The Trouble with Women

Chapter 7

Filthy Pirates and Spaniards

--

There was a loud knocking on the door of his study, loud enough to disturb Dorian Belfast from his musings and searching. Before him there was a large stack of weathered old notes, each adorned with the same flowery script and each creased from being folded and refolded a hundred times over in their years of being read. They were the letters of Jacques Brideau, famous pirate captain loyal only to his ship, his crew and his daughter – the daughter that had now escaped the confines of her manor and was in the grasp of a pirate captain. One who had no doubt learned of the great treasure she was the sole heir of.

Before him also lay the map her father had sent her so many years ago. The very sight of it made his blood soar with triumph.

He glanced up at the door, the single oil lantern flickering beside him the only light within the whole room. It cast long and dark shadows along the walls.

The knocking came again, and he let a small smile curl over his features, his dark eyes glinting like gold in the light.

"Come in!" he commanded, and moments later the door was cracked open to reveal a tall man with long dark hair, a goatee and an expensive taste in clothing. The door slammed shut behind him, and the man approached the desk without a word, his movements accompanied by a strange jingle, the result of his neck being adorned with many fine necklaces and his clothes embroidered with silver.

"You're late, Señor Elaido. I've been waiting for two hours now," Belfast stated, his tone bored but his eyes dangerous.

The Spaniard cocked an eyebrow at the man, shrugging lightly before settling himself comfortably in the chair opposite Belfast, a look of equal monotony spread across his dark and handsome features.

"What can I say? The dirty little whore insisted I stay a while longer. What kind of man am I to cast away such opportunity, eh, Belfast? Take what you can when you can, comprende?" he drawled on in a thick Spanish accent.

Belfast stared at him a moment before turning is attention back to the letters. "You're aware of the situation, Antonio?"

The Spaniard grinned. "Si, it seems as though your little dove Vivien Brideau has finally broken away from her restraints and decided to do something with herself. Verdaderamente, I commend her."

Belfast merely glared. "My little dove, as you say, was kidnapped very much against her will and taken aboard a pirate ship as prisoner. Now, have you done what I have asked or am I merely wasting my time?"

Antonio looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "The name, it is on the tip of my tongue…the Dark Jewel? No, it was the Black something or other…the Black Prize, the Black Gem, no, no, no…it was the Black Pearl," he said, speaking the name with a strange sort of lilt. "One of my informants saw them come in and recognized the name of the captain. Jack Sparrow, they call him. Apparently, he's famous, but I don't know how that can be when I've never heard of him."

Fixing the Spaniard with a hard glare, Belfast declared slowly, "Oh, he's enough of a legend, Antonio. You're not well travelled enough to hear of him. He prefers the Caribbean of all places and tends to stay close to home."

Antonio feigned boredom. "And that's how he heard of your lovely little treasure trove, I assume? Rumours must still be whispered ever now and again."

Belfast nodded. "I need a favour."

"Have you decided to find your riches, then?" Antonio asked.

"No, I've decided to go after Sparrow and our lovely little Vivien Brideau before she can give away the resting place of my fortunes. The last thing I need is another greedy pirate on the scent of my gold. And to do that, Antonio, I need a ship and a crew," Belfast all but sneered, feeling his distaste for the man before him grow, even though they were quite profitable as business partners. And that was all it was. Business.

"And you want my ship and my crew?" Antonio guessed, looking expectantly at the man across from him.

Belfast nodded.

A slow grin spread over Antonio's face, and he felt the beginnings of a proposal coming along in his head. "How about this, then," he started slowly. "I let you aboard my ship for a price and I'll sail you wherever your heart desires."

Belfast thought about it for a moment before agreeing, somewhat grudgingly. He had no wish to pay the corrupt man before him, but did he have a choice? He regarded the Spaniard with a look of distaste. "And how much do you demand?"

Antonio shrugged. "It all depends on how long you're aboard and where you want to go."

The guardian leaned back in his chair, his eyes once again drawn to the letters. "Fine, agreed. I need you to find where Sparrow is headed with our Miss Brideau. I'm sure your informant will have that information too."

"For a price, mi amigo," the Spaniard replied coolly.

--

Vivien had long since donned the plain dress that had been brought by Gibbs. And she was quite right when she had thought it was plain. Not a gloriously adorned garment with frilly cuffs and plunging neckline, instead a trim and cheap grey piece of woollen fabric sewn together to form a peasant's dress. A peasant's dress! Most likely worn by a peasant as some time or another.

That thought alone was enough to persuade Vivien to burn the disgusting piece of filth. She was a lady, was she not? A Frenchwoman deserving the best clothes in stock, even while she was held captive, was she not?

Apparently, she was not.

She had come to the conclusion that it was either wear the dress and risk such horrible plagues as ticks and mites and other dégoûtant creepy crawlies…or brave the terrible wrath of a pirate captain that had been knocked unconscious by her less than several hours before…

She had chosen the first of her options. In no way shape or form did Vivien consider herself remotely brave enough for a task such as facing a pirate without breaking down and weeping, crying, begging for mercy and god knows what else. And she had no wish to make a fool of herself…any more so than she already had, that is.

So, Vivien had donned the dress and sat down upon the stiff cot in the relatively dreary confines of her cabin, with nothing but a candle and match to keep her company. The hours passed by with the pace of a snail, slow but steady. Lunch had been delivered – nothing but a slice of crusted bread and what looked to be some sort of odd stew with large orange chunks of something or other mixed in with it – and she had eaten it, no matter how wary she was. She was hungry, and even the promise of poison in her food couldn't keep it from her salivating mouth. Death, she had thought, might even have been a pleasant way out of the mess she had gotten herself into.

Hélas, the hours once again rolled by and she felt no different that before.

Then, as the window before her displayed the darkening sky, and she had begun to think of the match and candle once more, a knock came upon the hard wood of her door. Once again, she stiffened at the unwanted company, and once more, she wondered why in the world anyone would knock when she had no control over who opened her door.

She didn't speak, and second later the rattle of the lock accompanied the opening of the door. None other than Joshamee Gibbs poked his head in, his eyes darting quickly across the room before settling on her. Vivien realized she had hardly moved and inch from when they had spoken that morning.

"Cap'n Jack wants you up for dinner, Miss," he stated bluntly, stepping into the room with a little more hesitation that was normal. "I've come to take you to him."

Vivien nodded to him, feeling more at ease now that she knew who had knocked upon her door. "Then I don't have much of a choice but to go with you then, monsieur," she stated sombrely, pushing herself from the bed and setting her bare feet on the cold panels of the wooden floor. It came as a slight shock, a jolt running up her legs, but she ignored it and waited for Gibbs to take the lead.

No stupid running or fainting now, Vivien, her inner voice told her firmly, and she listened.

Gibbs nodded shortly and left the room, Vivien following closely behind. The hallway was darkened, lit only by two hanging lanterns at each end. The golden light barely made it all the way down the passageway, let alone illuminated anything well enough to keep Vivien from following. Of course, she had always been somewhat clumsy, too. It was just another imperfection written upon her long list of faults. Not that she minded. The people tended to stay away when they knew what kind of a woman she was. They didn't know she liked her privacy.

But Vivien could hear the whispers of "dement!" echoing in her ears as Gibbs led her up a set of stairs and onto another level of the ship.

She was still trying to grasp the size of the ship. It seemed huge. Too big and slow to out sail Belfast when he comes to collect me, she thought to herself, and managed to curse this 'Captain Jack Sparrow's' foolishness. He obviously hadn't been in the pirate trade for long if he made such mistakes! He was going to get them all killed.

Her frustrating ebbed away when she and Gibbs emerged onto the deck of the Black Pearl. Her heart gave a painful lurch and a skip, near jumping clear out of her throat, it felt like.

There were pirates.

Beaucoup des pirates! her mind screamed, horrified that she had been sitting in her room with these savages only a deck above her. Lots and lots of dirty pirates…now standing right before her…so close!

And they mulled about the night air with drinks and food, their voices and laughter carrying across the deck with vulgar twists and foul tongues. The stench of sweaty bodies was almost unimaginable. Completely and utterly disgusting! Vivien had to force down the urge to vomit on sight when the smell hit her, oh the god awful smell! She was going to pass out!

They turned to stare as Gibbs led her past them, she close on his heals, looking for all the world like a jittery, lost dog, words dying on her lips, fear coursing through her veins like some sort of painful adrenaline rush. They lowered their mugs, swallowed their food, turned to sneer and stare. Stared hungrily with dark eyes, crude smiles and filthy thoughts running through their heads and oh she couldn't take it, it was suffocating and her mind was rambling even as she stood there, coherent thought lost as they all looked on and she wanted to faint or scream or something just to get them away, tell them to stop watching her like hungry wolves, and she wanted to vomit, oh how she wanted to die right then and—

"Miss?" Gibbs thought broke through her panicked thoughts, and she nearly snapped around, staring at him with wide eyes.

Then she realized that she had somehow made it across the deck, and they stood before a set of ornately carved wooden doors. Sometime in her near state of insanity, the roar of drunken laughter and muttering had returned, and she was no longer the centre of attention. She swallowed fitfully, trying to settle her clenching stomach and force down the bile rising in her throat. Oh why her, why did the merciful lord have to be so cruel and bless her with such a fitfully vie hideuse?

She gave Gibbs a small, watery sort of smile, but she imagined it looked like a grimace one saw on a woman who was dying a slow, painful death with a dagger stuck through her gut. "Lead the way," she declared, trying to sound brave but failing miserably.

The portly man arched a bushy eyebrow at her before shrugging slightly and raising his knuckles to the door. He knocked three times, even, loud.

Vivien tried to ignore the stench all around her, the smell of unwashed bodies and dirt and urine wafting up from the pirates and their drink and food. She wanted to run away, to throw herself over the side of the ship, to swim to shore, but she knew her feet wouldn't take her there even if she had been brave enough to do it. No, Vivien was trapped and she knew it.

Gibbs opened the doors and gestured for her to enter. Her mind must have drifted far, because she hasn't heard a voice from within. Taking a deep breath and swallowing her unease - which tasted remarkably like vomit – she stepped inside.

Nothing more was said and the doors were shut behind her and she was blanketed in darkness. She shivered despite the humid air; a careful shudder tickled its way delicately up her spine and spread tantalizingly over her shoulders before it crept up the small hairs of her nape. Vivien decided she did not want to be there. No, she decided, here is definitely not a good place to be.

She could hear the pounding of her heart, her breathing in her ears. Her eyes scanned the room for signs of life, but there was nothing but the erratic flickering of small candles inside lanterns spread across the length of the room, and two set upon a table in the back near the windows. There was food upon that table. A delicate feast filled with the most delicious things Vivien had ever laid eyes upon, and she realized how little she had eaten for lunch and how she had spent all her energy worrying over the night to come.

And now here she was, standing in the captain's cabin, feeling like nothing more than little red riding hood straight from her father's fairytale, and Jack Sparrow was the big bad wolf, lurking somewhere in the darkness, most likely watching her that very moment…

"H-Hello?" she forced herself to speak, taking a tentative step further into the darkness.

The candles around the room flickered, and she felt the warm breeze wafting off the Indian Ocean, the result from a window propped open at the far end of the cabin. At least there was no stench from outside contaminating the room, but there mere thought of Jack Sparrow watching was enough to send her into hysterics. He frightened her to no end, and her body was once again tensing to choose one of the three valuable F's. Fight, flight or faint.

Her heart pounding…

The sound of her own breathing…

The muffled laughter from on deck and the gentle groaning of the ship as it swayed on the water.

It was all too much. She was ready to turn and leave, to go back onto the deck to face those disgusting pirates with their rude, mocking leers. She was ready to take flight and run.

"My apologies for the lack of light, m'dear, but me crew insisted they have all the lanterns on deck for their celebration tonight," declared a voice, deep and slurred and quite close to her right ear. "So you see, that left me with only a few candles. Hope you don't mind."

Vivien bit back a scream, whirled about, and came face to face with Jack Sparrow himself, who was looking quite smug and grinning contentedly to himself despite his words. They hadn't sounded the least bit sincere, anyway.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, somewhat indignant but more in shock than anything. "Monsieur! Y-you have been behind me this entire time? Waiting like some sort of…criminal? Hiding in the shadows?" she exclaimed. She was outraged. Or as outraged as a woman could be in her position.

He merely slipped around her, looking somewhat contemplating, and swayed over to the table heavily laden with food. "You'll address me as Captain while you're aboard my ship," he stated in that slurred manner that suggested he was a bit drunk. "And as for your question…have you forgotten already that I'm a pirate? A pirate Captain, to be precise. 'Member that."

Vivien watched as he settled himself in the chair facing her and propped his boots up on the table. She didn't need to tell herself she was much more at ease now that she could see Jack Sparrow, but in no way did she feel her fear subside. She was utterly terrified. This man, this pirate before her, could toss her out of his room at any moment and allow the crew to ravage her, or he could simply run her through with his sword, or shoot her in the head with his pistol, or toss her overboard to the sharks…or all three…

His deep, strangely hypnotizing voice interrupted her thoughts, "Are you gonna have a seat, love, or am I to eat all this myself?" he asks, gesturing wildly to the food upon the table.

For a moment, Vivien's eyes darted from the food to Jack and then back again, trying to make a decision as to what to do. He was like some sort of snake, she decided; a cobra, swaying and watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike down its prey.

From his position behind the table, Jack carefully scrutinised his adversary. She resembled a rabbit in the den of a fox, or a chicken faced with a wolf, or the mouse that the cat loomed over…

She was edgy. Panicked. Odd. Very odd. He couldn't recall meeting a woman with her particular variety of strangeness before, and that was saying something.

This woman, Mademoiselle Brideau, as she liked to be addressed, which Jack had decided hours before would simply not do, was plain as plain could be. Certainly not unpleasant to look at, no, just inconsequential. She didn't possess stunning blonde hair like a certain Miss Swann, and she certainly didn't have Elizabeth's overall beauty. But then Jack hadn't seen many women who could compete with Elizabeth Swann of Port Royal, just like he hadn't ever met a man so stiff as Will Turner – but that was beside the point.

Nevertheless, Jack decided that Mademoiselle Brideau was a pretty woman with her bright green eyes – which he found himself somewhat admiring – strong jaw, and pretty lips. And she had freckles, which weren't prized among the blokes of polite society, but he had heard stories that she hardly ever left the confines of her manor, so he couldn't imagine that would matter. But she was a nice piece of work, he decided, with a slight smirk gracing his face. She wasn't terribly slight or slender, somewhat big-boned, as he'd heard it called. But not heavy like some women, heaven's no! She had a certain softness to her, a cherub like quality with rosy cheeks. She had the looks of a woman that had an easy living. She'd also been blessed with a pair of strong shoulders and beautiful hips. Now, hips were something Jack Sparrow could admire on a woman. The whores and strumpets of Tortuga didn't have a bit of meat on their bones, and seemed to be bred purposely for the reason of having spindly limbs and no hips…

Jack cut his thoughts short as she finally moved, stepping forward hesitantly to take the seat opposite him.

Having made her decision, Vivien attempted to settle into the seat facing the pirate, but only found that she felt more uncomfortable. The pirate's grin widened, revealing several golden teeth, as she sat with that nervous aura still clear about her. She fidgeted with the arms of the chair, not meeting his eyes and looking very out of place.

Relieving the woman from his gaze, Jack leaned back and spread his arms wide. "Dig in. I didn't have them feed you that dog's soup at lunch just to have you full at supper, now did I?" he said, and his grin only widened more when her green eyes immediately snapped up to meet his dark ones.

He saw them narrow for a moment, just a hint of anger, before it slipped away and she began to ignore him as best she could by observing the food before her with a critical eye.

Jack decided that having this one aboard would be very entertaining. Not to mention she was going to make him a very rich man.

--

French & Spanish Translations:

Comprende? – understand?

Sí – yes

Verdaderamente – truly

Mi amigo – I'm sure you all know this but here it is anyway: my friend

Dégoûtant – disgusting

Hélas – alas

Dement – crazy

Beaucoup de pirates – lots of pirates

Vie hideuse - hideous life

--Cayenne Pepper Powder