Drunken Lullabies
Between a man and a woman
Life begins again
Between love and confusion
Lies only pain
-Between a Man and a Woman by Flogging Molly-
Without a day's food, the combination of extreme blood loss, rum and a swaying ship can be a powerful tonic for anyone unsuspecting or knowing. And Eva just so happened to be that lucky victim.
Another entire day had come and gone like the wind through the sails of the Pearl, leaving her stitched, bruised, tired and drunk in Jack's bed. She had attempted numerous times through the long night and afternoon to steady her body on the bed, with pillows surrounding her form, blankets covering every inch of her to create a blackness that soothed. But none of it stopped the waves or the sickness in her stomach, let alone the want and need for even more rum to ease the pain.
After Gibbs had brought in dinner for her, and removed the lunch plate that she had been unable to stand and walk to, she decided she was going to have to move, to try something else but lying down. Eva slid from the bed, wearing only a shirt that came down to just above her knees. It was one Jack had set out for her early in the morning, insisting she change from the rags her now locked up attacker had left her in. His name, she had found out in a brief stint of comfort, was Sully McAllister. And he had indeed been intent on only one thing, to rape and discard of her leftover bones when no one was looking.
For this, Jack set the crew to mend his wounds and lock him in the brig for the remainder of the journey to the Cove. Eva had thanked him with a smile before falling onto the bed in sheer agony again.
She pranced about the room now though, testing out her 'sea legs' and trying to understand how any one of these men could drink and walk on this ship at the same time. She denounced it a prime art, simply because she couldn't get a hold of it herself. Tables were her enemies, chairs, cabinets, even her boots on the floor as they tripped her.
"No doubt, at this rate I'll be belly-up before I make it to the next shore."
Eva mumbled as she reached for a pair of old breeches Jack had also laid across the back of a chair for her. She managed to get only one leg in before tumbling backwards to the floor again, laughing.
"Proof confirmed."
She grinned wildly as she pulled her other leg inside from the wood planks, quickly lacing them up to fit. Her father's hat was thrown down beside the bed alongside her troublesome boots, and she made sure these were secure as well, and then pulled herself to her boot heels, wobbling a little, but eventually managing to stay straight. She saw the cabin doors ahead of her, with a gleam of the last light of the day shining through, and decided on what would be best.
"Hostage or not, I need fresh air." She stomped toward the doors, pulling out a pin that was being used to hold down the fold of her old boots, and stood picking at the lock for minutes until it finally clicked open. Eva smiled and turned the knob. "Sorry Captain Jack."
The door swung outward and she followed its lead, feeling the warmth of early evening dance immediately on her cheeks. The choice had already been a good one, as she tiptoed to stay under the radar and tried not to look up from below the brim of her hat. She focused on the planks of the deck, counting cracks between them as her boots swaggered back and forth same as her head. The rum was still alive and burning through her veins, but it at least felt better out here in the late sunset; rich and calm.
Only a few crew members dodged her in their duties with ropes and tools and swords of all kinds. She heard shouting all around her, above her head where she tried to envision men dangling from the ropes like she remembered from her freer days on the Pearl, and perhaps even one in the crow's nest. Scurrying boots and bare feet were all she could see, and she felt better for it. If she looked up now, Eva knew she would eventually come into contact with the person who would probably punish her for escaping the cabin. No, she only wanted to breathe fresh air, collect herself again, and then return to his bed.
And a fine idea it was, until she felt the deck rattle beneath her as the ship capped over a large wave. She could hear what sounded like cracking wood all around her, a taut whip of ropes overhead, and a gust through the sails, before she realized she had lost all balance and was falling to the deck without hope of catching herself. Her bottom hit the harsh wood, causing her to bite her tongue from the slam of her body downward. Little did she realize the comedy of her actions, or how they were warming a tired Captain's otherwise battered spirit.
Jack stood to the side of the wheel, his eyes fashioned in faux toward the horizon ahead, while they were really fixed upon the mess of a spill Eva had taken just below him near the mast. He watched as she struggled on hands and knees to get back up. He watched as she pressed both of her palms to the short black hair at her temples, grinding her teeth in what looked like torturous aching. He watched as she placed her hat back on, held her hands out in front of her, and stepped as lightly as a dancer on his deck.
'Girl's as daft as th' rest o' me crew.'
He chuckled lowly with a quick eye from her to Cotton beside him, a scowl at the parrot as he shrieked for attention, and then a darting glance back down to see Eva clinging to the mast pegs. Fresh air looked good on her, and he didn't even bother letting himself get angry over the fact that she escaped her cage. In fact, he was impressed by this most of all and deliberated what her tools used for such a feat must have been.
She didn't stumble anymore, and seemed to be in idle rest at the mast as she leaned against it, her hat tipped down, obviously to give the impression of her being one of his crew. But Jack knew better, because he'd studied every bit of her, and knew what she looked like from all angles and from all light sources.
"Mr. Cotton…" he suddenly chanted, stepping back from the wheel. "Take o'er."
The old man jumped in with his rigid hands firm on the wheel. Jack nodded once to the parrot, then side waltzed toward the stairwell, taking the steps as slowly as he could, watching Eva's head loll under her hat. He made it to the deck, but kept his movement paced with a wandering eye over how well she wore his clothes. Yes, he liked that part best and revealed a glint of gold teeth in the last light of day for it.
When he was within mere feet of her person, he stopped, his right hand tucked neatly into his sash and belt, while the other played at the dingles on his chin, twisting each bead.
"Do tell me dearie..." his voice was deep and radiated through Eva's bones. She knew who it was and yet was too fearsome to turn her head upward at it. "…wot' gypsy trick did ye use t' flee yer lock and chain this round?"
His boots inched a step closer and came into her hidden, brimmed vision as she smirked.
"Or is it a curse ye put on me ship?" Eva's eyes rolled under her hat as he went on fluidly with his arms flailing where she couldn't see them. "Are ye a gypsy ghost, perchance? Come t' give an' old ship its due?"
Finally she whispered back at him. "If I were, I would have floated away days ago."
"Not liking th' company?"
"The company is merely, me."
At this she finally turned her face up to catch his eyes under the hat. She had forgotten how much she missed them since he left the cabin that morning. They were so vast, like the ocean itself.
"Bored then, is it?" He asked back when he could see her eyes. "Another day o' sailing with th' lot o' us, and th' Cove should cure that."
"And what if I don't like it there?"
Her face was sincere when she asked this, and it pleased him, to know he wasn't the only one that was capable of putting into question a place that everyone else in the seas seemed to adore. Although, she knew nothing about it, which was probably where the inquiry even spurned from. He stepped in closer toward her and grinned lightly.
"T' be quite honest with ye…"
She scoffed to interrupt him, "Honest, you? A pirate?"
"Yes. Honest. Me. An' that's pirate captain, lass."
"Oh excuse me."
She threw up her hands in mock defense, making him smirk from the corner of his mouth without even knowing it. His reply was defiant, as the battle ensued between their words.
"Cynics will be punished same as counterfeit young boys, ye know."
She grinned innocently, holding his gaze and coming nearer to him. "And yet here I stand before you Captain Sparrow, still awaiting the first of my charges…"
Jack felt his knees lock up on him, same as his once beating heart and once freed loins. But he kept himself clear with speech.
"If ye don't approve o' the penalty which I've set in place…" he turned on his heels with a sway of his hand, "…rest assured I can find ye a plank t' walk down…"
Eva jumped into step behind him, following as he swaggered back to the cabin.
"No, don't be silly. Your punishment is adequate enough."
A smile crept on his turned face as he sensed defense in her voice.
"Although I do hope you'll still tell me all you know of this Cove in which you're sending me."
He kept walking, glad she was tagging along as they made their way back into the cabin. Eva shut the door behind her out of respect only, and came to the middle of the room as Jack searched out a fresh bottle of rum from his cabinet. When he stood tearing through a cork, he saw her sitting at the end of his bed, legs curled like a child and eyes wide with curiosity. This was the other way he liked her (Not that he didn't like her in all possible ways thus far.)
He sat down wide-legged in a chair below where she was perched on the bed, his arms resting over the wooden back that faced her, tilting the bottle out.
"Drink?"
She held up her hands against it. "No, I've already had too much."
"Too much? There's no such thing."
"I'll drink myself to death."
Jack chuckled and replied simply, "Yo ho," with another shove of the bottle at her.
Eva hesitated a second more, before ripping it from his hands and downing almost a third. He wasn't entirely shocked by it, since she'd helped to finish off most of his supply throughout the week. He liked a woman who could drink and not look sloppy doing it. A woman who could hold her own, even when she probably shouldn't be. Eva filled that description nicely to him.
She handed him back the bottle with a wipe of his shirt sleeve over her mouth, and he wished he could have been nothing but mere tunic fabric in that moment. Jealous of a shirt and losing his mind more and more by the second; he knew the rum would be more than sport tonight, no doubt.
"So how do you know about this place, Shipwreck?"
"Sure ye want t' go down that path, luv?"
Her brow was fixed in confusion but she nodded.
"Tis' not a pretty one…"
"No true path is ever a pretty one, sir."
Her mind fascinated him, the mixed up, backwards way he had begun to notice it worked in. It seemed familiar in a way, but he couldn't place its origin.
"Shipwreck Island's where some o' the finest men on th' sea go t' die. Sound fanciful 'nough?"
She didn't say anything at his joking attitude.
"It's where me own father will rest is' bones…whene'er he finally decides t' let go."
"Your father?"
He nodded with a sip of the bottle.
"Is he a pirate too?"
"Was…is…"
"And he lives there with other pirates?"
He was excited by her pursuit of information. "Some. Mostly washed up drunks an' poets."
"You joke."
"Wish I knew how t' joke 'bout that place."
Eva smiled and pressed her elbows in her curled legs as she leaned on her fists toward Jack more.
"Is it only men who live there?"
"God, no!"
He belted out with a chuckle as he stood up from the chair and pushed it aside. She watched him stammer about for a minute, removing his coat, his hat, boots and effects. When he was done, he came toward the bed, crawling up and sitting against the pillow induced headboard with his bare feet and bottle of rum. Eva had yet to see him in this sort of comfort, this way, and it made her happy in a way she couldn't quite explain. He seemed suddenly human to her, not so much like the force he acted upon. She turned toward him on the bed, legs still curled and elbows still leaning with inquisitiveness.
"So then, tell me of the women. Are they nice? Are they pirates too? Are there women pirates at all?"
His eyes crossed with the throes of questioning, and he slowly replied to each.
"Some o' them are nice, but some o' them wouldn't think twice 'bout taking a limb from ye. Trust me…" She gulped but he went on humored. "By me own reckoning there be a single female pirate in all th' Cove. There's plenty o' them elsewhere's though."
"What is her name?"
Jack watched Eva's eyes suddenly light up with a spark of green amid all the blue, and although he knew he could have sat there watching her eyes change and shift all night, he fell back to her question.
"Er' name is Liz'beth."
"Elizabeth. And is she nice?"
A smirk came to his face, one he often caught himself making at the thought of Lizzie and couldn't stop.
"She's a fine woman. Th' only one I'll let on me ship in fact."
A little put off by this, Eva said meekly, "I suppose some women are intended for the sea, and others are merely intended for housework."
Jack knew he'd hit a nerve, one he could sense many people had before him.
"An' which are you?
She turned her eyes up from where they had fallen in defeat and answered him simply.
"I haven't a clue."
"I'll wager I do." He replied with a coy grin, scooting closer to her on the mattress. "In fact, I'll wager ye fall on a list entirely out o' range. One that no one else does."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning…" he sighed, corking the bottle as he slumped with his head resting on the bed beside her knee, staring up at her. "…yer a mystery t' not only th' world, but yerself as well. Ye ave' t' find who you are, long before ye can sail th' seas or mother children or do anything right fer yerself."
She appreciated these words, for they were the only true and reliable ones she'd ever gained from anyone before, and a mere stranger at that.
"And do you think…" she began, tracing circles and stars on the soft blankets beside her. "…do you think I will find who I am at Shipwreck Island?"
Jack eased up onto his elbow, with his face coming that much closer to where hers hung. He could feel her breath on his nose and through the bristles of his mustache, same as she could feel his body's heat warm her. They were frozen for a moment, she contemplating the question, and he contemplating the answer.
With genuine eyes he said, "It's me own black eart's promise, that ye will."
That was more than enough for her. And so they stayed there for a little while longer, Jack telling her of some of the things the island had to offer, describing the fine gold sand beaches and caves to explore, and even going so far as to tell her a few of his stories from when he was a child at the Cove. She liked that part the best, and wanted to hear more, but could tell it was a soft place for him and only let Jack tell what he wished and then quit.
After an hour or so he went to charting at his desk, and although they passed slight conversation back and forth, a few laughs, and a bottle of rum, Eva found herself mostly preoccupied with her nose deep into the pages of a book he had on a woman named Grace O'Malley, The Pirate Queen. Like Eva, Grace was of Irish heritage and had sailed for decades with a fierce hand and loyal crew of men, tearing apart every coast and port she so desired to. She decided right then and there that one day she would live up to what Grace O'Malley had done, and that eventually perhaps, she would find herself sailing the same waters as Jack Sparrow again.
More hours passed by with Jack's compass tight to his charts, hardly wavering save for a drink or two, a glance over at Eva or two. And when he had finally seen enough spinning dials and dotted lines for one night, he shoved back on his chair and rose up at the foot of the bed to see her passed out drunk and worn, same as most other nights. She charmed him innocently, with a large leather bound book folded open on her chest, a hand tossed above her head weaving through the space where a head full of black curls should have been, and her legs tangled to one side on the mattress. He was actually beginning to grow more than accustomed to this sight.
The only difference was, that on this night, her last night on the ship before they made it to the Cove, Jack decided he had to take advantage of the open space beside her and share the bed. He was exhausted, but even more than that, he wanted to be close to her, he needed to in fact, and this would be the only possible way of it at last.
He carefully lifted the book away from her, eyeing as she sifted onto her side and curled with her face deep in one of the pillows. He pulled back the blankets and crawled beneath them until he was inches from her body, and then threw them over-top of her tiny form as well. He craned his neck back to blow out the last of the candles on his bedside table, and then in the darkness of the room and bed, surrounding by nothing but feminine body heat, he slid toward where he felt his borrowed clothes draping against her skin.
When she didn't wake from the touch, he slipped an arm around her waist pulling her into his chest, and shut his eyes against the curl of the waves for the first real time in months.
