The Trouble with Women

Chapter 14

Good Food, Bad Food

--

Without so much as a pleasant bonjour, Jack Sparrow swaggered into Vivien's cabin, leaving in his wake an open door. And then, before the young woman could get a word in edgewise…or a friendly bonjour, he had cut her off and launched into an enthusiastic speech with a pleasant grin plastered across his tanned face.

"Ah, Vivien, love, glad to see you're near being rid o' that sunburn! I must say I was rather concerned in the first place, you looked as red as a ripe tomato," he announced with much ado, hands seemingly flailing in every direction. It was all Vivien could do not to let herself feel slightly dizzy with the onslaught of movement. Her stomach hadn't quite settled yet, and the overpowering stench of vinegar and liquor was not helping the slightest.

"Thank you Captain…but was there something you wished to speak to me about?" she questioned with a slight frown, almost hoping there had been no reason and he would leave as soon as possible. Her stomach was not agreeing with her mood, which in turn wasn't agreeing with her words.

No such luck, as Jack's grin only grew. He seemed to secretly enjoy peeving her.

"What, don't tell me you're not hungry!" he exclaimed, pressing a spread hand to his chest, stepping forward with a look of mock surprise. "I know for a fact you haven't eaten since this morning, two hours past dawn to be precise. You must be hungry, what with all this excitement. Hitting men with mops and such… And I believe I heard from our lovely Anamaria that you've been suffering from sunstroke."

Vivien felt the ship beneath her role slightly. The lantern on her bedside table slid to the side, moving the shadows in her room. She swallowed thickly, " I suppose so," she said, not mentioning that her current condition was Jack's fault, really. She was sure he wouldn't see it from her point of view.

"Wonderful! Then you'll be pleased to know I have theperfect remedy for your ailments, love," he announced, and turned swiftly to the door, which had been blocked from Vivien's view by him. There stood a gangly young boy with reddish hair and splotches of freckles across his face, no older than twelve,laden down with a platter filled to the edges with plates and bottles. He looked ready to collapse.

"Come on in Rupert, can't keep the lady waiting now can we?" Jack beckoned the child inside. "Bring the woman her feast first and head to the galley; I'm sure Brill's still waiting with your supper."

Rupert, as he was called, scurried into the dim cabin without another thought, making a beeline for the lone nightstand at the cot's side. Depositing the tray carefully without so much as a glance her way, he straightened back up and made a quick break for the door, muttering a speedy, "Aye, aye, Cap'n." He seemed to want to get away from Vivien as quick as possible. Or maybe he just wanted to get to his food.

Whichever way, Vivien's short encounter with the young lad was over within ten seconds of it commencing.

She turned her gaze to Jack, whose eyes were glinting with some sort of mirth in the dim lantern light. He gestured obscurely at the large platter before pulling up one of the rickety chairs by her cot and settling himself down with a contented sigh.

Oh non, this cannot be good, Vivien thought obscurely. Jack Sparrow taking the time to dine with her, in her own cabin no less. Visions of the first time she had been subjected to the pirate Captain's charms flittered across her mind like twittering, nervous birds. But they scattered into the depths of her mind as Jack's deep voice, slurred with the effects of time and alcohol, reached her ears.

"Now, ye see love, here I was takin' my infinite most time to prepare the delicious remains of the spoils from your chere vieille maison back on Bourbon, and there you are takin' the time to fully ignore my efforts. I can't help but feel the slightest affronted," he told her, but by the tone of his voice she could easily tell he wasn't upset. Curious, but not upset.

But that wasn't what really concerned Vivien. She imagined she gave him the most incredulous stare he had received in while, for his dark eyebrows rose slightly, nearly disappearing under his tattered red bandanna.

"Something I said, love?" he inquired somewhat cautiously, cocking his head somewhat.

"You can speak French?" she asked him, green eyes wide. She had spoken it before in his presence, she remembered, but it was mostly mixed up with garbled English, giving him enough understanding to make out what she was saying in her own language.

"Ah…oui," he offered, grinning cockily.

"A pirate?" she questioned, almost to herself.

"Aye, a pirate," he replied, dragging out the last word with a role of his eyes. Everyone these days seemed to doubt his capabilities. Which is precisely why you always end up on top, Jack old boy, he reminded himself smartly.

"I hardly believe it!" she exclaimed to herself.

"I would," Jack said lightly.

Abruptly, Vivien narrowed her eyes at him, leaning forward slightly, forgetting the tantalizing smells of her dinner wafting through the sour air. A sudden anger coursed through her veins, while a few unpleasantly juvenile thoughts implanted themselves in her head. Oh yes, she would love to hear this, Jack's Sparrow inevitable butchering of her native tongue. What a sight to see, the Captain of the Black Pearl stumbling over himself while attempting to converse in the beautiful language that was French…

Oh yes, her upset stomach was definitely making short work of degrading her mood.

"Capitaine Sparrow, votre odeur est comme le cul d'un singe," she told him conversationally, face calm despite the meaning of her words. Let him try answer that, Vivien huffed to herself.

And Jack Sparrow looked nothing short of speechless.

Vivien was about to pride herself in a discovery well-managed when the mulish pirate abruptly seemed to choke on is own saliva. He seemed to recoil from her presence a moment as though she had suddenly spouted every curse in his bible, looking completely surprised, before his demeanour switched abruptly. And the next moment his shoulders were shaking with a sort of crazed laughter.

Leaning back in his chair and allowing himself to enjoy the pleasures of amused mirth, Jack reminded himself of the promise—of sorts—he had made with himself. Nothing significant, nothing too excruciating, he was sure, and certainly none to difficult…if he kept to it. That is, digging into the enigma that was Vivien Brideau, cracking her heavily fortified exterior with his mad charms, using his cunning wit to find out what really went on inside her pretty little head and subsequently ending her acting like an old maid with a stick up her arse. And, on the side, weaselling her father's treasure out of her so he could take the time to make necessary plans before reaching the Caribbean, or even better, maybe allowing himself to indulge in pleasures such that only a woman could give to him. He'd decided to start his plan in motion with food, a dinner he was sure would light Vivien's eyes with hunger.

It was a long sail to Tortuga after L'île St. Marie, after all, with few stops in between.

So, knowing this, Jack told himself not to be the least bit offended by the insult the young Frenchwoman had just thrown at him, but rather, to enjoy the small moment in which she opened herself up and gave him a piece of her mind. And although it wasn't much, it was enough to make him laugh!

Vivien sat stock still, as tense as a stone statue, as the eccentric pirate shot up from the rickety chair, bracing himself as he swayed slightly, and then stepped forward and flopped down beside her, causing the small cot to creak in protest. His odd actions let loose the tight cord binding her imagination, and within moments it was running wild, along with the pace of her heart. And he was going to whip out that pistol of his and finally have it over with, shooting her down mercilessly in the cramped confines of her empty cabin—not even really hers—leaving no chance for escape or reasoning or pleading or begging or grovelling upon the very wood upon which his boots dirtied…

Jack settled his laughter a moment to lean forward drunkenly and peer at the young woman beside from him, a grin spotted with enticing gold wide upon his face, "Love, a fine moment it would be the day you let you're tongue speak before your brain, I was tellin' meself! Now that's it's come I must say I enjoyed it immensely," he told her, voice anything but cruel, instead warm. Amused.

The mere sound of it caused Vivien's stomach to twist with an unknown twinge, and her heart to continue on with its mad pace.

He continued, planting one hand firmly on the cot while using the other to gesture as he turned to her fully, "Believe me when I say you're not the first to think me a liar, but I might point out that Captain Jack Sparrow never lies. Stretching the truth somewhat, maybe, but all for the sake of me own good will, savvy? So when I say I speak French…you should know that I do indeed speak French," he mocked her with a charming smile. "And Although I do recall Elizabeth referring to me odour as a wet dog…I can't say I've ever been compared to a monkey's ass. I'll bet apound Anamaria couldn't even think up that!" Jack grinned, eyeing her slyly. "Now correct me if I'm wrong, lass, but I was under the impression I smelt every bit the epitome of masculinity that I am!"

Vivien sat silently, still as a stone statue, green eyes glued ahead, marvelling somewhat at the fact he hadn't shot her. But she reminded herself he wasn't like other pirates. Well, disregarding they're first supper together, anyway. After that, he had been completely kind to her…except when he tricked her into working aboard his ship, forcing her down tothe level of a cabin boy. Or when the work he had given her forced her into the sun and subsequently led her to fainting dead away on the deck…

But then she remembered he had promised not to harm her. She couldn't help being paranoid though. Mistrustful. It was in her nature.

And never had she encountered someone quite like Jack.

She just didn't know what to think of the man!

And so wrapped up in her thoughts was she, she hardly noticed said pirate's intense gaze locked on her profile, searching every inch of her face available to him, wanting her expressive green eyes to lock with his own. She still appeared far too timid for his tastes. He would have to do something about that before it served to drive him insane…

"Care to pass me a bit of that baguette, love? Scrumptious it is," his smoky voice murmured into her ear, hot breath hitting her neck.

An undeniable shudder ran through Vivien, and she jumped around quickly to face him, blinking rapidly and fighting back the flush threatening to arise upon her cheeks. Surely this man knew if the phrase 'personal space,' something that wasn't to be invaded until a man and a woman were safely married and in love? She stared at him—he with a wicked grin—with a look of near contempt, feeling slightly ruffled by the look of heavenly innocence upon the pirate's face.

Then, "What? There isn't any baguette? I could have sworn I told Rupert to stack some o' that onto the platter. Lovely bread that is, but of course you'd know that, darling—"

"I much prefer Mademoiselle Brideau," Vivien cut him off before he could ramble any longer, feeling slightly cold towards the Captain. Why shouldn't she? He had kidnapped her, threatened her, stolen from her, forced her to work as long as she was aboard his ship! And now he was invading the small comforts of her confined cabin!

He's also being obscenely charming, she reminded herself, and suddenly found herself unable to decide whether to detest the man or be completely taken with him!

He smiled at her, waving off her comment. He had never taken to calling women by titles and didn't plan to start now. "Of course, Vivien," he replied offhandedly, and she had to force herself not to smile as her name came off his lips…his appealing lips…

"Now would you kindly dig in before I'm forced to feed you myself, hmm?" Jack arched an eyebrow cheekily at her.

"Hardly," Vivien muttered, and attempting to hide the immediate blush that threatened to stain her entire face, she shot up jerkily from the bed, hardly caring she looked quite crazy as she just wanted to put a few metres distance between them. Swallowing inaudibly, she scooped up the food-laden tray before turning swiftly back to the cot and depositing it right in the middle. Between them both.

"Bon appétit, Capitaine. I'm afraid I'm not very hungry at the moment."

Jack merely shrugged and snatched up a slice of baguette, tore off a chunk, and popped it into his mouth. There was something about bread that completely filled his stomach, which was a welcome feeling after theslop that Brill cooked up in the galley. Gruel, gruel and more gruel, sometimes with floating chunks of mystery meat—most likely pork, as they tended to pick up one at every port. It was all the well that he had told the crew there hadn't been enough of their plundered banquet left to feed three mouths, which was the truth, really. There was enough to feed two. Himself and Vivien, in this case.

Abruptly, he noticed she hadn't bothered to eat anything, and wondered if she was used to starving herself. The smell of the fine food was getting to him, that was for sure, and he didn't quite understand why she never wanted to eat around him. He was about to do well of his word and feed her himself, and felt himself smile somewhat at the mental image that arose…

"You're not exactly sick you know," he told her, mouth half full of a quiche he had snatched up. "Eat something and take a walk up on deck and I guarantee you'll be cured."

Jack watching with a sort of triumphant grin as the women relented and plucked and orange from the pile. Her fingernails sank into the skin and she set about peeling it, revealing it's juicy centre to hungry eyes.

"May I inquire as to why you came down here, other than to convince me to eat, that is?" Vivien asked suddenly, starting even herself. What a rude thing to ask! She attempted to smooth over her harsh words with something softer. "I…I mean there must be another reason…Captain. You aren't dining with your crew," she kept her eyes trained on the fruit as she pulled the last of the skin from it.

Eyebrows raising slightly, Jack swallowed his food and cleared his throat dramatically. Indeed, there had been another reason, but he was sure the demure young woman before him wouldn't appreciate him any if he told her he'd come to woo her from her carefully constructed fortress walls. So, instead, he gave her an endearing smile. "Well, I figured I would my concern evident, l—Vivien…after all, I wouldn't expect you to be easy around my crew after Mr. Beckham and his mates roughed you up," he started firmly. "I'd like to have you know I had a long overdue discussion with me crew, and not only did I review the Pearl's articles, all of which they signed under, I made it clear none are to come near you unless it's for purely innocent reasons—like chatting. Although most of me crew enjoy they're own company, and I don't think they've quite warmed up to you yet…"

She frowned, "I noticed that."

"Aye, I believe it has something to do with witchcraft…but I took it upon myself to clear that all up during lunch. And, of course, since Gibbs seems friendly enough with you, it won't be long until they've gotten over their superstitions," Jack told her in reassurance.

Vivien regarded him a brief moment, a shrewd look upon her face, the orange still held in her hands. "And you, Captain Sparrow? You're not a superstitious man?"

He leaned back slightly, studying the silver ring upon his index finger with a relaxed pose. "Nay, I know enough of the truth to realize there is the natural, and then the supernatural. And neither can be dealt with by using necklaces of garlic or crucifixes upon a door."

The Frenchwoman nodded slightly, distracted by the smell of the food once more. With her nerves somewhat settled by the somewhat endearing conversation between them, she felt relatively at ease. And with the idea that she could trust the pirate before her to a reasonable extent, she decided to make good use of his kindness and eat.

Jack watched with a small triumphant grin as Vivien bit into the peeled orange, haphazard with her manners. "Trust me when I say none'll be bothering you anymore. I plan to make an example of those three when we dock in a day or two."

She offered him the barest of smiles. Of course, Captain Sparrow, but running them off your ship naked? How civilized. She could barely bring herself to thank the man, so she didn't. There still wasn't anything to thank him for.

But the mentioning of docking brought new questions into her mind. She set an inquisitive stare at the pirate. "In a day or two? Surely sailing from Bourbon Island to Madagascar would take no more than three days!" she said, somewhat alarmed. And quite suddenly, she felt uneasy.

Jack seemed to notice too. "Aye, but we're taking our time…taking our time to celebrate on a job well done, if you will," he replied slowly, wondering if she would decide to voice her obvious worries.

Vivien frowned. "Why…why would you take your time when you know I have a guardian that will no doubt want me back?" she asked, near demanding, green eyes wide.

The pirate pursed his lips slightly, regarding her carefully with his eyelids lowered somewhat. "What? You think you're guardian has the means to come after us, is that it?" he shot back, brow furrowing. "Could it be that you don't want this guardian of yours to find you? Is that why you don't want me to take you back to Bourbon and your stuffy vieille maison? May I ask why?"

Vivien stayed silent, turning her head to the side and focusing on the grainy material of her cot, and Jack knew he may have crossed some unknown line. Too soon, Jack old boy. She's more likely to trust you than Beckham, but not more than Anamaria, he reminded himself. Of course, he hadn't expected her to trust him any time soon. That would take work.

He tried to smooth his small mistake over and relieve some of the tension hovering in the dim cabin. "Do you think you're guardian is going to come after you in hopes of snatching you back?" he asked, tilting his head slightly in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her averted face. "Truth be told it would be a difficult task."

She debated heatedly with herself for a moment, wondering whether to weave another lie or attempt to soften her inevitable fate and speak the truth. It didn't take much inner persuasion for her to choose the latter, and she then fought for the right words. "My guardian…is a very determined man."

Jack briefly wondered how old her guardian was, as an image of an elderly man with a hunchback and care hobbling after himself with Vivien slung over his should came to mind, but scattered the thoughts as she spoke again.

"He hates—no…how could I say this?" she murmured to herself, biting her lower lip and tapping her fingers on the fabric of her dress, deep in thought. "He…hates being outwitted…He'd persue me anywhere around la maison if he was upset with me…"

Dark eyes trained upon her face, Jack realized he was stumbling onto and unexpected look into Vivien's life. He'd have to be careful not to scare her but couldn't help feel the slightest bit of scepticism. "Might I remind you the Black Pearl, the ship beneath your feet, is the fastest vessel ever seen to the Caribbean?" he replied lazily.

Vivien could only frown at his nonchalance. Here she was trying to explain to him that her guardian was a dangerous man who was obsessed over her father's treasure and knew exactly where it lay! Trying to explain that her 'humble guardian' Belfast was a retired pirate with almost infinite connections to similar criminal people, liable to be hunting them down at this very moment and he was shrugging her off as if she was some sort of ninny!

Fisting her hands in her skirts, she turned to stare at the pirate before her with nothing short of a venomous glare upon her face. "Captain Sparrow, I am hardly the demoiselle gazouiller you expect me to be, careless and…and brainless with my notions! Nor am I a mindless fool thick enough not to be concerned over being perused!" she stated heatedly, somewhat flustered, face reddened. She shot up from the bed, upset, and began to pace the small confines of the cabin, orange and feast forgotten.

Jack merely watched.

She continued, "I've no idea as to what you've heard about me or my guardian, Captain, but by the way you seem so positively laid-back with this whole situation I can tell you that you've been terribly mislead. Monsieur Belfast does not like to be deprived of his possessions, his propriét, material or otherwise…" she stopped to face him, her voice seemed to linger on that last statement, and the fires seemed to die down somewhat. Once livid green eyes lingered on his a moment before lowering. "He is not a pleasant man, a fair man, or an honest man. He's as well acquainted with the felons hiding upon the Indian Ocean as you are in the Caribbean. And if ever he finds something important missing, Captain, I assure you he will go to any means necessary to get it back. The only thing you can do is get as far from him as you can." Vivien breathed a sigh of relief as one of her most long-winded rants came to an end, the food between them forgotten and a heavy silence settling in the room.

And that was it, Jack marvelled silently to himself. His first glimpse into the life that was Vivien's. And now that he saw it, the more he wished she wasn't such a squeamish woman who fainted once a day so he could have simply stolen her map and left her on Bourbon. He had a feeling this wasn't a harmless little treasure hunt anymore, and the flighty woman before him was keeping a great deal of secrets to herself.

Almost inaudibly, he sighed to himself. No doubt tonight would be a hard night of sailing.

It was time to put the Pearl's reputation to good use.

--

By the time dawn had broken the still ocean's waves with a myriad of light and colour the next morning, Jack could tell the Black Pearl had served him well once more. The waters she sliced through were less choppy and a great deal shallower. The Indian Ocean had been transformed from a stormy blue to a deep aquamarine, the colour in which dolphins could be found. But there were none this morning, as the inflamed Indian sun rose over the horizon and the crew was roused with the ship's bell.

At this time, Jack detached himself from the helm, stroking the wheel lovingly once and letting his fingers trail lightly from the wood as he called young Roberts up to take over for the time being. He was a spry lad of nineteen, and Jack knew he was near ending his time aboard the Pearl. He could see it in the lad's eyes, the way they lit up when he saw the horizon, the way a grin was always worn on his face when he took the helm for his captain. He was to be a great pirate captain himself one day, Jack was sure, because he saw more of himself in that boy than he would ever admit.

Jack took it upon himself to teach the boy how to direct a great ship such as the Pearl, because no doubt, sometime in the future, he would be doing so with a crew under his command.

He was somewhat relieved as he trudged wearily down the short steps to the main deck where the crew scurried about to adjust the sails and change shifts. He had kept a good number of reliable men up with him the whole night and into the morning, but unlike himself, they had others to take over their duty when they grew tired. The Pearl only answered to one man when there was a need to hurry, and only one man knew her like a lover's skin.

And that was no one besides himself.

Blinking in an attempt to clear his fuzzy vision, Jack mumbled a few half-hearted "g'mornin's" to his passing crew on his way to his cabin down below. His eyes were stinging, as the tended to do when the kohl was not washed away every night. As much as he liked the stuff, it hurt like a bugger when it got in one's eyes.

Rolling his neck, rewarded by several pops, he trudged down the set of stairs and reached the cabins. He hadn't done an all-nighter in longer than he cared to say, because a true pirate captain was completely devoted to his ship and sailed all around the clock much of the time. But, alas, Jack hadn't felt the need to hurry on his way to Bourbon from the Caribbean, and he hadn't felt it until the night before while speaking to Vivien. Now his very being ached, especially his feet, which, he reminded himself, weren't liable to smell like roses about now either.

The small corridor leading to his quarters was empty, but Jack couldn't help but poke his head quickly into Vivien's cabin before continuing on. It was empty, however, the small cot made with sheets pulled taut, and the candle within the bedside lantern burnt down to nothing but a solid mass of wax. Sunlight filtered through the porthole, falling over the rickety chair he had sat in the night before. Without anyone inside, he couldn't help but notice how small the room looked, but shook the sight off while blinking rapidly and stifling a yawn. And with that, he shut the door behind him and continued on his way.

Upon reaching his quarters, Jack let out a sigh of relief, locking himself inside before shrugging his shoulders out from the confines of is coat. After sliding it down his arms, he turned to throw it onto the bottom post of his bed. Then, he clumsily beginning to fumble with his belt, his tired brain not working in time with his fingers. It fell to the wooden floor along with his broken compass with a hollow thump moments later. He didn't even flinch, and snatched his hat from his head and tossed it haphazardly over to his writing desk. It slid across the papers and came to rest balancing on the edge of the table. Next was his sash, which took considerable effort because it required him to unwind the ten or so feet of tattered fabric from his waist. When done, he let the material fall to the floor before stepping out from the circle it had made. Making his way over to the bed, which was looking more than just inviting by now, Jack pulled himself free of his light tunic and simply let it drop to the ground. A slow smile spread across his face as the morning sunlight began to filter through the windows of his quarters, illuminating the ever-present dust motes in the air.

He was about to go straight for the soft covers of his bed when he realized he still wore his boots. Stifling another yawn, he abandoned all practical methods and hunched over, raised his right leg first, took a good grip on the bottom of his boot, and pulled. It took several tugs and much grunting and cursing before the first boot slid off. Tossing it aside with a clunk, Jack let his bare feet meet the cool wooden floor. Then it was onto the next one.

Now, the left boot it always more difficult than the first, a reason still unknown to mankind. A very aggravated and exhausted pirate Captain spent a good minute swearing and yanking on the boot before it flew off. The sudden motion surprised Jack, causing him to tip over and fall onto his back with a deafening thud.

The breath knocked clear from his lungs, the pirate lay there in a moment of pure agony. Then groaning and muttering to himself, he stumbled up from the floor and staggered like a drunkard, arms outstretched as if he were a zombie, before stumbling awkwardly towards the comfort of his bed. Relieved, he flopped face first down onto its softness with a heavenly smile and let his eyes slide shut…

Jack's moment of peace was interrupted by a sudden banging on his door, causing it to shudder on its hinges.

He ignored it.

But the person persisted, this time the banging accompanied by a voice.

"Cap'n? Everything alright in there? Thought I heard a bang!"

It was Gibbs. Jack knew he wouldn't give up without an answer.

Turning his head and shifting his position slightly, Jack called back gruffly."Just fine, Gibbs! Now, if you'd kindly leave me be I'd love to get a bit of shut eye!"

"Aye, Cap'n. I just thought you'd like to know that breakfast's ready! The crew's linin' up and I thought you'd like some 'fore it all be gone!" Gibbs shouted back.

It was about then Jack realized he had a horrible headache, and all the yelling wasn't helping him one bit. Growling to himself, he let an impatient sigh leave his lips before answering. "No, Gibbs, I'm quite all—" he was interrupted by his own stomach, which gurgled loudly at the mention of food. Damn it to bloody 'ell…Jack, attempting to control his fleeting temper, shouted back to his first mate in a sickeningly pleasant voice. "Of course, Gibbs, I'll be out in a moment!"

So, Jack was left to redress, pulling his tunic back over his off-white shirt, wrapping his sash back around his waist, buckling his belt, securing his hat, slipping his boots back on and finally snaking his arms through the sleeves of his coat. If he didn't feel like much of a captain at the moment he could at least look it.

By the time he was done, Gibbs had left him, and he exited his room and trudged to the galley, where the typical morning banter was loud and cheery. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself, adjusting his hat slightly, Jack entered the cramped room, holding three tables and six long benches. It was a small galley, but it got the job done. All of Jack's seventy-five men sat cramped at the tables, roaring and guffawing and chatting and joking with each other, slurping and gulping and chewing down Brill's newest creation.

First one man noticed him, a worn old sea dog in his mid-years, whom Jack had known for a few long years in Tortuga before asking him to join his crew no more than a year before. Fowler was his name, and he crowed as loud as a rooster in the morning. Jack had stuck him on lookout his first morning on the ship, and he hadn't failed to alert the crew to passing ships yet. His voice was in full abundance this morning.

"Janey Mack! Me boyo, Jack! Ye look knackered, mate. Heard ye did an all-nighter! Gotcha flah'ed out, 'ay?" he shouted to his Captain, thick Irish brogue in full swing.

And that was that. Jack's presence was given away to the whole crew, who in their turn shouted out greetings, some slapping him roughly on the back as they passed to their seats with a bowl of the mystery meal.

"Glad ta see yer up, Cap'n! Ye know how deary Anamaria gets when she's at the helm!" one sailor piped up; lucky the female pirate wasn't there.

"Aye, and Gibbs gets all puffed up…!" another shouted, nudging the first in the side with a grin.

"Come to join us for a pint of this muck, eh Cap'n?" a forlorn man asked while staring into his bowl with a spoon clutched hesitantly in his hand.

"Ye look right bushed, Cap'n! Hope ya didn't fall asleep at da wheel!" a more or less anonymous voice shouted, causing a bit of ruckus and laughter from all three tables.

Jack frowned at that last statement, rolling his eyes at his eager crew. His head was pounding something terrible and Fowler's offhanded grin wasn't heloing his mood. "Aye, and I suppose you didn't bother to take a shift? Fast asleep in your snug ole hammock, eh?" he mocked the Irishman.

Fowler grinned. "Fair play, Cap'n, but nay! I had a grand ole time up in tha crow's nest an hour or so afore dawn. Though I would expect ya to member when ye was all gee-eyed at the helm. No, no, no!" he stated, and gave the standing man a hearty jab in the side.

He winced. "Aye, and before that you were sleeping while I was sailing, mate," he retorted, but then smiled. "Now lay off and get back to your gruel. I'm off to find something worthwhile for break'ast!" With one last wink Jack was off, weaving his was past his lively crew—his entirely too lively crew—to head for the kitchen. It was a small section of the galley set off for the preparation of food, complete with a stove and food compartments and nothing more.

He met Gibbs on his way in, who came out with a wooden bowl full of gruel, eyeing it hard. He muttered to Jack on his way past, looking less than pleased.

"I dunno what it be, but it swears it smells worse 'n usual, Jack."

Blinking slightly, Jack watched him go with a furrowed brow, but shook it off with a smile. Vivien was helping in the galley today, just as he'd instructed, and he figured that a woman's touch couldn't possibly ruin the food anymore than it already was.

Entering the small kitchen, he snatched up a bowl before joining the line for food, stepping up beside Brill, who stood at the side with a sort of pleased look on his face. He was a rather short man, fat, who wore an apron day and night with grease stains and burn holes. His hair was graying, his eyebrows bushy, but he was clean-shaven and relatively clean for being a cook.

"I think it might be a hit, Captain!" he exclaimed with a grin, rosy cheeks puffed up in pleasure.

Jack cocked an eyebrow at the man. "The food? Since when has it gotten better than slop?"

Brill seemed undeterred by the remark. "This lady you have here, Miss Vivien, she's a jolly good bundle of talent, I suspect. Said she'd never cooked a day of her life and already she's mastered my recipe!"

Restraining himself from telling the man his recipes tasted like a dirty boot had been tossed in and stewed, Jack gave the man a crooked smile. "Aye, I guess we'll have to see then, won't we?" he asked, and the man before him cleared aside with a bowlful of Vivien's creation.

Vivien was standing over a large cauldron bubbling over the stove, stirring it with a large wooden serving ladle in hand with her back turned to him. He listened closely for a moment, waiting, and could have sworn she was muttering some odd French obscenities under her breath. He was about to announce his presence to her when she turned abruptly with a ladle-full of the new concoction, a positively miserable look upon her face—which was looking slightly pale and a bit more green.

She seemed surprised by his sudden appearance for only a moment before depositing the food into his outstretched bowl. At least a quarter of it sloshed over the side onto the floor, but she didn't seem to notice. Instead, leaning forward slightly, she spoke to Jack in a harsh whisper, eyes wide and light brown hair in disarray.

"Votre cuisinier est insensé!"

Jack was slightly shocked by that remark, and turned his head to give Brill a suspicious sort of look, lips pursed. He had to admit he was slightly concerned for Vivien's health…

The fat man merely smiled cheerily, nodding towards the bowl in his hands. "Try it, I insist!"

Vivien deftly handed Jack a wooden spoon, a thin sheen of sweat across her brow and a hand pressed firmly on her stomach. Jack looked to Brill for an explanation, averting his eyes from the food for a moment.

The cook shrugged with a grimace. "I accidentally told her, since we've not had the chance to restock on supplies for a good while now, the flour was bound to have weevils crawling around in it, eating away at the stuff," he supplied apologetically. "But I made sure to tell her they get killed right quick when the food is cooked or stewed!"

Making a small noise of understanding, Jack finally moved aside for the next man in line, the second to last of the whole crew. Brill scurried to his side as he turned his attention to the food, scooping some of the watery goop up with the spoon. He regarded it a moment, watching the steam steadily rise, before narrowing his eyes somewhat and staring intently. He frowned. Was that? No…it couldn't be…

"Christ…is it moving?"he exclaimed to himself, nearly gagging. For indeed, the gruel upon his spoon was moving, squirming this way and that as though alive with little weevils…

Without a moment's notice, Vivien dropped the ladle into the cauldron and clapped a hand to her mouth. All four men in the small space turned to her and stared, Jack himself afraid she was going to vomit right then and there. But no, instead, the young Frenchwoman bolted from the kitchen, shoving past the neglected pirates waiting for food, and was gone within seconds.

Appetite lost, Jack slid the bowl onto the counter, looking slightly sick himself.

Brill seemed surprised. "I supposed that was partly my fault."

Jack was about to voice his displeasure with a string of well-place curses and follow the meek little Frenchwoman out, when a single cry from up on deck managed to carry into the galley.

"LAND HO!"

The words shouted sent the crew into a flurry of movement and noise, and almost immediately Jack's mood cleared up. Offering Brill a grin and slap on the back before, Jack slipped past the man and into the galley while shouting orders at the top of his lungs. He knew the Pearl had carried them far overnight, and they had made the progress of a full day in eight or so hours.

"Get to it, you scabrous dogs! You heard it, now get your arses up on deck and help me get this ole gel into port!" he crowed, ushering his crew out of the galley and bounding up the stairs onto deck. Emerging into the morning sunlight, he watched as his crew filtered out from the galley, immediately getting to work on the sails and rigging. "That's right, lads! Heave to! I want us safe in St. Marie by noon, basking in the pubs and filling our guts with liquor with a woman by our sides!"

His orders were received with hearty cheers, and Jack smiled arrogantly to himself, eyes on the lookout for Gibbs, who had his spyglass. It was Anamaria who approached him though, telescope in hand and a small smile on her face.

"You the loud lookout, then?" he asked her with a grin.

Ignoring the comment, she shoved the spyglass into his hands. "Aye, now get captaining, fool. Land's dead ahead, so I suppose ya might have done a good job last night sailing her," she told him grudgingly, not hanging about a moment longer and making her way to the rigging.

Taking a moment to bask in that compliment, Jack glanced up at the helm to see Gibbs in his place, and then scanned the deck with the intention of finding another person. He chuckled to himself when he found her. Vivien was leaning over the port side, heaving her guts out into the sea.

Collapsing the telescope, Jack stuffed it in his belt for temporary keeping. Grinning lighting, he sauntered over to the young woman's side and leaned lightly against the rail as she dry heaved, all the food having already gone from her stomach.

"Deep breaths love," he told her lowly, his hands straying to gather her mousy brown hair at the nape of her neck.

She only seemed to stiffen at his touch, however, and pulled up sharply from the side of the ship, her hair coming loose from Jack's hands. She was still decidedly green, but she felt her stomach settle somewhat as she took Jack's advice. Deep, even breaths, Vivien, she tried to calm herself. But how humiliating! Her face was heated, no doubt red in embarrassment, but he didn't seem to notice. She groaned in pain, clutching her stomach.

"You didn't happen to take that walk on deck I suggested last night, hmm?" he asked her pointedly.

Vivien's brow furrowed somewhat. Of course not, I trust your crew just as much as I would a cat with a mouse! she wanted to tell him. Instead, "I didn't…"

"Then that solves why you were heaving your guts to the fishes a moment ago, doesn't it?" he started cockily. "Darling, I'll give you advice on advice. Take high regard of mine."

Vivien managed to look indignant. "I was sick because the food was...was alive! And I prepared it!"

"Stop moaning about it. You didn't even eat any."

"I-I told you I couldn't cook!" she stuttered awkwardly, near whinging.

"Aye, I know that now. But no worries Vivien m'dear, It wasn't so bad," he grinned at her, only making her face flush more.

"I'm sure," she muttered under her breath.

"Me too," he grinned delightedly, twisting her words. "The crew was eatin' it, weren't they?" And then he pressed the spyglass into her hands before she could protest, while raising a bejewelled hand to gesture forward, across the bow of the ship.

Looking ready to protest, the young woman was rather surprised when Jack cut in.

"Come on, darling, I don't have all day. I've a ship to captain, but I rather thought you'd like to see where we're headed first. Dead ahead, is L'île St. Marie, temporary haven from nasty guardians and such," he smirked at her in amusement, eyes lingering on her own.

This time, Vivien took the spyglass without much hesitation, turning to the bow and lifting it to her eye while squinting ahead. With a moment's help from Jack, his fingers sliding over her own as he stepped up swiftly behind her to help, she was able to see the visible shape of land in the distance through the crusty glass of the telescope. At this distance, she couldn't make out much but the protruding lines of hills. But Jack's presence behind her was slightly unnerving, and she lowered the spyglass quickly and turned to him.

"You took heed of my warning, then?" she asked quietly, holding the instrument out to Jack, eyes averted to the floor.

He took it from her, wishing for a moment she wasn't so timid, for the feeling of a woman in his arms, even if not in an embrace. But he nodded curtly, gaze lingering on her face. "I figured you weren't a fool."

--

Translations:

Bon appetit - good appetite ;)

Chere vieille maison – dear old house

Capitaine Sparrow, votre odeur est comme le cul d'un singe – Captain Sparrow, you smell like a monkey's ass.

Vieille maison – old house

La maison – the house

Demoiselle gazouiller – twittering maid

Propriété - property

Votre cuisinier est insensé! – Your cook is insane!

--Cayenne Pepper Powder