The Trouble with Women
Chapter 23
Good Luck
--
The minutes after Jack had been shot became somewhat of a blur to Vivien. There was a moment of terror and deafness, her heart stopping and sounds blurring. Her stomach had lurched and her vision tilted suddenly, but then Anamaria had caught her around the waist and was wrestling her backwards, towards the Black Pearl
Another struggle had broken out between the two crews, but all she could think was oh Dieu, he's dead!
The smell of gunpowder in the air seemed to assault Vivien's senses quite suddenly—she hadn't noticed it before in the excitement. This however, was not excitement. This was fear and dread. She was slipping in the blood that coated the enemy ship's deck. She was sick to her stomach.
Anamaria pushed her steadily along the boarding plank to the Pearl all the while shouting orders at the top of her lungs. Vivien seemed to recall that she was ordering the crew to tie La Sangre de Mar's men to their masts, kill all who resisted, and to help Jack.
Vivien sank down to the deck when she reached the Pearl attempting to pull her arm away from Anamaria.
However, the mulatto woman disappeared, and Vivien sagged against the side of the ship, closing her eyes tightly. The Pearl seemed dealthy quiet compared to the chaos aboard the other ship. She could hear it across the water, men being bound, gagged and disarmed, La Sangre's dead being collected and tossed overboard. She let her head fall into her hands as the Pearl's crew began to drag their own fallen comrades to the deck with the sound of Gibbs shouting commands carrying over the gap between the two ships.
Midst the excitement, Jack was hauled aboard his ship, his feet half-dragging. He seemed strangely limp between the men who carried him, and Vivien couldn't see his face. The boarding plank was pulled away, and then she heard Anamaria's voice calling. Everything seemed too muffled, however, and Vivien continued to sit in a sort of terrified daze.
It was Gibbs who finally pulled her up, red in the face and eyes wild. "Get below with you!" he commanded shortly.
Vivien could only stare in fright. Gibbs huffed, looking away.
"Carry the wounded and injured down below!" he called to the crew. "The rest of you load the cannons! Aim for her lower decks and give the bastards something to worry about!" Gibbs ordered darkly before turning his attention to Vivien. He leaned down to speak over the noise the crew was making in their haste to obey orders.
"Get down below, missy, where it's safe and quiet," he told her, in a much softer voice than he had just been using.
Vivien nodded mutely, but he caught her arm before she could move.
"Go help Anamaria with Jack," he instructed. "Do us all a favour and try to calm him so Crimp can treat him without getting his head shot off."
Paling slightly, Vivien nodded again. Swiftly, she headed for the hatch, in all truth quite glad to be heading for the safety of the lower decks.
Gibbs's voice, however, halted her again.
"Vivien!"
She turned swiftly, ragged skirts swirling. Gibbs couldn't help but grin at her ragged appearance.
"Pleased to have ye back, lass!" he told her.
Vivien wasn't quite sure why, but that comment, coming from a man like Gibbs, brought a smile to her face (albeit a weak one). She didn't wait a moment longer before slipping down below and away from the chaos on deck.
A wave of recognition seemed to flow over her as she made her way along the passageway towards the Captain's quarters. She passed her own small cabin, but didn't investigate it further. There were several loud blasts from above, and the Pearl shuddered. Vivien scurried down the passageway, keen not to be by herself. However, the door to Jack's quarters was closed, and that worried her.
And, suddenly she wondered what she could possibly do to help the pirate Captain.
Nonetheless, she sucked in a breath of air and tapped on the cabin door. There was the sound of muffled cursing, several thumps, and then Anamaria stood before her, eyes wild and a rather large spot of blood smeared across her shirt. Vivien squeaked, staring at the red stain with wide wyes.
Anamaria, however, let out a sigh. "It's not mine, don't ya worry," she said shortly, before dragging the Frenchwoman inside and slamming the door behind them.
"If that ain't Crimp, there's gonna be hell to pay!" someone bellowed, and Vivien realized it to be Jack.
Several more blasts sounded then, and the ship beneath her feet seemed to quake.
"That's the cannons makin' short work of that Spaniard's ship," Anamaria told her, as if sensing her unease. "We'd thought he'd be out for a good while, enough time to get him patched up. But as soon as we got him in here he started ranting and raving like a madman—damn bastard," the pirate woman grumbled, pulling her through the ring of men to Jack's side. "Let's see if you can't do something." She released Vivien's arm.
Vivien stood, staring with horror at Jack. His entire left side and shirtsleeve seemed to be slick with blood, as well as the hand he had pressed over the wound. Two of his crewmen, Fowler and another man, had pinned him to the bed in an attempt to keep the bleeding man in place. Noticeably, it did nothing to ease the pain in his arm.
"Jack!" she squeaked.
At her sudden appearance, Jack's eyes darted up to meet her gaze and he seemed to slump somewhat on the bed, allowing the two men holding him to sigh in relief.
"I knew I heard you," he mumbled to himself, trying a grin that turned into a pained grimace. "Come down here, lass," he told her beckoning her to his side and resting his heavy eyes.
Swallowing, Vivien cast one wary glance at Anamaria before she hurried quickly to his side, smoothing her dirtied skirts before kneeling beside the bed. She leaned forward, waiting for him to speak again.
"Will you do me a favour…?" Jack breathed, cracking one eye open wide to stare at her.
Mutely, Vivien nodded.
He ground his teeth, shifting on the bed, but regretting the movement as he groaned and pressed his hand harder to the wound on his shoulder. "Convince these bastards to hand over my rum!" he demanded loudly, startling her.
Vivien was disappointed, and opened her mouth soundlessly a moment before turning sharply, her eyes seeking out Anamaria. They stared at each other.
"It'll give him a headache enough to split his skull in the morrow," Anamaria warned. "And I suspect he'll be hurting in other places, too."
Jack snorted, slipping his good arm from Fowler's grasp to prop himself up, much to Vivien's alarm and his pain. "How many times must I tell you, woman! I can't be arsed about—" he cut himself short with hiss, his entire face contorting as he jarred his injured shoulder. "Damn it all! Where in the bloody hell is Crimp!"
"Get back down on that bed, Sparrow," Anamaria growled, clearly having enough of his antics. Jack was pushed back down onto the mattress, further bloodying the sheets. His eyes slipped shut and he seemed to fall limp, sweat glistening on his face.
Vivien bit her lip in concern and turned to Anamaria, giving her a pleading look. Anamaria sighed, but gave up and stepped out of the ring of light momentarily.
Just then, the Black Pearl seemed to lurch beneath their feet, rocking the room.
"The sweeps," Fowler stated shortly.
"I reckon we showed them a thing or two," one of the crewmembers cackled.
Thankfully, the door to the cabin banged open just then. Anamaria handed over a bottle of rum to Vivien as the short, wiry form of Crimp burst into the room. Vivien hastily pressed the bottle into Jack's hands, and he seemed to spring to life once more, a grin showing more than one of his golden teeth.
"Well, there's certainly a crowd in here, isn't there?" he commented idly, pushing through the men and settling his kit on the floor beside the bed. He cast a smile at Vivien. "Nice to see you, Miss Brideau," he said before turning his attention to Jack. The pirate Captain had managed to gnaw off the cork of the bottle and lifted it to his lips.
"Nice to see you, too! Damn bastard!" Anamaria growled at the surgeon.
"Now, now, no time for hysterics, dear," he appeased and leaned over to pull the bottle away from Jack and handed it to Vivien. "That's enough for now, Cap'n." He turned to the men in the room. "Now, everyone out except for you Fowler, Anamaria and Miss Brideau here! We need as many hands as we can at the sweeps, Gibbs's orders!" he shouted.
The men obeyed hesitantly, and Anamaria closed the door firmly behind them. She turned back just in time to see Crimp making short work of Jack's shirt with a small knife. He tore at the fabric ruthlessly, and strangely enough, Jack didn't seem to mind.
She realized that he must be weak by now, from all his blood soaking into his sheets.
Quite suddenly, Crimp was tearing the last of Jack's shirt away to reveal his bare chest. She might have been in awe at some other time, or blushed heartily, but she nearly quite literally fainted when the bloody mess that was Jack's shoulder was revealed to her eyes.
She realized that Jack's hand had gone limp, and he was no longer holding it firmly to the wound. Red rivulets of blood streaked his skin, flowing across his chest and shoulder without restraint, and she felt herself pale several shades further.
"Don't go getting sick, now, Miss Brideau. I imagine I'll be needing your help," Crimp announced idly. "Fowler, I need water—clean water, if you don't mind. Anamaria, keep our Captain restrained just in case he decides to wake up. Vivien," he turned sharply and noticed her pallid appearance, "its best that you sit at the desk for now…"
Fowler returned with a basin of water and set it by the bedside, and was ushered from the room by Crimp.
Then the operation began, and Vivien was glad to be out of the way. The blood was too much, as was the sight of the nasty looking forceps Crimp was using to retrieve the bullet from Jack's flesh. Her eyes, however, stayed glued to Jack's shoulder through most the entire procedure. Despite being unconscious, he groaned and winced with each touch to the wound.
Finally, however, the bullet was removed and Anamaria pressed a bundle of clean cloth to the fresh wound, and Vivien sagged with relief as the bloody bullet glinted in the lamplight before Crimp had tossed it away.
"We're going to need that rum again…" the surgeon muttered to himself, retrieving the bottle from the bedside where Vivien had left it. She averted her eyes when he dampened a cloth with it and held it to the open wound.
Soon, Jack's upper chest was wrapped with bandages, and Anamaria helped tie them securely in place.
When the job was done, Crimp sighed and snatched up the dirty rag to wipe his hands clean. "That'll have to do for the moment. I have a good deal of the crew to deal with yet," he declared darkly. "He's got damn good luck. That bullet could have easily shattered his shoulderbone, and there where would he be?"
The two stood silent for a moment, their eyes fixed upon their fallen captain, his prone form lying on red-stained sheets, his skin pale and slick with sweat. Vivien was almost afraid to say anything.
Crimp threw the rag down and turned to Anamaria. "I suppose you should give an update to Gibbs. I don't want none of the crew in here till the morrow, though."
Anamaria nodded fairly the subtle order, letting it pass in thesituation."I've heard the count is thirteen gravely wounded. You'd better get a start on them," she told him.
Crimp nodded, looking her over. "And you'd better get in line. I'll clean that wound of yours," he nodded to her side, where a slice in her shirt was stained with blood. He turned to Vivien. "You, however, are going to stay here. Do ye know anything about caring for a wound?"
Vivien trembled slightly under his eyes, and watched as Anamaria threw her one last glance before exiting the cabin.
"The very basics—" she started.
"Aye, well it'll do," Crimp cut her short. "Keep and eye on him, and if he wakes up and starts moaning about the pain, give him rum. But not too much, mind you. He'll most likely try to drain a few bottles, but that'll add to the pain in the morning. Enough to settle him down is all," he nodded to her and continued. "Check his temperature every while, and if he starts getting hot be sure to come for me right away. That'll be the onset of a fever. It's best to keep his brow cool, so use the water there by the bedside, got it?"
Vivien nodded fervently, her fingers wringing themselves painfully. Crimp hastily began to gather his medical supplies.
"Oh," he added with an upraised finger. "And by no means are you to allow him out of bed or out of this room. If anyone comes knocking for him, tell them to bugger off. Jack won't be fit to Captain his ship for another few days. Am I clear?"
"Crystal," Vivien replied.
Crimp grinned crookedly. "I'll tell Brill to send a bite to eat up for you too. I suppose you'll be here for the night."
And with that, the flighty physician had scurried from the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Vivien was left alone with Jack, her heart racing madly, although whether it was from adrenaline or fear she didn't know.
Shakily, she lowered herself into the chair by his bedside, her eyes roaming over his bandaged chest. His skin was terribly pasty under his tan, and he seemed almost fragile, breakable—something she'd never imagined Captain Jack Sparrow to be. She noticed also that he was terribly dirty. His hands were stained with blood and the kohl surrounding his eyes had been smudged with sweat. In fact, he seemed to be sweating quite profusely.
With determination, she snatched up the cloth soaking in the bowl of water on the nightstand and rung it out before tugging his bandana up and pressing the cloth gently to his sweating forehead. Several droplets trickled down his cheeks, but he didn't stir.
Vivien chewed her lower lip, a look of sorrow falling over her face. "Oh, Jack, I'm terribly sorry…" she said.
Her voice was much too loud in the empty room.
--
Vivien must have dozed off, because the next moment it seemed that someone was trying to knock the door down. Startled, she jumped up from her uncomfortable position on the chair, her neck stiff, just as the person on the other side of the door commenced with more pounding.
Her eyes went to Jack, where he lay in the same position, face pale and body glistening with a thin layer of sweat. Confident that he wasn't disturbed while at the same time scolding herself for not keeping and eye on him, she made her way to the door.
She pulled it open just as her visitor had his hand up to knock again. Or should she say…visitors?
Two young boys stood before her, one whom she recognized as the cabin boy (his name she couldn't remember). The other held a large platter in his arms, the top covered with a lid. The cabin boy held a bottle full of some dark liquid.
"Brill's sent us up with food, ma'am," the cabin boy stated politely, but at the same time was craning his neck in an attempt to see further into the cabin.
At that moment, Vivien just recognized the emptiness of her stomach. She hadn't eaten since her meager dinner aboard La Sangre de Mar. Quickly, she stepped aside, holding the door open to allow the boys in. "Well…come on," she urged them.
The cabin boy nudged the other forward, and immediately a small scuffle broke out between them in the doorway.
"Watch what yer doin' muzzlemouth!" he spat, stomping on the other boy's foot while holding the platter aloft.
"Watch yourself, fatface! Hand the damn food over or you're gonna drop it all!"
"Shut up! I'm the one to be serving 'er!"
Vivien didn't know whether to be more appalled by their language or their behavior towards each other. Nonetheless, she cleared her throat loudly, planting her hands on her hips while trying her best to look imposing.
"Excusez moi, but you…"
"Duncan and Rupert," the boy, Duncan, said immediately.
"Yes, well," Vivien tried out a glare on the two boys. "If you don't want to wake your Captain, I suggest you keep your voices quiet." Très bon, she congratulated herself as the two boys calmed down quickly.
"Be careful…I've heard she's a witch!" Rupert whispered rather loudly in Duncan's ear, before stretching his neck again in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Jack.
In turn, Duncan stomped on his companion's foot once more. "Shut up, balls for brains! She don't look like no witch to me," he hissed back.
"Ye know…you're right…"
"Course I am."
Vivien watched this with a look of bemused shock. "Are you coming in or not?" she asked finally.
"Aye," Rupert nodded hurriedly, "Is the Captain asleep?"
"He won't be for much longer if you two keep that up," Vivien scolded them. "Now, if you'll bring my supper inside while keeping quiet, I won't report you two to Anamaria." Truthfully, she didn't know what Anamaria could do about the two rude boys, but she was willing to bet they had imagination enough to think up a few things she was capable of.
Almost instantly, the two boys were marching obediently into the room. She watched with a small smiled as the platter and bottle were set quietly upon the table.
"Ere's your supper," Duncan announced, pulling the top of the platter. Vivien would have liked to see a cloud of steam billowing into the air, but aboard a pirate ship she almost knew there wasn't the luxury of fresh, steaming food. Not like Édouard could make it, anyway.
The mere thought of the man sent a jolt of pain through her insides. The nostalgia increased when she saw the state the food was in.
Rupert was pointing at the various items on the platter as he named them off. "Brill said that's fish stew and that potato…and that's supposed to be hardtack. But we're not sure, so I suggest you be cautious."
Vivien stayed silent, looking forlornly at the meal on the desk.
The two boys took advantage of her dazedness to peer over at Jack.
"How's the Cap'n doing?" Duncan ventured to ask.
Sighing, Vivien snapped back to attention. "As good as he can be, considering…" She shot the boys a look. "Now get along, the two of you."
"Aye, ma'am." Duncan quickly headed for the door.
"Good luck!" Rupert called back over his shoulder.
Good luck?
The door was pulled shut and Vivien was once again left in the lonely company of Captain Jack Sparrow. Sighing to herself, she took her seat behind Jack's desk and took hold of the bottle that had been brought in with the boys. There was nothing to pour it into, so she assumed she was supposed to drink it straight from the bottle.
She wrestled with the cork a moment before managing to yank it out with a pop! She spilled some of the drink on herself in the process, but ignored that fact because she suddenly found herself insatiably thirsty.
Boldly, she lifted the whole bottle to her lips and took a large swig. The taste of it…well the taste was something else.
Vivien just barely managed to turn away from the food on the desk before she spewed out the liquid, gagging with her eyes watering painfully. Still holding the bottle by the neck, she wiped her mouth with her free hand, grimacing in disgust. Mon Dieu! What were they trying to feed her?
She looked back to the food on the platter. It looked twice as unappetizing now that she'd drank some of the most horrid tasting alcohol she'd ever encountered. Weakly, she re-corked the bottle and picked at the potatoes, which looked the safest to eat. She recalled the first night she'd had dinner with Jack, how she had been terrified that he had deliberately poisoned the food. Now she worried that she would be unintentionally poisoned and spend the rest of the journey heaving over the side of the Pearl.
Vivien abandoned the food soon after, covering it with the lid just in case she changed her mind later, and stood up from the desk to make her way to Jack's bedside. Stifling a yawn, she soaked the cloth and once again set about dabbing at his brow like some old mother hen. She pressed the cool cloth lightly over his neck, and finally his collar before squeezing it out, wetting it, and repeating the process.
She set herself into a sort of rhythm as the hours went by, alternately pressing the cool cloth to Jack's forehead and pacing his room in an attempt to keep herself awake, peering at the odds and ends and books he had lying about. Soon, however, she returned to the chair, settling herself down with a yawn.
She hadn't noticed before, but through the porthole, Vivien could see that the fog had lifted and it was a misty, deep blue. Dawn was near.
She placed the cloth on his forehead one last time before resigning herself and leaning forward to rest her head over her arms on the bed. Just a moment, she thought to herself. Just a moment to rest her aching head.
Vivien was asleep within moments.
--
Author's Notes: Eek, over two months! What has possessed me to leave my fic alone for two months? Well, lets just say I had a horrible cast of writer's block (which pops up frequently and leave no survivors!) that's just now starting to leave me alone. I just couldn't figure out how to write this darn chapter, so I left it alone. For two months. And, after two months, I came back to it, re-read part of the story, went over some wonderful reviews and then sat down to write.
And voila! I'll have the next one out sooner, I promise!
Also, I'm sorry to do this, since we're already halfway through the story, but I really want to change the title. I've been keeping an eye out for one since I first began this fic. The Trouble with Women wasn't actually supposed to be the real title, just a working one. I was just having a bit of a creative block at the time. Anyway, here's what I've come up with: A Woman of Little Importance
What do you think? I won't change it if you guys tell me you hate it. I'm still a bit iffy…I'm rather attached to the current title, but this one seems to fit better with what I have in mind for this story. So, input?
Going on...I've slowly been re-editing the chapters, catching a few mistakes I missed when I first posted and cleaning things upa bit. I've also deleted the author's notes, and have decided I'll keep them up for about a week after posting before deleting them. Just so no one's confused or anything. ;)
French Translations:
Très bon – very good
Excusez moi – excuse me
--Cayenne Pepper Powder