More Tuesday FIC for you :)

James swiftly completed the bulk of the inventory and he now found himself standing outside the door to the again unlocked rum locker. He could, he knew, not go in at all. He’d seen it, just last night, and knew the rum provisions were low. How low, he didn’t know exactly, though, and he suspected Sparrow to be the type who’d want exact numbers, if only to be a pain in the arse. James took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and walked into the room.

He wandered among the shelves, taking quick stock of how many bottles were left. Not many, in fact. Less than a dozen, which was hardly enough for a crew of this size. The ale barrels were tapped low as well. He scratched a note on the paper he’d been given, then looked up to find himself standing before the shelving he and Jane had put to use the night before. He knew it was the very spot; he could see where her nails had scraped the wood, shallow gouges that matched the scratches on his back. He absently ran his fingers along the marks.

“Considering a career in carpentry, mate?”

For a split second, James thought the voice in his own head had returned, but then he realized there was someone else in the room with him. He turned his head to see Sparrow staring at him. Biting back a sudden urge to give the man a punch in the mouth, James merely said, “Captain,” and handed over the paper with the inventory numbers on it.

Jack barely glanced at it. “I’ve a new job for you, once we make land. But you’ll need time to prepare for it and something tells me you won’t like it.” A wicked glint sparkled in the pirate’s eyes and he grinned like a snake.

“How shocking,” James couldn’t help but snark.

“You know, James, there are some who might say one oughtn’t take such a tone with a superior officer. There are some who might say such a tone was evidence of insubordination and cause for the lash.”

“Indeed?” James found himself wondering if it was truly possible to hate someone quite this much, for the animosity he presently felt toward Jack Sparrow was surely a force that could rival gravity in both breadth and power. “Then I find myself for the second time in less than a day telling a crew member of The Black Pearl in this very room to stop threatening and get to it.”

Sparrow tilted his head. “Second time? Who else threatened ye?”

“I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn it was your Jane,” he smirked, emphasis on the possessive. “An excellent match, the pair of you. All swagger and no action.”

“She gave you plenty action, mate. Can’t deny that.”

James’ heart gave an involuntary start at Sparrow’s words. Had someone seen them, heard them last night? Good Christ, now she would kill him. “What…to what are you referring, Sparrow?”

“Why, the bandages you’re sporting on your arm and hand, James Norrington.” Jack took a few steps closer, carefully observing James’ blanched face. “What else could I have been referring to?”

James tried to play off his initial reaction. “I’ve seen more action when children play at pirates. Your woman is not so skilled as she thinks.”

“Oh, but she is, mate, and we both know it.” There was a vague, mostly unbelievable suspicion forming in Jack’s mind, so he took a chance. “ ‘Course, my knowledge is a bit more wide-ranging than yours, on that particular topic. Jane’s skilled action, that is.”

“So it would seem, Captain.” James teeth were gritted and he was again fighting the urge to send his fist crashing into Sparrow’s jaw. “I believe you said you had a job for me.”

Jack continued watching James’ face, searching for some kind of clue. James Norrington wouldn’t be the first, Jack reckoned, to have fallen hard, fast, and against his own better judgment for Jane’s dark eyes and darker heart. He’d seen it a dozen times, some poor noble bastard having gotten an eyeful of her and immediately he’d start thinking he’d be the one to break through her brutal exterior and stroke her soft white underbelly with his manicured hands. Every last one of them ended up with nothing but their hearts in their hands, a few almost literally. James had mettle, to be sure, and though Jack would never admit it out loud, he admired the man, in that singular way one admires their most worthy adversary. But mettle enough for Jane? Jack doubted it. And Jane would never allow it, not from him—of this, Jack felt certain. Poor sod, he thought to himself. He was almost moved to pity the fallen Commodore, if this indeed was the next twisted road the man would choose to walk. But then again, thought the pirate with a grin, it would certainly be a journey worth watching. “How’s your butlering?”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, that’s nice, that is.  Posh. Just throw a ‘sir’ on the end of it, and we’re dancing. Or ‘madam,’ as it were.” The pirate’s grin was maddening.

James took a deep breath, wondering if it was going to be possible to endure the next five minutes—much less the next Christ only knew how many days—without taking a shot at Sparrow’s smug face. “Would it be too much to ask you to clarify what the bloody hell you are talking about, sir?”

“We’re docking for provisions in a matter of hours,” Jack said. “And though I can’t figure why, there are those who are particular about whom they sell their goods to, no matter how shiny and numerous the coin. This particular dock, more so than most. It’s been our practice to send Jane, all prettied up in her finest clothes and finer accent, to play the lady and purchase our supplies. It all gets sent to a local tavern—a reputable one—where I’ve long had a special agreement with the landlady, and we load it overnight, under cover of darkness. But s’not seemly for a woman of means to be wandering a dockside market all by her onesies, so we send someone with her, to act as footman and guard.”

James let out a short laugh. “She needs a guard?”

“She needs whatever I tell you she needs, and don’t forget it,” Jack snapped, grin gone. “I won’t chance any harm coming to her, nor her causing any harm with her occasionally less than ladylike behavior, savvy? You’d be guarding the populace just as much as you’d be guarding her, perhaps more.”

“Sorry, who’d be guarding what?”

The grin returned. “You’re to keep an eye on our Jane. For however long it takes for her to get the provisions we need and return safe back to the Pearl.”

“Why me?” James asked, annoyed. “You’ve obviously had cause to deal with this prior to my arrival. What happened to the previous ‘butlers’? Wait – let me guess. She threatened to cut their throats for them and they refused to ever be alone with her again.”

Jack’s grin grew more sly. “You’ve not refused yet. Mayhap you’re a glutton for punishment. Or mayhap you’ve not yet had enough opportunity to be alone with her.”

“Why me?” he repeated, ignoring Jack’s comment and implication.

“Practical reasons,” Jack said. “You—of everyone on board save Elizabeth—have the most experience with the interaction between servant and master. So you’ll be able to play the part more convincingly, I suspect, than those who’ve never known that kind of life. You’re educated and you know a fair amount about provisioning a ship, so you can be of assistance to Jane in that regard.”

“As if she’d accept any assistance,” James muttered.

“I heard that,” Jack said, “And while I doubt she will request or require such assistance, as a Captain, I’m making the decision to send the extra knowledge along with her. Don’t overstep your bounds, Norrington—she’s already done this a fair few times and she won’t take kindly to being corrected or contradicted publicly. A slap across your face in public’d be the least of your worries, should you put her role as the lady of the house—or in this case ship—in question.”

“What else?” James asked.

“Get her back to the tavern—where you will begin the day under the guise of renting a room, all the better for delivery of the goods—in a timely manner, without incident. Enjoy yourselves a nice dinner. Wait for me to arrive and deal with the delivery particulars. Then it’s back on board and off we go. Simple enough.”

James sighed. “And have you told her yet who’s to accompany her on the ship’s errand?”

“I’ll tell her,” Jack said. “At the opportune moment. Meantime, clean yourself up—not too much, but more than you are now. There’s clothing in a trunk at the starboard end of the bunk room. Should fit you well enough, and with that beard and long hair, you should be unrecognizable. She’ll call you Taylor—not too common, not too unique, and hard to say whether it’s a first or last name. She’s Mrs. Birdman.”

James smirked, but his eyes were dark. “How clever.”

“I thought so,” Jack smirked right back. “By all means, if you find the moniker so distasteful, feel free to stick with my lady, madame, or mistress. Whatever trips most lightly from your tongue.”

Seething, James replied. “Fine. I’ll go prepare. If you’re finished with me, that is.”

“For now,” Jack said. “Be off with ye, then.” James left the room; Jack grabbed a bottle before heading out and locking the door behind him. It was time to tell Jane
********

The cabin was cramped with the tub in its center. But the day was already hot and humid so I took advantage of my limited time in the cool, clean water. Soap was in short supply. Indeed, it was only by my insistence that there was any on board at all, so soaking away the dirt and grime of long days at sea was more practical anyway. I used the last fragment of soap on my hair, which sorely needed it, and tried not to think about that bruise on my hip or the man who had left it there. Or how much I had enjoyed it. Being naked and alone and constantly touching my own body did not make that any easier.

After a while, after the water had turned grayish and tepid, I gave up and stepped out of the tub. I was wrapped in a large piece of flannel cloth (another acquisition got at my insistence, since most of my shipmates preferred to air dry. Loudly, publicly, and with great fanfare) and was standing before the mirror when a knock came at the door. “It’s open,” I said, finger combing my hair, trying to coax curls from the straight and stubborn locks.

It was Elizabeth. She entered with a trepidatious look on her face. “Jack told me to come and help you dress.”

“Him being more suited to undressing than dressing a lady,” I smart-arsed. “Come in and close the door then, and let’s get this over with so I can be back in comfortable clothes before the day ends.” I indicated the pile of finery on the bed. “Have a seat.”

She did so, and I opened a small wooden box. Inside were my only true concessions to maintaining my femininity on board ship: powder and a puff, rose-scented water and oil, my own stock of kohl and a deep red rouge, pins for my hair, and a tiny, costly bottle of ambergris. The last had been a gift from Jack, long ago; I normally carried it on me, in my coin pouch. “If you’re shy, allow me to extend my deepest apologies.” I dropped the cloth to begin my limited toilette.

Elizabeth let out a tiny sound of embarrassment but she responded only, “Lack of privacy on board ship makes shyness rather impractical.”

“Indeed,” I agreed, rubbing oil between my hands and applying it to my body, followed by powder. I turned to face her and said, “Is he torturing me, then?”

She looked confused. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Is there a corset in the pile of clothes?” I asked. “I didn’t look.”

She dug through and pulled out the whalebone nightmare. “There is.”

“God curse the day Jack Sparrow ever set foot in Singapore,” I proclaimed, “On behalf of all women ever to make his intimate acquaintance. Give me the damn thing, as if months on this ship don’t make me thin enough.”

“I don’t think it’s thinness he’s after,” Elizabeth said, handing me the corset.

I positioned the monstrosity and looked down at my own bosoms, which were now noticeably closer to my chin than they had previously been. “That’s for damn certain.” I attached what hooks I could, then braced myself against the wall of the cabin. “Do your worst, Miss Swann.”  She did, bless her aristocratic little heart, nearly cracking my ribs with the force she put into pulling the ties on the back of the corset. “Fuck,” I grunted. “You’re stronger than I would have thought.”

“That’s all due to Will,” she explained. “He took it upon himself to train me in swordplay, which strengthened my arms.” She placed a foot in the middle of my back. “Hold still so I can tie it.”

I laughed or at least tried to, as the breath was being squeezed out of me. “Hold still, she says, as if ‘twere even possible for me to move. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” When I felt her foot off my back, I turned to face her.

She shrugged in a non-committal manner. “Beats staring out to sea.” She handed me an underskirt, which I struggled into. As she stood behind me to tie that, she surprised me by saying, “I wish you’d be kinder to James.”

“I wish I was queen of the fairies,” I said. “Grand things, wishes. They mean fuck-all in the real world, of course.”

She helped me get the gown over my head. When my arms were trapped in the sleeves and therefore unable to get around her throat, she responded, “The world has treated him brutally enough, without you adding to it.”

I couldn’t keep back a laugh. “The world? That’s rich, that is. Everything that’s happened to him has been of his own doing, his own decisions. Save the parts that were your fault.”

She looked shocked. “That’s a terrible thing to say!”

“Oh my!” I exaggerated. “I recant then, don’t I? Except, wait a minute, no, I don’t. Don’t shirk your part in the grand Commodore’s downfall, Elizabeth. My sharpest knife couldn’t cut him as deeply as you did.”

She began lacing the back of the gown in small, rough increments, causing my body to jerk back and forth. “It was never my intention…”

“Watch what you’re doing!” I snapped. “Or I’ll break your pretty fingers. I don’t give a damn about your intentions. I am merely reminding you that you are not blameless—you used his feelings for you to get what you wanted, and there’s no denying it.”

I heard her sigh and felt her motions calm down. “Perhaps I did, But my intentions were good and I never meant him any harm, not really. James Norrington was—is—a fine man.”

“Just not as fine as your Will,” I smirked. “Or our fine Captain. You surprise me, Miss Swann—preparing to marry one of them and yet hardly above cozying up to the other in order to get what you want. Mayhap you’re not quite done with the former Commodore yet, either. Though I can’t imagine what he’d have left that would be of use to you.” I turned to face her, my hands on my hips.

Her face was beet red. “I just thought…,” she began in a strangled voice, “I just wanted to ask you to be a bit kinder to him.”

“And so you have,” I said. “Mission accomplished. So now I’m dressed and you’re penitent, and the day still young. One wonders what miracles and revelations the remaining hours will bring.” It’s possible I was laying it on a bit thick, but her words had annoyed me. Lucky for her, a knock sounded at the door before I could continue. “Come in!” I barked.

Jack entered, and my suspicion rose immediately thanks to the bottle in his hand and the wide, toothy grin on his face. “Fancy that,” he said. “Two pretty girls, me, and a bed. The perfect combination for my favorite game: how many bottles of rum will it take to make Jacky’s day?”

“Elizabeth was just leaving,” I said, looking sternly at the girl. She got up and headed wordlessly toward the door.

Jack watched her go. “Not leaving on my account, surely?”

“We’re all done here,” she said. “Aren’t we?”

“Quite done.” She left, and I turned to Jack. “Now what?”

“What what?” he said, sitting on the bed with that same grin. He put his legs up and leaned back against the makeshift headboard, then patted the mattress. “Ain’t she just lovely, all dolled up in the finest a poor pirate like meself can offer? Come sit beside me, Janie.”

I did as he requested. He threw an arm around my shoulders and drew me down against his chest. Naturally, I was suspicious. “What are you on about, Jack?”

He swigged from the bottle, then passed it to me. “We never…talk anymore.”

I laughed and sat up. “Oh, it must be a big one. You’ve either been a very bad boy, Jacky, or you’ve got it in mind to be a very good one. And since here I am, all dressed for an afternoon out rather than one in, it’s got to be the former. Let’s have it, then.”

“Funny you should mention your afternoon out,” he said, then gave me a wicked leer. “Unless, of course, you’d like to elucidate on that afternoon in.” He made a playful lunge for my skirts.

 I shifted out of his reach. “What about my afternoon out?”

“The way she looks at me with those suspicious eyes. It’s enough to make a poor sailor wonder what he’s ever done to deserve such treatment,” he tsked.

I moved back to the mirror and began applying my limited cosmetics. Light on the kohl, just enough for definition, and then the rouge for my cheeks and lips. “Out with it, Captain. Is it provisioning or pirating you’re after? I’m more than a touch overdressed for the latter, you realize.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “Let’s hope your footman carries his masquerade half as well as you.”

“Who’s it to be this time?” I asked, starting to pin up my hair. “Will Gibbs fill the role or do you need him on the ship?”

“No, not Gibbs.”

“One of the new boys, then.” I completed twisting my hair into a bun, then reached my hand back toward Jack. “Hat, please.”

He handed over a simple woman’s hat, well-kept and just out of fashion enough for a woman in this part of the world, where goods from the Continent could take months, even a year to arrive. As I began placing it, he said, “One could call him new, to be sure, but hardly a boy.” There was a pause. “The former Commodore will accompany you.”

“Like hell he will!” I rounded on Jack, very nearly beating him over the head with the hat before remembering it was the only one we had and therefore something we needed. I settled for rabbit-punching him in the thigh. “I won’t have it, Jack!”

He jumped up from the bed, with a bit of a stumble as he rubbed his smarting leg. “Aye, but you will. And I never should have taught you that punch.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t teach me garroting, you bastard,” I retorted. “Or I’d string you up with your own scarves! Why in hell would you send him with me? It’s enough to make a poor sailor wonder what she’s ever done to deserve such treatment!”

“Right. Number one, Captain.” He pointed to himself. “I’ll send you with Cotton’s parrot if I bloody well feel like it, and you’d not have a word to say about it. Number two, he’s the right choice for the job. He knows the role—he’s likely had a footman since he could crawl—and he knows how to provision a ship.”

“As if I don’t?” I was heartily insulted. “I managed well enough before he set foot on this vessel, and I’ll manage long after you’ve finally allowed me to throw him off of it!”

“No one’s ever questioned that, Janie,” he assured me. “And he’s been cautioned not to be the first. He knows what he’s supposed to do, and that’s take orders from you.”

“I’m certain he’ll just adore that,” I said sarcastically. “Send your sweet Elizabeth with him—let her return to her role as the lady of the manor. God knows,” I continued with a bitter laugh, “He’s well accustomed to doing whatever she tells him to.”

“You know how foolish that would be, or you would if you could see past your anger,” Jack chided. “All it would take would be one person to recognize her, and it’s all of us in the clink or worse.” He took the hat gently from my hands, speaking in a low voice to try and placate me. With one hand, he smoothed my hair, which had started to come undone. “We need you for this, Janie. I need you, and you know it. He’ll do what he’s told to do, and nothing more.” 

“And if he doesn’t?” I asked, calming down and allowing Jack to continue his ministrations.

”If he doesn’t,” he said as he placed the hat on my head, “I’ll hand you the lash meself.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a jeweled hat pin.

My practiced eye immediately recognized those weren’t paste jewels decorating the pin head. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this a bribe, Jack?”

He carefully pushed the pin through the hat and into the knot of hair underneath. “I prefer to think of it as a lovely thank you gift between mates. Just don’t sell the bloody thing. ‘Tis a mite warm, just now.” He turned me back to the mirror. “Ain’t she a lovely sight?” he asked with a smile.

“Ain’t she just?” I mocked, then stuck my tongue out at my own reflection. I took his arm and we both moved toward the door. “If he doesn’t do exactly what he’s supposed to do…”

“You can flay the skin from his bones, and then toss the bones to the dogs,” he nodded. “You can make a necklace from his eyes. Or his bollocks, if you prefer.”

“You’re patronizing me, Jacky.”

“Never.”