The Trouble with Women

Chapter 10

Meet Mr. Mop and Mrs. Bucket

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After convincing herself that doing a bit of cleaning was far better than being shot, possibly being thrown overboard, and subsequently being eaten by ravenous sharks, Vivien had taken up the mop and bucket almost eagerly. Anamaria had led her on deck, winding though the long passageway and up a ladder. The Frenchwoman had yawned the whole way, stumbling wearily, her only protest against being woken so early.

They had emerged into the daylight without crossing a single man's path, which she would have found odd even if she had spent more time aboard a ship. But once they set foot out onto the worn planks of wood forming the quarterdeck Vivien understood why.

Bright morning sunlight beat down upon them, already hot in the somewhat crisp sea air. It glittered upon the translucent surface of the blue water, blinding Vivien for a moment until her eyes got used to the sudden light. The Indian sun was hanging just over the horizon, and already the crew of the Black Pearl was toiling away.

The deck was filled with working men, all pirates, pulling hauling on loose ropes, tugging on pulleys and straightening tangles. Many were tying knots to the side the ship, securing lines to bollards by the edge of the wooden rails. Some were up in the rigging, wrapping cables down tight or securing lines to unfurl sails. Men were up atop the sails, perched upon the main top and calling down, other shouting orders up. There were even men hanging from ropes in mid air, swinging lithely about a hundred feet from the deck with not a care in the world! Vivien watched in awe as the whole crew seemed to work in unison with another, functioning as one great whole, and for a split second she might have caught a glimpse of what the crew themselves saw, what Jack saw. Freedom, maybe, utter freedom and contentment. However, it was gone not long after that.

Truthfully, she found it rather amazing that such a large bunch of brutish men could seem so organized.

Briefly, she glanced up at the helm, but it wasn't Jack who stood there. It was Gibbs, much to her relief.

And almost as if noticing her gaze, Anamaria called up to the portly man, cupping her slender hands around her mouth to be heard over the morning bustle. "Oy, Gibbs, get down here an' give me a hand!" she shouted loudly, causing several of the pirates to look up from their work. But they seemed more interested in their duties. Other than that, Vivien's presence went otherwise unnoticed. Not that she minded. The less attention she received from the men the better.

"Gibbs, ya fat duck! Get your arse down here!"

She had glanced up at the mulatto woman briefly, giving her a curious eye before turning her attention to the kindly Gibbs. He looked slightly disgruntled, maybe not up to the early morning, but heaved a sigh and called up a young sailor from the deck. The man rushed past Vivien and Anamaria without casting either a glance, hurried up to the helm, and took the wheel as Gibbs released his hold. Slowly, the older man made his way down the steps, squinting slightly at the two women.

"What is it you be wantin' now?" he grumbled, stepping down from the stern castle. Almost on a whim, he fumbled around his pockets for a moment before coming back up triumphantly with a metal flask. Taking a short swig from it, let out a sigh of utter satisfaction, replaced the cap and turned his narrowed gaze onto the-out-of-place Frenchwoman.

"Before ya ask, I'm aware Jack was the one who assigned me to little-miss-Frenchie, but I gotbetter things to do, less patience, and a bad memory," Anamaria announced, and Vivien could have sworn she saw the slightest hint of smiles flicker across her face.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her slightly. "And what do you want me to do about it, eh?" he asked suspiciously.

"You've befriended the woman, haven't you?" Anamaria asked, turning her head slightly to regard the man.

Gibbs took more than a small moment to answer, his eyes on Vivien and an unreadable expression upon her face. That was when, perhaps, Vivien realized something and looked slightly hurt by it. No one, absolutely no one, wanted to be near her—not even pirates! When had she become such a burdensome pest? Or had she always been one? Is that why everyone avoided her, despised her, spoke about her behind their backs, wanted to maim her?

Her sudden display of crestfallen sadness must have caught Gibbs's attention, because the next moment he was speaking, not unkindly.

"I'd call us more o' friendly acquaintances," he said, and it was better than declining.

A slow smile spread over Anamaria's face, one reminiscent of Jack Sparrow himself. The female pirate nodded happily to her comrade. "Then ya won't mind takin' Frenchie here and showin' her all the work and ropes Sparrow's assigned her," she declared, and a sort of strangled look overcame Gibbs's face. "I've no part in makin' this young lass work, Gibbs. Not only do I doubt she can do it, her soft life and livin' won't allow it. She won't last a day, I suspect, and lookit what Jack'll have on his hand then, ah?"

The Frenchwoman frowned at these comments, averting her eyes. What exactly would Jack have her do?

Gibbs hesitated, eyes darting between a smug Anamaria and a distressed Vivien.

The mulatto woman was still waiting…

Relenting with an uneasy shrug, Gibbs nodded. "Aye, that's about it…" he sighed and fixed the female pirate with an irate stare. "But Jack won't be too happy about ye disregarding his orders, lass."

She arched a delicate eyebrow at the first mate. "The man's a fool havin' a woman like her working aboard a ship like this." Gibbs and Anamaria both regarded the young woman for a moment before Anamaria huffed. "Boatswain's duty for two days then," she offered, earning a truly bemused look from Vivien.

Shaking his head, Gibbs replied, "Make it three days of boatswain's duty and you've got yourself a right good deal."

Eyes narrowing, Anamaria planted her hands on her hips. If Gibbs wanted her to barter, she would barter! "Two days on boatswain's duty and a wake up call," she retorted.

Vivien watched this, eyes moving back and forth between the two as she clutched her mop and held onto the wooden bucket. Whatever the two pirates were speaking of now it was more or less lost on the young woman. For all she knew they were speaking in some sort of code, trying to pass to responsibility of her off to one another as though she was some inanimate object. This particular thought made her green eyes narrow somewhat. She may be a spineless creature but she had her pride!

"May I ask what's going on?" she interjected quickly, albeit quietly.

Anamaria turned and scowled. "No you may not," she quipped, mocking the young woman.

Vivien frowned. "Why?"

The mulatto woman rolled her eyes. "Frenchie, ya remember that talk we had of guns and such?" she asked in a deathly pleasant voice.

Needless to say, that was enough to quiet Vivien, and she bit her tongue as the two pirates continued to argue.

"Two days boatswain's duty, one wake up call and three days o' rum duty, those are me terms," Gibbs stated firmly.

Anamaria snorted, lips pursed slightly. "A week of wake up calls and two days rum duty isme offer, old man. Don't be taking off more than you can chew!" she shot back, temper rising as well as her voice. The crew went on, oblivious to the two bargaining.

Gibbs glared. "I'm calling the shots, Anamaria! one day of wake up calls, three days rum duty andtwo daysof boatswain's duty you be having yourself a deal, no less!" he jutted his chin out at the woman.

The mulatto woman growled under her breath but forced a tight smile onto her lips. "She's hardly worth it! And I'm only offering my services of two days rum duty, and five days wake up callin'…" she hesitated. "Plus one day of breakfast in bed. Your favorites, too. What d'ya say?"

Gibbs regarded her cautiously a moment before nodding and sticking out his hand for her to shake. "Aye, That'll do it."

She smacked her palm to his and they shook firmly. "Aye."

"Good."

"Aye"

"Fine. Now get rid o' one of those wake up calls and get Jack up outta bed. Tis about an hour past dawn," he instructed. "Then ye can take the helm fromRobert until he gets out here."

Anamaria nodded shortly, looking satisfied, before turning to cast a quick smile at the Frenchwoman. The smile, however, didn't seem all that sincere or pleasant for that matter, and Vivien withered slightly under the woman's dark gaze.

She smirked. "Good luck with the chores, lass, and I mean it. That mop'n bucket will be your only company for a while yet, I imagine," she stated lightly before strolling off to the steps leading down below.

So, Vivien was left with Gibbs, a mop and bucket, feeling about as good about herself if she were a leper. Even then, maybe, she would be treated with a slight smidgeon of respect. Really, the way everyone was acting around her it seemed as though she had some sort of plague only they could decipher. Almost painfully, she bit back the urge to sigh in resignation, instead turning to Gibbs with a small frown. Luckily, he didn't seem too repulsed by her. Maybe slightly edgy, but the maids had been like that all the time.

"Don't mind Anamaria, lass," the portly man attempted some form of comfort, certainly not used to having emotional, eccentric females onboard. "No doubt she'll be more understanding than most the crew. They don't take kindly to the new, not for you to worry o' course. I've a feelin' Anamaria'll take to you for…woman company, aye?" He shrugged at that, not knowing what more to say.

Vivien stood silently by his side, doubting that Anamaria would enjoy the said 'womanly company.' She almost seemed more of a man then Gibbs himself. Taking a deep breath, she allowed her eyes to take in the grand scale of the ship, something she hadn't noticed the night before. And the sails. The sails were black, coupling with the dark wood of the ship to give the place an almost eerie feel. If it hadn't have been for the bright sun she was sure a shiver would have run up her spine. Who knew what sort of vermin ran about the place at night…and in her room!

Gibbs's voice broke through her thoughts. "Louis, Beckham! Get off scrubbin' duty, your free for the rigging! Have the mainsails full and breezy by the time Jack takes up the helm!" he shouted to two scruffy pirates scrubbing the deck on the far side of the ship, towards the bow.

Somewhat tensely, the Frenchwoman watched as the two men stood up, stretching and popping their backs and tossing their brushes into a dirty pail. One man hauled it up as the other wandered quickly away to the rigging, approaching them with what looked to be a permanent sort of sneer. He was of medium build with dark, greasy brown hair and stubble littering his face. Blue sombre, dark blue eyes glared out at Vivien from under thick brows.

"So, the witch's on swabbin' duty, eh? Can't be very threatenin' if Sparra managed to ger 'er cleaning these shitty decks!" he spat, and large, discoloured glob of mucus landed on the deck just inches from her bare feet. "Though I'm sure she's better uses than cleanin', aye? Are ye warmin' the Cap'n's bed yet, I wonder?" He smirked toothily at the young woman, who seemed to shrink slightly, loosing her height and confidence.

Stepping in, Gibbs fixed the pirate with a squinted glare. "Best be on your way, Mr. Beckham, afore I assign ye extra cleanin' duties and Miss Vivien here can be the one to watch ye break your back," he warned the man lowly.

Beckham glared a moment. "Yew canna do that, Gibbs. I don't 'member ye bein' appointed cap'n," he retorted snottily, and fixed the man with a scowl. Underneath, though, Vivien could see he was somewhat uncertain.

"Aye, I ain't captain, but quarter-masters good enough. I'm sure Jack'll like to know you've been gobbin' up the deck with your spit and harassin' his only lead to the treasure, though. Miss Vivien can make ye a rich man, Beckham, but if you take on this way I'm sure she be the one complaining to Jack herself. And then where would that leave you?"

The two men seemed to have some sort of staring competition going on, and Vivien could only watch with her shoulders stiff and back tense. She had the feeling this wasn't the first confrontation between the two. They seemed to grate on each other's nerves like nothing else. What she could only hope was that this would be the first and last time it would happen in front of her. If fists suddenly started flying, she wanted to be anywhere but near the two. She could feel her knees weakening with fear at the glimpse of anger in both men's eyes and faces.

Finally, Beckham was the one to step down, hesitant to tempt Gibbs too much at the thought of Jack getting involved. Shortly, he nodded to the spot of mucus on the deck. "Best clean that up, witch," he said, almost an order, and then he was gone.

A long, heavy breath was released from Gibbs's lungs in a great sigh as the younger pirate left. Vivien, too, felt her shoulders sag, and she leaned on the mop to support her weakened legs. Catching onto her unease, Gibbs nodded to Beckham as he disappeared down below, taking the bucket with him.

"That bloke's damn lucky Jack didn't see him spitting all over the deck. The Captain doesn't tolerate dirtying up of his ship," he said shortly, shaking his head.

Nodding slightly, Vivien's eyes turned out to the sea. "Il n'a pas—me pardonne…he didn't seem too happy with me…" she murmured quietly, still slightly shaken.

"Beckham be unhappy with everyone, miss. Don't worry your head over it, or his name callin'. He just don't take kindly to strangers is all," Gibbs assured her, but it did nothing to ease her nerves.

Then, in but a moment, Gibbs's mood had turned around, and he was smiling kindly at her, only the smallest hint of uneasiness in his face. Clearly, he hadn't gotten over her being bad luck…

"It's best we get you working before Jack gets on deck. He'll be in a right bad mood after last night." He muttered to last part more to himself than anything.

Vivien felt her stomach clench again in fear. For a moment, she considered not asking what he meant by those last words, but in the end curiosity won her over. That and the fact she wanted to know what exactly fate had in store for her. And if Jack still was upset about her defiance the night before she might as well curl up into a small ball and shrivel into nothingness. It would save her from the rough waves to come.

"Monsieur Gibbs…what exactly….do you mean by 'after last night?'" she questioned tentatively, wary of the answer. S'il vous plaît, don't let his bad mood be because of me and my endless stupidity, mon Dieu…she pleaded most pathetically to the heavens. However, her dear lord seemed to have neglected her individual lately.

"Eh?" Gibbs questioned, staring at her face, which now looked as though some invisible force was strangling her to death. Then it dawned upon him, more or less. "Oh…Jack! Well, ye see, Jack had a sort of celebration gatherin' on a plan gone well—or had—but still worked out in the end, ye see? That be capturin' your lovely self. And whenever he has these little things he always has a bit too much rum…this was after you fainted dead away in his cabin, mind you. But once he's had so much rum he usually ends up passed out on deck or completely sloshed on the floor in his quarters, so he'll be havin' a wicked sort of headache this morning."

Lips forming a silent 'o,' Vivien finally understood. Well, the man had already seemed quite drunk when she had spoken to him, so it couldn't have taken much more to knock him out. And although she was quite glad he wasn't going to be in a bad mood merely because she had refused his offer, but a hangover would most likely make him twice as irritable. She'd had enough experience with Belfast the morning after he went to the local taverns to know this. Quite suddenly she was feeling terrified all over again, and Gibbs did not seem to notice this time.

"Now, let's get his all straightened out," the portly man was muttering to himself. He turned to Vivien and beckoned her to follow him to the edge of the ship. She did, with the mop and bucket, and he pointed out a long line secured to the edge of the ship by a pulley and a wooden pin.

"You see this? Well, when you're scrubbin' the deck you'll want to tie your bucket to this, toss it over and then haul it back up by the pulley with clean seawater. We can't afford using any of the fresh stuff on something so dirty as the deck," he explained, and Vivien nodded slightly, preferring to keep silent.

Truthfully, she wasn't too keen on the idea of getting too close to the edge of the ship, but she wouldn't complain. If there was one thing so far that she had learned it was not to complain. Anamaria had taught her that with that pistol of hers, and the Frenchwoman wasn't eager to see it again.

"You'll be swabbin' the top deck first, till near noon. At that time you'll be down in the galley washing the dishes from lunch. Brill, the cook, will help ye with that. Then you'll be moving onto the cabins down below. Give them a quick clean and wash out the crew's quarters, an' be careful not to touch anything that's there's and I reckon you'll be just fine—" at this point Vivien's face paled somewhat, "—You can finish with the hold and the bilge, clean the brig last. Find Anamaria or meself if ye don't know where that be, as I expect ye don't. Be up in the galley to wash supper's dishes and you'll be done for the day, lass. Unless, of course, Jack be wantin' you to do a bit more. I hope not. Though very particular about his ship, he be. And I can't say he'll be in a right good mood…" Gibbs trailed off with a somewhat sympathetic smile, and Vivien's brow knotted, but she preferred not to open her mouth.

"What's this about meself not being in a good mood today, ay?" another voice cut in. A very familiar other voice.

Gibbs and Vivien both whirled around to face none other than Jack Sparrow himself, looking chipper than ever and quite curious, dark eyes narrowed slightly. Staying silent, the young woman avoided his gaze and left Gibbs to answer.

"Cap'n! Startled me there! Just showin' Miss Vivien here her work for today…I was expecting ye to be still asleep considerin' you managed near one barrel last night!" he exclaimed, eluding the man's question.

"Did I?" he slurred distantly, swaying on his feet, and neither of them missed the pirate captain's small wince at the volume of Gibbs's voice.

Immediately, the first mate apologized. "Sorry sir, didn't me t'be too loud."

Jack waved him off, one clutching his head as if holding his hat on and his eyes squinting slightly in the weak morning sun. "No worries, mate," he assured, and glanced around the working deck. "Bit bright out today, eh?"

Vivien and Gibbs exchanged a short look, eyebrows raised, before the first mate nodded slowly to his captain. "Aye, that it is, sir."

"Thought so," Jack mumbled, and then focused his attention on the two. "That's odd…I distinctly 'member telling Anamaria to show the lass around…"

Gibbs managed to look genuinely surprised. "Did you?" he exclaimed. "'Fraid she's been at the helm all morning, sir." Their eyes turned to the proud woman where she stood keeping course.

Frowning, Jack held up a finger to pose a thought. "Except when she took the time to screech good mornin' outside my door. I always thought you were the one to do that…" he said, clearly confused and swaying gently on his feet, both likely effects of his hangover.

Looking thoughtful a moment, the first mate concluded, "She was feeling generous this morn', Cap'n," he amended.

And that answer seemed good enough, because Jack made a sound of understanding, nodding slightly with a distant look upon his face. Then, they both watched as his eyes narrowed considerably, and his focus was suddenly on Vivien—dark and sharp.

"And our lovely guest has finally awoken, has she?" He grinned, and before anyone could get a word in edgewise, he had continued swiftly. "Gibbs, if you've shown the lass her work I'd very much like some time to speak to her, alone, if you don't mind," the pirate announced cheerily once more.

Gibbs nodded quickly. "Aye, Jack. I'll be on my way then."

And then, quite suddenly, Vivien was left alone—or in the relative company of no one but Captain Jack Sparrow once more. That mere thought was quite enough to make her unease. Already she could feel anxiousness creeping along her insides, and she had to force it away to even look him eye to eye. Which was a hard enough task in itself, anyhow!

Slowly, she turned to face him fully and stuck her chin out in the air in much the same way Anamaria could. "And…what do you wish to speak to me about, Captain Sparrow?" she asked politely, distantly, calmly, maybe hoping that if she managed to weasel her way over to his good side he would go easy on her for angering him last night.

Jack, on the other hand, found her display—her in a whole, really—a source of unending amusement. Her curious mannerisms were enough without her fright for him, and he wondered why she was so scared of him in the first place. Besides the obvious reasons, of course. He didn't find himself all too threatening, at least not to women, and he had managed quite well to keep his impatience and temper in check around her. Except for the night before, of course, but he had been drinking quite a bit of rum before she had come to him. And that brought him to current matters.

"No need to strut about like a peacock to impress, darling. I only wish to speak with on friendly terms. Offer a sort of truce as well as a small thought I've been having concerning our agreements that ended so abruptly last night—" He watched as her face seemed to drain of colour and quickly amended his mistake, flapping his hand comically."—Which will include no guns, threats, swords, daggers, violence, throwing of heavy objects or all around general discrepancy, alright?" he asked, and grinned charmingly at her, almost hoping his nonchalance would melt her stiff exterior. "What do ye say, eh?"

Swallowing, Vivien eyed him warily. This had been the exact moment she had been dreading ever since she had been woken this morning. But she had somehow known he wouldn't give up until he got exactly what he wanted, so there was no stopping it, really. So she nodded, albeit slowly and somewhat hesitantly. Nevertheless, it was a sign for him to continue.

And he did. "Wonderful," he exclaimed flamboyantly, his active hands waving about once more. "Now that I have your full attention I would just to ask if you still had any hard feelings from last night. Really, I'd like to get it all past us and move on in this…relationship, so to speak."

The Frenchwoman regarded him oddly a moment. This man, this pirate, wanted her to forgive him pour menacant, dupant, trichant and nearly shooting her the night before? Not likely! In fact, as long as she was prisoner aboard this ship, forced to scrub decks, for goodness sakes, she would not forgive him!

"You nearly shot me in the foot," she reminded him indignantly, and pursed her lips, brow furrowed. She resisted the urge to plant her hands on her hips and scowl.

Jack opened his mouth, one eyebrow curving down in displeasure. Silently, he regarded the woman before him for a long moment, the way her large green eyes were staring perplexedly up at him, waiting for some sort of apology maybe, a promise he wouldn't do it again. Well, he certainly couldn't promise a thing like that, it was rather like asking her not to brain someone with that mop of hers if they snuck up behind her, whichhe had a feeling she would. But he was trying to make a truce, wasn't he? Trying to get the woman to open up, maybe even tell him where the treasure was. Maybe even wooing her would help, and he had to start somewhere.

That notorious finger was once again raised, now pointed at her slightly, and he planted his other hand on his hip. "Aye, I did…" he started admitted rather shamelessly. "But you almost stuck me with a butter knife."

Was that supposed to be un rappel coupable, je me demande? Vivien pondered to herself, displeased. Her eyes narrowed somewhat, her inner backbone coming into play, as it seemed to be doing more often now. "That hardly compares to pointing a loaded gun at someone and threatening to shoot their feet off, among othervaluable parts of the human body!" she exclaimed.

Jack couldn't contain the grin. So, the timid little woman did have a sharp tongue, but only used it when she wanted to, and even then he was sure she didn't actually notice.

"How about this then, darling. You stop trying to cause me bodily harm and I'll stop threatening you with me gun," he offered, beaming, planting a hand on the wooden railway and leaning causally against the side of his ship.

"What about your sword?" Vivien had demanded before she thought.

This time, he couldn't resist a chuckle. "Aye, and my cutlass won't touch you, savvy?"

"S-savvy," she nodded, rather surprised at how well that had gone.

"Savvy," Jack echoed happily, and straightened up once more. "Follow me to the helm then, love. My mind is clearer when I have the Pearl 'neath me hands. And, there are some matters I prefer to keep from my crew," he said, and promptly whirled on his heel, dreadlocks, beads and braids flying—as well as his coat—before swaggering off towards the helm.

Blinking, as it had happened so fast, she merely watched him walk off, making no move to follow. Her eyes, quite unfortunately, were stuck on the hypnotic sway of his hips. Bon Dieu! she exclaimed mentally, almost horrified. What a sight to behold! It was safe to say she hadn't actually noticed how hypnotic the man was in whole, like a cobra, swaying to confuse its enemies before lunging in for the strike!

Then, as if he had read her very thoughts or sensed her gaze, Jack turned once more, satisfied smile lighting up his face so it practically glowed. Avec arrogance et confiance, she might add. And he crooked a finger at her, grinning lazily, and called back to her.

"Come along, dear, we have all day! And bring Mr. Mop and Mrs. Bucket too, if you'd like!"

Somewhat mollified, Vivien's face coloured up. But she followed him nonetheless, and she found herself at the heart of the Black Pearl, standing as Jack's side as he took the helm from Anamaria and she excused herself for work. Here, the young woman noticed, the ocean wind was much stronger and cooler, and she had to fight the urge to let her eyes drift shut and bask in the Indian sun's warmth while breathing deep the saltyfresh air. It was nothing like her manor, which held stale air littered with perfumes and scents from the kitchen.

His voice interrupted her thoughts. "Now, I did a bit of thinking last night and I came to a conclusion about our previous agreement," he started, absently stroking the wooden wheel with his fingers. Vivien's eyes were drawn to the silver ring on his right hand, as it glittered in the sunlight, and she nodded slightly for him to continue. "It's occurred to me that I could have very well shot you in order to acquire the location to your father's treasure—that wasn't a threat, darling—but I can't very well do that now, can I? Besides, every time I've pulled a bloody gun on you, you've fainted," he turned to grin at her, but found her face blanched somewhat. He frowned.

Vivien stared, blinking slightly with unease. "What?"

"Bit squeamish, aren't you?" he declared, and Vivien swallowed. "I already said I wasn't going to harm you, love."

"Right," she replied, eyes averted.

"Aye. Now, with that in mind, I offer you an accord. I'll agree to your previous state of affairs on the on the conditions of a few small, rather insignificant things," he said, hands waving. "I'm quite ready to accept your terms but I feel the need to inject my thoughts."

She wondered briefly what he was up to now, but nodded anyways, much against her good will.

Jack watched her face closely, once again distracted by her green eyes and the small bridge of freckles running along the top of her cheeks. Freckles, he had always had a bit of a fetish for freckled women, what with all the wenches with their porcelain skin, painted so thick it was hard to tell what coloured skin they had in the first place. A freckled woman was rare in the Caribbean, however, or in a sunny climate at all. Many preferred to stay inside.

For a moment, Jack thought it odd that this woman before him could have so many traits he preferred in his lovers but had the personality of an eccentric donkey. That was how he would describe it, anyway. Then again, Jack Sparrow had always been a bit off.

Tearing his thoughts away from Vivien he cleared his throat before continuing. "Now, I'll take you to the Caribbean, love, and I won't drop you off along the way, but the trip won't be free. I believe that's why you've recently befriended a mop and bucket. In exchange for me taking you safely to the Caribbean on my ship, you'll take up work and until I release you become a sort of…part time member of me crew. Savvy so far?" he asked, his chocolate eyes focused on Vivien.

She considered it all a moment before figuring she didn't really have a choice. She had already gotten herself into enough trouble already, so there was no need to argue with Jack and make her situation worse. Nodding, she spoke. "Alright. I'll agree as long as my work doesn't span the whole day or involve high heights," she explained, reminding herself at the last minute that she was terrified of heights and therefore wouldn't be well equipped to climb the rigging or loosen the sails.

He laughed at that, just because she seemed so insistent on it, and then grinned. "Aye. Now, I believe I only have one other discrepancy with your proposition, that being the bit about the treasure."

Ceil, pitié moi… Vivien wetted her lips nervously, but otherwise tried to put on a façade that she wasn't the least bit bothered by this new development.

Jack was watching her like a hawk. "Now, as much as I want to know, I can't very well force you to tell me. So I'll make due with waiting."

Vivien looked as if to say something, but he interrupted her quite quickly. Nothing came in between him and his treasure and she was already quite close. "Hear me out, darling. I only request that you tell the exact spot, draw up a map, write out some directions, et cetera, upon our stop in Tortuga. That's all."

"Tortuga?" Vivien echoed uncertainly, eyeing him.

He only smiled distantly, as if recalling something great. "Tortuga, best town in all the Caribbean, love, but that that can be told another time, eh? Do we have an accord or not?" he pressed anxiously, a fire alight in his eyes.

She once again realized that she couldn't do much more in the way of evading the topic of treasure, so she nodded her assent. There was a good month's sailing to the Caribbean, enough time ahead of her to think of an escape plan. She just needed to take her time and keep calm.

"Splendid!" Jack cried happily in that odd manner of his.

He stuck out his hand for her to shake, and she regarded it warily. Rough and covered with dark spots of what looked to be grease, she wasn't sure she wanted to touch him. But she did, steeling herself and lowering the mop to the deck to clasp his hand in her own slender fingers. She felt an odd sort of thrill run through her from head to toes, tingling along her spine, and oddly enough, she found herself staring up at Jack Sparrow quite boldly.

For a moment, she wondered for a moment just exactly what this strange man thought of her. What was in his thoughts when he stared at her so, with his dark eyes that glittered mysteriously in the sun? What did he refer her as when she was not there? A boneless coward, perhaps? Did he think her a gutless, pathetic Frenchwoman unworthy to be aboard his ship? Since he seemed too eager to have her off that could be so. Or did he see her as just another lady? A mere woman in his eyes, no different from the rest, a faceless commodity and a burden he wanted to be rid of? A girl, perhaps? A frightened girl with no place to go? A confused soul? A tormented mind? A lead to a fortune?

Or herself? Did he see her face with her name? Her feelings as a living, breathing human being? Goodness knows he was more perceptive than he seemed. She could see that. He had proven it a few times yet.

Or was he himself just another cruel, heartless pirate, nothing like her father whom she had never met?

Was she being deceived? Her personality wasn't the brightest. Her mind wasn't too keen. How would she ever know behind that odd grin of his? The one he sported even now as they shook hands. She hadn't a clue what he was thinking, and it bothered her greatly.

If you asked, Vivien wouldn't be able to say how long they had held each other's gaze in a silent sort of standoff. How long she had managed to keep her back straight and not cower from the powerful soul before her. Time only came back to her when his long fingers slipped from hers and their deal had been confirmed.

And that was that. Her fate was sealed.

Jack grinned, showing off his few gold teeth. He regarded her a brief second, watching as her eyes slowly ran to the horizon ahead of his ship and recalled her green eyes as they had stared into his. She bore her soul with her eyes, that was for sure. He could see every emotion written across her face like a quill dances along parchment. And for a moment, he swore she actually had a will for something below her odd exterior! And a few secrets of her own.

Oh yes, as he had thought before, having Miss Vivien Brideau aboard was going to be infinitely entertaining.

--

Translations:

Blue sombre – dark blue

Il n'est pas—me pardonner – He isn't—pardon me

Menacant – menacing

Dupant - cheating

Trichant– swindling

Un rappel coupable, je me demande – a guilty reminder, I wonder

Bon Dieu – good god

Avec arrogance and confiance – with arrogance and confidence

Ceil, pitié moi – Heaven, pity me

--Cayenne Pepper Powder