With the arrival of Dead Man's Chest, I thought it best to explain exactly how this story fits into the rest of the Pirate's plot. At this point, The Sparrow Flies takes place between The Black Pearl and Dead Man's Chest. I'll probably end the story just before the beginning of Dead Man's Chest, though I may include it. Any suggestions are welcome.
Chapter Four
Sheila shared a knowing look with Mr. Gibbs as everyone got ready to prepare the ship for boarding.
"What? What's going on?" Marie asked, a confused look on her face as stroked Nate absentmindedly.
"Negotiations, love. Now come on. Us women are not welcome at the moment." Sheila said, taking Marie by the by the arm and leading her towards the women's cabin.
"Actually…I was hoping you'd stay topside this time." Jack said to his sister. Sheila looked confused. "I know it's a bit different from the usual, but you've got to trust me on this." Jack said as he swaggered towards the woman. "Besides, Norrington'll have to square with the fact that there are women pirates eventually."
Sheila grinned, letting go of Marie's arm.
"You're frightened!"
"No!" Jack defended, to quickly.
"Yes you are. Admit it! You're afraid you'll botch negotiations without me!"
Jack shook his head violently. "I could do it quite well by myself."
Gibbs laughed heartily. "Ah, lad. Your still too stubborn to admit you need help." Jack glared at Gibbs, who raised finger to his lips and led his daughter and Nate below the deck.
Approximately one hour later, Sheila Sparrow stood, scowling at her reflection in the mirror. Marie had gone to cook in the galley, and Anna Maria was searching for decent dress that Sheila could wear.
Sheila herself was attempting to tie her own corset up. Her wounded shoulder was throbbing, but it hardly compared to the pain she was experiencing from the corset.
"Don't…understand. It fit when I bought it…" Sheila said stubbornly, unwilling to admit she had gained weight over the past fifteen years.
"Sheila, this was the best I could-" Anna Maria stopped abruptly as she walked into the room and burst out laughing. "Oh Dove!" She cried, using Sheila's old pseudonym. "You're a mess."
The laugh faded from her lips at the look of utter helplessness on Sheila's face. Anna Maria dumped the dress on Sheila's bed, coming to assist her friend.
"Alright, this may hurt a bit…" Anna Maria said before placing a hand in the middle of Sheila's back. Taking the strings of the corset in her other hand, she braced herself on the floor and began to pull—hard—until the seams at last came together in a straight line. Sheila groaned with discomfort as Anna Maria tied the corset off. "That looks a bit better." Anna Maria said, admiring her handy work. Sheila glared, unable to speak because the wind had been knocked out of her. "Now for your hair…"
It was another thirty minutes of poking, prodding and cursing before the two turned to the last part of the outfit; the dress itself. Holding it up, Anna Maria had an apologetic look on her face.
Sheila felt an unwanted shiver run up her spine. "No." She said flatly. "I'm not wearing that."
Anna Maria rolled her eyes. "Look. It's the best we've got. Who cares if Barbosa bought it for you? It's really quite attractive…if you like that sort of thing." She was right. The rich scarlet fabric billowed out in the typical fashion; the piece of clothing was so beautifully made it was sure to make any wearer look fabulous in it. Sheila wasn't convinced.
"I'm not wearing it."
"Yes you are."
"NO."
Voices sounded above them on the higher deck; the dining hall. Sheila could hear the distinct drawl of her brother's voice, along with another more proper male lilt she did not recognize; Norrington. Both women looked up at ceiling and then back at each other. Anna Maria took a deep breath to calm her impatience.
"Look. You either wear the dress and hear exactly what the Commodore and Jack say, or you don't and risk being lied to about the goings on. You know how the Captain; your brother is. Even that Sparrow intuition won't get true answers. We need to know what happens. Besides, you're the only one on the deck with decent manners, and the cleverness to coax information out of the Commodore." Anna Maria leaned closer to her friend, deviance sparkling in her dark eyes. "Don't you want to find out more about the English brigade sent to catch all us pirates?"
Sheila sighed. She new Anna Maria was right. She needed to be up there, if anything simply to keep Jack from making a mess of things. Sparrow intuition or no, she thought grimly, that man has a habit of bringing the worst out of people's tempers.
Hesitantly, she took the dress, admitting defeat. Anna Maria simply nodded with satisfaction, knowing too well that gloating right now may undo her persuasion.
"Good luck." She said to her friend as she made her way out of the women's quarters to the galley where the crew ate every night.
Slowly Sheila stepped into the ladylike dress Barbosa had bought her so long ago. She marveled at the feel of rich cloth against her bronzed skin; it had been years since she'd donned such an elegant garment. A garment fit for a lady…fit for what she was meant to be.
"Nobility is in your blood." Mary Reid had said. But the pirate in her was stronger.
Turning around, Sheila looked tentatively at her reflection in the mirror. She shook her head in disbelief. It was as if she had gone back in time…back to when she was young; her features not yet hardened by age and smuggling. Her now silky brown tresses were piled gracefully atop her head, coming down in ringlets over her shoulders and down her back to hide the blemishes of past wounds that stained her cinnamon skin. Only her deep scars showed evidence that she led a life contrary to nobility.
Carefully, she pulled a few stray ringlets of her glistening tresses to hide that ugly scar that tainted her right eye. Allowing herself a moment of feminine pride, she at last nodded with satisfaction and turned from the old gilded mirror.
"Lady perhaps, but what's a lady without her effects?" She questioned to the empty room as the slid a shining silver knife into the leather garter around her leg, and a small gun she hid in a band around her pirate boots; there was no need for the prim, proper and unpractical shoes that most ladies wore. Her sturdy black boots were well hidden beneath the endless fathoms of velvety fabric.
Straightening herself as much as she could so that her corset didn't pinch, Sheila made her way to the dining hall.
"Who is it?" Came her brother's attempt at a proper voice from the other side of the heavy oak door. The lovely pirate breathed deep and spoke her reply with the most delicate, feminine voice she could muster.
"Lady Annabelle, come to grace the presence of the Captain and Commodore." Might as well make this act perfect. She thought, feeling the strangeness of forming that girlish tone with her coarsened sailor's mouth.
There was silence for a moment, and Sheila imagined Jack turning away to hide the devilish grin she sensed graced now graced his lips.
"Enter." Came the reply at last.
Feeling a sudden rush of excitement, Sheila took another deep breath, and prepared to step into the role of a pampered noble woman. In truth, this was really a game for her. If she had so desired, she could have swaggered in as drunk as her own brother in full pirates regalia, but this was much more entertaining. Besides; if she played the uncultured female, then there was more of a chance that she and her brother would get the information that they needed, instead of Norrington beating around the bush like most Brits. Sheila had a certain…charm about her that tended to coax things out of men which Jack had never quite mastered.
Upon opening the door, the elegant pirate stood still for a moment to take in what she saw. First impression was highly important, and she made the most of this right now; looking Norrington up and down while putting on the charade that she was really a witless pirate's trophy who couldn't sit until she was asked.
Although she didn't show it, Sheila was highly surprised by what she saw. Norrington was hardly what she had expected; typically the Brits hired the richest and most pompous money hoarders they could find. She had never understood it, but she supposed it had something to do with black mail and who held the most cards with the government. Politics were a mystery to her; even more so now as she took in the Commodore's confident, nonchalant appearance. Truth be told, he looked as if dining with pirates was a normal thing for him. Except for the typical powdered wig that lay atop his head like a piece of stiff cotton, he was also exceptionally handsome. For a Brit anyways.
"Good evenin' gentlemen." Sheila crooned, failing in her preoccupation with the odd façade of their guest to hide her pirate's drawl.
Jack and Commodore Norrington stood respectively as Sheila at last seated herself. She chose a seat across from Norrington and beside her brother, in order to keep a catty cornered eye on both of them. This way she could stop Jack from any of his idiotic drunken comments, and she could very easily see any signs that the Commodore was hiding something or lying.
"Well Jack," Norrington commented as the two men seated themselves once more. "I must say I had not known you allowed women on your ship."
Jack winked discretely at Sheila.
"Woman? No mate. Annabelle here is my sister."
Sheila smiled pleasantly at the Commodore's expression. Perhaps he was less at ease then he seemed. A bit of her mischievous nature crept into her noble façade, and she tossed her head flirtatiously, allowing her scar to show more clearly in the candlelight for a short moment before the chocolate brown ringlets fell back into place. Norrington showed no perception of this action besides the discreet widening of his eyes.
Alright then. Sheila thought, fully enjoying this little game of hidden perceptions. Let's play.
"So, Commodore. What business do you come on?" She asked politely, leaning forward ever so slightly as to reveal a bit more of her bronzed bosom, which flowered beautifully from the complimentary strength of the corset.
For a moment Norrington looked between Sheila and Jack, perhaps wondering who to answer to. Sheila laughed inwardly. Typical Brit. At last the noble man compromised by looking down at his empty plate. Marie, who was the only pirate aboard the ship who knew a thing about cooking and polite serving, had not yet brought in the food.
"It's not business per say. More like…an obliging visit."
Sheila felt Jack's amusement at the Commodore's avoidance of the question.
"See Annie? I told ye he always liked me. I've a way with people." He slurred sarcastically. Sheila eyed her brother warily.
Norrington simply cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed. Well, Mr. Sparrow-"
"Captain Sparrow." Sheila and Jack chimed at once.
Norrington gave them an odd look and went on. "Captain Sparrow, I assure you this has nothing what-so-ever to do with whatever imagined interest you believe I have in you. You can be content knowing that it took all my strength to decide and flag you down in the first place…but, under the circumstances…" Norrington trailed off.
"And what, pray tell are these circumstances you speak of, Commodore?" Jack questioned mockingly, stressing the proper man's title.
Norrington pretended not to notice. "It seems the British Royal Navy-"
"Lovely blokes." Jack muttered under his breath.
"Has heard of our little…adventure at the Isle of Muerta."
"And they've givin' you a promotion? Congratulations Commodore." Sheila fought the urge to kick her brother. For whatever reason he was choosing to be far more contrary than usual. Considering his excitement when they had first spotted the Dauntless, Sheila wondered what had happened to cause him to be so sarcastic. It seemed he was hardly even attempting to draw out information about the inner goings on of the Navy…
Before Norrington had a chance to reply, the door opened and Marie Claudier entered. She too had donned a dress, though not nearly as fancy as Sheila's. Her fiery red hair was pulled into an elegant bun, and the hands which she pushed the food cart with were dressed with lacy black gloves.
"Goodness Jack, more women? I suppose this one is a distant cousin…" Marie ignored Norrington's comment, and instead sent a barely concealed dirty look towards Jack, who pretended not to notice.
"I see no women. Just a gutter whore in a pretty dress."
"Jack!" Sheila gasped, angry that her brother would say such a crude thing in front of such an esteemed guest. He was very quickly loosing them any chance they had of extracting anything at all from Norrington.
The three of them were silent as Marie served them. The redhead seemed completely unmoved by Jack's comment, besides the roughness with which she put down his plate; the delicate porcelain clanging dangerously against the wooden table. She left with a cold, emotionless look on her face.
Sheila sighed, knowing now why Jack was in such a sour mood. Obviously something had happened between the two of them while she had been below decks…
"Please, Commodore Norrington, do continue." Sheila said at last, once they had begun to fill their plates.
"Ah…yes. As I said, the British Royal Navy discovered the unfortunate goings on at Muerta, and…demoted me."
"Surprised you survived such an ordeal." Jack mumbled around a mouthful of salted pork. "Now what I'm wondering, is just how this concerns us?"
Norrington sighed, obviously still not comfortable with the thought of confiding in pirates.
"It concerns you, Mr. Sparrow, because you are the primary reason I lost my ship."
"I don't understand." Sheila replied as she took a sip of red wine. Seeing as how Jack was not going to get them very far, she had put aside any previous ideas of playing games to win information. The only thing that would help them right now was honest questions. "Isn't the Dauntless your ship?"
Norrington sighed as he gingerly sliced a piece of bread from the loaf at the center of the table. "Yes."
"Then you are still captain?"
To her surprise, Norrington blushed. "No actually."
At last, what he was saying began to make sense. Sheila smiled in spite of herself.
"You see…my ship means everything to me." The former Commodore said. "I'm sure you can empathize, Mr. Sparrow." Jack grunted in reply. "Unfortunately, it is considered the property of the Royal Navy. You can imagine my disdain when I was not only stripped of all titles, but also told they would be…reclaiming her." Norrington spoke the word reclaiming with a hint of disgust in his voice. Sheila glanced at her brother and was surprised to see the familiar glint back in his eye. Apparently he had just caught the significance of Norrington's situation.
"So you commandeered your own ship." He said, that devious look making him look more himself once more, instead of a frustrated child as he had behaved earlier.
Norrington nodded grimly, but by the blaze in his eyes, Sheila could tell the Brit didn't regret what he had done.
"And you've come to us, because we're the only once who can offer you protection." Jack said, adding an extra flourish as he drank deep of the dark crimson wine in his cup.
Sheila had to fight the urge to laugh. If Norrington wasn't sorry for stealing the largest vessel on the high seas from the Brits, then he would be when he realized just what he was in for.
"Welcome to the Caribbean." Jack said happily, draining the rest of his goblet.
