Still don't own him!
With thanks for the reviews and to Kat for editing.
…
Chapter Twenty Three"I can't believe Mouse has gone!" John Orchard exclaimed as he and his crewmates prepared the ship for making sail.
"I can," Adam Butler observed smugly as they all digested the news that Oliver Fernan was indeed no longer one of them. "Th'mood he was in…"
"Aye, I ain't ever seen him like that, b'fore," Elliot agreed, shaking his head. "But ter desert th'ship like that…"
"So, exactly what is th'schooner carryin'?" Jack enquired from behind where they were working, realising that although his master gunner had told him they had found the information out, he did not know what it was.
"Spices, Cap'n," Gabriel Jennings informed him. "An' sugar… what happened with Mouse, Cap'n?"
Jack sighed, sliding his hand beneath his hat and scratching his head, suddenly remembering he had no bandana on. "We had a difference of opinion," he admitted. "I couldn't allow him back on th'ship, so I gave him a purse."
"An' he took it?" Adam Butler asked suspiciously.
"He had little choice," Jack shrugged. "Now back ter work, th'lot of you, if yer want ter catch that schooner. Spice an' sugar are too valuable ter let go, savvy?"
"Aye, Cap'n," the men replied, some a little less enthusiastically than others.
"Offered him a purse, my arse!" Butler snorted once Jack was out of earshot.
"You wanna watch what yer sayin'," Jacob Sumner warned. "Talk like that will get yer against th'gratin'."
"Y'must admit though, it does seem a little strange," Gabriel mused as he hauled on a rope.
"Not given how Mouse felt about Miss Celia," John Orchard reasoned. "I'll bet all my share that she was th'reason fer Mouse leavin'."
"Aye," the rest of the men agreed.
"Better look lively, lads," Jacob warned. "Th'cap'n's keepin' an eye on us. An' I ain't sure I want ter miss out on that prize, anyway."
"Imagine how much we'll get fer spices, let alone sugar," Gabriel chuckled gleefully.
"So we're just goin' ter leave it at that?" Butler enquired. "Even though there's a chance th'cap'n could've done somethin' ter Mouse?"
"Like yer've ever cared about Oliver before!" Jacob snorted. "But what'd yer reckon, lads? Should we ask th'cap'n if we can go back an' find him, persuade him ter change his mind?"
"Ya heard th'cap'n. He was th'one who decided that Mouse couldn't come back. B'sides, there wouldn't be time," John put in. "So it's spices or Mouse…"
"I hope yer hands are workin' as fast as yer gobs!" Jack barked, glowering at the group of men from his position on the quarterdeck. "If yer have somethin' ter say, say it ter my face."
"We're worried fer Mouse, Cap'n. He was in a right mood when we got ashore an' stormed off, an' then we find out that th'pair of you had a fight - it ain't like him. We were wonderin'…" the ship's carpenter hesitated, glancing around his mates before continuing. "If we could perhaps go an' find him, an' maybe persuade him ter come back."
"I think yer ears need cleanin' out, Orchard! I said that there is no chance of him comin' back - not if he wanted ter live beyond first bell of th'mid watch. Now back ter work before I throw th'lot of yer in th'brig!" Jack sighed deeply and turned his back so none of the crew could see the anger and despondency in his eyes. "We make sail before they do," he ordered, still not facing the crew. "We can soon catch them up if they happen to go in a different direction."
"I hope we've got enough food an' ale ter last us," Adam Butler hissed, shooting dark looks towards the quarterdeck.
"You goin' ter ask th'cap'n if we have or not?" Elliot enquired innocently.
"Ha bloody ha," his crewmate sniped, shaking his fist at him.
"I don't like it," Gabriel fretted. "Ain't ever seen th'cap'n like this b'fore."
"Maybe Mister Gibbs is right about women on board ships, eh?" Elliot pondered. "First Mouse, an' now th'cap'n an' it's all because of her."
"You going ter tell th'cap'n that?" Butler mocked, pulling a face at the younger man. "Nah, Fernan can take care of himself… I want that prize."
…
Oliver woke with a start as the cart went down a rut and woke him and he wondered why he could not move his arms or legs until the memory came flooding back and he cursed silently. 'You're not gettin' away with this,' he thought darkly as he worked against the binding on his wrists until it was loose enough to slip one hand out and he yanked it off before starting on the one on his ankles. He carefully pulled back the sackcloth and peered out at the driver of the cart, smiling to himself when he saw it was only one man and he crept slowly forwards, then grabbed his captor and hauled him to the back of the cart, punching him several times until he was unconcious. Oliver scrambled to the bench at the front of the cart and grabbed the reins before the horse panicked and bolted and drew the vehicle to a standstill then jumped down and began unharnessing the filly, gently rubbing her nose to calm her down.
"It's all right, girl," he soothed. "I mean yer no harm." He grabbed the mane and hauled himself up, holding on to the reins as he steered them in the direction which they had come and urged her forwards, praying that they had not come too far from the town and that he would reach it before the pirate ship set sail.
…
"Raise th'anchor," Jack ordered, not wanting to leave at the same time as the schooner in case it raised suspicions. "We'll take it nice an' gentle, Mister Burford."
"Nice an' gentle, aye, Cap'n," the helmsman agreed. "Bearin'?"
"North by northeast. "At least th'wind'll be for us if they head west." Jack stood at the stern, his mind back on Celia who had gone into the cabin a few minutes earlier. "Call me if anythin' untoward happens," he ordered Myles as he strode across the quarterdeck and down the steps, hesitating for the merest second before pushing the door to his cabin open, surprised to see Celia in her work clothes, swabbing the deck.
"Hello," she smiled timidly. "I thought you had got lost."
"Aye, I got caught up with th'rush of gettin' everythin' ready. You all right?"
"Fine," she replied in a tone that suggested otherwise. "What happened with you and Oliver? You didn't…?"
"Of course I didn't kill him," Jack frowned, a little hurt that she would think that of him. "I saw him headin' out of town an' wondered where he was goin' when he expressly said that he was stayin' on board. Do you know why he went ashore?"
"N-no," Celia stammered, avoiding his eyes in case she gave herself away but realised that he would see through her anyway. "He… erm… he asked me to run away with him." The words came out in a rush and Celia stared intently at the deck, not wanting to face the anger she knew, or at least thought she knew, would be coming.
"Ah… an' what did you say?"
"What do you think I said? He believed we could make a live for ourselves and that he could find work as a farmer."
"And that was your sole reason fer turnin' him down?" Jack wondered, cocking his head one side as he regarded the young woman. "Just how much do… did you like him, luv?"
"I told you!" Celia protested, snapping her head up and glaring at him. "I didn't feel the same way for him as for you - isn't that enough?"
"But you did feel fer him?"
"No! Yes…" she sighed despondantly, her shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.
"So why did yer chose me, I wonder? Afraid of what I'd do ter you?" Suddenly the words that his former crewman had said during their argument did not seem so absurd after all.
"No… I don't know!" Celia cried, throwing her hands up as she struggled to explain herself. "I suppose I did wonder if you really would have thrown us both off the ship if I had chosen Oliver, but that was not the reason, Jack!"
"What was th'reason then?" Jack mused, arching his eyebrows as he still looked at her with his head to the side.
"I love you, damn it! Though Lord only knows why! There, are you happy now?" Celia turned on her heel and stormed to the side cabin, cursing for the umpteenth time of the lack of a door to shut and lock behind herself. "Leave me alone!" she ordered as she heard his booted feet walking towards the side cabin. "For once Jack, just give me some privacy, please."
Jack stopped and frowned at her words, debating whether to ignore her as usual or whether to comply with her wishes, before deciding on the latter and turning away, walking to the door with a deep sigh, part of him elated at her words and part of him slightly terrified.
…
Oliver Fernan crested the brow of a hill on the filly which he had stolen, and looked down on the town of Saint Marta and its harbour, jumping down and kicking the dirt in aggravation as he saw his former ship sailing away. "Fuck! Damn yer bleedin' eyes, Sparrow!" he cursed, aiming another kick at the soil then walking over to the horse which had wandered to the scrubby grass and was happily munching on it. "All right, girl," he smiled ruefully, patting her rump. "Yer can have a rest a while. No use in hurryin' now." The Irishman looked back at the black ship, closing his eyes in disappointment and hurt and seeing Celia in his mind's eye. "Don't think this is over, Sparrow," he vowed, opening his eyes once more. "I will find yer an' then we'll see who Celia really wants… an' it won't be you!"
…
'Why? Why does my life have to be complicated all the time?' Celia sighed, pushing a strand of hair from her eyes as she swabbed the deck of the cabin. 'Why couldn't I have just married Robert - I would be still at home with maybe a family of my own by now.' She flung the swab across the cabin in frustration and wincing as it clattered against the mizzenmast.
"'Scuse me, Miss Celia," came Peter Swain's uncertain voice from the door. "Captain Sparrow told me ter tell yer that'll we'll be attackin' th'ship b'fore too long - they're headin' th'same direction as us, an' yer to prepare yerself like last time."
"All right, Peter," Celia sighed, "thank you."
"I… I've also got ter join yer when th'attack starts," he frowned worriedly. "Though gawd knows why."
"Don't worry - I won't be throwing you across the cabin, she chuckled wryly. "And I expect your father has something to do with you joining me."
"He has!" the young lad grumbled. "It ain't like I've never been through an attack b'fore - I've been on board fer th'past six months!" he declared, bristling with indignation.
"Maybe they expect this attack to be a bad one," Celia mused, shuddering at the thought. 'Lord, I hope not.' "Why did you join? You're very young, but very capable," she added quickly as she saw anger flare in his eyes.
"Me Ma died of a fever an' I 'ad no-one else ter look after me, so Da asked th'cap'n if I could join th'ship as a lad."
"I see," she replied, thoughtfully. "And the captain agreed?"
"Oh, aye," Peter grinned. "An' 'e don't treat me like I'm stupid or anythin'. 'E treats me like one o'th'crew."
"That's good. It's nice when you are treated as you want to be treated."
"Yeah," the boy agreed. "I'll see yer when th'attack starts, eh?"
"No doubt," Celia sighed, walking dejectedly over to the swab when the youngster had gone, picking it up with another sigh. "Why do you have to be such an enigma, Jack?" she pondered aloud. "Why do you have to make me want to find out more about you? Why do I have to love you?" She meandered over to the pail and plopped the swab back into it before half-heartedly cleaning the deck once more.
…
"'S'all right, Miss Celia," Peter assured her as they huddled together beneath a mound of blankets, coverlets and thick coats that the men had provided, while the ship screamed and reverberated from shot after shot aimed at their prey in an effort to force their surrender. "It's us, not them."
"I know," she whispered hoarsely, hugging her knees to her chest. "It doesn't make it any easier, though."
"Ah, yer'll get used ter it," the lad assured her with all of the confidence of youth, falling silent as the bombardment continued from both ships, half wanting to be watching the action, but also glad of being in the relative safety of the main cabin, under all the swaddling.
'I wonder how Oliver is?' Celia mused, wanting to think of anything but what was happening mere feet away from her, even the gentle Irishman, though it pained her to do so. 'I hope Jack didn't lie about not… killing him.' She shuddered violently at the thought, feeling sicker than she already did. 'No… Jack's not like that. He wouldn't kill a man in cold blood.' She peered at Peter as the sound of cheering erupted on the decks on the pirate ship, followed almost immediately by stampeding feet as they scrambled to get on board the merchant carrier and claim her prize.
"Looks like we got her," the young lad grinned, hurling the covers off himself and clambering out, haring across the deck to the door.
"Peter!" Celia called, much slower to free herself and rise. "Wait! I don't think you should…" she trailed off as she found herself alone in the cabin. "Go out…" she finished with a sigh, as she walked to the window at the side of the door and peered out, gasping at the mayhem on the deck of the other ship. 'Please let Jack be all right,' she prayed, quite without thinking, and she reached for her rosary beads, realising with a start that she had not worn them for a number of days, so instead Celia pressed her forehead against the glass, biting her lip as the pirates over-ran the seamen until they were finally subdued, relieved to catch a glimpse of Jack seemingly safe, but in the thick of the action. She finally turned away, not wanting to watch any more in case the pirates ran true to form and slaughtered the innocent crew, and wandered to the stern seat, sitting down and covering her face with her hands as weariness took over.
"Miss Celia? Th'Cap'n sent me back ter watch over yer," Peter smiled hesitantly. "I'll go if yer want me ter…"
"No," the young woman assured him with a forced smile. "I'm all right, come back in. It's not place for a lad out there."
"Why?" he puzzled as he walked over. "Ain't nothin' goin' on 'cept th'cap'n organisin' th'stuff ter be brought over before he fires th'ship."
"What?" Celia exploded, jumping to her feet and running from the cabin and over the the port rail where the two ships were lashed together with ropes. She scanned the deck of the merchant carrier, trying desperately to find a sign of Jack, then looked at a boarding plank, bridging the gap over the sea which was swirling against the two hulls, and she gulped before placing a faltering foot on the plank, following by the other one.
"What in th'name of all that is good, are you doin'?'' Jack cried from the opposing deck as he emerged from a hatch. "Don't you dare take another step forwards, y'hear?"
"J-Jack… y-ou c-can't k-kill them," Celia stammered, frozen to the spot, unable to move forwards or backwards to the safety of the deck of the pirate ship. "P-please d-don't k-kill t-them…"
Jack sighed and grabbed a free rope, swinging back to his ship, seizing the young woman around the waist and hauling her to safety. "Kill them?" he enquired, raising his eyebrows. "Why th'hell do you think we're goin' ter kill them?"
"P-Peter said you w-were going to f-fire the ship," she panted, leaning her head against his shoulder and drawing comfort from the contact.
"When will you ever learn?" Jack sighed exasperatedly, raising a hand in despair. "I don't do things like that, luv. Look…" he took Celia up the quarterdeck steps and to the stern, pointing at a small flotilla of boats rowing frantically away from the merchant vessel. "That's th'crew - we released them first, savvy?"
"Oh. I see… Oh, I'm sorry, Jack," she gulped, avoiding his gaze until he lifted her chin so she was facing him.
"We're not all savages, Celia," he smiled kindly, kissing the tip of her nose. "Now get back inside and bolt th'door until I come back, eh?"
"All right," she nodded, feeling very small and stupid as she followed him back down the steps. "I don't need Peter with me, you know. I'll be perfectly safe."
"Yer sure?" Jack grinned, patting her bottom as she turned for the door. "You have a reprieve, Master Swain," he called to the youngster who had vacated the cabin once again and was standing by the port quarterdeck rail, watching the comings and goings on the other ship.
"Jack…" Celia turned around to scold him, but the pirate captain was already swaying across the deck, wanting to carry on overseeing the movement of the sugar and spices from one ship to the other.
Celia was still shaking her head to herself as she threw the bolt on the cabin door and padded over to the stern seat, frowning as she noticed the stern window ajar. 'I'm sure this wasn't open… maybe Peter opened it.' She picked up her holy book, looking wistfully at it and wishing she could somehow regain her innocence, but acknowledging deep down that she would probably make the same choice again. She leaned against the window frame, closing her eyes as she tried in vain to feel guilt at what she and the pirate captain had done the past few days, and feeling the cool breeze ruffle her hair.
"Get up an' don't make a sound," an ugly voice snarled and Celia's eyes shot open again, staring in horror at the scarred man holding a dagger to her neck.
"Jack!" she shrieked automotically, ignoring the man's warning and was rewarded by his hand slapping her hard across the face.
"Yer stupid fuckin' whore!" he growled, grabbing her hair and yanking her to her feet and pressing the cold blade harder against her throat. "One more sound an' yer've had it."
"Celia? Are you all right, pet?" came Joshamee Gibbs' voice from outside the cabin door. "Celia?"
"Don't," the man hissed into her ear.
"B-but… h-he will wonder w-why I'm not answering," she stammered. "Y-you can't possibly hope to escape."
"Shut yer fuckin' mouth b'fore I shut it fer ya. Now move, nice an' slowly…"
"Jack!" the quartermaster shouted across to the other ship. "I think there's something amiss."
"What?" the captain of the Black Pearl enquired worriedly as he ran over the gangplank.
"I heard Celia scream your name and then it went quiet."
Jack hurried to his cabin and tried the door handle without success. "Celia? Open th'door."
Both men looked startled as the bolt was thrown and the door jerked opened, a pale and frightened Celia emerging first with the man pressed right against her, his dagger marking her neck, his other hand holding on tightly around her waist.
"I demand safe passge," he growled. "Or yer pretty little lady friend gets it… ah, ah," he warned as Jack made to move forward. "Back off." He jabbed the knife a little harder, drawing blood.
"J-Jack," Celia gasped, beseeching him with her eyes.
"All right," Jack soothed, holding his hands out to show he was unarmed and moving backwards, motioning for Gibbs to do the same. Both men tried desperately not to look up at Peter Swain who was clinging onto the quarterdeck railing above the young woman and her captor, in case they gave the game away. "Why didn't you go with th'rest of your crew?" Jack asked, trying to distract the man.
"Ha!" he snorted. "'Cause I killed one o'th'bastards, didn't I? One of yer thick men unlocked th'brig an' let me go," he chuckled mirthlessly as he inched himself and Celia forward.
"Let her go an' you have my word that you'll get a safe passage," Jack assured him, nodding his head slightly, his hand going straight to his sword as Peter launched himself onto the back of the man, grappling with him as Celia fell forward into the arms of Joshamee, who ushered her to safety, leaving his captain to deal with the stowaway.
"Nobody steals aboard my ship," Jack hissed menacingly, grabbing the man's lank hair and hauling him to his feet once the ship's boy let go of the fugitive. "An' nobody hurts defenceless young women." He dispassionately ran the man through, looking with distaste as his body fell to the deck. "Bastard," he uttered, wiping his sword on the dead man's clothes before stretching out his hand to Peter. "Well done, lad. Dunno what we'd have done without yer."
"I shouldn't have left her alone," the boy fretted. "Yer wanted me ter look after 'er."
"An' yer did," Jack reasoned. "Better than you would have done inside th'cabin, savvy?"
"Thanks, Cap'n," he smiled shyly, basking in the praise.
"Are you all right, luv?" Jack enquired, turning on his heel and going over to Celia who was wrapped in the portly man's arms, sobbing.
"F-fine…" she gasped, shuddering.
"Come on, let's get you inside." Jack took her from Gibbs' arms and led her to the cabin, eager to get her away from the prying eyes of the crew who were making their way back over, having heard the commotion. "Did you have th'window open?" he asked gently as he looked around his cabin for signs as to where the man could have got inside.
"N-no. I-I thought P-Peter opened it…"
"All right," he soothed, sitting her in his chair then fetching the pitcher of water from the private head. "Put yer head back fer me." Jack carefully washed away the blood with a damp rag, frowning as he saw the cut was longer and deeper than he had realised. "Bloody hell," he swore.
"What?" Celia fretted, chewing on her lip. "What's wrong?"
"Nothin', luv," he assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. "It's just that you'll have a scar, I'm afraid… I can't believe he managed ter break in," he sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry. I thought yer'd be safer locked in here than out on th'deck."
"I-it doesn't matter," she gulped, wiping her tears with her shirtsleeves. "No harm done, eh?"
"Come on," Jack urged, taking her hands and helping her to her feet and holding her tightly. "I'm so sorry, luv."
"Cap'n? Yer need me?" Matthias Swain enquired, hovering by the door, feeling unsure whether he'd be welcomed or not.
"Aye, Celia has a cut," Jack beckoned, moving away from the young woman and sitting her back down again. "Your lad did well."
"He did," Matty grinned proudly, opening his small case and taking out a crock bottle and pulling the cork from it. "More fearless than me, that's fer sure," he chuckled as he tipped the bottle up and poured some of its contents onto a rag and pressed it against Celia's neck, making sympathetic noises as she winced. "It'll heal it up faster."
"Thank you," she smiled weakly, clasping her hands together to stop them from trembling. "It won't need stitching, will it?"
"Ooh, I dunno," the ship's doctor pondered, taking the rag away and peering at the cut. "Nah, yer should be all right. But yer'll have a scar."
"I know, Jack… Captain Sparrow, said. Go on," she said to Jack. "I know you're needed out there - I'll be fine."
"You sure?" Jack mused, looking at her warily. "Yer've had a heck of a shock…"
"Time I started toughening up," Celia shrugged, holding the compress against her neck. "But could you both check the cabin before you go, please?" she asked timidly, biting her lip and ruefully musing to herself that her newfound toughness had just failed at the first hurdle.
"Every nook an' cranny," Jack assured her as he and his crewman did as she asked until everywhere possible had been searched to Celia's satisfaction.
"Yes, I'll bolt the door," she smiled as Jack opened his mouth to say something.
"No, I was goin' ter tell you not ter bolt th'door. I'll post a couple of guards, savvy?"
"All right," Celia agreed, feeling happier with the idea but her smile fading once the two men had vacated the cabin. 'I will notcry!' she scolded, taking some deep breaths to compose herself. 'I can't keep behaving like a silly little girl - Celia Hammond the novice has gone, it's time to become Celia Hammond the woman.'
…
"Yer lookin' fer crew?" Oliver asked hopefully as he approached a man standing by the gangplank of a sloop moored at the quayside of Saint Marta.
"Might be. Why yer lookin'?"
"I got drunk an' missed th'ship," the Irishman lied smoothly, reckoning his chances would be better if he kept the fact he had fallen out with his captain, quiet. "It's th'first time it's happened," he added. "I can usually hold me drink, but th'stuff here is a little more potent than I'm used ter."
"Aye," the bulky man chuckled. "I know what yer mean. What position did yer hold?"
"Deckhand," he lied again. "Although I can take th'helm."
"Ya can? Hmm, th'cap'n might be interested in takin' yer on then - our helm died a month or so back an' we ain't managed ter find another one."
"Actually," Oliver admitted with a rueful grin. "I'm a helmsman - I thought I might have better luck gettin' a position as a deckhand than a senior crewman."
"Come aboard. Sam Tate," the man grinned, holding out his hand.
"Oliver Fernan," he replied, shaking hands then following Tate up the gangplank. "Yer reckon I'm in with a chance?"
"I reckon so - were yer with th'Queen Charlotte?"
Oliver frowned, then remembered the schooner that his former captain had been so interested in, that was no longer in the harbour. "Aye, aye - th'Queen Charlotte," he bluffed, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Cap'n Timms!" the man called. "I have a helmsman here…"
"Yer a helm?" the gruff captain enquired, looking Oliver up and down with something akin to disgust. "All right - yer hired," he announced then disappeared down a hatch.
"I am?" Oliver queried, looking startled at Sam Tate.
"Evidently," Tate shrugged. "Yer'll get used ter him… maybe!"
"That bad, eh?"
"You'll see," Oliver's new crewmate chuckled wryly. "You'll see…"
…
