Chapter Six
In Dreams
in which the tide shifts
Stephen indulged in one thing to excess, and that was his laudanum. He realized that it was an addiction, an unhealthy one, and that it had side-effects on his health- such as a diminishment of his sexual appetites -but none of this bothered him. Sleep was a much more necessary commodity for him than that connection with another human being- and God knew that Jack had appetites enough to make up for his friend's lack. The captain had remarked on it before. Most recently when Stephen repulsed his inquiries, Jack had pursed his lips and said:
"The simple truth of it is that Diana doesn't want you, Stephen. You have to let her go before she tears you apart."
"She takes particular joy in tearing me apart, and if that is the only joy I can offer her she is welcome to take it."
He'd increased his laudanum that night.
He hadn't decreased it since, and that was why he felt muddled when he woke the next morning to the sound of the watch changing with sweat on his skin and a lingering hardness in his groin. He didn't remember the last time he'd felt truly aroused. He knew instantly who he'd dreamt about.
He sank back into a restless stupor, feeling like a ship whose moorings were cut loose in the night and was left to drift at sea. He wanted her, but he was hard-pressed to say when the wanting started. It wasn't like the first moment he met Diana- his heart hadn't sped up when she touched him as it did when Diana first kissed him at the ball. But he found himself wanting Cora with the same throbbing ache he still felt when Diana's face came to mind.
He waited for the sleepy arousal to fade before he stirred, and splashed water over himself for good measure.
Wake up, Maturin. She probably doesn't want you either.
He sat at his desk and tried to write, seeking to capture the elusive feelings he'd woken up with or even to remember the dream that had prompted them. He couldn't. The same instinct that had propelled him to fling himself at Diana, to challenge Jack to a duel for her, to follow her to India, propelled him to stand up from his desk and go out into the orlop to see her.
It hit him like a twelve-pound shot when he saw she wasn't there. For one irrational spasm of a moment he thought she left because he was right, and she didn't want him at all, but then he regained control of his mind. She had no way of knowing what he felt. He himself barely grasped it.
He had no patients at the moment and so he went topside to take in the air and walk the deck, searching for his lost peace of mind- which happened to take the form of a pirate with grey-blue eyes and dark hair she kept hidden from the world.
The deck was currently alive with sailors as they finished their repairs. He lingered amidships and observed the sails, wondering if he would dare to climb the rigging once more and take in the sight of the restless azure sea. His roving eye reached the helm at last and another piece of twelve-pound shot hit him. She was at the helm with Jack and Bonden. He remembered Jack's orders for her to give up her ship's every secret. It was no surprise that she was gone when he woke.
Jack seemed to have all he wanted of Cora, because when they finished talking she walked aft. At first her eyes were on the deck, but then she looked up and caught Stephen's gaze. She started to angle her path towards him but got only a couple feet when three sailors ran into her.
"Excuse me, Miss Turner!"
"Pardon us, Miss Turner!" They touched their knuckles to their foreheads. She tried to disentangle herself from them but the first one who had spoken caught her around the waist.
"Don't walk away from us! Don't you have anything to say?"
Stephen stood and took a step forward.
Cora tried to break free once more but the man drew her close against him, and then threw her against the mast. He was making as though to kiss her when he gave a strangled cry. He jerked away from her, revealing Cora's knee where it had driven up in search of a vulnerable spot.
One of his friends swung at Cora's head, but she ducked and his hand hit the solid oak. The third sailor tackled her to the deck. She drew her head back and slammed her forehead into his nose without hesitation.
The whole ship was in an uproar over what amounted to a few seconds of frenzied fighting. Stephen was shoving the sailor away; his nose bled profusely and the other man looked to have broken his hand, but the surgeon in him couldn't be brought to care. He was too occupied with pulling Cora to her feet. She pulled away from him, and before he could feel hurt he saw the reason; Jack was approaching from the helm like an angry storm cloud.
"What's all this?"
"She attacked us!" The sailor who'd hit the mast called instantly.
"You lying bastard!" Cora shouted back. Stephen tried to still her but couldn't. "If this were my ship your balls would be rolling across the deck right now!"
"Cora!"
"Who saw this happen?" The captain asked, his voice trembling with fury.
Stephen said that he had and saw Mr. Davies nod. In all the commotion, he hadn't noticed that the sailing master was nearby.
Jack nodded to Stephen first.
"They attacked Miss Turner first. She tried to walk away when this man here-" He saw with disgust that it was Andersen again. The man had a funny sense of gratitude. "Shoved her up against the mast as if he was going to take advantage of her. It was only then that she fought back."
"Mr. Davies?"
The sailing master turned one of his squinting eyes on Cora, and then on the bleeding sailors.
"I saw nothing."
As Jack stood there, Stephen could see his mind grappling with the situation. The crew was hanging on his every word; he couldn't afford to delay.
"Master at arms, take these three men below deck and clap them in irons. Doctor Maturin, take Miss Turner to the orlop and see to it she stays there. Mr. Mowett, it's your watch. See to it we stay on our course for Isla Cruces and pass the word for me if there's even a hint of sail. Mr. Davies, to my cabin." With that, the captain left, the sailing master in his wake.
While the master at arms was retrieving the irons, Stephen approached Cora. The larger part of the crew was still staring at her- some as if she might attack them next, others as if she didn't get everything she deserved.
"Come with me." Stephen said, touching her elbow.
"Don't touch me."
She jerked away from his touch and stormed below deck on her own. He followed and found her lying on her hammock, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. He pretended not to notice the fact that her scuffle on the deck had loosened the ties on her blouse and that it was close to falling off of one of her shoulders.
"Are you injured?"
"I'm fine. Leave me." If her voice had taken physical form it would've been ice.
"Very well." Stephen whispered, disappearing into his own cabin, where he decided that his earlier fears weren't unfounded at all.
Later that day, Jack sent for Stephen. Everyone around the great cabin was treading softly, and that led to a rise in Stephen's own anxiety. He hoped he wasn't going to be interrogated.
Jack didn't appear in a yelling mood, though. He sat by the enormous windows at the rear of the surprise, his violin cradled at his side. Stephen's 'cello was set out nearby. The doctor came forward and sat at his side, resting his 'cello idly between his legs, and had a chance to start tuning before Jack even turned to him.
"It's a damned unfortunate business, Stephen. I have to flog all three of those men, and my conscience tells me that Miss Turner should escape their fate. But the men will never accept her if I do that. We'll have to keep her below deck for the rest of this damned chase." Jack sighed and set his violin down. "I called you here to play and now I can't even find the heart in me to do it."
Stephen set aside his 'cello and drew his chair closer to Jack's.
"The only reason this happened is because I wasn't with her, as I was supposed to be. Don't sentence her to the hold- let me look after her as I have been."
"I don't know if even your presence would be enough to stop another incident, but she did seem to come off rather well in the fight on her own. Have you tended to the sailors?"
"It's nothing that they won't live through. Robinson's nose might be a little crooked, it was hard to set it to my satisfaction."
Jack shook his head and ran his hands over his face, and then through his golden hair.
"Miss Turner told me where she thinks we should go- she says there's a deserted island called Isla Cruces that she's used as a base in times past when they've been on the hunt. She thinks if we hide there for a few days the Running will come by to take on water before setting off to find us, never knowing we're there. She's a little lighter than us as far as guns go, but Miss Turner says she has the advantage in the length of her cannon and maneuverability- said she can turn on the head of a pin easy as kiss my hand. But if we have the element of surprise once more we can take her." His smile was weak. "I'll be happy when we're rid of her."
"The ship or Cora?"
"Both." He sighed when he saw Stephen's look of displeasure. "I know I'm being the most wretched creature. Disciplining the men always puts me in such a foul mood, and I don't like the mood of the Surprises right now either. Did you hear about the fight in the galley?"
"I tended to some of the men and heard it from every angle. Even Mr. Blakeney was involved, correct?"
"Yes, and I've had to reprimand him too. Some of the men still stand on Miss Turner's side. They feel she's a good person. But the others still want to see her hanged, and it's tearing us apart."
"The officers who dined with her- do they still hold her in favor?"
"Of course. I believe poor Mr. Mowett is quite enamored of her. But not everyone has had the opportunity to speak with her in such a small setting."
"Perhaps we should give them such an opportunity."
"What do you intend to do, Stephen? Parade every member of the crew by her as if she were some kind of visiting dignitary?" Jack barked out a laugh. "It's too late now. Far too late."
Stephen couldn't help but see the truth in his words.
The next day they all stood in the sweltering sunshine as the three men- Andersen, Robinson and Toner -were led one at a time to the grating and given their lashes for violence and disorderly conduct. Andersen went last, and after he was taken down from the grating he whirled to face the nearby opening that led into the bowels of the ship.
"We bleed for you!" He shouted.
Everyone turned and saw Cora standing, half above deck and half below, watching with horror in her eyes. The moment she knew she'd been spotted, she disappeared below deck once more.
"That's enough, Mr. Andersen, unless you want another lashing!" The captain barked. "Everyone else, as you were. Drop canvas and prepare to make way."
Stephen went down to the orlop, anticipating the arrival of the disciplined sailors, and found Cora already there. She sat in the shadowy corners of the small room, her knees drawn to her chest. They hadn't spoken since he escorted her below deck the day before, although she'd been in much the same place the whole time. He didn't venture to speak to her now, recognizing from the intensity of her eyes and her strained shoulders that her mood hadn't improved. She sat like so much coiled violence.
Toner and Robinson were down first and Stephen tended to their wounds with minimal trouble, sending them on their way. Andersen came down much later, skulking as if he'd been forced to come.
"Take off your shirt and lie on the table, if you please." Stephen said, reaching for the linen bandages he'd prepared for them.
Andersen did as he was told, but sat up on the table rather than lying.
"I suggest you lie on your front."
The man showed him a half-snarl and then gave in. Stephen realized as he surveyed the broad expanse of back and the numerous cuts that scored it that the salve he had on hand wasn't enough.
"Miss Turner," He called. "Please fetch some of my extra ointment. I believe there's another jar in my cabin, sitting on my desk."
Cora disappeared and reappeared with the jar he'd asked for. She was about to hand it to Stephen, then drew her hand back upon seeing the lashes.
"I've been under the cat before," She whispered. "Let me help with the wounds."
"Don't even think of touching me." Andersen spat.
Cora put the jar down on the table with an angry clack and walked away.
Stephen finished with Andersen in silence. As the sailor was putting his shirt back on he spoke again.
"For all your disgust you seemed willing enough to try and rape her."
"I was never going to hurt her. She overreacted is what happened."
"That's not what I saw."
Andersen smiled a Mona Lisa smile and left the orlop, leaving Stephen to wonder what he hadn't seen.
That night he dreamt of her again. But it wasn't the kind of dream that woke him aching for release. It was the kind that woke him and left him feeling as though he'd been screaming or crying for hours. His head ached.
He heard movement outside his door and went outside in time to hear footsteps retreating above him. He looked to the hammock strung near him and saw that it was empty and swinging.
He took the stairs two at a time and caught her just as she was about to go topside. He seized her wrist and pulled her back down a few steps, just enough so that no one on deck would see them.
"What are you doing? You know the captain has confined you to the orlop." He hissed.
She said nothing, her eyes full of sullen anger. Stephen sighed and led her the rest of the way back down.
"I hate this." She said in a low furious voice when they got there. "I can't stand it. I betrayed my family for these men and this is how they repaid me. But even when I saw them getting lashed I still felt as if it was all my fault. I can't stand lying and trying to stay calm when I want to scream and I can't stand hiding myself- you haven't even met me, Stephen! I can't be myself here!"
The look in her eyes changed slowly from rage to soft amazement. Once more, Stephen reached up and tugged the bandana off of her hair. It fell to the ground, unnoticed.
"I can't stand this." She whispered as her hair fell all over her shoulders.
"Neither can I." He whispered back.
It was like inertia or some other force beyond mortal control pushed them together. Her lips found his like it was accident and then clung like he was air. His hands went trembling into her hair and held her. She pulled back for only a second, and then found him again. Her arms held him beneath his coat, and it was strangely the most erotic thing she'd done, both in his dreams and out of them.
The moment of tension held until they felt surely they would shatter, and then it was over. They let out shuddering breaths at once, and when their lips met again it was softly. Instead of feeling their teeth and skulls straining through their flesh to press together, Stephen was aware of her breasts against his chest and her legs shifting against his. He cupped the base of her head with his hand and kissed her until he was dizzy.
This time when they pulled back so their eyes could meet. Their gazes held, as intimate as the remembered contact of their lips. Cora's were still shaking, her grey-blue eyes filled with something that might have been fear. Fear at what they had done, fear at what it meant. Stephen searched fruitlessly for something to say but words failed.
All he could do was draw her close so that she could rest her head on his chest and he could rest his head on hers. One of his arms slipped around her waist and the other hand remained tangled in her thick hair. As he held her, he felt absurdly like crying. But then she gave a small sigh and relaxed into him and turned her head so that he felt the flutter of her eyelashes against his neck, and he felt nothing but a great peace.
They stood there together, a silent acknowledgement of what words couldn't say: that they could stand like this forever, and there would never be enough moments in the whole world for them as a pair.
After a long time they could no longer stand entwined as they were. She caught his hand when he broke away and began to draw circles on it with her fingertip, like a soothsayer searching for some kind of sign; Stephen was faced once more with the ineffectuality of words as he struggled for a way to part from her.
"We should go to bed. I hear we'll make Isla Cruces tomorrow."
"Not until late, I should think. I wish there were enough room." She added suddenly, without looking up.
"Enough room where?"
"In the hammocks. For both of us."
Stephen felt that telltale jump in his heart. Her finger stopped moving on his hand and she met his eyes at last.
"I don't know when it started- but when I'm with you-" She made a frustrated noise. "You're the reason I wanted to tell, Stephen. My secret was never this hard to keep. Every time I looked at you-"
She banished her confusion by kissing him once more, just a brief press of lips that barely gave them time to close their eyes.
"My God, I thought you'd never get around to that." She murmured.
Stephen held her against him for just another moment, then eased her away.
"Good night." He whispered, then turned and went into his cabin before she could respond. He lay in his hammock with his heart pounding, trying to reconcile his fear at what had happened with the need to kiss her again.
Stephen took no laudanum that night.
A/N-- I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter- I'm having fun actually writing the romance now. Did anyone catch my POTC 2 reference? Kudos if you did. Reviews (like FuchsiaII's) would make me happy!
