(Author's Notes – As promised, I'm back with a reasonably prompt update! Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of my lovely reviewers!
For those of you wondering why Laura didn't call up Brokenspar … remember the beginning of chapter 6. I quote Brokenspar – "Do you remember a fellow named Jack Sparrow?". Brokenspar might have had something to do with Laura's present predicament! Of course … I can't give away too much of the plot.
Well, now Laura's got herself in a bit of a tight spot, but proves a little savvy in the end, despite suffering from seasickness. Sorry, this is a little long, but it makes up for the other chapter being a little on the short! Enjoy!)
From Captain Jack Sparrow's perspective, this captive was turning out to be a decidedly strange case. For starters, she complied easily, and was actually quite terrified. It had been a long while since a female captive had been compliant – nowadays, they all demanded to either be taken back to shore or, conversely, to join his crew and sail off into the sunset with him. Secondly, she had been calm on awaking, and had not made ridiculous demands or proclamations. Her only concern was for the ring, rather than for her immediate safety. Thirdly, she proved to be quiet and quite resigned, not only about her present situation, but also about her life in general. She was an easy case.
Judging by the home he picked her up in, ten thousand seemed a reasonable tag to ask for the missy, but she seemed a little nervous about paying it. Captain Sparrow had to admit, he was demanding quite a bit, but ten thousand and he wouldn't have to swindle anyone else until he tired of being lazy, which, admittedly, wouldn't be much longer than a month or so.
The missy's mind wandered as her eyes grew unfocused and she squinted as if calculating something, mouthing figures Captain Sparrow could not understand. She blinked and looked down shaking her head and apparently struggling with something. Finally, she stopped, as if struck, and looked up with the deadest look Captain Sparrow had ever seen in his entire career.
"I will pay, Captain Sparrow. I will write immediately to my family and tell them what is to be done."
"Not now, luv, we're getting to the Pearl and then we're gone. Norry is not giving me another day's head start, no matter what cards I play. You can write said letter and post it in Tortuga, our next port of call."
Captain Sparrow was interrupted as the Black Pearl hailed, drifting at anchor as the dinghy pulled up along side.
"The prisoner first," a gruff man with the largest sideburns Laura had ever seen ordered, shoving her toward the lowered rope ladder.
Laura stood up shakily in the dinghy, blood rushing from her head as she swayed to her feet. She was still in the simple blue cotton morning dress, dwarfed by the massive bulk of the Pearl, numb hands gripping the rough rope. She'd never, in her entire life, been on a ship before. Laura was born in Port Royal and had stayed in Port Royal; despite her Naval acquaintances and connections, she had never quite been caught by the siren call of the sea. Many days she had spent on the shores, more in the water, and perhaps the odd excursion in a dinghy such as this, but she had never, ever been aboard ship.
Quite a few things were going through Laura's mind at that moment, but the one thing she'd remember was the thought that she was going to die. Nervously taking the plank of the ladder in her hand, she picked herself up a step. Good, she told herself. She went up the next. Better. And the next. And the next. And the next. Good. She could do this. Next step. Next step. Next step. Good. Next step. Next step. Next –
Predictably, almost, Laura stepped on the edge of her dress, reeling backward from her precarious perch. By this point she was almost certain she was a dead woman.
Luckily, a hand, rough calloused and feminine shot out and hauled her aboard.
"Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, Missy," Laura's rescuer growled, fixing a flapping hat back on her head.
"Thank you, very much."
Laura's rescuer only shot her a dark look, as Captain Sparrow swaggered up on deck.
"Miss Bell, Ana Maria; Ana Maria, Miss Bell. Miss Bell will be joining us for a short while. 'Ey, Gibbs! Raise anchor and set sail for Tortuga!"
"Aye aye, Captain."
The important matter of calling orders being settled, Captain Sparrow turned back to the two radically different women.
"The brig, Captain?"
Laura's eye widened, frightened. She'd been around James long enough to know exactly what and where they were going to throw her.
"Give her a cabin, away from the crew."
Ana Maria rolled her eyes.
"Marty! Show this lady a cabin."
An idea came to Laura, something to keep her busy.
"The paper for my letter, Captain?"
Captain Sparrow sighed.
"Right away, as soon as you're settled. Marty, get her below."
Laura felt a tug at the skirt of her dress and involuntarily moved to pull it free of a splinter, until she noticed a dwarf was the one doing the tugging. To her, this ship, captained by the most bizarre and drunk man Laura had ever met (not that she had met too many), officered, from what she could see, by a man who resembled a badger and fierce island woman, and crewed by a ragtag bunch coming from all over the world, including said midget, a man with a wooden eye, and a mute with a talking parrot, was a veritable circus - filled with the weird, the bizzare, and the frightening.
Following her guide below, all Laura could think of, as the stench of the ship assailed her, the movement churned her stomach, and the sky disappeared, was that this was indeed bad. Her cabin was windowless, dark, and airless, consisting of a bunk up against the side of the ship, an empty chest, a swinging lamp, and a slop bowl. That, and a bolted door, was her company.
What does a girl do, in such a situation? Laura paused to re-evaluate the events of the past twenty four hours. This time yesterday, she realized, she was sitting in the window drawing, until James had burst in, the wreck of what he usually was, after which she had then had tea with him, tried to comfort him by distraction, which had helped, at least a little, and then had the most unexpected embrace, from which she had been rudely interrupted by that Miss St. Croix, gone off to visit the Authoress, who lived in a different time and universe, gone back to her normal life, which turned on its head when an accidental kiss turned into an accidental and illicit union, leading to a proclamation of love and a proposal, which was broken when he fell, after which Belle St. Croix reappeared, taking James away with her, causing Laura to invoke the Authoress again, who told her she was with child, upsetting her greatly so much that she nearly interrupted her mother and the Former-Governor, who did not even notice Nathan and Theo, ever trying to cheer her up but whose absence left he open to being kidnapped for ransom by Captain Jack Sparrow and throw in a little hole in the wall.
The events were dizzying, to be sure, and fairly upsetting. Here she was, Laura Bell, spinster, at the age of twenty-four unmarried, pregnant by a man she had been in unrequited love with for twenty years, held for ransom which, when paid, would cost her her only chance at marriage and safety from humiliation. The situation being such, she did the one thing she could productively do, given the particulars of the situation: curl up on the bed and try to fall asleep.
What she didn't count on, however, was being seasick.
Laura had been very miserable during certain episodes of her life, but after the third or fourth hour of unrelenting nausea, she decided it was, without question, the most miserable she had ever been. Oddly enough, she could not stop thinking of James, of what he was doing at the moment. Was he indeed walking the cliffs with Miss St. Croix? Did anyone notice she was missing? What she wouldn't have given to be safe in his embrace right now!
Having wretched again into the vile slop-pail, she regarded the paper and pencil granted to her by the pirates. She was doing it again, she realized as she squinted at the uniformed form slowly taking shape. She was drawing James again. And the sad thing was, she didn't care, in the way she ought to have cared very much about her dreadful situation. She ought to have cared James wasn't hers and certainly not hers to sketch, but then, he never had been and that had never stopped her. And it wasn't like James would have been concerned with her sketching him when she was held captive by pirates. Even though she loved him and had his word he would marry her, she saw the way he looked at Belle St. Croix and knew, though she didn't want to believe it … well, until Brokenspar came through with something, she had to.
"Jack wants a word wi' ye in his cabin before supper."
It was the gruff, bewhiskered man who had been in the dinghy previously, but was acting considerably more polite.
"I am at his command," Laura managed to stutter, clutching the pencil and paper to her chest.
Her stomach rose and fell with the pitch of the ship, leading her to rush for the slop pail again. It was a comfort to see the man had enough decency to turn around, even though Laura was too sick to fully appreciate the gesture.
"This way," the man said, looking a cross between disdainful and ashamed, supporting her as she staggered as best as she could, which, truth be told, was not very well at all.
When she finally came to the great cabin, after a brief trip above decks, she felt near to exhausted – legs leaden, head light, palms clammy, and abdomen twisted into a knot behind her stiff whalebone stays. The paper was almost forgotten, crumpled to her bodice.
"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. -"
"Gibbs," he replied, giving her a brief smile that she wasn't sure had ever been there, "Jack! The girl's here ta see ye like ye wanted!"
"Bring the lass in, then!"
Mr. Gibbs swung the door wide open and let Laura tumble in with the motion of the ship, eventually falling against the back of an ornate chair. As Laura recovered, Captain Sparrow looked up from his charts and gestured for her to sit, which she did with difficulty.
"Come with the letter, have you?"
With a growing sense of horror, Laura realized she had brought her sketch with her, and before she could do anything about it, Captain Sparrow had taken the sketch from her hand.
As she watched, fearful of the result, Captain Sparrow paled a bit, blinked, and re-examined the sketch.
"Did you draw this, Miss Bell?"
"I did."
"You are acquainted with the Commodore?"
What could she say? Well, it would be folly to deny it, but even she was not sure what her exact relationship with James. Friend? Confidante? Sister? Lover? Wench? Her head hurt, quite a bit.
"I am," she whispered, reaching for the paper.
Captain Sparrow immediately held it out of her reach.
"To what extent?"
Ah, she saw where this was going.
"He was as good as my brother, once, but we've … gone our separate ways. I doubt he'll even notice I'm gone, so have no worries on that account."
He relaxed a bit, but still held the paper out of reach of her hands.
"Anyone else I should worry about?"
"No … Nathan and Theo … er, Lieutenants Gillette and Groves are busy with a woman of their own, my sisters are all with their families, and my mother … has a beau of her own. They probably haven't noticed I'm missing yet."
"Ye know, Missy, ye aren't very savvy. Ye could at least bluff yer way into me treating ye better."
Laura really didn't have the capacity for this right now.
"That would be lying, Captain," she choked blearily.
"Oh, God help us, we've got an honest one on our hands," Captain Sparrow laughed, uncorking a bottle, "Rum?"
She shook her head, any hint of food or drink recalling her nausea.
"Suit yourself."
He took a gigantic swig of the bottle.
"As it happens, Missy, that is a very fine sketch of the Commodore."
"Thank you, Captain."
"Humor me."
"What?"
"How good of an artist are ye?"
"I … I …"
"No modesty, Missy."
"I'm thought one of the best in Port Royal, Captain Sparrow."
"It seems, then, we are in an interesting situation. I want me portrait done, luv, but not many decent artists are willin' to do a study of ol' Captain Jack – funny world, innit? Ye say yer good with a pencil. Humor me, and I might be willin' to help ye out a bit. Savvy?"
Captain Jack flashed her a winning smile filled with gold-plated teeth.
"I want my jewelry back, Captain Sparrow. In exchanged for the portrait, you give me my jewelry back."
"No."
"My jewelry and James Norrington's sketch."
"No!"
"Please, Captain Sparrow."
"You're going to have to do a bit more than simply sketch me, luv."
"Fine," she coughed, "A finished portrait, in exchange for my jewelry and my sketch of James Norrington."
He shook his head.
"Still not good enough, luv."
"What else?"
Laura was suddenly very, very afraid of what Captain Sparrow would demand of her, though, for all intents and purposes, her virtue was very much ruined. Having to serve as a common wench for the Captain would just be rubbing salt in the wound.
"Hmmmm. Can ye sew?"
"Yes, why?"
"The Pearl finds herself in need of a flag. Sew us a skull and crossbones, luv, paint me portrait, and I give ye yer jewels back, given, o' course, ye pay up the ransom. Do we have an accord?"
"Agreed, Captain Sparrow," she muttered, feeling the mutiny in her stomach, "If you'll excuse me a moment, I truly don't feel very well and …"
Captain Sparrow hurriedly handed Laura an empty keg, and turned as she retched into it.
"And another thing. What is it about yer jewelry?"
Laura smiled faintly.
"You know about the ring. The golden clasp bracelet was the last gift my father gave me before he disappeared."
"And the necklace? Not every lass walks around wearing a diamond cross on a solid gold chain."
"You're going to have to give me something back first."
Captain Sparrow's expression soured a bit, but then he smirked.
"The lass is savvy," he proclaimed, taking another swig of rum, "Here's ta ye future health, Miss Bell!"
Laura smiled a bit, but knew she was no long before another bout of upheaval. It helped her opinion of Captain Sparrow that he looked not a little worried when he saw her looking ill again.
"You've got to get back to ye cabin, Missy. I'll send Gibbs round with some laudanum, see if that helps ye get some rest."
She nodded gratefully, before heaving her stomach into the keg.
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Far away, and a while later, James Norrington awoke with a start, having just barely fallen asleep.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but there's someone to see you."
Melbourne, his manservant, stood respectfully in the doorway, holding a soft candle.
"Send them away," he growled groggily, wanting only to fall back into a sweet dream than, sadly for Laura, had nothing to do with her and everything to do with Belle St. Croix.
"It's urgent, sir. Mrs. Bell, Mr. Swann, and Lieutenants Gillette and Groves all here to see you."
"What?"
"They're in the sitting room, sir," Melbourne went on as James pushed himself out of bed and threw on a dressing gown, his duty and office already setting in.
"Do you know what they want?"
By this time he was down the hall and at the top of the stairs, with Melbourne on his heels.
"They wouldn't say, sir."
It took the pair less than half a minute to reach the assembly in the east sitting room.
Mrs. Bell was clearly panicked, wringing her hands and showing evidence of crying, hovering on the verge of hysterics, and turning to the new Mr. Swann for comfort. The former Governor was also clearly worried, though not as much as Mrs. Bell, but very concerned for her. Lieutenants Gillette and Groves wore blank faces, containing only the ghosts of worry, but clear evidence of anger.
"What's the meaning of this?"
The four looked around amongst themselves, wondering who should be the spokesman.
Gillette stepped forward, incurring a glare from his commander.
"I don't know how to best say this, Sir. The pirates have struck again."
"What are you waiting for? Ring the warning bell, call up the garrison, round up the civilians and -"
"No, no," Gillette shook his head, "It is not a full scale attack. One incident."
"Out with it, Gillette!"
James was getting very annoyed that his own men would not be frank with him where there was clearly an emergency on their hands.
"Jack Sparrow, sir."
"What about him?"
"There's been a ransom note from him."
"Who's missing?"
James feared he already knew the answer.
"Laura."
It wasn't often Commodore James Norrington regretted a decision, but this was one of the rare occasions.
At least it wasn't his Belle that was missing.
