A/N: Ok, this is my first Black Sails fanfic, and it will take place a lot earlier than the show but I hope that you enjoy it!
Contrary to popular belief, Joan Barclay was not a spinster, nor was she barren, dumb or extrodinarily pious; she simply enjoyed being alone.
It wasn't that she disliked people, quite the opposite in fact, it was rather that she was often disappointed by them. This would ,of course, be her own fault as she had the habit of thrusting her own imagined heroics onto others.
Not everyone was capable of great and noble acts...at least not in Liverpool. And certainly not for a woman like her. Women whose jawlines were too sharp and eyes too big and whose features had the habit of settling themselves into a permanent scowl whether she wished them to or not.
No, women like Joan were lucky if they could find themselves a suitable match in the Butchers ruddy-faced son, had children who looked nothing like their father, and retired in the countryside. And while there was nothing wrong with that future, in fact it was quite a lucrative position for an orphaned house-maid like herself, it was not the life she wanted. She had never been able to force herself into dreaming of a wedding, maintaining a home of her own and having supper ready by the time her husband decided to stagger in from the tavern.
And yet, as the years piled upon her and she found herself still unmarried and without children Joan began to lament. No, not over a future she did not want, rather her fear was that she would, out of necessity, concede to this life of childbearing and rearing until she died without ever having accomplished anything of value. Without ever having lived! It was not that Joan lived a particularly difficult life, there were challenges to be had just as any other, but it was simply dull.
So, as one can understand, when the foolhardy opportunity for adventure laid itself at her stockinged feet, Joan Barclay took it, without hesitation and without the slightest bit of wisdom.
"Mr. Battie," Joan whispered fiercely, taking caution not to spill candle wax along the good doctor's carpet, but there came no answering call. "Doctor Battie you really must wake!" She called, louder now. The doctor, who much like his name suggested was a bit batty, merely gave a loud snort in reply and resumed his snoring.
With a huff, Joan pushed the door open further, wondering what act of God might wake the sleeping man up tonight.
"Doctor Battie!" She screeched, the candle flickering wildly in her hand. With a start the doctor awoke, the ink from a letter he had fallen asleep writing marking his face.
"Good heavens, child! What the devil is the matter?" He asked, grappling for his eye glasses.
"Your patient, the young man in your surgery, I believe he's taking a turn for the worst." She explained, as the man pushed back the chair and quickly followed his housemaid down the narrow steps to the surgery, where Doctor Battie conducted the majority of his business.
The doctor shoved open the door, the room already lit well enough and Joan was hit with the smell of vomit mixed in with the room's usual musty scent. Quickly they set to work, Joan cleaning up the young man and the doctor examining his patient.
Unwrapping the bandages, the doctor assessed the wound, wrinkling his nose and setting the bandages back in place with a shake of his head. The amputation of the young sailor was done on his merchant ship, several days ago after a run in with a pirate vessel, the barely made it but not without an exceptional number of losses.
The doctor frowned, his toes tapping quickly in time with the young man's pulse. The doctor nodded, but it did not hold it's usual certainty, as the doctor began to pull various vials off the shelf Joan noticed his movements had lost their urgency.
"Joan," he said, grabbing a jar of leeches off the shelf. "Were you my apprentice, which of course you are not,"
"Of course," Joan replied with a knowing smile.
"But were you, how would you proceed?" Joan's eye's traveled over to the fever patient and she stepped closer to the doctor, lowering her voice.
"I...I do not believe he will survive the night." She answered, biting her lip pensively before speaking again. "Would this be, well what you explained last month, an infection?"
"Yes, very good." The doctor nodded approvingly and yet Joan knew better than to ask if they should blood let him, a practice Dr. Battie was firmly against. In fact, the man's odd beliefs in regards to medicine were not well received at all and many of the townspeople likened him to a witch doctor. Odd though his practices were, Joan found him to be quite knowledgeable and a rather accomplished doctor.
Of course that was not what she thought three years ago when she accepted employment as his house maid; no, at that time she thought him to be a madman! She had never heard of anyone sputtering on as he had about organisms that made others sick, and the claims that bloodletting did more harm than good. It wasn't until the doctor permitted Joan to peer through the lens of an instrument he had called a microscope that she began to take him seriously.
From that day forward, for whatever reason, Doctor Battie had taken it upon himself to apprentice Joan, in secret of course. Women were not permitted to be doctors or surgeons, a concept Doctor Battie found ridiculous, which she supposed was why he took it upon himself to teach her; his own small act of rebellion. Not that she minded at all, in fact she quite enjoyed it! The knowledge broke up her usually mundane day and she found herself surprisingly able to handle the more grotesque side of medicine, such as amputations and wound care and even the application of leeches.
"I thought you were against bleeding?" She asked with a raised brow, raising the glass up to the candlelight and inspecting the creatures inside with a sneer. She could handle leeches, she didn't have to like though.
"Not all bleeding is bad, if it is done with forethought." He explained, a finger raised in declaration as he made his way toward the young man. Slowly, the doctor applied the leeches to the dying flesh, explaining that the leeches would draw blood to that area and hopefully prevent the rest of the skin from blackening and dying.
"And will that save him?" She asked, applying a wet cloth to the patient's brow.
"It is...difficult to say," the doctor said, which almost always meant no. He refused to answer any question about a patient's health with certainty, claiming that was God's job.
The pain puttered around the surgery for a while longer, with the doctor explaining the medicines she would give the boy, hypothetically of course, and doing their best to bring down his fever. But now, all that was left to do, was wait. Joan closed the door and ushered the doctor into the kitchen, hoping a nice cup of tea would keep the both of them awake enough to monitor their patient.
"And when you are gone tomorrow? And for however many months shall I proceed then?" She asked, setting the teacups at the small table and giving the doctor a pointed look.
"Well I imagine you'll do just as you have done these past several years." He replied, a bit curtly and with a pointed look of his own. "Mind my home, and those who seek refuge in it."
"And by that you mean we should continue with this guise that I am not your apprentice and simply your housemaid."
"Quite so," He answered, "Mind you, that should anyone with half a mind catch you sloshing the tea about the table instead of my cup, you will of course be outed." Joan smothered a smile, using the edge of her apron to clean up the spill.
"Then perhaps you should not leave."
"Joan-"
"No, I have held my tongue enough already," at this the doctor snorted, having endured her protests long enough, but the woman continued on. " Use my pay to cover the gambling debt, you need not barter your services. The months you'll spend as a doctor upon that vessel will be worth well over what is owed!"
"Joan, I must do this."
"No, you must not. You are not a gambling man, how could you be so foolish? You have patients here, people who need you. I...I need you." She added, feeling suddenly quite the fool. The doctor's face softened, laying a comforting hand on top of her own. Joan looked away, pretending to mind the kettle instead of briskly wiping away an angry tear.
"Were the debt my own, Joan, I would pay it and that would be the end of it...but it is not my own."
"Well who is then? Who would allow you to do such a thing?"
"Carlisle Ashby." He said out of the corner of his mouth, the name clinging to his teeth as confessions usually do. Joan blinked once, twice, understanding finally clicking into place.
Dr. Battie looked away, suddenly abashed. Joan said nothing for a moment, letting the name quite her tongue as she poured another cup of tea for the two of them.
Carlisle Ashby was the rather wealthy husband of Evelyn Ashby, a patient James Battie had taken on, in his early days of practice. He was young, inexperienced and held rather closely to the principles he was taught, the lessons and teachings he was educated in. And yet when Evelyn Ashby came to him with what seemed to be a simple illness, Carlisle insisted Evelyn be bled, just to be safe, and so James Battie did so.
But Evelyn did not get better and as the weeks turned into months and Evelyn was bled and bled until her arm was nearly one large scar James proposed a different treatment. It was at this time James began to doubt the effectiveness of the bleeding practice, even looking into other doctors who proposed the bleeding itself could actually make someone sick, causing an infection.
It was in the wake of this knowledge that James proposed a different treatment to a wary Carlisle, who eventually relented, trusting the good doctor's judgement.
Everyn died the next morning.
Whether it was of her unknown illness or the treatment James proposed, none could say, but Carlisle became quite convinced it was the later...and he never let him forget it. For months after her death Carlisle became a raging drunk, gambling and drinking away his family fortune until he showed up years later at Dr. Battie's door, drunk and ranting about how he was responsible for his downfall.
Of course, Dr. Battie believed him, wondering if it really was his fault, and of course he covered the man's debts, paid for his drinks in the morning so he would not shake so, even offered him a room in his home that Carlisle refused.
So naturally, when Carlisle had lost a round of cards to a particularly rowdy merchant ship, Dr. Battie arrived to pay the debt. However the crew wouldn't take his money. No, they'd just lost their own ship's surgeon and Dr. Battie would make a fine addition to their crew. Surely his employment would cover the money, right? Seven months the voyage would take. Seven months and Dr. Battie would be free to return home to resume his practice.
"Seven months...and then will you be absolved? Would you forgive yourself?" Joan asked quietly, bringing Dr. Battie's attention back to the present. He said nothing, smiling sadly as he squeezed her hand.
"Mind the home while I am gone, Joan. You need not worry yourself over what my patrons might say, those who frequent me know you are quite capable in treating them while I am away. New patients you may refer to Dr. Hager, he will enjoy that."
"I cannot believe you are putting me in charge of your home and practice." Joan chidded, giving him a teasing frown.
"I trust you. You are quite capable of handling this, I am quite sure." He said simply, taking a sip of his tea and chuckling as the woman's face lightened, her cheeks reddening under the praise. "There, that has cheered you up then! Livening up that dour face."
"A bit of flattery is all it takes I suppose."
"Oh, I do not flatter. I never flatter, Joan. I said what I said as an honest appraisal of your skills thus far. You've come a long way and I am very pleased with your progress. Were this not such a clandestine operation I would have it shouted from the rooftops." Joan barked out a laugh, leaning back in her chair as she muttered her thanks, pride bubbling within her. Finally, something she was really good at. "Now, off to bed with you. You shall have a busy enough day tomorrow as it is."
"Are you sure?" She asked.
"Yes, quite sure, i'll mind the boy." He insisted, settling in his chair and holding the cup within his two hands.
"Alright then, " she relented "Your trunk is packed already. I will have a carriage come round in the morning to take it to the port." She explained, giving the man's hand a friendly squeeze before heading off to bed.
Floating would have been a more apt description. Floating on the winds of praise and thanks for the odd old doctor who offered her such a position, and for his teaching her, and for the simple fact that she was actually quite good at it.
Her mind wandered as she settled into bed, dreaming of a life full of healing, and action. She could do some good in this world. And best of all, she would not have to marry the butcher's son.
The doctor's lifeless form lay on the floor, and Joan stood at the doorway, mouth agape, unmoved for several moments. Apoplexy, she feared, by the way he clutched his chest, but how could this have happened?!
The patient had died that night, just as Joan had feared but when she did not see Dr. Battie there, she assumed he had left without waiting for her to hail a carriage, but when she spotted his luggage by the door. Her worst fears were confirmed when she stumbled upon his body in the kitchen. She stepped forward, searching for a pulse she knew would not be there as grief began to melt away the shock.
And yet there was no time for tears, not yet. A rather forcefully banging on the door pulled Joan away from her friend and employer, and she hurried to the door, hoping it was anyone who could be of help. Upon opening the door, Joan took a surprised step back, blinking at the two men who stood just outside the door. They were not the usual sort Joan was used to seeing, but then again, Dr. Battie didn't always treat the usual kinds of people. One was quite tall, thin with jet black hair and keen black eyes, a thin mustache atop his lip. The other was a shorter man, bald and leering at Joan in a way that made her cross her arms over herself.
"We've an appointment wit the doctor," the bald one said, smiling widely and taking an unbidden step inside the parlor.
"I...I'm sorry but unfortunately, well I am sorry to say but-"
"Miss," the dark haired one started, stepping in front of the other one in an almost apologetic manner. "We do understand that this is quite the imposition, but we are here to ensure Doctor Battie does keep up his end of the bargain."
"The bargain?" She asked, her mind working slower as it shifted through the fog of shock and grief.
"An agreement, more to the point, between two parties that resulted in Doctor Battie's employment as our surgeon for the seven month journey. I would not want to besmirch the good doctor's name by insinuating he would not honor this agreement, but, as every good investor knows...one must always protect their assets."
It all came flooding back now, and Joan shook her head sadly, remembering Carlisle Ashby's debt and Battie's subsequent employment agreement.
"Yes, of course, I do understand...Doctor Battie is a man of his word, I assure you...but unfortunately he will not be able to make it." She explained, her voice tight with emotion. The dark haired man looked rather put out as he gazed down at Joan, voice suddenly icy.
"And why not?" He asked, accentuating every word.
"Dr...Dr. Battie died last night, sir, apoplexy. I was just meaning to call for a coroner when you arrived." She explained and the bald man swore loudly and the taller one sneered.
"Well, isn't that...convenient. I assume you will allow us to view the body, to extend our condolences of course."
Joan stood taller, her nostrils flaring in indignation. How dare he!
"I am not lying, if that is what you are getting at!" She huffed, leading them toward the kitchen to view the late Dr. Battie. "Here is your proof, you can keep your false condolences." She spat as the dark haired man bent down to inspect the doctor, affirming that he was in fact, quite dead.
"That captain will not like this," he muttered to himself, fingers stroking his mustache.
"Well, I suppose you might offer your captain condolences of my own. I cannot imagine what an inconvenience his death might have meant to her." Joan replied caustically and the man let out a mirthless laugh as the shorter man came further into the parlor. Joan's stomach dropped, the hair on her neck standing in warning.
"Oh, see that does present a problem." He said, a cold smile plastered on his face as he stepped closer. "A debt is owed to us...and that debt will be paid."
"Not by me," she said in warning, her back pressing against the table as she reached for something, anything she could use as a weapon.
"Well then, prey tell, just who? Because from where I see it, we are left with a rather sizable debt left unpaid and no surgeon to take care of our brave men." The dark haired man responded, rather testily as he appraised Joan. "I am quite sure, an enchanting figure such as yourself might soften the blow of losing our surgeon. The captain might rage, but the crew will be pleased."
Joan's mind raced, her heart thumping wildly through her chest as she fought to think of a way out of this situation.
"You shall have your surgeon," Joan insisted, her hands clutching around the teacup, wondering just how quickly she could break it and use the shards as a weapon. "Dr. Battie's apprentice."
"His apprentice?" The taller man asked, smoothing his hair in frustration. "His apprentice?"
"I assure you they are very good. Quite accomplished." Joan insisted. The man sucked his teeth in annoyance as the shorter once chuckled reached to run a finger along the rim of the teacup clutched in her hand.
"Well, where is he then? Should he not be, oh I don't know, apprenticing?!"
"He is running an errand, but should be back shortly. I can inform him of the change in positions."
"And of course he will be amenable to this." he replied sarcastically, laughing to himself in mock amusement. Nothing about this was funny at all! The captain had trusted him with this one job. Just the one! And now this happened.
"I assure you, he will. He would not dishonor Doctor Battie's memory by allowing him to default on a promise."
"I say we take the girl, the captain can sort out a surgeon later." the short one said.
"He will meet you at the port!" Joan insisted, "You have my word! The doctor's apprentice will be at that Port within the hour!"
Call it luck, or maybe the gentleman was simply too fed up to argue, but he relented, agreeing that the apprentice would be a sufficient substitute for Dr. Battie.
"But should he not be there, within the hour exactly...we know where to find you." The dark haired man said with a smile, leading himself to the front parlor.
"Of course," Joan nodded. "And what ship shall I tell him to be on?"
"The Ranger." he replied, shuffling the shorted man out the door. "And miss? Tell him not to be late."
"Yes, of course." She insisted, nodding and thanking them for their mercy as she shut the door, leaning heavily against it with a thud.
What had she done? She was the only apprentice Dr. Battie had and she highly doubted the ship would relent to having a women surgeon aboard! And when no apprentice came? What then? Would they come looking for her?
What had she done?!
A/N: Ok so first chapter, hope this was a good intro and has piqued your interest enough for the next chapter. More of the Ranger crew and Captain Vane next chapter! Please Review