the infamous tavern was not too far away.

"John? What's…? Bloody hell!" Joshamee Gibbs swore as he saw who the brawny carpenter and the tall, but slight woman were carrying as he made his way towards his favourite tavern.

"Get help, they're in th'Bride," John gasped with exertion. "How th'hell are you managin' ter carry him?" he panted to Celia, who was by now, red-faced and sweating. "Put him down, they'll be here before long."

Celia gratefully placed Jack's legs carefully on the ground and then tore open his shirt, whimpering as she saw the gaping black hole in his shoulder with blood pumping out of it.

"He'll be all right," John Orchard assured her with more conviction than he felt. "He survived two on th'other side."

"I hope so," she whispered, taking her rosary beads from around her neck and placing them close to the wound and closing her eyes in prayer.

"He don't believe…"

"I do – that's enough," Celia stated, tucking the beads into Jack's coat pocket. "Oh, Lord, please let him live."

They both looked up at a commotion and saw all of the crew, minus Adam Butler, who had gone to the Faithful Bride, running down the street towards them.

"I've got him now," Matthias Swain assured Celia as he took up position at his captain's feet. Deane, Noah, you support his middle, Mouse, you take his shoulders with John. One, two, three – lift!"

"This is still a bad idea," Celia muttered as she followed the cortege down the steep hill towards the docks.

"Th'doctor's in town ain't any better than me," Matthias told her. "He's got as much chance of survival with me pokin' around inside him."

"I don't doubt your skill," Celia assured him. "But surely manhandling him and carting him halfway across Tortuga won't do him any good?"

"If he's goin' ter die, he'd rather die on board th'Pearl," Oliver Fernan stated. "Not in some back alley of this stinkin' hellhole."

"He won't die," Celia muttered to herself, fighting the urge to be sick. "He can't die…"

Matthias Swain glanced up as Celia staggered in with a pail of hot water, heated on the galley stove. She ripped up her undershift and dipped a length of it in the water, then washed away the blood which was still oozing from the wound in Jack's left shoulder and onto the table where he had been placed.

"Let's see if I can get th'bastard this time," Matthias frowned as he carefully pushed a finger into the wound, causing Jack to jerk involuntarily.

"Maybe I can have a go?" Celia suggested timidly. "My fingers are smaller than yours."

"Yer sure?" the ship's doctor asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Y-yes, I t-think so… what am I looking for?"

"A shot, or a piece of shot. It needs ter come out."

"A-all right," she nodded, moving in position as Matthias removed his finger. "H-how do I-I get i-it out?"

"Yer try an' scoop it – fer gawds sake, don't push it in further!"

"I'll try," Celia gulped, moving to where Matthias had been standing at Jack's shoulder. She gingerly approached the wound, closing her eyes momentarily in prayer before inserting her finger into the hole and grimacing at the feel of the warm, squishy flesh as it surrounded her finger. Gently, Celia pushed down some more, terrified of pushing whatever might be in there out of reach. She almost jumped as the tip of her finger brushed against something hard and she glanced up at Matthias, hovering with an anxious look on his face.

"Yer found it?" he breathed. "Try an' get ter th'side of it then work it upwards."

"All right," Celia whispered, tentatively moving her finger to the side. "Could it be a bone?"

"Yer'll know soon enough."

She gulped again as she felt the unmistakable shape of a shot and thrust her finger in further until it was underneath the round piece of metal, then she started to gently force it up, beads of sweat spotting her forehead.

"Easy does it…" the ship's doctor urged, mopping his own brow with a dirty kerchief.

"I am," Celia hissed, gasping as the shot slipped away from her finger. "Damn it!" She took a deep breath and manoevered back beneath the metal and started easing out once more until it almost flew out of the wound with a loud plop.

"Yer did it!" Matthias exclaimed, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Yer bloody did it!" He grabbed a bottle of Jack's rum and poured it into the open wound, making his captain spasm once more. "Gawd," he frowned. "I hope there's no material in there an' all…"

"Material?" Celia echoed, looking aghast. "What material?"

"From his shirt, like. Sometimes when th'shot goes in, it can take a piece of fabric with it."

"Oh, no," she groaned, cleaning her gore stained finger in the now bloodied pail of water and positioning herself to search in the wound once more.

"Pity yer ripped his shirt – we could have checked it…"

"I'll remember that next time," Celia remarked dryly as she pushed her digit down inside the wound once more.

"Gawd forbid, there'll be a next time," Matthias lamented.

"Isn't there always?"

"Aye," he sighed, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, there is."

Celia fell silent as she probed with her finger until she was completely satisfied that there was no other foreign body in the wound. "What will you do now?" she asked as she withdrew her finger and cleaned it once more.

"Nothin' – at least not until he's got enough skin ter sew th'hole up."

"How long will that take?" she gasped in horror. "You're going to leave that open?"

"Aye, only fer a week or so. He won't let me leave it any longer than that."

"Why ever not?"

"He's cap'n," Matthias shrugged. "He's got ter look strong even if he ain't."

"This is ridiculous," Celia snapped. "He wouldn't even be able to pick up a dagger, let alone a sword."

"He's right handed," Swain reminded her. "He's done it before, he'll do it again. Stronger than he looks, an' than most give him credit fer, is Jack Sparrow."

"Joshamee can look after the ship in his stead, can't he?"

"He will, but it wouldn't – couldn't be fer long."

"Stupid, stupid…" Celia muttered as she looked at Jack, amazed to see a bloom of colour returning to his face.

"He'll be fine," Matty smiled. "Why don't yer sit down before yer fall?"

"I think I will," she sighed, her legs suddenly feeling very weak and wobbly as she staggered to the stern seat and flopped down on it.

"Yer goin' ter nurse him? Yer seem to have a natural temperament fer it."

"Can I?"

"Aye, course yer can, lass. I'm always a shout away if yer need me, eh? Now, let's get th'Cap'n into his bunk."

"All right," Celia sighed, slowly gettin to her feet again.

"Not you!" he chuckled. "We've got a ship full of strappin' lads – I'll go an' get a couple of them, eh?"

"Thank goodness for that," she smiled, going to sit but changing her mind and she wandered over to where Jack was lying on the table. She brushed a strand of hair from his face and bent down, gently kissing his forehead. "You idiot," she murmured, quickly straightening up again as she heard Matthias return with some of the crew.

"Let's be 'avin' yer, Cap'n," Thomas Frazer declared as he and Gabriel Jennings approached the table.

"I'll go and pull the covers back," Celia said, hurrying to the side cabin and yanking the blankets back, squashing herself against the bulkhead as the two men, assisted by Matthias, carried Jack into the small cabin and placed him carefully on the bunk. "Could one of you bring in the captain's chair, please? It's more comfy to sit in," she requested.

"Course, Miss Celia," Gabriel smiled, turning on his heel and going back into the main cabin. "Anythin' else yer need?"

"No, I can manage everything else," she called, smiling as the crewman re-appeared with the large, well used chair. "Thank you."

"It's a pleasure, Miss. You just make sure our captain gets better, yeah?"

"I'll try," she promised, sitting down heavily with a weary sigh. What had started out as an enjoyable day catching up with her friends in the pirate town, turned out to be one of the worst she could imagine. She sat watching Jack's chest rise and fall, then she suddenly jumped back to her feet and hurried into the main cabin, to where his coat had been discarded. Celia fished in the pocket until she retrieved what she sought and went back in to Jack, placing her rosary beads beneath the pillow. "I know you don't believe," she whispered. "But it won't do you any harm even if it does no good."

"Celia…?" Jack croaked, trying to force open his eyes but finding them too heavy. "Is that you, luv?"

"Yes!" she replied incredulously, grasping his hand. "You're safe now."

"Where?"

Celia had to bend down so her ear was virtually pressing against his lips before she could hear him. "On board the Pearl," she smiled. "Let me just get the chair…"

"Don't leave me," Jack rasped, gripping her hand as tightly as he could.

"Gabriel brought the chair in, I only have to move it up here." Celia gently extracted her hand from his and dragged the chair until she was sitting at his shoulder. "Here I am…" She took his hand once more, stroking it and crooning softly until Jack fell into a deep sleep.

"Oh!" Celia's eyes shot open and she raised her head to look at Jack, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw his dark brown eyes watching her.

"Sorry, luv," he smiled weakly. "Didn't mean ter startle yer…"

"I shouldn't have fallen asleep," she apologised. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been shot," he joked, his half smile turning to a grimace as pain tore through his shoulder. "Did Swain get th'shot out?"

"No, I did," Celia admitted. "My fingers are smaller than his."

"Good girl," he murmured, closing his eyes wearily.

"Do you want a drink of water?"

"Rum'd be nicer, but I don't suppose yer goin' ter let me have any, are you?"

"I think water will do you more good at the moment. But I promise you can have some rum later, all right?" Celia did not wait for his reply but disappeared into the main cabin and over to the doors, calling for some fresh drinking water to be brought in, and for the ship's doctor to come as well.

"I don't need Swain fussin' over me," Jack sighed when she returned. "I'll be all right in a day or so."

"No yer won't, Cap'n," Matthias informed him as he walked in unannounced, obviously having been close by when Celia called for him. "Th'wound's still open – there ain't enough skin ter sew."

"Bugger!" Jack exploded, instantly regretting it as his shoulder burned with renewed agony.

"Here's th'water," Elliot Deane announced, carrying a pitcher and two beakers. "How yer doin', Cap'n?"

"You'll be able to see him later," Celia smiled, taking the utensils from the young man and pushing him firmly out of the side cabin, closing the drapes in his face.

"Never had yer down as assertive," Jack remarked once the pain had subsided enough for him to speak.

"I can be a lot of things when I have to," she replied as she poured some water into one of the beakers and carried it over to him. She slid her hand beneath his head to both lift it and hold it steady as she tipped the container up gently, allowing Jack to sip from it.

"I love assertive women," he teased, his eyes regaining some of their sparkle as he looked at her.

"I can see yer gettin' better already, Cap'n," Matthias winked. "I need yer ter sit up so I can take th'dressin' off."

"Please can I have some rum?" Jack pleaded, beseeching Celia with his eyes.

"I'll be gentle," Swain promised.

"Not as gentle as Celia, I'll warrant."

"I'll do it if you like," she offered. "But don't blame me if it hurts…"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jack smiled, but his drawn face giving away how much pain he was in.

"Must you look at it now?" Celia enquired of the ship's doctor. "Can't it wait a day?"

"Nah. Th'blood'll dry an' that would be murder ter get off, eh, Cap'n?"

"Aye." Jack braced himself as his two companions positioned themselves either side of him and lifted him up. He gulped as white hot fire coursed through his shoulder and down his arm, making his fingers tingle with pain. "B-bloody hell," he cursed, sinking back against propped pillows, sweat dripping down his face.

"I'm sorry," Celia fretted, taking a handkerchief from inside the top of her dress and wiping Jack's face with it.

"Not your fault, luv," he croaked, managing a weak smile.

Matthias Swain helped his captain sit up once more and Celia leaned over him, unwinding the bandage holding the rag in place over the wound, taking extreme care not to pull or tug at it and exhaling deeply when the last piece unravelled. She gently eased the rag from his wound, biting her lip as he winced and hissed with pain where the blood had dried and stuck, but finally the wound was exposed and Celia stood back gratefully to allow Matthias to inspect it.

"It's lookin' all right," he beamed. "We'll make a surgeon of yer yet, Celia!"

"I don't think so!" she snorted. "Although no doubt you'll be calling on me to help if anyone else gets injured…"

"If th'Cap'n allows, yes," he chuckled, reaching for a small case and opening it, taking out an earthenware bottle.

"What's that?" she enquired, leaning forward to take a closer look.

"I've died an' gone ter heaven," Jack murmured as her breast brushed against his cheek.

"I'm not sure about heaven," Celia scolded gently as she moved away from him.

"It's from th'aloe plant," Matthias told her, answering her question. "Th'natives use it ter heal their wounds an' burns an' suchlike."

"How on earth did you find out about it?" she wondered.

"I was looked after by natives years ago after I'd been shipwrecked. That's how I got ter be a doctor of sorts. I learned about their medicines an' that."

"W-would you teach me?" Celia enquired hesitantly. "I mean, don't, if you don't want to…"

"I'd love ter," Matthias smiled as he applied the poition librally to Jack's wound. "Yer can practise on th'Cap'n."

"Yes please," Jack sighed, closing his eyes as the cooling potion started to work on lessening the pain.

"Call me if yer need anythin' else. I'll get Toby ter send some food up," the burly man smiled as he stoppered the bottle and replaced it in his case.

"He's probably already onto it," Celia smiled.

"Send Gibbs in," Jack croaked.

"No!" Celia refuted, shaking her head firmly. "You need to rest."

"I'm Captain of this ship. I give th'orders."

"Not whilst you are convalescing. Mister Gibbs is more than capable of running the ship for a few days until you are strong enough to resume command. You may then also throw me in the brig, if you so wish…"

"Don't bloody tempt me, young Missy," Jack growled, glaring at Celia and then at his crewman who was doing a bad job at stifling a chuckle. "Have yer nothin' better ter do?" he snapped, sending Swain on his way. Jack sank back into the pillows, the effort of speaking and the pain of being moved, having worn him out.

"I will have to cover your wound again," Celia apologised, giving him a rueful smile. "And I am sorry I spoke to you like that in front of Matthias."

"Aye…" he sighed, closing his eyes wearily, recoiling as she carefully placed a fresh dressing, which Matthias had left, against the gaping hole in his shoulder. "Just try an' refrain from doin' it in future, eh?"

"I will," she promised, moving him forward so that she could wind another bandage around his chest to secure the dressing.

"At least it shows yer care about me…"

"You don't give up, do you?" she smiled, shaking her head at him. "Even when you're poorly."

Especially when I'm poorly," he chuckled softly. "Play on yer sympathy."

"Ah, well you've just wised me up to your games, Captain Sparrow," Celia teased. "I shall know not to show you an ounce of sympathy whatsoever…"

"Cruel woman," he muttered, flopping back when she finished binding him, his face etched with pain.

"Maybe some rum won't do you any harm now," she mused, going to the main cabin and to where Jack stored his rum, taking a bottle from the chest and carrying it back to him. She hoisted herself up and sat on the edge of the bunk then uncorked the bottle, holding the rim to his lips. "Here you go," she cajoled, tipping it back so some of the dark liquid poured into his mouth.

"Beautiful," Jack whispered. "Did yer pick up th'parcel I'd got with me?" he asked.

"Parcel?" Celia pondered thinking back to when she had spotted him just before the attack. "Oh! No, I didn't think. It wasn't important, was it?"

"I'd brought you a hat ter wear when you're on deck," he smiled weakly. "Just paid Dolly fer it too, I had."

"It doesn't matter," she smiled, tenderly stroking his hair. "I don't really need one…"

"You do, you're fair haired," Jack stated, closing his eyes. "I'll get you one," he murmured, sinking into a deep sleep once more.