Elizabeth moaned and started to shiver. Jack went and pulled the blankets out from under her, and covered her up. Two crewmen came in and strung his hammock for him; one of them started cooing over the baby until Jack shooed him out. Elizabeth continued to shiver. Jack got another blanket and covered her, and then added his coat. He felt her forehead; she was burning up and shouldn't be cold! He called for another blanket and covered her, but she still shivered.
Mr Cotton knocked and came in, handing Jack a cup of broth. He examined the baby first, apparently decided that he'd keep, and then went to the child's mother. He pulled back Elizabeth's blankets, felt her forehead, listened to her chest, and shook his head. He lit a few lanterns and set them up around her, and then looked speculatively at Jack. He pointed to the captain and then to the bed.
"What?" Jack asked. "No, mate. My hammock's over there. Mrs Turner's married, don't forget."
Cotton shook his head, pointed at Jack again, and then back at the bed.
"Not sure I like what you're implying," Jack remarked with a frown. "Even if she weren't married, which she is, she's ill and therefore not all that attractive."
Cotton shrugged and sat down on the bed, pulling off his boots. He put his feet up and prepared to lie down.
"Here, here, what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Jack asked, irritated by the man's presumption.
Cotton pointed to Jack and shook his head for "no." He pointed to Elizabeth and mimed her shivering, then pointed to himself and shrugged.
"Oh! It's because she's cold! You mean to warm her with body heat!"
Cotton nodded.
"Oh, well, I can do that well enough," Jack said. "Out of there, now." He removed his boots, belts, and sword. He lay down in the spot that Cotton vacated. "Have Marty go ashore at 8 bells to see about that goat, and have Gibbs come in when he finishes watch, and I'll relieve him."
Cotton nodded.
"Oh, and bring me that baby. He can help with the body heat."
Cotton smiled and got little Jacob out of the dresser drawer, reaching over to put him on Elizabeth's other side. Jacob had fallen asleep and didn't wake; he nestled into his mother's body with a tiny grunt of satisfaction.
Jack waited until Cotton had gone and had shut the door. He rolled over to face Elizabeth, leaning up on his elbow to feel her forehead and face. She felt clammy and went on shivering. He pulled the blankets out from under his body and slid under them, throwing a leg and an arm over Elizabeth's body.
On her other side, Jacob began to stir and make fussing noises.
"Hungry again, lad?" Jack asked the baby. "Shouldn't wonder. Here, let's see if we can manage this, eh?" Carefully he rolled Elizabeth onto her side, facing away from him. He undid her nightgown, thankful that Mr Gibbs had remembered to bring her a clean one. He really didn't think he had the fortitude to be in bed with a naked Elizabeth. He pulled the baby closer to her breast.
"Come on, now, lad, you know what to do," he urged the infant. Jacob rooted around, but couldn't find what he was looking for. His fussing became more urgent.
"Aye, must be frustrating," Jack commiserated, reaching around and trying to connect baby to breast. "To be this close to something you want, but not be able to get at it. I feel your pain, me lad."
Finally Jacob found what he was looking for, and settled in to nurse. Jack sighed. "Well, that's good for you, innit?" he said. "You get to have what you want, and what do I get? Murdered by your parents when they find out what I've had to do to keep your mum alive. That's what I get!"
He sighed, and then noticed how Elizabeth was curling her body around the warmth that was her baby. He lay back down behind her to keep her warm in back. He put one arm under her head and draped the other one over her, just touching the baby's back to make sure he was all right.
Warmed and comfortable, with the scent of Elizabeth's hair in his nostrils, he drifted off to sleep.
He was awakened by Gibbs' quiet knock at the door at 8 bells.
The first mate opened the door quietly. "Jack?" he said.
"Come in, Gibbs," Jack replied quietly.
Gibbs had been expecting Jack to be in the hammock across the room. His head whipped around and his jaw dropped when he saw Jack in bed with Elizabeth.
"Great gods, Jack, what are ye doing?" he cried, aghast.
"Quiet, will you? Think I want her to wake up and find me here? Don't blame me—Cotton made me do it. Said she needed the body heat. The baby's here too, so keep your wig on—there's no debauchery going on."
Gibbs sighed in relief. "Cotton told me to come by after my watch."
"Aye, it's my turn at helm, and you could take over looking after Mrs Turner."
Gibbs swallowed hard. "Would, er, would that looking-after by any chance involve the sharin' of body heat?"
Jack felt Elizabeth's forehead and neck—no longer clammy and cold, but not yet warm, and she still shivered from time to time—and shrugged. "Quite possibly."
"In that case, Captain, how's about I take the helm and you keep doing what you're doing?" Gibbs offered desperately.
"Mr Gibbs, can it be you're afraid to share a bed with a pretty girl?" Jack teased.
Gibbs nodded enthusiastically. "When the pretty girl is married to the Flying Dutchman? Aye! You did say something about 'no monumental stupidity,' remember."
Jack remembered that Gibbs had always been much more superstitious than he himself was, even so much as going through his little spitting ritual over Davy Jones' black spot a couple years ago. He waved him away, and Gibbs gratefully withdrew. The baby started fussing again, and Jack lifted him over Elizabeth's body so he was between the two adults. "Hungry or leaky?" he asked him. The baby felt dry, so he decided the child must be hungry. Hard to blame him, really, as it had probably been days since he'd had any milk before the Black Pearl got there. Jack rolled Elizabeth over onto her back and repositioned her, and held the baby up to nurse some more. He braced his arms against the mattress and went back to sleep.
A.N. Most ships of the time would have either a ship's surgeon or a sailor who was good at dealing with wounds and illness-often he would have unofficially apprenticed with the surgeon on another ship, and then take that position on his own ship after being trained. Cotton is that man in this story. I can only imagine what his life could have been like before the Black Pearl, but I think it very likely he would have sought some education-i.e. learned to write-so that he could still communicate after he'd had his tongue cut out.
Also-in real life, there is pretty much no way that a 6-month-old baby would have survived an illness this severe, with no treatment or nourishment for several days. The readers will simply have to suspend disbelief on that front, because I just can't bring myself to kill a baby. Thank God for fanfiction, because in real life he would not have survived.