A/N: As always, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all enjoy this one :)
Chapter XIV
Immediately after my conversation with Sparrow, I turned around to see Wentworth invading my personal space. I jumped in surprise, prompting him to say, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"Is there something you need?" I asked, not in the mood for niceties.
"I just wanted to make sure that you were all right," he began, "And to thank you for what you did – your bravery saved all of us."
"It wasn't really bravery…" I murmured darkly through my teeth.
"But indeed, it was – only a strong woman would have been able to even find her voice in such a scenario, let alone sing so beautifully."
"You heard me?" I demanded, panic seeping into my chest.
"No, but it must have been beautiful otherwise the harpies wouldn't have left. Mr. Gibbs just explained the myth to us all while you were talking to the Captain."
"Oh, well it's really I who should be thanking you," I started.
"What for?"
"For coming to get me, of course! Lord knows, I would have been left there otherwise…" I'd subconsciously put my hand on his shoulder, which seemed to cause him some embarrassment.
He reddened slightly and mumbled, "I was just following orders."
I abruptly released him, confusion written across my face; following orders?
"What do you mean, 'following orders'?" I asked pointedly.
"Captain Sparrow sent me to get you, didn't you know?"
"He… sent you?"
"Yes – well, I mean," he amended hastily, finally noticing his mistake, "I'd have come for you regardless, of course. But it was indeed – technically speaking – the Captain who sent me, yes. I – I thought he would have told you."
"He did not," I stated impassively. "I have to go. We've a lot of work to do if we're to make it into port in a timely fashion."
"Cassie, please don't be cross…"
"Cross? Why would I be cross? I'm perfectly content – I still extend my gratitude to you, whether or not you came to my aid on your own accord."
"I assure you, it was on my own accord – I would stand by your side no matter what – we're crewmates, after all, and I'd hoped..."
"Wonderful," I cut him off coolly, fearing his next words, "But we really should get back to work…"
"Of course…" he agreed dejectedly; much to my relief, he was backing off.
This information was troubling. It put a tear in my unwavering hatred for Sparrow, and I didn't like to have my opinions disrupted. And it also complicated my mental image of his character. Why in the name of everything on God's green earth (thank you, Gibbs, for the expression) would Sparrow sell me to a monster and then send Wentworth to rescue me? It made absolutely no sense.
Unless, of course, he thought I could be of use to him.
But why would he think that? He hadn't heard what Cecily had told me, and she hadn't told him, either. So, he couldn't possibly know about the "worse off without me" comment.
Even if he was aware of what I was, the only way I could be valuable was if I wanted to help him, which I certainly did not – and he knew this. He knew that I intensely disliked him, and, if he didn't, then I'd given his intellect far too much credit.
I would confront him about this later, I decided. Sparrow might have enjoyed games of riddles and secrecy, but I did not; I wanted every bit of information laid out before me. I couldn't stand the thought of anyone withholding anything from me, which was problematic when it came to dealing with the devious captain. He wasn't exactly one to lay all his cards out on the table, as they say.
It also completely obliterated any good feelings whatsoever that had been culminating towards Wentworth. Don't get me wrong, I didn't blame him, nor was I angry with him – I truly believed that he would have come to rescue me regardless of whether or not Sparrow told him to. But I had no proof of this, so it was difficult to use it as rationalization for my incipient fondness of him.
That didn't mean I still wouldn't try to, however; I would gladly embrace any opportunity to distance myself from Wentworth in the romantic sense.
I realized how this sounded – that it made me seem selfish and cruel – but it was the truth. I would not pretend or try to hide my true nature. If I prided myself in one thing, it was that I was honest with myself, which meant that I was required to recognize even my worst qualities.
Wentworth was a typical, idealistic young man of his age. He was relatively innocent, and had probably only turned to piracy for want of money or some such misguided albeit moderately respectable reason. From our prior conversations, I'd gathered that he disliked the brutality of the military, which only added to this suspicion that he was somehow mixed up in illegal activity for the right reasons rather than the wrong ones. Because there were justified reasons to engage in piracy, in my opinion – it just so happened, however, that very few people actually paid them any notice.
But Wentworth was a good man, and he deserved a good woman for a bride. I was not a "good woman" in any sense of the word, and therefore we were entirely unsuitable for one another. He, apparently, had yet to recognize this, but I was sure that he would find someone else eventually and forget all about me. Or at least, I hoped he would.
"Cap'n," Gibbs called suddenly, jostling me from my contemplative reverie, "the nearest port 'pears ta be St. Croix." His graying face was buried in the parchment of a large map.
"Wonderful," Jack replied, rubbing his palms together vigorously, "We'll have no trouble there." He then resumed his focus on the horizon, seemingly lost in his own mind. Only God knew what he was planning… The sight of Mr. Sparrow thinking was never one to be welcomed, I had quickly come to discover.
"Mr. Gibbs," I said quietly, "how are we to know that the sirens won't return for us? Obviously they're able to leave the island, even if Cecily is not."
"Aye, that be a fair observation, lassie. But the devils are only able ta venture within a certain radius of Isla Flotante, y'see, which I believe we've escaped. Em'ry seems to be actin' normal now – he ain't growlin' like a hellhound anymore…"
"But how are we to be absolutely certain?"
"There is no way o' bein' absolutely certain 'til we reach St. Croix. The 'arpies are not permitted to reign near settled land."
"How long will it take for us to arrive?"
"Normally I'd say by the end o' the day we'd 'ave reached our destination, but considerin' the state of the sails, it may not be 'til tomorrah mornin'."
"Fantastic," I muttered sardonically, "So we've yet to endure another night of imminent peril?"
"I wouldn' say 'imminent' perhaps, but aye, there be a possibility o' danger. But you'd do well to get used to the notion, missy, for danger be somethin' that comes with the territory o' bein' a pirate."
I knew he was right in this assertion, so I did not respond. Instead, I returned to my task of folding the ruined sails.
The day passed quickly, and before we knew it the sun was beginning to set; still, unfortunately, there was still no sign of land. However, before we dropped anchor for the night, Sparrow announced, "Men, it is my great joy to inform you that we're very close to reaching our destination. We'll most definitely be able to make port by tomorrow morning. For now, you'd all best get some shut-eye. We'll be needing to keep a low profile once we reach St. Croix – Port Frederiksted is still but a young colony and though it has no defensive structure, there is indeed a military presence; not to mention the Dutch East India Trading Company, which is most indubitably not a force that ought to be reckoned with, mark my words. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves, savvy? Our singular mission is to get the Jewel repaired and be on our way as swiftly as possible."
Everyone had since regained their hearing, and replied, "Aye, sir."
"Now off to bed with ye – 'cept you, Cotton, you've got the night watch."
Cotton nodded stiffly in acknowledgement, made his way up to the barrels behind the helm, and took a seat.
I, with the rest of the crew, began to file below deck and launch myself into a hammock. I didn't realize how exhausted I truly was until I was laying down, and I dozed to sleep in matter of seconds.
(The next day…)
The next morning, we all awoke at the crack of dawn – as per usual – and resumed sail. Just as both Gibbs and Sparrow had predicted, we were able to arrive in Port Frederiksted by about ten o'clock that very same morning.
I quickly understood what Sparrow had meant by his "young colony" comment – there were very few buildings in sight, while the port itself was quite full. Luckily, the number of ships already docked obscured our entrance, and we were able to tie the Jewel up without attracting any unwanted notice.
We all stealthily stepped from the side of the ship onto the wooden dock.
"I shall go speak to a shipbuilder about the damage – we'll reconvene here in an hour or so…" Sparrow instructed, shooing us off.
An hour. What was I supposed to do for an entire hour? I hadn't any money, and I hadn't even any idea of what was appropriate for a woman of my age and position to be doing.
"Marty," I asked as we headed towards town, "how long do you think it'll take for the Jewel to be fixed?"
"From what I've seen b'fore, I reckon 'bout five or six days," he answered.
"Five or six days," I repeated in disbelief, "what are we supposed to do until then?"
"I'm sure we'll think o' somethin'," he replied with a lewd wink.
"Where are we supposed to stay?" I pressed obliviously, "I haven't any money."
"I'm sure there're some inns that won't cost ye nothin', if ye know what I mean… Here's what ye do, lass – you've got to find yerself a tavern and drink 'til ye can't even remember yer own name. They'll be forced to let ye stay there, and even if they turn ye out it won't bother ye none. Plus, I don' think anyone'll be givin' the boot to the likes o' you."
"I don't think that will work for me," I protested delicately. Intentionally driving myself into a state of near-unconsciousness somehow didn't sound appealing in the least… Plus, I didn't trust anyone enough to allow myself to become so susceptible to the wills of others.
He eyed me carefully, before replying, "I guess you're right… Well, don't ye have even a coin or two ta spare?"
"No, you don't understand – I don't have a cent to my name."
"Nothing at all?"
I shook my head, indicating that I indeed did not.
"Er – well, I s'pose you oughtta speak to the cap'n 'bout that, then," he said uncomfortably. It was clear that he was not about to offer me any financial help – I didn't fault him, though. Greed was, after all, something pirates were noted for.
"Thanks," I said somewhat bitterly, before strolling towards the village with the rest of the crew.
The only thing I could think to do was procure some new manner of attire, but such a mission would be impossible without money. As I saw women in calico dresses meandering about, I became painfully aware of the fact that I was still wearing the clothing I had found aboard the Queen Anne's Revenge. I didn't know much about the customs of human garments, but I wagered such things were meant to be changed more frequently than once a month. Plus, the tops of my thighs were beginning to itch, which I took as a sign that my britches had outlived their welcome.
I could always borrow a new outfit, I thought to myself mischievously. I did have an hour to kill, after all…
A/N: I hope you all liked it! Please review!