The Trouble with Women
Chapter 24
Solace and Stowaways
--
Jack regained his senses slowly, fighting through thick layers of fog that clouded his head and weights that pinned down his aching body.
He came to feeling as though his legs were chained to an anchor underwater with the surface only a few feet above him. Yet no matter how he struggled he couldn't get any closer. So, he lay in a state of paralyzed disorientation for what seemed like eternity, unconscious yet distinctly aware of the fact that he was lying down and his whole body seemed to be pulsing with a dull, fiery pain. It shot through his limbs with every beat of his heart, but originated in his left shoulder.
He was breathing, yet his lungs wouldn't permit anything but the smallest amount of air. He could feel, yet he couldn't move. His eyes moved behind eyelids that were too heavy to open, and his tongue felt thick and dry on the top of his mouth. He tried to swallow, but his parched throat only pained him more.
He wondered briefly if it was a dream, and then told himself that he had to wake up. What right did sleep have to trap him like this, in a half-conscious state of pure torture?
Jack resumed his struggle to the surface, imagining the sun glistening above him as he remained trapped in the silent, slow moving world of water.
And then, all at once, he could feel himself shooting upwards, the heavy chains around his legs breaking off. His head broke the surface.
Jack sat up with a start, eyes open and mouth agape as he gasped for air.
Of course, he regretted the sudden change of position moments later when a white-hot stabbing sensation took hold of his upper body, so painful he thought he might faint. And what a sight that would be.
With a strangled groan, Jack fell back, exhaling sharply as if he'd been hit in the stomach. Stars danced before his eyes a moment before his vision cleared, and he had to blink against the bright light that was assaulting him. He lay very still for a moment, letting the pain subside to that muted throbbing again.
The familiar smell was what he first recognized. Sea salt, sweat and the lingering scent of rum. Then there was the texture of the material beneath him, smooth and silky. Finally, when he managed to move his head away from the blinding light, Jack realized that he was in his ship, in his cabin, lying on his bed with the sun on his face and feeling as though he'd just been shot and crushed at the same time.
God, what had he done last night?
Upon further thinking, however, Jack couldn't drudge up a single thought of what had happened to him. He closed his eyes with a sigh, unwilling to move lest he upset that fiery pain in his shoulder.
An odd sort of noise caught his attention. What sounded like…
Snoring?
Jack's eyes snapped open. Yes, it was a soft snore, and thankfully not anything to be compared to Gibbs after he'd had one drink too many.
Slowly, this time, Jack turned his head to the side, cautious of any sudden pain. And there, slouched over his bed while sitting on a chair was Vivien Brideau, brown hair fanned about her neck and face, blissfully unaware, fast asleep and snoring.
Memories hit him suddenly like a slap in the face.
La Sangre de Mar, the attack, Captain Antonio Elaido (that sneaky Spanish bastard!), and finally the shot. The shot that had actually knocked him off his feet, and then the sound of Vivien's voice. Then a lot of cursing on his own part…and not much more after that.
Gingerly, Jack used his right hand to finger the bandages on his chest, just to make sure there wasn't more damage he wasn't aware of. It seemed, however, that he hadn't been crushed. Just shot, and his body very sore.
And damnation, he was parched!
Moistening his cracked lips with his tongue, Jack turned his head, and with his limited view, peered around for something to quench his thirst. There was nothing, and he would have groaned aloud with disappointment if he wasn't wary of waking the Frenchwoman. He noticed dark circles under her eyes, and could only guess that she'd been the poor soul set up to watch him while he lay unconscious.
He would let her sleep.
Jack lay still for a moment,eyes closedand inhaling slowly. Then, setting his jaw firmly, he managed to inch upwards off the bed, using his good arm to prop himself up with an almost agonizing sluggishness. His heart was already thumping loudly in the confines of his ribcage, his breathing short and ragged. Beads of sweat sprouted on his forehead as the strain on his injury increased with every movement. Resilient as ever, Jack pulled himself towards the edge of the bed, using his legs to manoeuvre himself awkwardly, and all the while mindful of his newly acquired bruises. He managed to drag himself until he lay diagonally along the bed, his head peering over the edge and Vivien mere feet away. He huffed and puffed slightly, but found exactly what he was looking for. It was a discarded, half-full bottle of rum lying abandoned on the floorboards.
Eyes shining and grinning with triumph at this small feat, Jack twisted uncomfortably, stretching his right arm down to retrieve the bottle. It was just out of his reach, mere inches from his fingertips.
Sweat glistened on his face, his body well aware of the burning pain searing along his nerves, and the exertion he was putting himself through for this small task. Yet he stretched further, nostrils flaring, a strangled grunt vibrating in his throat. He nearly whimpered as the tips of his fingers just brushed the bottle. His hand was shaking now. Steeling himself, he managed to edge further off the bed; just far enough to wrap his hand around the bottle and pull…
He froze abruptly, suddenly aware he was loosing his balance. Ungracefully, he tumbled head first to the floor with a loud thump.
Vivien cut herself off in mid-snore, starting awake when she heard a crash and vehement swearing.She jumped up from the chair, knocking it over in the process, and was quite surprised to find Jack Sparrow on the floor by his bed; legs tangled a bed sheet and rum bottle in hand as he swore angrily. But then she realized it wasn't in anger that he was swearing, but in pain.
"Mon Dieu!" she cried, looking chagrined. "Jack!" She hesitated, hands askew with a frantic look upon her face, before she went down to her knees beside him. Swiftly, she forced him to lay on his back, taking some pressure off his wounded shoulder.
The pirate lay, gasping in pain, chest rising a falling rapidly, as Vivien huddled over him, quite near chewing her lip off in worry.
"Are you alright?" she questioned hesitantly, because he certainly didn't look all right and she felt foolish asking him.
Jack exhaled through his teeth, staring up at her. "My apologies for the rude awakening," he wheezed after a moment.
"Yes, but are you alright?" she prompted, her hands hovering above him uncertainly.
"Yes, yes, fine!" Jack waved her off, using his uninjured arm to prop himself up. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to—ooow!"
Awkwardly, Vivien grabbed hold of Jack, well aware he was wearing no shirt but telling herself there was time to blush over it later, and helped him sit as he clutched one hand to his shoulder in pain.
He batted her hands away gently when he was sitting, however, huffing to himself. "Thanks," he told her briefly.
Vivien sat in silence, watching him keenly. Jack turned to her irritably, a frown on his face. "I'm fine!" he insisted loudly. "Perfectly fine! Now stop asking!" Then, with a hint of humour in his dark eyes, he calmed and gave her a golden-toothed grin. "And, I'd be much better if I off this floor and 'tween the sheets in me bed. With a helping hand, of course."
Vivien actually smiled, and obliged willingly, taking Jack's hand and helping him stand. He stood wobbly, at which point she held a hand to his shoulder and felt his body shaking with strain. Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed with a blissful sigh.
"And a bottle of rum wouldn't hurt, either," he added.
Against her better logic,Vivien retrieved the bottle he had been after and gave it to him. He thanked her and uncorked it with a look of triumph. She watched in chagrin as the remaining half was emptied within seconds.
"Much obliged," Jack thanked her with a contented sigh, voice smoother with his throat moistened.
"De rien," she replied shortly. There simply wasn't the need for too many words. And Vivien would have liked to keep her attention somewhere else, very aware of the half-clothed pirate beside her. An injured pirate, she reminded herself, and taking the wet cloth from the bowl on the nightstand, she squeezed it out and pressed it to his forehead. He didn't comment on the gesture.
There was still silence on the cabin for some time, Vivien sitting on her chair and Jack lying with his eyes closed, silently battling the pain in his shoulder. It was he who broke the silence.
"How long have I been out?" he asked, glancing sideways at her.
"Only the night."
He sighed with relief. "The attack?"
"It went as planned, I suppose," Vivien replied, not knowing what else to say and not sure she wanted to.
"The men? How many were injured?" he questioned.
"I don't know. Crimp is with them," she said truthfully, not knowing anything else.
Jack hummed a sort of reply before turning his head to look at her. "And you?"
Vivien blinked in surprise, meeting his eyes. "Me?"
He managed a smirk. "How are you?"
She couldn't help the smile that pulled at her lips. "Much better off than you."
Jack chuckled, and let his eyes slide shut. He lay still, feeling his body succumb to slumber.
Vivien watched as he fell back to sleep without another word, exhaustion catching up with him. It was the first time she had ever watched him simply sleep, and she found herself admiring the angles of his face. She caught herself when her gaze wandered down his chest and further.Nervously, she stood up from her seat.She did a haphazard job of straightening the sheets, her mind her own distraction.
It was morning, and she decided it would be a good idea to find Gibbs or Anamaria and inform them that their captain had woken.
First, however, she scouted the room for any more stray bottles of rum, and hid them out of sight. No temptations.
Vivien stayed a moment longer until she was positive Jack was asleep. His breathing was deep and even. Even so, she cast a few backwards glances at the pirate captain as she opened the door to his cabin and slipped out. She shut it with nary a sound.
Unwilling to dwindle down below where it was dark and there was sure to be rats, Vivien quickly made her way up on deck. The first thing she noticed was not the sun shining brilliantly above them, but the lack of crew on deck. Only a few men were working around the ship, few in the sails and few on deck. She wondered just how early it was.
Vivien spied Gibbs at the helm, and for a moment thought he looked very out of place there. Nonetheless, she ascended the stairs to the helm, and the portly man greeted her with a grin.
"Vivien! Glad to see you up and about. Crimp says he checked in on ye this morn and ye and Jack were sleepin' like babes," he gave her a wink and a chuckle. Despite any grievances he might have with the woman aboard the ship, he was friendly towards her as usual.
Ignoring the teasing, Vivien fixed him with a curious look. "Where's the crew?"
Gibbs gave a short chuckle. "Unlike you, lassie, half the ship was up 'til dawn at the sweeps since there weren't no wind. They just got to bed a few hours ago, and I don't see no sense in waking them. And with all the injured men and all…" he trailed off. "'Sides, it ain't as if anyone's following us!" Again, he chuckled to himself. In a devious sort of way, Vivien thought.
"The ship…what did you do?" she asked, thinking of Belfast's face the night before, crazed and furious.
Gibbs fixed her with a serious look. "Well, Jack's plan o' course. We tied 'em all to the masts and blasted a few holes in the hold. I reckon it'll keep 'em busy for a few days, if'n they don't sink."
Vivien tried to imagine Belfast drowning, fighting off advancing waters as the ship beneath him slowly succumbed to the ocean, but the image didn't seem right. She shook it from her head.
"We'll have smooth sailing to Cape Town," Gibbs told her.
"Cape Town?" she echoed curiously.
"Port town n the southern tip o' Africa, lass," he explained. He watched her eyes widen and grinned. "You've come a fair ways from old Saint Denis, eh?"
Mutely, she nodded, still somewhat stunned. How long had it been since she'd been kidnapped from her home? It seemed like years, but in truth it was only a few weeks. She heaved a sigh, although not necessarily a sad one.
Again, she peered around the deck, squinting through the sun's glare. It was amazing how the weather had cleared so quickly.
"Where's Anamaria?"
"Down below, I wager, helpin' Crimp with the wounded. She sailed half the night andhasn't gotten a wink." Gibbs kept his eyes on the horizon ahead. "Speaking of sleep, lass, I hope ye weren't up till dawn hovering over Jack Sparrow," he looked down on her as if already knowing the answer. "Crimp told me you was as white as a sheet when he left."
Vivien supposed this was the time to tell him. "Jack woke up."
Gibbs looked stunned. "He what?"
"Woke up," she repeated, and continued. "Before me, actually. I woke to find him scrabbling about, half on the bed, trying to reach a bottle of rum," she recounted, still somewhat confused from the encounter.
Gibbs roared with laughter,smacking the large wheel heavily. "And what did you do?" he asked, grinning.
Vivien hesitated, still wondering if she had done the right thing. She'd made Jack happy, right? Drunkenly happy, of course.
"Gave him the rest of the bottle," she answered, wincing.
Gibbs shook his head, but was still grinning. "And he's sleepin' like the dead, now?"
She nodded mutely.
The portly man nodded sagely. "I reckon he'll wake with a headache the size o' Madagascar, what with the injury and all the rum he be downin' lately. But it'll serve 'im right. Crimp won't be too pleased, though," he said. "Speakin' o' the bugger, you better find Crimp and tell him Jack was awake. He'll want to see the cap'n an' make sure everything's all right."
Vivien nodded obediently, and turned to leave.
Gibbs's voice stopped her. "Oh, and after you find Crimp you better make your way to the galley, lass. You look famished."
--
It was just early enough to start breakfast, Brill the cook thought to himself as he made his way from the crew's quarters. The rest of the crew were just starting to rouse themselves afterGibbs's rude wake-up call, and he figured it would be a good hour before they started making their way to the galley demanding food.
Humming lightly to himself, the portly man lit a lantern as he entered the galley, and quickly disappeared into the small kitchen.
There, he began the tiring task of choosing what to serve for breakfast. There were little choices, and he decided to boil hardtack in rum and what little brown sugar he had left on board. They were running low on supplies, but thankfully they were to arrive in Cape Town's harbour in no later than a day.
Humming to himself, Brill was just about to haul out the cauldron and light the stone hearth when there was a loud clamour from behind him.
Spinning on his heel, the plump cook eyed the kitchen floor, looking for rats. He'd been telling the captain for months now that they needed a cat, but was he listening? Obviously not. He didn't seem to mind that his ship was infested with rodents.
When Brill didn't see hide nor tail of any such filthy animals, he shook his head with a sigh and pulled out the large cauldron from it's hiding place.
Yet, there it was again, an odd noise sounding suspiciously like a…sneeze?
He whirled about, eyes settling on the cupboard that harboured the flour and potatoes. Or what was left of the flour and potatoes. Eyes narrowing, Brill found his large serving ladle before venturing to find out what it was. Maybe there was a nest of rats. That would explain it.
Venturing closer to the cupboard, he adjusted his grip on the ladle until he was sure he had a secure hold. Then, reaching out slowly, plump hand trembling somewhat, he closed his fingers around the small doorknob and turned.
He'd barely managed to inch it open when something very large forced the door outwards. Letting out an undignified yelp, the cook jumped away from the cupboard and watched as something tumbled out, landing upon the deck in a cloud of flour.
It took him a moment to realize it was a person—and certainly not anyone he knew.
And it moved.
With a terrified shout, the fat cook fled the galley, ladel in hand.
--
Vivien returned the Jack's quarters before heading to the galley, the image of him straining to reach a bottle of rum with no consideration to his wounds much too vivid in her mind. Mercifully, however, Jack Sparrow was still asleep when Vivien returned, and was snoring quite loudly. Nonetheless, she loathed to leave him alone, as much as it chagrined her to admit it. He just didn't seem the type to stay abed, no matter how life threatening his condition seemed to be.
Crimp bustled in just then, looking all business.
"All right! I hear the captain's awoken from his slumber!" he grinned at her. She sat perched on the edge of her chair at Jack's bedside.
"And then fell back to sleep," she added.
"I'd be surprised if'n he didn't," Crimp murmured, and strode forward, pulling the sheets from Jack's body in one swift motion.
Vivien wondered if she should leave then, but was more or less forced to stay as Crimp began to chatter as he worked, pressing the back of his hand to Jack's forehead and listening to his breathing.
"When he wakes up next, tell him to stay in bed. It's not good for the wound for him to be up. And you should bring him something to eat—I'll inform Brill that he's awake. He'll have a broth made up. And don't give him any more rum. I imagine he's got one hell of a headache," he said as he carefully peeled back a layer of bandages. "And remember, don't let just anyone come barging in, especially if the captain's sleeping!"
Vivien nodded absently in agreement, chewing her lip as she observed him.
Crimp stood from the bed and turned to eye her. "And don't give him a shirt, because then he'll want his coat, and then he'll be dressed up to get up, and that ain't happening. And don't let him bribe you! Or boss you. He's wounded, and you got my permission to refuse his demands. And for god's sake, don't let him trick you!"
Vivien swallowed, sincerely hoping she wouldn't have to follow any of his advice.
Crimp nodded in approval and headed for the door. "Good. Now I'm off to the galley. You listen to my advice and his wound should heal nicely." He stopped before opening the door and turned back to her. "And I suppose you should get something in you, too. You're lookin' like a ghost."
She heaved a sigh when he disappeared out the door, and waited a few moments before deciding to head out herself. Her job was done for the moment (whatever that job was), and she'd twice been instructed to get something to eat. And her stomach had no qualms with that idea.
Yet she hesitated at the door, looking back at Jack's pale form lying motionless on the bed.
And, as luck would have it, Jack Sparrow took that very moment to stir.
So much for breakfast, Vivien thought ruefully.
"Bloody 'ell, I feel as though I just got crushed by an elephant," he groaned in a raspy voice, lifting a hand to his head. She had a feeling he was talking more to himself than her.
"I'm sure you'd be in much more pain if that were true," she spoke lightly.
Jack's eyes snapped open as she spoke, and sought her out amongst the room.
"It's still morning," Vivien told him, for a lack of anything better to say.
He merely grunted in response, his eyes sliding shut.
Once again, she began chewing her bottom lip when he made no move to speak or acknowledge her further. Was she to leave? Was she to stay? Her stomach was telling her leave, that was for sure.
"Rum."
The word was spoken so low and gruffly that Vivien wasn't sure she had heard him right.
"Pardon?" she asked meekly.
Opening his eyes, he fixed her with a pointed stare. Obviously, his mood had worsened while he slept. "Rum. I need rum."
And don't give him anymore rum, Crimp's voice told her wisely.
"Rum?" Vivien repeated dumbly.
"Yes, rum!" Jack growled, losing his patience. He struggled up on one arm as if trying to get out of bed. "And since I'm awake I'll need to speak to Gibbs and Anamaria."
She cringed at the tone in his voice.
Bon Dieu, he's wounded, flopping about in his bed, hardly able to sit, and you're frightened of him! that niggling voice in the back of Vivien's head mocked her. It was right, as usual, she knew. It was very unlikely Jack would harm her after going through the trouble of tracking her down and rescuing her. Of course, he may be cross, be he couldn't very well get out of bed to do anything about it.
Besides, she reminded herself, she was acting on strict orders from Crimp.
And with that, Vivien planted her hands on her hips, sucked in a breath, made sure he was paying attention, and did a very good imitation of him looking down his nose at her. "No."
He looked very disgruntled, and she quite enjoyed it.
"I'm sorry, what?" he demanded incredulously.
"I said no. No one is to see you, you aren't supposed to be out of bed and you may not have anymore rum."
They stared at each other a moment, Jack's face a picture of shock and Vivien's one of stern defiance.
"No," she repeated simply, just in case he was too shocked to understand. Très bien, Vivien.
Looking at a loss of words, Jack lowered himself back onto the bed. He was silent for a moment, but she should have known he wouldn't give up so easily.
"Just a sip?" he asked, rather humbly.
Vivien refused to be swayed. "I know it won't be a sip."
"I'm parched."
She was rather amazed how pitiable the infamous pirate captain could sound. "I'll fetch you some water."
"The only drink aboard this ship right now is rum an' grog," he told her.
"Then you'll have grog."
Jack's whole body seemed to droop in defeat. "Aye, grog it is," he said sullenly. "In the chest in the corner there, you'll find a few bottles," he told her, waving a hand weakly to the far side of the cabin.
Vivien wondered if he was trying to trick her, but went to the chest as directed. She opened the lid, ignoring the jarring squeak of hinges, and stared down at the assorted bottles stacked inside. Carefully, she took one from the chest and wrestled the cork from the top. It pulled free with a pop and Vivien sniffed its contents carefully. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Ah yes, she remembered this drink well. It was the same drink the two boys had given her last night. With a bit of effort, she forced the cork partially back in and stood.
"I'm not sure if grog is any better than rum," she said, but more to herself.
Jack heard her, though. "But what else is there to offer?" he asked cheekily in return.
Good luck, indeed, Vivien thought of the cabin boy's departing words. Sighing, she returned to the bed and handed the bottle over.
He took it gratefully, lifting it to his lips with a smile. He took a sip, but then froze with a sudden thought as if the grog had made him realize some great secret. He stared up at her then, brow furrowed. "You are not the same lass I knew a week ago," he told her in a tone suggesting he'djust stumbled upon a treasure chest.
"What?" she asked, surprised.
A slow grin spread across his face, showing a few golden teeth. "There's something very…" he flapped his hand with the bottle still in it, fighting for the right word, "Subtle. A subtle change, but just enough to be noticeable." He squinted at her, dark eyes seemingly black. "I've no doubt about it. There's something different about you."
Vivien looked at him, and then at the bottle of grog. Then, she told him in quite a matter-of-fact tone, "I've no idea what you're talking about, Captain Sparrow."
Jack peered up at her in a way that pleaded with her not to lie because it was so painfully obvious thatshe was. "I think you do," he replied shrewdly, lifting the bottle to his lips. He paused, though, dark eyes still on her. He recalled that night on his ship, when he'd served her the remains of the spoils from her house to coax information from her. She seemed to speak willingly after he'd prodded enough. "Sometime since Belfast took you in Ambodiforaha, and in the time I've spent looking for you, you have changed."
Vivien stared at him hard as he drank deeply. She wondered what he was talking about. Different? She didn't look different, she was sure. But did she feel different? What was he getting at?
"I…" she trailed off.
Jack blinked up at her. "What is it?" he asked, if it was some great secret he was trying to coax out of her.
She watched him warily. "I...still don't know what you're taking about."
He regarded her with eyes that seemed to peer into her soul. "Do you want to know what I think?" he asked, and continued before Vivien could say no. "I think that you believed I wasn't going to find you."
Her eyes darted to his very quickly before finding the floor.
"Am I right?" Jack asked, sounding quite confident.
Licking her lips, Vivien debated what to say. Bon Dieu, did this man know what he was doing? Digging up and sifting through her feelings when she just barely had them together again! Trying to make her look like a fool when she had already done it herself? Pushing her to admit how little faith she held in him or anyone when she already knew?
She didn't want to say anything, but she did. "Belfast…has a way of wearing you down," she told him, and as soon as the words were off her lips, was mortified.
Jack wasn't so surprised, though. Right now, the woman in the room with him had to be the closest to the real Vivien that he'd ever seen. She seemed so different from thefrightened woman he'd brought aboard his ship three weeks before.
She glanced at him only to find him watching her intently. Attempting to fight the blush threatening to rise, she continued. "It was partially my fault, I suppose. I'd told him that I'd shown you the location of the treasure, hoping into frighten him. To throw him off. But, he told me if you knew where the treasure was, you had no reason to come back for me. And then he said to me…that he had an island…an island much like L'île du Bourbon, where he would build a house and keep me there, and leave me there. And then I realized there was no way y-you…could find me."
Bastard, Jack thought, thinking of Belfast and watching Vivien's face as she relived the memory, sad and confused. Belfast the bloody bastard. He was sorry he hadn't done more to Elaido's ship.
"And then, somewhere in those days, I nearly believed him." She stared at him, green eyes wide. "How can you find a person if they're hidden, and would it even be worth the trouble?"
There was silence in the cabin. The Frenchwoman was intent on staring a hole into the floor and Jack was quietly contemplative. Not since she had told him about her guardian so many days ago had Jack the privilege to hear what was really going on inside Vivien Brideau's head. And Vivien was a mess of feelings because she realized she had changed. Just a little. Well, not necessarily changed...but grown. Grown up. Conquered her petty fears (or at least a few), had stood up for herself, and spoken her mind without any harsh penalties.She'd never had the chance to do it before. She wouldn't have even noticed if Jack hadn't took it upon himself toinform her. And now they both knew.
"I would have come," Jack told her solemnly after a moment.
She looked ot him, her eyes silently pleading with him to tell the truth.
"With or without this grand treasure you're leading me to," he added with a grin. And how he wished to ask more about the treasure! He realized, however now was not the time. Not yet.
With or without this grand treasure...It was about that moment when Vivien remembered with a sudden jolt she had no idea where she was taking him—to the Caribbean, but then where? Yet no matter how much she tried to open her mouth to say more, to explain, even just to give a simple 'thank you,' her throat had closed and her tongue would not work.
And Jack Sparrow was none the wiser.
--
By the time Vivien had made her way to the galley, she thought she might faint with hunger. It was still early, but the crew had been roused and were up and about the ship. She noticed the stares from the men and smiled at them, but many didn't smile back. Several greeted her, but nothing more. The crew of the Black Pearl, it seemed, was not exactly happy she back aboard
Vivien descended the steps to the galley in silence, and pushed open the large wooden door.
The tables were deserted, but she heard voices from in the kitchen, and ventured further into the galley.
Curiously, she entered the small kitchen, but froze in shock at the scene that greeted her.
Gibbs, Brill and a man she didn't recognize were in the middle of some sort of heated debate. Normally, she wouldn't have found this too odd, but generous amounts of flour had been scattered about the floor, covering Brill and the man she didn't recognize—who also happened to be tied to a chair.
They froze when they saw her, looking just as surprised as she.
Then, the man tied to the chair grinned at her charmingly. "Señorita! Thank goodness someone has come! Take pity on a poor man, por favor!"
Vivien was dumbfounded, surprised that the man had turned to her for help.
Gibbs sighed, running a hand over his face. "Vivien, meet our latest stowaway, Carlos."
"Stowaway?" Vivien echoed.
"A Spanish rat from that cursed Spanish vessel!" Brill spat distastefully. "Hiding in my pantry with the flour! I have no flour now! How can I cook?"
Carlos sniffed with as much dignity as he could in such a position. "It was crawling with weevils, señor! You cook with that?"
"This is a ship! What do you expect you Spanish bastard!" Brill cried in outrage, his face turning beet red.
"No excuse!" Carlos shot back. "If this was my kitchen, there would be no weevils, no rats, and no bags upon bags of salt and sugar to cover the taste of bad cooking!"
Gibbs groaned, shaking his head. "Come off it, ye fools! We've been over this eight times!" he barked angrily before attempting to look pleasant for Vivien. "What are you looking for, lass?"
Vivien was still shocked at the scene before her. "I came for breakfast," she said simply.
Carlos, still tied to the chair, looked ecstatic at her answer. "You want food? Me, Carlos Portillo de Cartagena, will make you anything you want—better than this Englishman! I only ask you untie me!"
--
Author's Notes: Why, hello there! Long time, no see, eh? Again, I'm sorry for the delay. Ihad this chapter typed up and finished weeks ago, but I ended up agonizing over the characters. I was so nervous about posting it that I kept it and edited it about ten times before I was satisfied. :P On another note, I'm still trying to decide whether or not to change the title. I'm rather attached to the one I have now, so maybe I'll keep it.
Translations
De rien - you're welcome/ it's nothing
Très bien - very good
Por Favor - please
A big thank you to my wonderful reviewers!
OffTheDeppEnd (Don't be too concerned about the new title I came up with. I intended it to sound a bit ironic, because Vivien is by no means a woman of little importance. Just look at all the crazy goons she has after her ;P) CaptainTish (An injured Jack isn't as fun as a healthy Jack? Well, I don't know about that. And I'm glad you like those two cabin boys. We all need comic relief :P) morph (I had my doubts that I could properly write that operation, but I found as many recources as I could and did my best. I'm glad to hear it turned out all right) Hils (Lol, thanks for your words. I think the problem for me now isn't writer's block but laziness. Go figure.) Ani Sparrow (I know it's cruel how we all just love to injure Jack. Poor guy can't catch a break with us.) Takma-rierah (You may have a point. I find that if I wait long enough, readers that wouldn't have necessarily reviewed before take it upon themselves to give me a verbal smack on the head. Oh well, all the better for me!) Jousting Elf with a Sabre (That's okay, my French is still quite primitive compared to my English.) vrykyl (You have no idea how much my ego appreciated your comments!) Cari Shidao (I wouldn't kill Jack off! Not so early into the story, at least…) velly (I haven't died! And I'm sorry for leaving you hanging. I don't mean to make everyone wait. Really.) Hells Tenshi (Don't worry, I won't stop writing. I'm always writing, but it just takes me a while to form a decent chapter :P) ChaosLightning13 (Jaffa warriors, eh? Lol. Well, all the same, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't send them after me.) Eccentric Banshee (You must bethe only one who loves Antonio. Sheesh. You know, he's supposed to be a bad guy:P Lol.More Jack/Vivien vibes to come!) Emma (Eek! Endless thanks for the wonderful compliments!) Polychrome (Two months? Don't be silly! Lol.Vivien appreciates thecompliments;) And don't worry,I doubtshe'll be playing daring heroine anytime soon—or at least not in that way.) Kaellana (I'm overwhelmed with all the nice words everyone's giving me! Thank you! I'll never get tired of hearing Vivien describes as 'refreshing!') phicaddictdpiratephantomprsnya (Okay, okay! You've got your update. How about a review?) Vagrant Candy (It's okay to be late, just look at me! And all 24 chapters in one sitting? Lol. I'm happy my story merits that sort of attention! And maybe I'll keep the current title if it's still reeling readers in.) Sparrow's Lovely Lass (Lol. Thanks.) ICRepresentative (Thanks for your comments!) Miss Amy Lynne (Well, I hope you liked this chapter as much as the rest of the story.) Woe Kitten (Thanks, I'm glad you think so!)
Okay, now, tell me what you think in a review! ;)
--Cayenne Pepper Powder