CHAPTER 36 - Just What the Doctor Ordered
(...picnic time!...)

"Mm-hm-hm...quit it, Jack...sleep more..." You snuggle into Jack’s side, burying your face in his tan chest as you place a limp hand over his face, attempting to stop his gently-tickling fingers.

"Uh-uh," he refuses, trailing light fingers up and down the skin of your bare back. You press your face more insistently into his warm skin, fighting his attempts to wake you up, his skilled musician’s fingers, and the sunlight pervading the dark sanctity of the room. It would figure that- half drunk and more than tired- neither you nor Jack would remember to close the curtains against such an intrusion.

Damn the light.

"Up, darling," he drawls once more, trying to rouse you. You feel the pressure of his lips upon your forehead and then on your eyelids as you smile sleepily. You bury your face out of his reach once more and gently bite his tan flesh. He chuckles at the sensation and pulls you half-over him, amused at your morning antics. "What an interesting way to wake up."

You blink sleepily and cradle your face in his neck, smirking smugly. "You taste good."

"Does that call for future love-bites then?" he asks hopefully.

You snort. The first few minutes you’re awake and already he’s at it. The past week, either due from energy-overload or the sheer attraction you felt for one-another, you and Jack have been the perfect example of the phrase ‘shagging like bunnies’. "Only if I knew it would hurt."

"Love you," he says, the grinning smirk apparent in his voice. Yes, he had a fiery one alright. You burrow closer to him as he captures your lips in a good-morning kiss that serves to fully rouse you.

"Mmm... I knew there was a reason I love you..."

He caresses your skin as he looks affronted, a rascally glint in his eye. "Just one? Well I’d better see to it that you have quite a few more reasons, eh?"

He flips you onto your back, trapping you with a roguish grin as he gives you several ecstasy-laden reasons more, turning an early waking to a most late rising. So much for getting an early start on the day...

* * * *

"...and a bottle of wine- and rum for you, Sparrow- along with a loaf of bread and some ginger-cakes. And it’s a hot day, so use your parasols-"

"We know, Mayma!" Elise’s voice rang out.

"Alright then, you young ’uns get goin’ for your picnic. And you two-" Mayma eyed Roberts and Jack, "behave yourselves. I ain’t tending to over-exerted girls on your part."

You blush as Elise rolls her eyes. This picnic had been Mayma’s ‘great revelation’ over a late breakfast to get all of you out of the Velvet House. She wanted Elise to have a break from her training as appointed scion, and she thought you could use a healthy dose of sunshine and fresh air. So a picnic in the island’s lush jungle was just the ticket.

"It’s alright, Mayma, they’re in good hands," Roberts says with a smirk.

"It’s those hands I’m worried about. Now go have fun," she says, shooing the four of you out of the back of the house and towards the jungle, Roberts carrying the picnic basket, you and Elise sporting parasols as Betsy comes click-click-clicking down the hall, her yips and barks following you. Mayma eyes Jack as you wave. "Not -too- much fun, Sparrow."

"Ah, Mayma, how you wound me!" he says dramatically, throwing a hand over his heart as you giggle.

"Yeah yeah. Now get out of here, you rascal!"

Jack grabs your bum as you shriek and smack at him, Elise and Roberts bringing up the rear and talking about something of ships, while Mayma grins and calls Betsy back inside, the yipping dog gaily following at your heels. The sun was shining, the air was clean, and the sounds of the verdant jungle are like music to your ears.

* * * *

"I swear if get bitten by one more mosquito...!" You swear as you smack at another bug on your arm, frowning at Jack for trying his ‘shortcut’. He smiles sheepishly and obligingly holds your parasol as you fix your hair into a style not so heat-trapping. It had gotten longer in the time you’ve been here, and it was near tempting to take Jack’s knife right off him and chop it off so you could be cooler, even with the shade of the trees. But then there was the fact that Jack loved running his fingers through it, and you loved the way it felt, so-

"Ow! Dammit Jack! I swear if we’re not there soon...!" you threaten, having been scraped by a branch this time instead of eaten alive by mosquitoes. With your luck you’d get stung by something, attacked by squirrels or some other type of tree-dwelling animal, and then finish up with being struck by lightning. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the day in the tropical friggin’ jungle- Fate didn’t seem to mind at all with your discomfort.

"It’s quite a place, darling, you’ll enjoy it, I promise," he says with a smirk, leading on as yet another branch attacks you.

"GAHHH!" you shout frustratedly, attacking and shredding the bush as Jack has the nerve to snicker. You glare at him once more, deciding some revenge was to be planned for your dearest love.

"Come now, love. I don’t hear Elise or Roberts complaining," he says to purposely rile you. He figured that if you were at least concentrating on being frustrated with him, then you wouldn’t pay so much attention to the heat and bugs, which were getting to be as big an annoyance to him as they were to you. But just a little further and you’d be free of both... bloody insects...

You turn around to get Elise to back you up on the matter, only to see that she nor Roberts is behind you. You stop and turn all about. "Jack, we lost Elise and Roberts," you inform him.

He looks about pensively. "Huh..."

"Well...?"

"What?"

"Shouldn’t we find them?"

"Elise can take care of herself, and anything in this jungle wouldn’t be crazy enough to tangle with Roberts, armed or otherwise," he says, a knowing smirk on his face.

"But shouldn’t we at least look?" you ask, trying to see back around the path and a corner you’d since come across. Plus, didn’t Roberts have the picnic basket with him? What about your lunch?

"They’re fine, trust me." That grin on his face could melt a bronze statue, but you don’t feel right just leaving them. This was the jungle, not an amusement park, and it would be much harder to find each other than not.

You stick your parasol into the ground a moment. "I’ll be right back," you say as Jack looks at you with exasperation.

"They’re fine, love!"

You walk the few paces back on the makeshift path and no sign. You look back at Jack, who raises an eyebrow as you shrug, going back around the corner.

You find them rather easily, not even around the full corner. And Jack was right, they were fine. As fine as fine could be, actually. Elise had Roberts pinned against a tree, kissing him deeply, her hands against the side of his face, as you turn the other way and go back, deciding that they were indeed absolutely fine.

"Nothing?" Jack asks with a grin as you appear back before him on the path.

"You’re right, they’re fine." You grab your parasol back up and start back on the path.

"So you found them?" he asks knowingly, loving the way the color rises into your cheeks. He gives you an affectionate pat and gives you a kiss before taking your hand once more and leading you the rest of the way to his special clearing. And you must admit it was much worth the bug-ridden bush-attacks you’d had to endure.

The sight was breathtaking. A large waterfall no artisan could re-create gushed crystal-clear water into a blue pool some thirty feet below, surrounded by lush green foliage and tropical flowers you’d never seen before. Pinks and greens and vibrant colors dance before your eyes, taking your breath away. It made you gasp with the majesty of it all.

"Like it?" Jack asks with trepidation. He takes your awed silence for a yes, and takes a seat on the ground, enjoying the cool breeze and spray from the falls. "Much better than the heat and bugs, eh?"

You come to stand before him with a grin, and sit in his lap facing him, most pleased with this surprise.

"I take it you’re pleased?" You smirk and take his face in your hands, kissing -him- to distraction for once as he wraps his arms around you. He messes with the ties and such on your airy dress, kissing you inquisitively, gently, slowly, probing your mouth with his skillful tongue.

You sigh as he strokes the back of your thighs beneath your dress and turns you over so that you’re laying comfortably on the soft ground. He leans over you and grins, kissing you once softly as he greedily gazes at you.

"Mm... so beautiful..." he strokes your face and hair with lavish attention, loving the way it splays beneath you as he views you from above. "I’m going to have to keep you especially well-guarded, darling. Any man that gets an eye-full of you will be tryin’ to steal you from my very arms."

"I guess you’ll have to hold onto me extra tightly, then," you say with a smirk as he does just that, lifting you into his arms and performing such ravishment on your lips you’re surprised you don’t faint. Suffice it to say, he leaves you quite breathless.

"I want to show you something else," he says as he lifts you to your feet, dazedly standing next to him.

"I want to see it," you say with a wicked smirk as he grins smugly right back at you. You were getting quite witty in the innuendo department. If he wasn’t careful, it’d be -you- getting the drop on -him- from now on.

He takes your hand and leads you around the perimeter of the sparkling pool towards the waterfall. With a smug look he takes you behind some fronds and through a well-bushed area, smirking in obvious amusement to himself. Whatever it is he’s showing you, he seems damn proud of himself about it. By the time you maneuver through the thick growths, he stops and tells you to close your eyes.

You cock your head in curiosity, a wry grin on your face as he asks you to comply. You close your eyes in concession, acutely aware of everything around you; the sounds of rushing water, the water-cooled breeze rustling through the trees, and the noise of the small animals calling the jungle their home. You hear Jack moving about in the bushes, and it makes you anxious, wondering exactly what he’s got on mind.

"Keep ‘em closed," he says as he takes your hand once more, keeping you close as you notice the ground beneath your feet becoming more and more soft, the smells more and more damp as the sound of water becomes consuming. "Okay, love, open ‘em."

You open your eyes to a seemingly new world as thousands upon thousands of gallons of water rush past your face, seeing the outside world from behind the waterfall.

"Oh, Jack!" Your voice echoes off the mossy walls and is lost to the roaring of the falls. The outside world is distorted by the clear, flowing wall before you, sunlight making crystal shimmers on the moss inlaid walls. It’s one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen.

"So you like my little secret?" Jack asks as he puts his arms around your shoulders, his chin in your neck watching the falls.

"It’s so beautiful, Jack," you state simply, overcome by a sudden sense of euphoria.

"I’m glad you like it."

He holds you as you marvel at the beauty of it, and still when you come to sit on the ground together quietly, enjoying each other’s warmth and company in the cool shadows of the falls.

"I love you," you whisper, leaning against him as you watch the world through aquatic eyes.

"Love you, too," he says, pressing his lips to your forehead, entwining his fingers with yours.

"I never want to leave you, Jack Sparrow."

"And I won’t leave you. Ever."

"Good," you say with a smirk, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing its back. It’s awhile you stay like that, not talking but not needing to, just enjoying the connection you share and feeling the deeper love flowing through you.

Never-mindful of the lovely moment, your stomach’s grumbling breaks the silence as you curse yourself for not eating more at breakfast.

"Hungry?" Jack asks with a grin.

"So you can hear that, huh?"

"Aye." He gets up from the ground in his characteristic unsteady way and looks at you smugly. "I know Roberts has the food basket, but if you’ve no aversion to the fruit on this island, I might have a little something for ye."

"My dear pirate how very resourceful you are!" He feigns a frown at your poking fun, but grins anyway and ducks out of the cave. "Be right back!"

You smile to yourself, pleased that he’d go to lengths to get you something, and also delighted at the unwavering magnificence of the waterfall you’re behind. Truly, Jack knows how to please.

You muse to yourself for awhile at just how happy you are, even with all the impossibility of it. You’re madly in love with Jack, your constantly half-inebriated pirate lover, in a completely different world from the one you’re used to, with no clue if you’ll ever see home again or the people in it, but you’re sure that as long as you have Jack, you’ll always be happy, and although you’re not quite sure what the future holds for you and your beloved, you know that any sort of future life with Jack is one worth living.

"Jack?" you ask as a rustling sounds from the shrubs makes its way to your ears. "Jack," you say a little louder, getting to your feet to try and see him, but nothing is there. "Jack if you’re playing some sort of kinky game with me..." you yell with what’s supposed to be warning, but comes out sounding more a request.

"Jack!" you shout again as you try to get his attention, stepping towards the exit he left through in assumption it’s the way out. You think for a moment, deciding what to do next as the rustling comes again. You’re quite sure it’s not him playing games. "Jack, you’re freaking me out, now come out!"

The rustling you heard turns into rushing as whoever, or whatever, breaks haphazardly through the brush, leaves rustling and sticks snapping causing you to scream with fright, your cry echoing out of the cave and carrying through the jungle.

"___?" Jack scuttles down the tree he’d been in, dropping the mangos and unsheathing his sword as he moves back quickly yet stealthily to where he’d left you, cursing himself for leaving you, albeit in a place he’d thought secret to all but himself, regardless of the different things lurking in the jungle itself. Apparently not.

He comes to the edge of the falls and listens through their roaring, making out gasps and low whining. There’s no way for him to get into the cave without being seen, so he decides an ambush is the only advantage he has. Whoever it is must be good to have followed them through his ‘shortcut’. And this is the one chance at surprise he has.

Bursting through the underbrush with a beastly shout, he rushes into the cave but stops short once inside, finding a most contrary sight to what he’d expected.

"Betsy?!"

"Jack you scared the crap out of me!" you shout with wide eyes, holding Betsy around the scruff of her neck.

"I thought you were attacked..." he says, sheathing his sword. "I heard you scream."

"Well, with you and Betsy rushing me out of nowhere I think I’m entitled to scream. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a heart-attack, either!" He grabs you suddenly and pulls you to him, kissing your cheek and inspecting you once over, pulling you to him once more. "Jack?"

"I didn’t like hearin’ that, love... chilled me bones..."

You bring his head to your breast, hugging him with love and reassurance. You thread a hand beneathe his shirt and slide it up his back, resting your arm beneathe the fabric for needed contact and comfort, your cheek to his forehead in a loving gesture.

"I love you dearly, ___," he says, all sincerity in his voice hitting home to your heart.

"Oh, I love you," you say, removing your arm from his shirt and taking his face in your hands, kissing him in conveyance of words. You put your forehead to his and hook your arms under his own, grasping his shoulders as you hug him tightly.

Something is bumping against your shin, and you look down to see Betsy’s face looking up at you with that sad dog-smile, whining as she begs for a pet.

"Mutt," Jack says with disappointed affection, bending to stroke her under the chin. "Tracked us down."

"Will Mayma be missing her?" you ask, delicately avoiding anything else but the topic at hand.

"Aye. Probably tearing up the house looking for her, eh, doggie?" Jack says with a smirk, standing straight and patting his side for Betsy to jump up for more head scratches. She stretches against him and yawns, one happy puppy.

You stroke her fur, noticing how her white coat is dirt-muddled. You grin. The dog won’t hear the end of it from her mistress.

He steps back and allows Betsy to sniff about the cave for a bit, watching her pensively, obviously in his own world. You slowly entwine your fingers with his, laying your head on his shoulder and your arm across his waist, the action eventually leading you to be fully in his arms once more. It’s not long before you’re so caught up in each other that it’s only Betsy’s barks and rushing at some bird out of the sparkling cave that breaks you apart.

You sigh contentedly as he holds you firmly against him, watching the white dog run happily out of the cave. You touch your passion-bruised lips, marveling at the man before you. Oh how you loved him.

"Let’s get her back," Jack says wistfully at his fun being ruined. You grin and agree, following the dog’s loud, uppity trail (which isn’t very hard) back through the brush and around the crystalline lake. "Shall we follow our doggy-leader, my love?"

"Sure," you laugh, gripping his hand as you follow Betsy’s random trail in the direction of the house. "But no shortcuts this time!"

"Want a little more time alone, eh?" he asks, turning you impishly and holding you close.

"Well, yeah," you giggle. "But I’m in no mood to be eaten alive by any more mosquitoes! I swear if I get malaria or scarlet- or yellow-fever I’m going to be one very pissed off woman," you say in a put-on tone of warning.

"What’s that have to do with mosquitoes?"

"That’s how it’s spread," you say matter-of-factly, a sudden realization hitting you. Damn. There was a -lot- of things still undiscovered, weren’t there? Better watch out for your own health and safety, then. Watch out for his as well.

"Oh," Jack says as if it’s common knowledge he’d just somehow forgotten. He grins after a moment and rubs your arm. "Won’t happen."

"What?"

"You’ll be safe from anything biting you, darling... Well, maybe not me, but the insects at least," he assures with a roguish grin.

"Oh really?" you ask with disbelief at his cocky confidence. "And how would you know that, sir pirate?"

"Simple." You stand silent, awaiting his grand deduction. "The rum puts the bugs off," he says with a drawl, kissing you a moment. "I’ve had more than enough for the both of us, but you...Better stop so we can rum you up a bit," he says, wanting to ‘rum you up’ by way of kissing the daylights out of you. You grin and smack at him, looking into his playful eyes.

"Has that been scientifically proven?" you ask in jest.

"One of rum’s many hidden qualities. Better safe than sorry," he says with a smirk, and kisses you once more, delaying your ETA by about twenty of the most blissful minutes one could want.

* * * *

"You expect me to pay such an exorbitant price for something obviously of less than goodly quality?!"

You were at the docks with Jack, bargaining with a merchant over rum after having taken Betsy back to Mayma. Jack had proclaimed that, sadly, Roberts and Elise had been tragically lost together in the jungle, and he informed Mayma (through a barely contained smile) that he couldn’t think of a thing for them to do about it except wait for rescue and somehow entertain themselves as time passed. So very tragic, Jack had said.

Of course, his little dialogue had earned him a prompt smack upside the head from Mayma, the woman in a less than agreeable mood after her currently brown dog had run rampant through the entrance doors and in her excitement scared away two customers, dirtied an expensive Persian carpet, and tracked dirt all through the house. So a few ship’s chores were just what the doctor ordered to escape Mayma’s wrath.

You grin at the rum-merchant. "You picked the wrong man to swindle, buddy. Jack knows all there is to know about rum, so I suggest you give him a good deal."

"Alright alright! Four for the lot-"

"Two!"

"Three and I’ll throw in a scarf for the lady."

"Done."

You smirk. You’re not sure of the rate of exchange for money yet, but you’re positive Jack had gotten a good deal. You raise your parasol over your head, blocking out the sun as you fan yourself with your hand. You’d give anything to be back at that beautiful pool right now. It was so damn hot it would be lovely for a swim. But then it would require that bloody trek through the jungle to get there...Where was air-conditioning when you needed it?

You put your index and middle finger to your temple, massaging slightly at the throbbing annoyance of the situation. Jack smirks and comes close to you, whispering in your ear that he’d gotten "a bloody good bargain".

You’re happy for him, knowing your love would be pleasantly drunker than anything soon enough (regardless if he claimed it was for the ship’s stock) but you’re hardly interested in rum right now.

"What I wouldn’t give for a frozen lemonade," you mutter, watching the merchant shout things to his crew and make further arrangements with Jack ("Will it be for here, or to go?" you muse). You lean against a side-post of the dock, hoping and wishing for shade.

You exhale and breath in deeply the scents of the pure sea, feeling the waves hitting the wood of the dock and moving the jetty slightly back and forth, making you sway against the wood. It confuses you slightly when you see Jack look back at you with a triumphant grin, and his smile suddenly changes to one of alarm as your line of vision suddenly changes from vertical to horizontal, your world blackening with the heat upon your body as you fall into the cool sea.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 37 - An Old Man And an Evil Plan
(...anticipation...)

Devilish eyes watched from a secluded hiding place outside the Velvet House as a damp Jack Sparrow was to be seen bringing a limp, half-conscious and equally damp woman into the grand old mansion on the back of a brown mare. He was almost careless in his haste and distress to get her inside, and it made those secretive, watchful eyes all the more eager and excited, vigilantly watching and planning while awaiting their chance to act.

* * * *

Jack was pacing back and forth outside the bedroom door having been thrice removed from the room for his harassment of the doctor therein. Seeing you pass unconscious into the water had frightened him, and when he removed that damn suffocating corset from your body and you still hadn’t properly roused, he’d brought you straight to the house, a doctor coming round by word of the rum merchant.

Mayma was in the room with you and the doctor, giving him orders and trying to rouse you properly when Jack was sent out once more after the second death-threat to the doctor. It was killing him to be out there, worrying if his foolish shortcut through the jungle was your downfall, dreading the possibility that you’d been struck down by malaria. What could he possibly do then?

His attention suddenly grabbed by the clicking of the doorhandle, Mayma comes out quickly, sweeping past him in a swift flurry with the doctor exiting moments later.

"Is she alright?!" Jack demands impatiently. The doctor regards him with a slight frown as he adjusts his glasses, as if offended by Jack’s person. Or quite possibly the rum-odor coming off him. Afterall, he was terribly frazzled, and the rum -was- in great supply...

"I’m sorry, son, but it’s not my place to-"

"Is. She. Alright?!?!" he demands once more, anxiety filling him to the brim with affirmation of the worst.

The old doctor doesn’t try to hide his irritation, both at Jack and at being in such an establishment, and removes himself from Jack’s penetrating glance. "She wanted to tell you herself. We decided it was not my place." Jack looks torn between indecision as he looks from the agitating doctor to the bedroom door. The doctor regards him with a quirked eyebrow. "You her husband?"

"Not really," he replies, a stern look on the older man’s face.

"I didn’t think so." He gives Jack a look as he mutters to himself. "...a place like this...these women...dirty habits...no wonder..." Without a second glance, he takes his leave, muttering about "such a business" and "such a place" as he descends the stairs leaving Jack to wonder if the man had been an uptight priest in another life. There’s a loud yell and barking, following many a variety of curses as he’s left alone in the scarlet hall.

Jack twirls his fingers a few times, itching to enter the room, but frightened of the consequences. He paces for a few moments, but unable to stand the tension any longer, he enters the room quietly, slowly, peeking his head into the sun-lit chamber to see you lying in the large bed, a look of pallor on your face and a smile as you catch sight of him.

"Hello, Jack..." You smile at his tentative steps as he closes the door and saunters slowly over to the bed, bending down on one knee as he kneels in anxiety by your side.

"How do you feel?"

"Spiffy. And yourself?" Your attempt at joke does nothing for his resolve, and all he manages is a bland smile, looking into your eyes with his deep brown orbs filled with worry. Worry and guilt.

"Are you...What did the doctor say?"

"He said I passed out because I’m on my way to dehydration. And the heat. And the tightness of my corset."

"Those things are bloody killers..." he mutters. You smirk. "But you’re alright? Nothing else is wrong?"

"Well, that’s not just it..." Jack’s face falls as he comes closer, his eyes searching your face as he slips a hand behind your neck, a strange fear in his eyes.

"What is it, darling?"

You look away, unable to meet his eyes or intense look. Those eyes speak the world to you, and the dread within them shakes even your resolve. You lower your gaze slightly, almost wishing you’d went ahead and let that bloody doctor tell Jack instead of leaving it up to you. Right now you were feeling quite the bloody coward.

"Jack it’s that...I..." You bite your lip as your eyes slightly tear up. This has got to be one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to tell anyone, and the anxiety building in you is maddening. And while you love Jack, it’s difficult to say...

"Oh god love, what is it?" he asks as he takes your hand, caressing your cheek with his forefinger.

"What...what do you think of children?"

"What does that have to do with any--" Jack’s face visibly blanks for a moment as the wheels are a turnin’. A sort of smirky-grimace is on his face, eyes betraying more than he means. "Are...are you saying you’re pregnant?" You just look at him as he looks around a moment, and then back to your eyes, an invariably growing smile of pleasure on his face. "Are you really--Am I’m going to be a father?" The inexorable grin on his face is contagious as you find yourself smiling too, nodding in affirmation. "My god! I’m--I’m going to be a father!" he says fervently, kissing you once as you smirk. He jumps up, bending down to you and repeating the happy information with kisses before he quickly zips across the room, nearly tripping over shoes, to fling open the door and yelling at the top of his lungs:

"I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER!!!"

You grin as he flees the room, hearing him shouting the news the whole way down the stairs before a fumbling and barking are heard amid his joyous shouts. You sit up more in bed, getting comfortable as you hear his stair-skipping footsteps running back up. Seeing him out of breath and with that grin on his face pleases you to no extent as he stands in the doorway, looking at you with all the wonder and delight as a kid at Christmas.

He shuts the door behind him as he strides back to you and the bed, taking your hands in his as he sits next to you, the widest grin imaginable on his face. "I’m going to be a father."

You giggle at his mirth, feeling the euphoria fill you just the same. "I take it you’re pleased?" you tease as he smiles so pleasantly, an unimaginable joy in his eyes and delight that he hardly knows what to do with himself.

"Love, you’re full of so many surprises, but this-! I love you so much! This is the best present you could ever give me!"

Tears roll down your cheeks as he’s momentarily flabbergasted. "___? You’re not upset, darling?"

"No, I’m just so happy," you say with a grin as you wipe your eyes.

He grins with a wildly pleased gleam, the mirth in no way or form absent his own. He kisses your whole face, then nuzzles you as he embraces you gently. "I get two of you, now," he says with euphoric recall, one hand grasping yours, the other laying across your belly. "I’m the luckiest man alive."

You giggle as he kisses your knuckles, splaying his fingers across your abdomen. "I’m so glad you’re pleased. I was worried that..."

He gives you a wry look, joy still swimming in his eyes. "Darling, I love you more than life itself. And now this...You can’t say I haven’t been trying." He smirks as you give him an astonished, toothy grin, playfully giving him a smack.

"Is that what we call it now, eh?" you ask playfully as he nuzzles you affectionately.

"Oh I love you...love you, love you, love you..." he repeats softly, kissing you sweetly in zealous appreciation. "Mmm...You’re going to be a wonderful mother. I can’t wait for that...I’m going to be a father!"

"The doctor said I’m already two weeks along," you say with a smirk, placing your hand over his on your belly.

"Already!?" he says with surprise, looking at your belly with wonder.

You grin and giggle to yourself. "And to think, two weeks of extra love-making for nothing..."

He laughs and pulls you onto his lap, encircling his arms about you and holding you dearly to him. "This kid’ll be a quick one, that’s certain, what with his mother’s sharp wit."

"He? What makes you think it won’t be a girl?"

"Well how would a ship crewed by girl-children look to the other captains, eh?"

"Crew?! You want that many children?!" you ask with amused astonishment. He grins and kisses you with a smirk.

"O, aye. I want loads and loads," he says mirthfully, patting your belly gently. "I could never have too many little ones from you running about, love."

"If that’s the case, you’ll be having a few of them yourself," you laugh. He gives you a quizzical look, kissing the bridge of your nose.

"That’s fine. But you say already two weeks in? I think we ought to make this lad some brothers and sisters to play with, then," he says with a roguish grin which tells you exactly of his intentions.

And you thought telling him was going to be so hard.

* * * *

There’s a huge party that night, like something out of a dream. Fireworks whiz through the air above the mansion like brilliant falling stars. Warm lights and music fill the air as rum and exotic wines flow like honey down the throats of the dancing and fun-loving patrons. It seems the entire port is there to wish well on the behalf of the pending arrival, if not to sample some of the fun and decadence to be had at the profuse expense of the luxury of the Velvet House.

Jack’s pride and pure euphoria is as clear to see as that of Mayma’s happily flushed face, not having had this much fun since the days of her youth. The forthcoming addition to his little family has Jack in spirits he’d thought incapable of reaching without dunking himself headlong into a vat of Caribbean rum. And he can’t readily recall a time that he’d ever been as happy.

The lights and the sounds and you by his side are enough to make him burst with pure ardor. Drunk on a sense of happiness so profound he’s sure he’s been deceived by rum all these years, he shows you off to everyone, especially his crew, in his passion and fervor that in a short while, he’ll be a father, and that you’ll be the beauteous mother of his child.

"Right lucky you are, Cap. She’s one in a mil’, she is."

"Don’ tell ‘im tha’! He’s gone an’ sired an heir what to really boss us around!"

"And if he’s got a mind in him, he’ll have a few more what to take over yer jobs, lads!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it! Another round, Cap’n?"

You smirk in pleasure as Jack’s crew gives him a hard time, all in good fun. After initial well-wishing by your girlfriends in the brothel and Elise and Roberts, Mayma had swooped down upon you, demanded to throw you a soiree, and given you such a present of finery and odds in a golden sea chest that you nearly wept at their loving grace. And although you knew a small percentage of the guests in the house, everyone wished you and Jack well on your first and many more to come!

"Oh ___!" Mayma says grandly as she comes up behind you and Jack, rescuing you from Jack’s possessive arm that had been proudly snug about your waist the whole night. "I want you to meet Penny Padworth!" She takes your arm and steals you from Jack, who looks highly affronted and not at all about to compromise his letting you go. "Release her a moment, Sparrow! She’ll still be pregnant and head-over-hips for you when she comes back!"

"Can I have that in writing?!" he asks as she slips you from him, a warm grin from you as he frowns at her thievery.

"___, this is Penny Padworth!" Mayma gestures grandly, a testament to the fact that she’d been enjoying herself a bit -too- much, showing you to an auburn haired woman a few years your senior. "Penny’s brought more children into this world than I care to think possible, so I thought she’d like ta give ya a few pieces of advice. She knows all there is about children!" Mayma’s proud smile causes you a moment of laughter, her merriment more than influenced by the abundance of champagne.

"You’re a midwife?"

"Oh no!" the woman says with a laugh. "Mayma’s a bit- well, you see the fine drinks she’s supplied." The woman smiles as you giggle. "I have twelve children, is what she meant. I’ve been through the birthing process many times and lived through all twelve."

Your face betrays the obvious astonishment looking at the petite woman before you. "Twelve?!"

"My husband keeps me busy," she says with a laugh, indicating a handsome man by the stairs playing cards with a group of Jack’s mates. "And knowing Jack Sparrow, I think you could benefit from a bit of advice."

"He wants a crew."

She laughs at your point-blank statement, and pats your hand consolingly with a giggle. "Andrew wanted a battalion." She goes on to tell you a few things to make your first child easier, telling you of lovely teas and comfortable positions to sleep, and to have your doctor close by, if not having a live-in midwife in your home. Good in case anything goes wrong. Little to say, when she’s done with you, you’re a lot more frightened of this whole process than you’d originally thought.

You make your way back through the crowd to Jack slowly, well-wishers never in short supply, when you’re stopped by a comely man in hat and coat, looking as if he’d had his fill of the party.

He smiles and bows politely, a right sort more mannerly than the rest of the fun-loving crowd. "Are you the woman? The one who carries Jack Sparrow’s child?"

"Yes I am," you answer the abundantly-asked question proudly, meeting his intense gaze as you look towards your love of the world. "We’re very excited about this."

"Everyone is," he says as Gibbs comes up right behind him, clasping an arm about his shoulder.

"Congratulations lass!" he slurs happily. "Is this a great chap, or what?" You frown with a smile at the entrapped man.

"He only says that because he’s bankrupted me," the man elaborates as Gibbs gives him a happy pat.

"I guess yer not as lucky with the cards as ye claimed to be, mate!"

"It was only a few bits."

Gibbs chuckles to himself as you smirk. He’s obviously had one too many. "’Twas enough t’ruin you, mate!"

"And now I must go to recoup my losses. Good luck to you, miss," he says as he kisses your hand politely, a tip of his hat, and a perfunctory nod in Gibbs’ inebriated direction.

Gibbs happily bows to you as he takes up his spot with the gamblers. You laugh as you work your way back through the dense crowd to your dearest love, swearing you’ve already been greeted by the same drunken person at least three times, when you decide that Mayma’s little party is a huge success.

You smile as Jack catches your eye and extends his hand to draw you back to his arms. "Knew you couldn’t stay away for long," he slurs happily as he kisses your brow.

"Jack..." you start, voice rising with anxiety. "This...This is a really big deal, and I-I don’t really- I don’t know anything about having babies! There’s no hospitals here, no anesthetics--! And there’s so much that can go wrong and- and Penny Padworth over there told me that--!"

"You’ll be wonderful, love! Here," he says, handing you his glass of rum, "it’ll calm your nerves, darling."

"Jack! I can’t have that!" you cry while pushing it back.

"And why not?"

You exasperatedly gesture towards your belly with wide, anxious eyes. It takes him a moment until the two thoughts connect in his muddled brain.

"AH! None for you, love!!" he cries with realization, whisking the glass away from you and pushing it far from your possible reach as if it’d been your idea. You smile half-heartedly at his attempt to keep you- and the baby- safe from rum.

"Jaa-aack."

"No love. Forget everything I told you about rum’s allure."

"Jack!" You grab him and turn him from his mates as you look right into his eyes, emotions far different than the partying spirit rushing through you.

He sees your anxiety despite the rum running through his veins. He smiles and strokes your hair. "I won’t let anything bad happen to you, ___," he says, palming your belly as you smile uncertainly.

"This is way bigger than I thought it was, Jack. I’m scared," you tell him as loud, jocular laughter comes from Gibbs and his circle of gaming. "I mean, a baby! Can we even do this?!"

"Are you having second thoughts?" he asks with a quirk of an eyebrow, his deep brown eyes very serious despite his otherwise drunken demeanor.

"...No...But I am scared. I never thought of having my children...here."

"Darling, I’ll take you anywhere to birth our children if you don’t like it here, but I’m sure Mayma would-"

"No, not -here-. I mean here," you say gesturing widely, indicating the entire place, time, and entirely different world from the one you’re used to. "There’s no ER’s or phones or ambulances or any of the modern doctors or anything that I -know- and I’m scared something could happen to us or go wrong..." You clench your eyes shut a painful, realizing moment as you feel his fingers under your chin, a soft kiss on the side of your lips.

"With you I could take over the entire ocean, darling, and having this little one couldn’t be much more difficult than that." You smile and he fetches you back into his arms, lifting your spirits and his glass in a toast to you that soon has the entire party cheering you and imbibing even more alcohol.

You start having a better time as Jack keeps reassuring you that everything will be fine, and Elise relinquishes herself from Roberts to enthuse you about the baby once more, thinking of cute baby clothes and carriages and other things that you’ll get to have fun with once the baby arrives.

"And those dresses that arrived today will have to be re-sized, of course. Better enjoy them while you can, because once you get more...uh..."

"Fat?"

"Well, I wouldn’t say- Yes, okay, fat." You both laugh and she hugs you, wishing you well as Roberts steals her away once more, whispering something about making a family of their own as you smirk, a blush actually claiming her face.

"I hope you’ll still love me when I get fat, Jack, cuz you’re stuck with me," you laugh as he pulls you on his lap to nuzzle you affectionately.

"The idea of you large with my child thrills me to no end, ___."

"Just wait until the cravings hit and I have you going out at three AM to find me cookies and the like. I’d like to see you try and find peanut-butter fudge ice-cream at any time of day." His brow furrows as you laugh. "You’ve no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, pirate," you say with a smile, kissing his nose.

"I welcome the challenge," he states as his mates laugh.

"She’ll ‘ave you doing more goodly jobs than you can dole out to us, Cap’n!" one of his men say gleefully as his friends clink their glasses in drunken agreement.

"Like a regular cabin boy, no doubt!" There are hearty laughs that cause you to smile.

You smirk at Jack, in basic agreement with his crewmen, as he eyes them with an almost bored look. "That’s what you men are for, or didn’t you realize your contracts? Best enjoy your time now, gentlemen. You’ll be running around like a ship on fire before I’m through with you."

His statement effectively silences you as you wrap your arms about his shoulders in affectionate embrace, your enthusiasm about the baby rising once more. He was right. Everything would be fine. You didn’t have to worry about it tonight. This was the celebration party for your loving union, and you had all the time in the world to worry about your child’s future. As long as it was with Jack, you know life will turn out good.

And just think! A baby! A real baby! Your and Jack’s. Although you’re not the first person to ever have a baby, you certainly are scared, but the excitment is far greater. What a life! You, Jack, and a baby! It fills you with a crazy amount of glee, knowing you want this more than anything, and welcome it all the better.

Hours and countless barrels of rum later, the party is settling down in the early morning, the rowdy music down to a gentle hum and the voices to a slurred murmur. Everything is quieting. All except for the brawling Sarah, who still complains about the amount of scotch about the room. But everyone else is so drunk that even she seems the picture of sobriety in comparison.

Jack watches the sunrise with you from your bedroom window, one arm around you and the other resting on your belly, just standing silently with one another and drinking in your love. Sleep came soon after, ensconced in each other’s arms with the house finally silenced with the breaking morning. Guests in rooms, on couches, and lying on the floors were in drunken sleep and stupors, even the doorman Bertrum asleep against his backdoor post.

Some were in rooms, but most were just lying about propped up against one another on plants, tables, or the stairs for that matter. It would be one hell of a mess come morning, but knowing Mayma, she’d enlist the help of Jack’s drunken crew lying about the house. They had no idea what was in store for -them-.

But all in all, the party was a huge success, and everyone now knew that there would be an addition to the Sparrow family. An anxiously awaited, tiny arrival.

* * * *

"And what do we do about Sparrow?"

"Don’t lay a finger on him, idiot, or you’ll have the Captain to deal with. You all know the plan," the leader of the group affirmed.

"And the girl? How do we know it’s her?"

"Bring back anyone but her and you’ll answer to me personally. Now move, all of you. Be in and out quickly, and get her to the ship. Gag her with this," the leader says, handing a handkerchief to his men. "Have no one see you. I’ll do the rest."

His men move towards the Velvet House as he clears his throat in the morning air. "Make any mistakes, and I’ll flay you all myself. Now get going."

With that last command, the men move out silently, surrounding the house and entering as the man pens a letter.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 38 - Thievery and Sabotage
(...quick planning...)

You inhale deeply as you wake sleepily, heeding the call of nature. You smile pleasantly in remembrance of why you and Jack were fully clothed asleep on the top covers. Different, yes, but this too would definitely become a favorite way to sleep. Actually, any way you and Jack fell asleep was a favorite way. It just so happened that he looked deliciously sexy in or out of his clothes. You giggle. Although hardly a morning person, you’d love to watch many the beginning of a new day with Jack. Or starting your day with looking -at- him. Either way, it was all good. You place a kiss on his sleeping face with a smile as you maneuver yourself free from his arms.

"Mm-maffmm..." Jack mumbles in his sleep, trying to keep you as his captive.

You stroke his cheek as you give him a kiss. "Be right back," you whisper, wriggling out of his arms and sliding off the bed. You stand and have a light giggle as he gropes the bed looking for you, and you supply him with a pillow to cuddle for the time being.

You silently sneak out of the room and close the door on the bedroom.

"Good morning..."

You jump and shriek in surprise as Roberts makes his presence in the scarlet hall known. He puts a hand to his temple with scrunched eyes. He’s obviously suffering a hangover of the massive variety.

"Not so loud, please."

"Sorry, you scared me." You smirk at his expression, knowing the throbbing behind his eyes. "Too much to drink?"

"Or too little," he says with a grin as he makes his way down the stairs. "I’m to see if Sarah was merciless and left any scotch lyin’ about in the kitchen...Can’t be hungover if I’m still drunk." He smiles as you laugh lightly at his logic.

"Good luck," you say with a smirk, leaving yourself to the possession of the hall restroom.

You spend a few extra minutes to yourself inside, contemplating the enormity of your new condition. You’re both excited and terrified at the same moment. A baby was a life-long commitment and not something easily shouldered. And the birthing...You don’t even want to think about that. But while a large step, it was something you wanted to happen; something to see through, for both you and Jack. And regardless of the time and place, you’d be glad to raise your child anywhere as long as it was with Jack.

A noise coming from outside distracts you from your reverie. You leave the room and walk down the hall, wondering if the drunks were waking and experiencing the same sinister symptoms that Roberts was. Hopefully the cooks would be up soon; you’d like a bit of toast.

A grin claims your face as you head back to your room and sleeping pirate therein. Wonder if he’d care for a bit of a light morning assault and awaken to kisses?

A crack like a pistol reaches your ears, stopping your distracted mind as you peer at the stairs with misgiving.

"Roberts?" you call. You step tentatively onto the first step, looking down at the landing over the rails. Becoming a bit braver, you descend to that landing, calling him again while peering downstairs. Then a thought comes to you: he might be so hung-over that he might’ve hurt himself on the way down, big guy that he is. Lord knows the drink has different effects on different people.

"You alright?" you call, skipping steps to be on the second floor of the house. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and Roberts had become as much a friend to you as he was to Jack. Plus, you know Elise would have your ears if you didn’t at least check it out. You swiftly move about the second floor to the stairs that had the most direct route to the kitchens far below.

A loud crash accompanied by swearing and Roberts’ deep voice reaches your ears, and you hike up your skirts and rush towards it with all urgency, forgoing the stair-steps and sliding down the banister to land with a running thump. Noises like someone trying to wade through a sea of pots and pans reaches your ears, and you open the kitchen door with a hard shove to gasp with fright.

"Go! Hide, ___!" Roberts commands with coarse tones, slumped against a wall and holding his side.

"Gods what happened to you?!" you shriek seeing thick red trailing through his clasped fingers. You try to get to him, pushing the door more open as he chucks a pan at you, purposely missing as you stop.

"I said go!! Run to your room like the devil’s on your heels and barricade yourself!! Wake Jack!" You just look at him, frozen in place by shock. "Do you have any sense?!" He chucks another pan at you, this time narrowly missing. "Run it, wench!!"

Something in you wakes amid the shock and you run yourself back to the first-floor stairs with fervor. What in the hell was going on?!

Halfway to the second stairwell that led you most directly to the third quickest stairs, you get the idea into your head to start hollering for Jack; or Mayma, the doorman, or hell, any maids or anyone who could help Roberts and that knew what was going on.

"Jack!! Jack!!" you shout as you launch your assault on the second stairwell. You fall once, knocking the wind out of yourself, and quickly stand and gather your skirts as well as your breath to shout for him again. Of course, you realize you’re rather far from your rooms, but you figure that the more noise you make, the more guests you’ll wake, and the more to help. Lovely conclusion, that. "Jack Jack!! Wake up!!"

You start skipping steps as you hear loud footsteps behind you, and turn to see the most loathsome-looking man on your heels, a determined look on his dirty face. You move your legs even faster, realizing this is probably the one that got Roberts, and make a mad dash for the last stairs.

It was foolish having that damned party!! Never again!

Out of a side hall comes another man you don’t recognize with that same look of urgency and determination in his eyes. Whether you could have evaded them or not wasn’t the question, because even as you mounted the last stairs a third made his appearance from around the bend and made a grab for you that resulted in your ultimate capture.

You try to scream, yell, and shout, but before you even get a chance they’re forcing a gag in your mouth and restraining you; not without difficulty, of course, after the defensive moves Jack taught you. You kick and headbutt and lash out at them but they quickly bind your arms and attempt to bind your legs.

You can’t help but notice how silently they’re working. No taunts; no threats; no speaking. So, of course, you try to make the most noise possible. You growl through the gag, kick the dirty-faced one in the groin as he cries out in pain, and thrash about trying to overturn a brass urn of Mayma’s.

You fight in fear and anger, trying to kick the others in the jewels and tackle that next staircase when the dirty-faced one- holding himself in pain- grabs you by the hair and forces a moist cloth over your mouth and nose. Getting the idea, you fight even more, holding your breath, but the other two restrain you until all you can do is twitch.

Your sight begins to go black, and you fight it, but your eyes become heavy as you feel yourself being hefted over a shoulder. You give a last lurch before passing into oblivion, a hopeless plea on your bound lips that someone would have heard and come to your helpless aid.

* * * *

There was a terrible pounding on the door that went straight to Jack’s head, and as he tried to drown it out in the more comfortable of human pillows, he discovered to his dismay that you weren’t there.

"___?" he drawls slightly, looking about in the harsh morning light. The pounding doesn’t cease, and now his name is added to the mix. "I’m coming," he says groggily, rolling off the bed and sauntering to the door. The pounding doesn’t stop until he opens the door, and on the other side was Elise, white-faced and woeful. "Is that you makin’ all this racket so early, lass?"

It was a far cry from being ‘early’, but she didn’t comment on it. "Jack...Roberts has been shot..."

"What?" he asks with slight confusion.

"And ___ was taken..." His face takes on a disbelieving look, serious and slightly panicked. Was she joking? "And this was nailed to the front door..." She hands him a letter with ‘Capt. Jack Sparrow’ scrawled on the front in neat calligraphy.

He grasps the letter and looks at her with full seriousness. "Where’s Roberts?!"

"The kitchen-"

He takes off down the stairs leaving her in his wake and he half-skips half-falls down half the steps in his determination. His brain may be ready to go, but his body wasn’t yet functional.

"Roberts?!?" he shouts as he bursts into the kitchen. The man in question tries to get into a standing position but Mayma forces him back down.

"Stay down, hun."

"Where’s ___?!?!"

"They took her, Jack...Marley’s men...they got the jump on us..."

"Where?!"

"The letter," he says, grinding his words as a spasm of pain goes through his side.

Jack almost tears the thing in opening it, reading the words as his rising anger and fear for your safety war with each other for dominance.

Most Esteemed Captain Sparrow,

Christopher Silverman, first mate aboard The Mutiny

"‘They’?" Mayma states, eyes searching and realization dawning. "Your child..."

"If Childress or Marley lay even a hand on her...!" Jack grounds out as he checks himself for his weapons, ready to kill something.

"Marley wouldn’t force a woman... And he wouldn’t try to harm your unborn baby," Roberts gasps, trying to stand once more, batting Mayma’s hands away from him as he leans against a wall. "But he might sell her."

"I’ve got to catch that ship before the exchange can be made!" Jack hollers as he runs out of the room intent on rousing the entire household.

"The men are readying the Pearl as we speak, Jack!" Roberts yells back, trying to get across the room with difficulty as another man bursts into the kitchen.

"The Pearl’s been sabotaged!!" he exclaims with gasping breath. He’d run all the way here from the docks. Seconds later, Jack is back in the room, weapon-ready and eyes blazing. "Cap’n! The mizzen-mast’s been ripped from her very root!"

"We can sail without it," Jack says determinedly.

"Everything’s in splinters, sir! The sails have been shredded. She’ll be ready in two days at her earliest!"

"I can’t wait that bloody long!" Jack swears, thinking furiously of ways around this. He needed a ship and he needed it now. "I’ve got to catch them now!"

"They planned this last night, Jack, during the party," Roberts gasps with a deep breath from the pain and the realization. "They’ve played us like fools. Nobody would have thought..."

"I need to get to her."

"I suppose it’s time to call in a few favors," Mayma says as Jack eyes her desperately.

* * * *

It was four hours later that Jack and ten crewmen were found on a ship headed after The Mutiny. It was a merchant ship, not the fastest thing available, but it was the best Mayma could do on such short notice with such a reluctant captain to deal with. They already lost a day on The Mutiny, but would shadow it for as long as possible until either catching up with it, or until the Pearl caught up with them after repairs had been made.

Either way, it did nothing for Jack’s reserve to be so close yet so far away. The Pearl could have caught up to The Mutiny by now, and you’d be safe in his arms while Marley’s men and Childress the devil paid. But on this sluggish vessel, The Vesper, he was losing distance rather than gaining.

"They’ll get the Pearl fixed up right in no time, Cap’n. Ye’ll get ‘er back," Gibbs says with a conciliatory hand on Jack’s shoulder. He was one of the men that volunteered to go with Jack while the others stayed behind and tried to repair the Pearl as quick as possible.

"They’d best." He looks up at the full, yellowed-sails of the Vesper. The wind was with them, but weighed down with heavy cargo the unwillingly captain had refused to get rid of, they were barely making headway. "If they touch a hair on her head-"

"Marley’s a drunken idiot, Jack, but he’s no fool. He wouldn’t hurt her even to get back at you. He doesn’t believe in harming women. You’ve told me that yourself hundreds of times..." He regards Jack with solemnity. "Childress’ ‘as probably promised him gold for her. He might try to sell her into slavery...maybe even the child after it’s born-"

"They won’t have her or my child...I’ll cut them down before my babe’s even due."

"Even so, it’s Childress I’d be worried about. That man’s soul’s blacker ‘an the devil himself."

"Then Roberts had best see to it that the Pearl catches us soon," he said with all seriousness. "We can’t lose them in our sights, Gibbs. If we do...I don’t want to think what he’ll do to her..."

"Nothin’ Jack. We’ll catch ‘im. Don’t you worry, now." Gibbs smiles half-heartedly. "She’s a hellcat, Jack. You taught her how to handle herself with weapons. And with that temper, you can be sure she’s givin’ ‘em hell."

Jack takes a deep breath, looking out at the horizon and the ever-so-slowly vanishing black dot that is The Mutiny. "I hope you’re right, mate. I really bloody hope you’re right."

* * * * *

I know, short chap, and I’ve taken for-EVER to update, but I’ve been very busy with work and school, as well as several other activities, but I’ll try to update sooner :) Please R/R!

* * * * *

CHAPTER 39 - Confused Complacency
(...deceptive actions...)

You were drowsy, tired, and stiff in several places. But you were awake at least, and laying on a hard floor. You stand up slowly, disoriented and dizzy as the room seems to move on its own, and that’s when it comes back to you:

You were kidnapped.

Jack was gone, and you were on an unfriendly ship filled with uncouth men. As far as you could tell amidst the dirty mess and reek of alcohol, you were shut in the captain’s cabin, and you were alone, cold, and scared.

Who was it that had taken you? And why? Was it someone with a vendetta against Jack? Certainly they had nothing against you. You didn’t know anyone to have made enemies even if you’d wanted to. And you didn’t want to consider the nagging feeling in the back of your sluggish mind that it could be those others- Marley and Childress. Hadn’t Jack said they’d been seen chasing after that friend of his? Anamaria and her ship? She was a decoy, wasn’t she?

And the sheer notion of one of them having you made you cringe. Jack had told you tales; you knew what could happen if one of these guys had you and knew your relationship to Jack.

And it wasn’t just you that they had. You were two weeks pregnant. It was all you could hope that they weren’t aware of that…

Alarmed, you wonder how long you’d been out. There’s light coming through the dirty, salt-encrusted windows at the back of the cabin, so it’s not yet night. But just how much time has passed anyway? Was it still that very afternoon? Did a day pass? A week? Unlikely, but how would you know?

You go to the back of the cabin and try to peer out, wiping at the glass surface in vain- it’s cleaning has been of obvious neglect. There’s not much to see except blue, dark blue, and light blue. But you can see something. Land, perhaps. Very small against the horizon of your slighted sight. Maybe you weren’t out for long at all, an hour, maybe, and there was a chance… maybe it was Tortuga?

Studying the structure of the window, you search for a latch, or anything that might allow you to open the glass and escape. It takes a moment, but you find a salt-corroded bar, and tug at it to unlock the window. It gives with a small groan of protest, and you pull harder, the coarse, dry salt crystals coming off and pricking at your palms.

The bar breaks clear off, and the momentum of your pulling causes you to fall painfully on your backside to the floor of the dirty room. You curse rather floridly, and chuck the damn handle back at the window. It makes a cheap ‘clunk’ and lands at the floor, giving you a rather brilliant idea:

Break it down.

But what do you break the window with? The room is dirty and bare. There’s a heavy desk, stained with years of grime and sea salt, and a bucket full of Lord-only-knows what, sitting over in the corner, an unlit lamp hanging from the rafters, and a dirty blanket opposite where you’d been laying. You were at least thankful that that certain filthy item hadn’t been placed on you, cold or not. But there’s not so much as even a chair you could crash through the damn panes with. Still searching, you open each of the four drawers of the desk, turning up a molding piece of bread, three loaded dice, some documents appearing to be rules, or orders…possibly belonging to the ship’s quartermaster, a dirty handkerchief, and some charcoal pieces. Hardly what you’d call prison-break materials. It makes your spirits sag somewhat, and it was obvious now that any hope you’d had at breaking the window down wasn’t going to be a good idea.

Leaning against the desk, you think to yourself for a moment, wondering if Jack had any idea where you even were, or if he had any clue as to where to start looking. It makes your eyes tear up in self-pity, which in turn makes you angry. You didn’t have time to feel bad, and it quite pissed you off to even feel that way at all. It was very unproductive. You had to get out of here, get off this ship and back to Jack. And by any means necessary. That’s what Jack would do, wouldn’t he?

You creep towards the door of the dirty cabin, nearly tripping over the nasty bucket whose contents you’d be happy never to find out. There are small windows near the door that you hadn’t noticed before. It must have been grand once in appearance, but is now so caked in filth you cannot make out anything of remote interest but dull blur. You can’t see anyone- or much of anything for that matter, but you know that there must be people out there. After all, a ship didn’t run itself, and you don’t believe you’d be in good enough fortunes to have been left to your own devices.

Slowly, slowly, you open the door a crack and peek out. There is no one in your direct line of sight, so you open it a bit more to better see. Becoming a little more brave, you open the door wide enough to stick your head out, and then allow yourself to leave the “safety” of the dank room, making up whatever plan of action as you go.

On deck the sun is a mid-crimson, washing the planks and rope coils in an orange glow. You still see no one, but you can hear voices above you at the helm. What should you do? There’s nothing before you to be seen except ocean, but you were sure you’d seen land out the back. It simply had to be land. Whatever it was, surely it was better than this ship. You have one viable option: swim.

If the land was close enough, just close enough, you could swim it. You know you could. All risks aside, you’d rather take your chances with Caribbean sea life than your kidnappers. You had to get back to Jack.

You have one chance to do this. Only one. You have no clue where these men are at about the ship, but they must be around, and that didn’t give you a large time window. You had to jump ship, dive deep. You weren’t kidding yourself; they’d probably shoot at you, if not jump after you, to keep you on board. But you could hold your breath for long periods of time when it was necessary, and this was absolute necessity.

Hearing the voices above at the helm, sounding closer, you mentally psych yourself up and take your chance. You have to do this. For you. For Jack. For any future you expect to have with him.

In a mad dash for the side, you heft yourself onto the rail, swinging your legs up and quickly gaining balance for a good dive. You must dive deep. As deep as you’ve ever dove, and you cannot fail. This is the only chance you have. You peer down at the deep blue, and see just how high up you really are from the water. Frightening, but you must do it. The bounce of the ship nearly throws you a moment too soon, and you almost fall back on deck.

The voices you’d heard earlier sound right behind you, and you see someone coming over your shoulder. You decide the time is now, and conclude to hurl yourself over the side a moment too late as you’re dragged back on deck kicking and fighting. Meaty arms throw you to the ground and hold you there as you attempt to jump up, biting, clawing, kicking, and fighting in any way shape or form you can. A man approaches; one whose face is not unfamiliar to you…One of the very people who was at the party at the Velvet House only last night, and he’d even congratulated you to your face on your pregnancy…

He smiles a closed mouth smile as you try in vain to shake free of the meaty arms forcefully holding you down.

“Let her go, Mitchells.”

The arms release you with a shake as you get to your knees to stand, glaring at the man before you as you move to rub your shoulder where he’d held you so gruffly, but put your hand down without massaging the area. No weakness in the face of adversity.

“Any problems, Mr. Silverman?” a good spirited voice asks. You turn to see a rather burly, unkempt man addressing the deceitful blighter before you.

“No sir, Captain,” he replies respectfully, his smile gone.

“The little rat just tried to jump ship, Captain,” the meaty-armed man intones, looking to Silverman in fierce mock as he takes his leave ‘respectfully’.

The Captain smirks at you. “Captain Mark Marley, at your service,” he alleges with a smarmy tone and off-balance bow. You glare, taking your time to survey him. His eyes are glassy and bloodshot, and if not due to the reek of him (only partially due to the alcohol) you’d have known he was a drunkard by the sheer sight of the man in total. He had short, messy brown hair, tangled, dirty, looking in desperate need of a wash. His face was pudgy and red- a testament to his drinking; drooping cheeks taking his large bagged-eyes with them for a vacation to his unshaven jaw on his round face. He was a large, plump man, the buttons of his dirty vest sighing with the strain of holding in place. His clothes were as dirty as he was and smelled twice as bad.

Under different circumstances, this man could be a joke. Harmless. The local drunk, the town imbecile. Hell, the bum you’d give money to outside the liquor store. It was at least obvious that he commanded no great respect from his crew.

That meaty armed gorilla certainly had no great love for him. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a threat as you had thought. Jack said that this one was just a drunk idiot, hadn’t he? This man didn’t even seem capable of having had you kidnapped. The thought alone seemed preposterous.

You look from him, to the one called Silverman, and back, taking in the vast contrast. You fix this captain with a solid gaze. “Return me to my home at once,” you command in a confident tone which impresses even you. But it goes unrecognized by this Marley.

“Home? Home?” he repeats, as if amused by your order. “You mean that whore-house, eh?” You just glare indignantly, lifting your head slightly in pride. “Yeah, I would’ve thought as much.,” he says more to himself than you, taking a labored breath and stroking his fat chin. “Sparrow’s lil’ whore-”

“I am not a whore.”

“Oh I’d beg to differ Missy,” he retorts quickly, apparently less-dimwitted than you’d perceived. “Just another one of Sparrow’s trollops, eh Mr. Silverman?”

“Yes, Sir,” Silverman replies in a respectful tone mismatching his stolid smile. He watches the captain, ready for whatever task he may be needed, or to just supervise you, the captive.

“I’m no whore, or trollop, or whatever else you might wanna call it,” you state firmly, trying to keep your voice level in opposition to sudden rising panic. If one of them so much as touched you in a lecherous way, you didn’t know quite what course of action to take… what with your pregnancy… what should you do in that situation if you couldn’t defend yourself? “Release me, or you will be sorry.”

“Oh, I don’t think I will be,” Marley says dismissively. He offers you a smile to which you frown thoroughly. “Oh, it’s nothing personal my dear, but you see, Jack Sparrow did me a once-over before you came along. Oh yes, ruined me poor daughter he did.” He shakes his head, eyes down, genuinely distraught in his reminiscing. “And that wretch of a man is going to get his comeuppance, see how he likes it…”

Your face falls in realization, eyes wide with sudden fear. What did they plan to do with you to get back at Jack?? You knew what that man thought Jack did to his daughter…

He returns his attention to you. “Aye, Missy, he’ll get his.”

“Just let me go…I haven’t done anything to wrong you!”

“I’m sorry to say it’s not what you’ve done. I mean you no harm-”

“Then let me go! I’m useless to you! If it’s money you want, Jack’ll pay it. He’ll make good on whatever you want, I swear!”

“It’s not gold I’m after any longer, missy, but vengeance for ruining my daughter and driving her away,” he says fiercely.

“Jack didn’t wrong you at all! If you think your daughter left ‘cause of-”

“How would you know anything about my Anabelle?!” he spits angrily. “Ha, a trollop defending a man like Sparrow…He entranced my ‘Bella too, before he left her for naught,” he says in a spiteful, confidential air, leering at you with accusing eyes.

“Jack loves me,” you declare back in the same low, confidentially spiteful tone.

He actually chortles.

"Love? Jack Sparrow does not love. He uses, wastes, and throws away. Turned my 'Bella into a common whore he did!"

"She was like that before he ever came around!" you spit back with frustration. Not that you’d personally know, but you trusted Jack’s word. And besides, this man angered you. He glares down at you, his reddened eyes narrowed in obvious fury, silencing you.

"He ruined my girl, ruined her from the good woman she was. You'll see, missy. He cares nothing for you...prolly as much as he did my Anabelle. It's the principle it is. He doesn't like being stolen from anymore'an the rest of us." His voice is focused and determined. You glower at him. "What makes you think he gives a lick of care to that wee babe growin' in your belly?" Your eyes widen, feeling threatened. "What makes you so special? What makes you think he hasn't got his bastards all over the seven seas?"

You're silenced, shocked, not quite sure what answer to give to that. He looks smug, seeing you vying for some kind of answer.

"Never though o'that, did ya missy? Lock this chit back up, Mr. Silverman," he tells the man, finished with his little conversation with you. Silverman takes your forearm and guides you back to the Captain's cabin. "Eh, what? Lock our little rat up in the brig, see that she doesn't try to jump ship again."

Silverman looks at him questionably. You simper. "And the men, Captain?" It's more of a statement than a question, an implication as to what you could become prey to. Please, please let him have the only key and the only access to it! Lord only knows what these men would do.

Marley looks at you with a sneer, and looks back to Mr. Silverman. His instructions shock you. "Lock her back in me cabin, then. I don't take kindly to that sort of thing on my ship."

"Yes, sir."

You frown slightly, but are grateful to be locked in that cabin rather than 'the brig', wherever that was... At least you were uptop and not on exhibit like some exotic animal that these filthy, depraved men could prod and stare at...

Silverman opens the door to the cabin, thrusting you in and locking the door with a click behind him as he leaves you to your own devices. You're scared and frustrated, and you hate being frustrated even more than your fear... and you want Jack terribly, it makes you want to cry. Does he even know where you are? Where is he?

* * * *

"I want her back, mate. I can’t stand it."

"Aye, Jack, I know.”

"This has nothing to do with her...she's just caught in the middle...And these fool aren’t helping." He looks around at the ship hands of the Vesper, and mournfully at his own crew aboard who have been trying to get the slow ship going, but are having no luck. And the captain utterly refuses to do away with any of his cargo. “Can’t these blokes get this ship moving?!”

“We’ll catch up, Jack,” Gibbs says, clasping a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Not if this crate doesn’t go any faster…” Jack glares disdainfully at the captain of the ship, who so far had been sticking quite fast to the helm after three attempts on Jack’s part to take over command and really get moving. The merchant wasn’t too pleased to have his ship commandeered, so to speak, but he figured that as long as he allowed the pirate use of his vessel then his debt was repaid to Mayma who’d supplied it- regardless of the fact that he refused to go any faster on the fear that the old weather-beaten thing would fall apart.

And he just didn’t like pirates. Especially those named Sparrow.

And that, in point, defeated the whole purpose of the deal.

“Now Jack, don’t be tryin’ that again.”

“Tryin’ what?”

“You got that look in yer eye. I’m telling’ ya Jack, we’ll catch up. And Roberts will catch up to us in the Pearl. Agitating that merchant now isn’t about to fix an’thing for ya.”

“Gibbs-” Jack starts in warning, too worried to play any sort of

“Besides, he’s gotta sleep sometime..” Gibbs grins at Jack, who in turn half-smirks. The prospect of taking over the Vesper while the irate merchant was sleeping did appeal, but he didn’t want to just wait for that chance. Damn being proper on another man’s ship, he wanted to take action and he wanted you safe in his arms.

“’Ey…’ey what is that?” Gibbs asks as the Vesper nears a small island. He moves quickly to the railing to look overboard as the ship skims a large hunk of wood, and many other smaller pieces are seen floating in the water. Gibbs looks at Jack. “Imperial ship’s work, ya think?”

“Oy! Shipwreck off starboard!!” a yell comes from aloft. The men quickly gather themselves to the starboard side of the ship only to view a ship in ruin at the isthmus of the island, holes in the hull, sails apparently burnt away, splintered wood everywhere, and some places lit with small fires still burning. Who knew how long that’d been there?

Jack leans over the side, blinking once. “That’s Anamaria’s ship.” He pulls a spyglass from his coat and looks out to survey the ship’s damage. “I don’t see any of the girls…”

“Any bodies, Jack?” Gibbs rasps, looking at the scene uncomfortably.

“No. And their longboats are gone. They should be alright.” Jack breathes a sigh of relief. He’d hate to think he was directly responsible for any of the girls deaths. He puts away the glass, greatly bothered.

“But who Jack? You think Marley and Childress?”

Jack shakes his head. “They don’t have the firepower or the brains to do this. A warship must’ve got them, and if I know Anamaria, she put up one hell of a fight…Got away too by the looks of it.” He turns to Gibbs, a serious expression on his face. “We have to catch up to her, I can’t wait any longer.”

“Jack…” Gibbs cautions.

“Oy you swabs, listen up!” Jack shouts to the men aboard, jarring several from their staring, including the uncooperative captain. “I want this vessel moving at top speed, every man pulling his weight, and I expect this ship to reach far beyond that horizon by sunset!”

“Jus’ what do you think you’re doing?” the captain asks Jack confoundedly, coming up to him in a fluster while his men look on confusedly, not knowing if they should follow Jack’s words or not, given the reluctance of their captain in repaying the ‘debt’ they all had heard too much talk of before.

“I’m officially taking over captaining this ship until we overtake The Mutiny and return to Tortuga’s port,” he declares loudly, clearly, to all the men and the doubting captain in front of him. He looks him in the eyes dauntingly, showing that he means every word.

“Now listen here, Sparrow. This is my ship and my crew and my cargo and I’ll be damned if you think you’re taking me Vesper for a little cruise for mermaids!” the man hisses at Jack, who is quite unimpressed.

“I’m of no mood to dealing with you and I think it best that you take a seat while ol’ Jack shows you just what this ship is made of,” Jack replies smoothly, almost sleepily, but his eyes are dead serious.

The captain, seething and red in his squat face, and regardless of his deal and debt to Mayma, wants no part of this, and doesn’t recognize Jack’s gravity. “Sparrow, as long as I’m on this ship you won’t captain her worth a minute!”

Jack grabs the man by his shirt collar and bends him backward over the side of the ship, bringing his face close to the other man’s. The rush of the sea and hiss of the wind reaches his ears as the spray hits his face. Jack is not playing. “If you’d rather swim, mate, by all means say so as I’d be glad to be rid of your irritating face. If not, I suggest you do the best to help me and my mates catch up to the Mutiny and get my girl back. Savvy?” His face is like stone and his deep brown eyes intense as he stares the man down.

“You think my men will take orders from you, pirate?” the man stutters in his attempt to talk back, but all his fire is gone with the fear of really being tossed overboard.

“I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, mate,” he says with a slight curl of his lip in smirk, “I have ways of making people cooperate.” He bends the man a little more over the edge so that he grasps hold of Jack’s sleeve tightly. Jack raises an eyebrow as the man breaks his silence after a moment.

“Damn you Sparrow!!”

“Thank you,” he says, releasing the man and letting him back up. “What do you say, lads? Can we make this ship fly?” His own men hop to it, instructing the others to get to it and really open this ship up. What kind of sailors did this merchant employ, anyway? Half of these men couldn’t tie a decent knot…

The currently detained captain skulks off to his cabin, muttering and shooting every man who looks at him an evil glare, lashing out at one who gets too close. Jack smirks and shakes his head in the wind, knowing it would carry him closer to you, and with any luck of the captaining change, sooner than later.

He walks by Gibbs to the helm, and notices the man giving him a look.

“Oh come off it, mate. I wasn’t really going to throw him over.”

* * * * *

I’m sorry people, I know it, you know it, I suck at getting these chaps out at a decent time. But with all luck I’ll only get better at it, not worse:D Check my reviews page from time-to-time for little updates on what’s going on- I stop by sometime. And by all means, always e-mail me- I love it;)

* * * * *

What? A sequel to Pirates? You?re all crazy. I?ve never heard of such a thing.

CHAPTER 40 - Aboard the Denizen
(one man's revenge)

It seems the only things you're capable of feeling are fatigue, cold, and hunger. Although at an earlier time you were given a steaming plate of Lord-only-knows what, you didn't trust it and refused to eat it. You never knew if they might try to poison you. It presently sat where Silverman originally laid it, only now it was cold.

It was morning time, or perhaps it was still night. You don't really know- it's too dark to really tell, and you haven't got a watch or anything else. Between catnaps and guarded dozing, you hadn't gotten near to enough sleep, and were exhausted from emotional stress. It was day two with these men, and even though you've been left alone for the most part, you fear the worst from them.

Marley was going to hand you over to Childress soon according to Silverman. He said it was a good thing, too, because the men Marley'd hired on weren't too pleased with his captaining in consideration to what they thought of as deferential treatment of 'the captive', and while you were untouchable as long as you were going to Childress, should a mutiny occur, you would be as a party favor. This grim fact had you worried, and you were near sure your sanity was slowly ebbing away... After all, you shouldn't find a mutiny aboard The Mutiny funny at all.

While Silverman swore that he wouldn't allow your violation while he was on board, you still wouldn't so much as give a glance to the meals he brought you. He had a job to do, and that was hand you over to Childress; though his current allegiance, whatever bit he had, was to Marley, even if he was only a hired man doing a job. Throughout all this knowledge, however, it was the captain of The Denizen which worried you most. Marley and Silverman didn't believe in forcing women or allowing their crew to do the same. From what you?ve heard about Childress (from Jack as well as the vulgar joking of the crew) you had much more than just rape to worry about.

You have to get off this ship, escape somehow before the exchange can be made. Even though you've been pretty much left to your own devices for the time you've been held, you can't count on it staying that way. It was idealistic thinking that you'd just be left alone until the time of the exchange, and you had to ground yourself in hard reality. And though the idea of hiding somewhere aboard the ship had passed your mind, you thought yourself a safer captive in the captain's cabin, where at least the walls could hide you from the thoughts of the men. As the saying went, out-of-sight, out-of-mind.

For what seems the millionth time, you subdue the urge to cry, nearly drowning in a wave of wanting for Jack and hoping to wake from this nightmare in his arms, having him tell you it was all just a dream and you were safe. It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. And far from wanting things to change, you needed them to change. While the idea of wallowing in despair and bewailing the injustice of Fate sounded like the perfect pastime, you couldn't afford yourself such a luxury.

Think. Regain that courage.

You were better than this. Smarter than this. How could you forget that you had hundreds of years of knowledge and technology on these guys? You knew theorems and history and the brilliant stratagem of wars won by dictators and emperors who weren't even born yet. The cleverness of espionage of spies not yet in their age was stored safely within your mind. You couldn't afford to be weak. Only two days with these men, two days away from the safety you had become accustomed to with Jack, and you'd allowed yourself to unravel. It made you sniff in disgust at yourself. So many people dealt with situations much harder than the one you were in, and here you'd allowed yourself to think hopeless, depressing thoughts. It made you feel selfish. After all, such negative chemical emotions couldn't be good for the child growing inside you.

You stand and breathe a few shallow, hitched breaths before you feel calm enough to breathe deeply. The gentle sway and roll of the ship is calming, but it hopelessly reminds you of where you are, and where you need to be. It's time to think and get your mind off of hopelessness and the seeming desperation of your situation. Now, what to do? You need some inspiration... and where better to let your mind wander than to the glorious creation of TV?

MacGyver had done wonders with dental floss and a flashlight? But you already knew that the items you'd found in the cabin were next to useless for any effective workings. After all, unless you felt up to inviting some of the crew to a crooked game of dice or do some charcoal drawings, the items in the desk drawer were a waste of time.

Think. Think.

James Bond was a man of mystery that got the job done while seducing the enemy. While you didn't plan on going around seducing the crew into helping you, it did make you pause in thought. The burly, mean-looking hired-hands of the crew seemed more intent in eating you up than being cowed into a petty seduction. Marley was too drunk to even remember about such things, Jack had said?

Thinking of your love causes another ache to swell in your heart, but you turn your attention to other thoughts, promising your heart that it could permanently lodge itself in Jack's own ribcage if it stopped hurting just long enough for you to devise a plan to get back to him and off this boat.

Hmm?now that spawned an idea... Feign an illness? An injury? Hm, better not, no, most likely the crew would only become more intent upon manhandling you. An injured fish always brought forth more sharks.

It brought you back to your other plan. Would it be possible to seduce the first mate, Silverman? Was he too smart for that? Or would he fall for something? It wasn't as if you didn't know more than a few things in the art of seduction. Jack, for one, had been heavily instrumental in ensuring your proper tutelage, and you had been living in a whore house for quite a long time?

The only problem is, could you bring yourself to do it? Could you act well enough to feign sexual attraction when the thought of doing so makes your stomach squelch?

Not getting a chance to dote upon the subject further, your deliberation is interrupted by a knock on the door preceding the entrance of the man you'd thought to seduce in trickery; only Silverman ever knocked before entering, not to mention you'd been out of the eyes of even the captain.

Your crossed arms and mean face easily convey your feelings to the man as he lets himself in, carrying a tray. He doesn?t look surprised that you're up. He had yet to catch you at an interval of sleep in the past two days you?d been in his charge. And looking him in the face, that same face which had congratulated you on your pregnancy in the subtle safety of your home, makes you abandon your plans of action. Even if you did want to, you could never pretend to seduce this man, not even if he willingly wanted you. The thought of his hands on you makes your stomach turn. It would be more pleasant to charm a viper out of its eggs.

He shuts the door and walks across the room, aware of your eyes glaring holes into his person in livid deference as you keep your safe distance. Setting down the tray, he turns and looks at you with that same air of etiquette and protocol that seems to emanate from him like a perfume. You wish you could dump cold seawater on his head.

"Breakfast," he tells you, though he is not surprised one bit that you don't even look at the food, regardless of how your stomach turns and rolls with the knowledge. He sighs, something you hadn't seen him do before, and leans against the desk. You wish he'd just leave you to your moping. "You should eat something," he begins, a hopeless tone in his voice.

You only narrow your eyes, clearly telling him that he's not welcome here. You may not have any weapons, but your nails were just as good, and you were especially fierce because you had your progeny to protect.

And all be damned if you weren't right furious to have been taken from your home in the first place.

He only sighs again. "I'll get in trouble if you die," he tells you as if it would make some sort of difference. You set your jaw extra firmly in reaction. He must be feeling rather talkative for this early in the morning, as it apparently was, for he continued, and you could only make your glare so deep. "It's not poisoned, if that's what you're thinking. We have no reason to deliver you sick and ailing." You bristle at the mention of their plans, even as he helps himself to a portion of the food in show of good faith.

"Go away." You wish the iciness of your tone would freeze him to the ship.

He looks at you hopelessly, and after a moment, walks back across the room to the door as if you'd just kicked his puppy. "At least eat something to keep up the health of your child. Too many mothers not made have lost unborn children due to poor nutrition."

"I'm doing just fine," you spit back, but he is undeterred, and fixes you with a hard, unfathomable gaze.

"Another day, two at most, and we'll be making your exchange. Childress is not anchored very far off Tortuga's bearing, and I highly doubt you will get treatment half as agreeable as you've received onboard this ship."

The exchange was to be made so soon?? Then you had already run out of time.

Silverman regards you a moment more, watching as you run the information through your exhausted brain, sees the panic in your tired eyes, and opens the door to go.

"What does he want with me?" you ask the unutterable question meekly, feeling the hopelessness rush in about you like so much dark water. It didn?t feel real.

He turns back, closing the door a bit, and finds no reason to keep the truth- as far as he knows it- from you. "Revenge against your lover. He wants to see Jack Sparrow suffer, and if that means taking you--"

"But the captain--"

"Captain Marley wants Sparrow to feel the same loss he did when his daughter was ruined and left his home, but he has no interest in killing you," he informs you with an interested look. His current master was hardly the lout for gaining fierce reputations in where Alouicious Childress had a taste for cruelty towards weaker beings. "I know Childress is paying a fortune in gold for you, although I'm not sure what he has in mind for exacting his vengeance. His reputation is not a bright one."

"...but Marley's not..." you start feebly, but stop. You were going to point out that Marley wasn't like that, but you only had Jack's stories to go off of, and right about now your relative future was looking dismally bleak.

He regards you with one raised eyebrow. "Regardless of what you've heard of the captain, you are to remain unmolested until you are handed over to Childress," he says as if it's supposed to be some sort of comfort. "Even then, Marley wouldn't take to letting you be killed, and Childress has nothing much to gain in doing so when he could sell you for even more gold than he's paying, which would hurt Sparrow greatly. You do have an exotic look?" He thinks on this for a moment. "You should hope he only sells you into slavery and nothing more." He sighs to himself and scratches his chin, more than bothered with the conscientious turn of his thoughts. "If we even last that long. Marley is considered weak in the eyes of the crew for keeping you locked up in here of all places. I doubt their loyalty will last out the week. And I hate unfinished jobs." He sighs again, a frustrated noise for his usually cool demeanor. He didn't like his jobs being interrupted by mutinous crews, and as a highly-recommended man-for-hire, he felt it his responsibility to see the job through, even if his employer was gullied. It wouldn't be the first time it happened, but the matter that he got his job done and did it well was what made him such a highly sought after man-for-hire.

He turns his attention back to you with an interested look, wondering why he felt so inclined to have this little chat with you. He shrugs mentally and gives you one last order.

"Eat that. Your child needs it."

With that he takes his leave, and try as you might, you cannot dismiss the truth in those words. With everything else bubbling about in your mind, the thought of ensuring the survival of the little bump in your belly rises to the top, and you move to the plate, forcing yourself to eat, even if it's not that hard to do.

The thoughts move restlessly through your mind, every now and then the idea screaming at you that time has run out, and you've got to get off this ship. But what could you do? Though you haven?t tried the door since you?d first tried to escape, Silverman had informed you that you were thoroughly locked in the cabin.

The men were obviously restless, and they didn?t like their captain, not to mention you were being held in the captain's cabin instead of the dank brig. They probably liked him even less because he wasn?t allowing them a go at you, which also made him appear weak, though you could kiss the bastard right on his drunken-red cheeks for that.

A hysterical giggle escapes your throat. Wonderful. Only two days and already you were a victim of Stockholm Syndrome.

You clean your plate, surprised at just how hungry you had been, and sit yourself down in the corner where you'd been making your camp. You can't think of a plan. Not when you're so tired and the day so early and your stomach rumbling and your eyes so tired from lack of sleep. And on top of everything, you missed Jack. You wanted him and the cleanliness of your bed back at the Velvet House and being held safely in his arms shutting everything out.

Stomach full, head light, and feeling slightly warm, you drift off into gracious unconscious slumber, each roll of the waves seeming to say not much further, not much further?

* * *

"Jack maybe you should get some sleep."

Jack pierces Gibbs with a gimlet-eye, looking at the man in the hot midday sun.

"The crew is worried about ye?"

"I'm fine, mate," he says as he looks away and back toward the horizon.

"Ye've been navigating for sixteen hours straight, and that merchant is too afraid to take the ship from your control after that second warning. Let another lad have a chance," he tries at being glib.

Jack shakes his head as if shaking off the fatigue that threatens to engulf him. "Not much further. We'll overrun them in half a day at most. And if the Pearl catches us before then, maybe even late tonight."

Gibbs frowns in thought, knowing Jack is pushing himself quite hard. Regardless if he thinks he needs rest or not, Jack can't hold off fatigue forever.

"Jack, when we overrun 'em, you're gonna need all your strength. You're no use to her if you're half dead on your feet." Gibbs looks at Jack pointedly, who stares right back at him. For a moment, he isn?t sure Jack is going to comply, but then the pirate yawns heavily and half-grins at Gibbs.

"Right, mate," he says agreeably. He has so many nasty things planned for Childress and Marley that he'll need his strength indeed. "I'll go below for a few hours. Wake me for anything. Anything at all." He fixes Gibbs with a somber, weary look, and the other man happily nods his head.

"That I'll do, Jack. Just get rest. I'll handle things up here."

Jack smiles, and with relief he leaves the helm, brushing past the ornery merchant with a look that promises pain should he interfere with Jack's plans.

* * * *

"Jack, wake up!"

Gibbs pokes the other man in the side, and he springs up quickly, shocked awake.

"What? What is it? Have you spotted them?!" Jack inquires quickly, jumping out of his bunk and throwing on his boots and other necessities.

Gibbs just shakes his head with inner agitation. "That idiot merchant switched up the watch and helmsman during the night. We're off course, Jack."

Jack starts so fast he nearly hits his head, which is spinning with thoughts as well as days worth of weariness. "The night? How long have I been asleep? And what the bloody hell does that idiot think he's doing?!"

Gibbs follows after Jack, who?s still putting himself together as he's making his way through the ship and back on deck into the predawn darkness. "Ye've been asleep for almost thirteen hours-" Jack stumbles at this shocking information- "ye needed the rest. But that dim-witted man is still arguing with Kearny about how he doesn?t want his bloody shipment harmed!?

"It's his neck that's going to get harmed!" Jack growls as he hauls himself fully on deck, seeing the blasted merchant and his own man, Kearny, arguing just as Gibbs had said.

"--I don't care if the bloody King of England needs a rescue! Do you have any idea how much money I'll lose if this cargo is damaged?!"

"Do you value your life at all mate?" Jack growls as he approaches the merchant and his man. Kearny backs off, grumbling profanities as the merchant doesn't back down to Jack one bit.

"This cargo is worth twice my life!" the merchant declares adamantly, his courage getting screwed up with greedy frustration. "My livelihood depends on the unspoiled delivery of this shipment, pirate!!"

"It's your livelihood I'll be doin' away with if you don't stay the bloody hell out of my way," Jack threatens with cold tones, meaning every word.

The merchant only glares back, his ruddy complexion a testament to the non-stop arguing he'd been doing, and the fact that he's only getting more frustrated. Though he's rather intimidated by Jack Sparrow, he'd decided long before switching their course that the insult of being de-captained by such a pirate in front of his crew was well worth the risk of the man's anger. His crew was making fun of him behind his back, and the tales he'd overheard them telling each other about the ship they were chasing gave him more than enough reason to suspect that his cargo and the Vesper would be damaged in any sea fire.

He supplied himself with the thought that, yes, he did owe Mayma a favor, but that didn?t include getting his ship blown to bits for a pirate who was chasing after some trollop from the whorehouse matron's stock. As far as he was concerned, whores were as easy to come by as coconuts, but his cargo of rare silks and other treasures irreplaceable were of far greater value than some trollop from Tortuga. Regardless of the fact that the Vesper was well-equipped should any sea-battle become necessary, he didn?t feel like taking any unnecessary gambles with his ship or his cargo.

"You'll not be gambling with MY ship, Sparrow!" he declares through gritted teeth, his face red with angry intimidation.

Jack grabs the other man, their faces inches apart as he whispers with hard-suppressed fury, his calm voice far more threatening than any yelling could be. "You can have your bloody ship back to order once I get my girl. Until then, should I find you've tampered with our course in getting to her... should we stray an inch from our destination?" He takes a breath, trying to calm himself from strangling the glaring merchant. He looks the man in the eyes, his own orbs assuring pain most severe. "I'll burn you alive atop those silks and barrels in the hull, mate. I'll destroy everything you hold dear, savvy?"

The merchant's eyes widen considerably, the red from his face replaced by a terrified pallor. Jack holds him a moment more for emphasis, and releases him gently as if they'd had quite a pleasant exchange. The merchant backs off significantly, his courage all but leaving him with the threat of his silks and ship being ultimately destroyed, not to mention the damage to his person. He visibly shrinks as Jack passes his gaze over him, and the pirate addresses the wakened crew at large:

"Listen up you dogs! From now on, for every minute of squandered time and interference from this man, I will burn one roll of silk from below!"

The rightful captain of the Vesper lets out an involuntary shriek of horror, but doesn't protest with one sweep of Jack's gaze in his direction. The look of willful slaughter in the pirate's eyes effectively puts to rest anything the merchant might have had to say. He quickly retreats from the helm, his form disappearing from sight, the sound of a door signaling his hiding in his cabin below.

Some of the men are amused by the display, others go back to whatever shift or late work they were doing before the ordeal, and all in all, the peace of the ship is restored.

Jack takes up his place at the helm, dismissing the man who had been navigating while angry at himself for precious lost time. Gibbs moves to put his hand on Jack's shoulder, but thinks better of it.

"Cap'n?"

"I've had more than enough sleep," he growls, but it's more out of frustration at himself than annoyance at Gibbs. How could he sleep for so long and allow that bastard merchant to change their course?

Gibbs looks at Jack a moment, undoubting that they'd make up for the lost time with Jack's captaining and his threats to the cargo. He smirks to himself. Whatever worked, that was the way of the pirate. "I trust ye, Jack."

Jack inclines his head to the other man as Gibbs goes about his duties in seeing to the other sailors and their work in the very early morn.

The sky is brightening to a dull gray. Rather unexciting color for the rise of another Caribbean morning. He doesn't need sleep now. He has to maximize the use of the ship to its fullest. According to his compass, the ship isn't very off-track, and he believes he can undo the damage the merchant had done if he stays alert and sharp on course. Every moment Marley has you is a moment closer to handing you over to Childress, and that man is ruthless, even to women.

Jack shakes his head in self-agitation. This heavy-laden ship could fly with him at the helm. He examines his compass as a wind picks up in the sails, and maneuvering the ship, they're set back on course. If it comes down to throwing some of the cargo overboard, let alone the merchant captain, he?s ready to do it and slaughter anyone in his way to get you back.

* * * *

Somewhere between exhaustion and near-madness, you'd had dreams of rolling waves, eating undistinguishable food brought on trays from mannerly mercenaries, and woken from stiff joints and longing nightmares full of tears.

It appeared that no time had passed since you had last talked to Silverman and afterward succumbed to drained sleep, as far as you could tell. The light coming from the windows was the same as it had been previously, though you knew yourself to have laid in the same place for many hours, and it couldn?t still be breakfast time.

Your emotional exhaustion was taking a far greater toll on you than your physical exhaustion, though the state of your body rebelled against such treatment. You must have slept for most of the day, if not through the night. Were those indeed dreams? But you recalled eating something that hadn?t been the breakfast from the time before. And there was a fresh grease stain on your sleeve. Everything was blurred. Had you really taken the tray right from Silverman as you sat dazed and sick from the meal before? Were you already becoming immune to the terror of being a captive on this ship?

Noises above, shouting from on deck.

Shit. How long had you been asleep? What was today? They couldn't have spotted the Denizen already? Childress had to be another day away at least! You needed another day!

No more time.

You listen carefully, getting to your feet dizzily as you press your ear to the door. No more shouting, no more excitement. What was going on?

You quickly back away as familiar footsteps come loud towards your door, and the usual knock before the entrance of Silverman is made.

He pokes his head in to look before entering, and comes in quickly, closing the door behind him against the chill morning air.

"The Denizen has been sighted. About another hour and we'll sidle up next to them. I have a dress provided by the captain if you'd like a fresh change of clothes?" He offers up a bundle of lace and cloth in his arms, and sets it down on the desk, unsurprised at your quiet reluctance. "You're about the same size as his daughter, give or take an inch." Silence greets him. He sighs. "Looks like you'll be enjoying different company soon enough. I'll bring a meal up if you'd like."

Last meal, you think. You have the decency to mildly shake your head, and he accepts the notion.

"If you wish, I could bring up a washbasin for your face."

"Nothing," you tell him, dumbfounded. Why in the hell would you want to look nice for your captors?

"Is there nothing I can get you?" he inquires sincerely. You can't help but think it's because you're going to a really, very bad place in but a short time. The hell you'd go without a fight.

"No?"

Silverman runs a hand through his hair, looking at you with heavy thoughts. He shrugs to himself, keeping whatever was going through his head to himself, and walks back across the cabin. "I'll fetch you when we're side-by-side with the Denizen," he warns you, looking at the dress before he takes his leave. No doubt to encourage you to change.

You snort as the door is closed and locked. As if you're going to change. Ha.

You start to pace, noticing just how badly your hands are shaking as you identify your terror and fear.

Jack hadn't made it in time. He hadn't come.

You could smack yourself for allowing pernicious Marley's thoughts to penetrate your brain. Jack loved you. You knew that. You had to hold on to that.

You put the palm of your hands to your eyes in nervous habit, threading the fingers of your hands through your hair. Jack was coming. He had to be coming. He and Roberts were probably aboard the Pearl right now, almost on top of the Mutiny with guns ready and flags flying.

A sob escapes your throat, and you hurl an empty tray left on the table across the room, next shredding the dress with malice that Silverman had put on the desk. After a moment you ball your fists, calming down, hands still shaking and unshed tears of frustration in your eyes.

You had to get out.

You try the windows at the back once more. If you can open them, you could swim it. After all, Silverman had said that Childress' ship was anchored off an island near Tortuga, right? Well, however the hell far you were from Tortuga, you at least knew that some sort of land was at hand, and regardless of how tired you were, you could swim to it and wait things out.

Unable to get more than salt crystals off the windows, you rifle through the drawers of the desk. Unable to break the drawers themselves off for a type of battering ram, you do the next best thing. Finding the loaded dice, you gather them and take up the dress you?d shredded, wrapping your hand safely in it and wrapping the dice as well, creating a blunt instrument that?s hard like a rock. You stand in front of the back window, hoping upon hope these filthy men wouldn?t hear the noise.

With the palm of your hand and the dice, you punch towards the glass with squinted eyes, knocking out one of the little squares with minimal glass flying. Little pieces fall to the ground inside as the rest are lost to the depths of the ocean. You peer out the hole you've made, but can't see anything the least bit heartening. Looking behind you to make sure no one was rushing to see what the breaking noise had been, you repeat the action on another small square. And then another. It wasn?t as hard as it looked to break, and you supposed all the salt was partial credit to that.

The hard part was going to be trying to get the window open enough to jump out. While the glass proved the least bit of your worry, the windows had been set in some type of metal, and what wasn?t rusted together was going to be a problem to bend, let alone break. But you remained at your work diligently, cracking out several more fist-sized glass squares until you were able to peek your head out, and the sight wasn?t all disheartening.

There was indeed some land you could see, but it wasn?t at all as close as you had thought. You could tell it was a lush green island, and it didn't seem at all uninhabitable. You could hold up there for as long as need be till you could find Jack. Or help. It was going to be one hell of a swim, that was for damn sure. If you didn?t drown first.

You sigh. Popping your head back into the cabin you try to maneuver your shoulder through a hole you'd made in the grating. A little wider, taller, a bigger space.

You knock out more chinks in the glass as you start getting anxiously excited. A bit more and you could slip through. Maybe you were closer to an island on the side? Maybe you wouldn't have to swim as far? After all, the only view you have is from the very back of the ship. And you're experiencing an adrenaline high, so that spike will hopefully be enough to get you through the first stages of your plan, which all depend upon your getting to the island.

Knocking out several more pieces and grabbing more of the dress, you wrap it securely around your hands and work at the glass even more quickly, pounding upon the metal basing with the heel of your fist to make it mold out to admit you. Smirking with nervously relieved excitement, you size it up to your body once more. Just right, just enough space for you to worm out.

You look behind you at the door, and then back to the gaping hole you?ve made of the windows. Tying down loose parts of your dress, doing away with most of it, you prepare yourself for the swim. You must be as unfettered as possible lest the ocean drag you under, and as you ready yourself trying to climb into the window's small ledge, a hysterical giggle escapes your throat. You were doing it. You were making it. You were gonna get back to Jack.

A smirk is on your lips as you hold tight with your clothed hands to the un-bent metal, the salt-spray hitting you in the face as the water is sliced by the ship far below. While you think the jump will be fine for the still-forming baby in your belly, you're more worried about the prospect of being captured and taken aboard The Denizen. Looking down, you're filled with fear at the ridiculous height you'll be jumping, but decide it's either jump or your life. And as you hurl yourself through the air feet-first, the water rushing up to meet your body, one thought goes through your mind:

The force of your impact is graciously broken by the churning of the waters caused by the lethargic movement of the ship, and you go deep down from the force, the water engulfing you with minor cold-shock as you start to swim upwards to the surface. As you break water and gulp in air, you're very thankful that you'd ditched the extra parts of your dress that you didn?t need, and even more grateful that the Caribbean waters are not so cold that you do need it. After all, regardless of the peril, you weren't about to jump into the sea naked when there were so many pirates after you, and since you had been initially captured with only a shift underneath, you didn?t have much other choice.

What little you were wearing was causing you minor distress as the water pulled at you, but it was nothing you couldn?t handle since you'd smartly knotted up the loose ends of the shift between your legs to form a sort of crude pantsuit, and for now that was good enough. You start to swim towards the land you'd seen as you get out of the ship?s current, hoping it wasn't as far as it had seemed from the ship.

But damn it's a long way.

You look back up top so high where you'd jumped through, worrying the entire time that someone was going to see you. The metal was sticking out where you'd pummeled the window, and it was missing so much glass it looked like the back of the ship had a tooth-less grin. You turn your back on it with confidence that Silverman wouldn't be due back for you for quite some time, and by then you'd be long gone. You start to really swim, the panicked idea that they might see and re-capture you setting a fire under you that causes you to swim with near frenzied movements. The noise of the ocean is loud and sings of freedom in your ears, and while fully aware that you've got quite a swim and that there might even be sharks in these parts, you?re far more concerned with the idea of going back to the men awaiting you on the Mutiny.

A wicked cramp decides to take your leg, and you take a breath to bob on the surface as you work it out with close panic. If you didn't have the flowing shift on, you wouldn't have to try to stay afloat with unnecessary effort, and if you could float without effort, you could breathe and get oxygen to your muscles, and then you could work out the cramp easily and get the hell on your way.

But the fact that you do have a rather frustrating flowing shift on (which the water seems to covet horridly) and the fact that you have to hold your breath at intervals and try to work out the spasm in your leg hinders you a bit in progressing to the second part of your escape plan (which involved a hell of a lot of swimming). So in the slight panic that seizes you at being a floating target, you work out the cramp the best you can and decide to swim through the pain, at least until you were a good distance away. And right now you have a head start which they are unaware of. You have to take the cruelest advantage of it possible to flee your captors.

After only fifteen minutes since you hit the water, the knots you tied decide to come undone. The shift you?d left tied between your legs flows freely in the water as the current drags out it's length, your legs getting caught and tangled as the water and waves try to pull you under with much more enthusiasm. The cramp in your leg isn?t so bad now, but you?re having trouble staying afloat as your legs become entangled as soon as you manage to kick them free. Try as you might to swim through the disasters, it?s not easy.

For one, your hair is down and is as subject to the force and pull of the water as your dress, making it even harder to swim. The shift, too, is creating far too much drag, and the spasm in your leg is getting worse quicker than better. Not to mention that you?re out of breath from swimming so hard. The initial adrenaline rush you'd had was well worked out of your system now, and you were starting to feel the fatigue of the past few days catch up with you, which was quite dangerous. You feel as if every crash of the waves is whispering for you to just give in to the depths of the ocean, and while a few wash over your face as if to goad you, you continue to fight your way towards land.

You allow the next wave to wash over you, allowing you the freedom of anti-gravity underwater as you fiddle with the buttons on your shift, trying to work the blasted thing off you and lessen the drag, which is far easier to do underwater as opposed to trying to float and struggle.

Undoing the major buttons that kept the damn thing on, you have to work the entire piece over your head, which is going to be a bit tricky what with the waves washing over you, not to mention you?re going to be out of breath rather soon.

In a quick move you drag the thing up over your body, working it past your face as you get a wicked sense of claustrophobia, causing you to fight to get it quickly off in panic, air escaping your lungs as you try to wrench you shoulders from it. But you need a breath. You need to breathe right now, otherwise you're going to drown.

Panic seizes you and you kick towards the surface with free legs, yet trapped head and arms. You manage to suck in a lungful of air before a wave crashes over your head, forcing you under and causing you to get tangled. With panicked gestures you try to put the thing back over you, but you're too entangled to even get it back to it's original position. Terror takes hold of you as you try to use brute strength against the material, but it?s one of the nicer ones Jack bought you, and the thing doesn?t rip easily, and not while underwater and wet.

You realize you're going to drown. Actually drown. You weren't going to die at the hands of some bloodthirsty vengeance-seeker. Jack would never learn what had happened to you or have the closure that you'd died at the hands of his enemy. No. You were going to drown, float down to the depths, probably become fish-food, and maybe wash up on shore someday on the island you'd been trying to reach.

Your lungs are burning and you can feel every beat of your heart. You desperately want to take a breath, open your mouth to the burning in your throat and lungs, but all that would accomplish is a mouthful of water. The pain in your leg is fading, and the murky white and blue of the shift and ocean about you is fading. Your last thoughts are of Jack. His face, his cocky smirk, the way he stumbled around and drank far too much for one man.

You barely register the feeling of something taking ahold of your arm, wonder blankly if a shark has come to pick you off. But you're thrust to the surface, the shift pulled away from your face as a hand shakes you by the neck.

"Breathe!" a command is issued by a familiar voice, and you gulp in huge mouthfuls of air even though your mind cannot register what exactly is going on. You had been prepared to die at the mercy of the ocean. Your mind was a bit blank, lethargy and fatigue still prevalent. You feel the water shall have you any moment.

"Dammit woman, stay conscious! Fight for your child!"

Your child?? How could you forget for even a moment?! You had Jack's child inside you! You may have been willing to submit yourself to the ocean, but not Jack's child. Never that which you loved as much as the man himself.

You open your eyes defiantly to stare at Silverman, the first mate of the Mutiny. He was keeping you afloat as he signaled to a longboat being rowed by several of the crew of the ship you'd fled. You try with exhaustion to stay afloat, the current pawing at you still, as Silverman swims the both of your towards the boat.

You have no energy to fight as he hauls you in the longboat. You barely turn away as the men fondle you in getting you inside, as Silverman hauls himself in the boat and directs the men back to the ship.

Defeat. Your plan and everything you'd hoped to accomplish had been defeated. You weren't even sure if you were grateful that you'd been saved from a sure drowning only to be taken back to the ship and handed over to Childress.

You lift your head, seeing you hadn?t gotten very far at all in your escape. The ship isn't even a hundred meters away, and it had been moving away from you. Pathetic. What could you have done different? You sigh. You're a sight for sore eyes; your shift nearly see-through, hair plastered to your back, a pale expression on your face from more than just exhaustion.

Silverman stares at you pensively. He's barefoot, and bare-chested, soaked just as you, though no doubt he had a much easier time with the waters. You cannot read his thoughts, and his eyes are deep. He looks away and signals to men aboard the Mutiny as the boat gets closer to the ship. You look at the back window where you had escaped, and see Marley staring back at you from the hole you'd made. There was no doubt in your mind that Silverman had jumped through that hole. He'd probably seen you long before you'd even took notice that you'd been found-out. And the longboat you were in now had no doubt ensued from his alarm-calls to the crew.

Damn. Damn it all.

Another fifteen minutes and you were back on deck of the Mutiny, shift held protectively about your person as you avoid the lecherous eyes of the mutinous crew. Now you wanted your dress.

The boat is hauled up shortly after Silverman and the others climb up the rails. Marley regards you with a severe eye and throws a big ball of material at you as a cabin boy hands Silverman's belongings to him. You grasp your own and cover yourself, and realize it's yet another dress. Just why did he travel with so many of his daughter's dresses anyway?

"The problem's been taken care of, Captain," Silverman announces, taking you in hand.

Marley just grunts to his first mate, and regards you with a harsh look. "Put that on," he orders, and looks at you a few minutes more before turning his attention elsewhere. You find it more than unnerving, and want to escape back to the pseudo-safety of the captain?s cabin. Fat chance they?d let you in there again. Even to change.

"So that is what all the trouble's about. The little rat did jump ship, eh?" One of the men gets rather close to inspect you and your goods, which you quickly cover with the dress, and Silverman moves you behind him as he looks at the man with nothing more than boredom.

"More or less," he tells the other man flippantly with a superior tone. You decide to quickly pull the dress over your head, pushing your arms through the holes and having general trouble between your wet shift and dry dress. "Ready the ship for coupling."

"How about her?" he asks salaciously, getting several snickers from the mates that were within hearing distance. You quickly pop your head through the hole in the top of the dress, and move a bit closer and more behind Silverman.

"I told you she's not to be trifled with," Marley steps in with annoyance, looking at this crewman with a squint. He seemed to be sober today and in no mood for the sass of his crew. And as far as hired henchmen went, this crewman thought he was the leader of the pack. He definitely had the gall to challenge Marley's authority, what little he held as titled captain. "You were ordered to get the ship ready for coupling! Do as I say or I'll make an example of you yet," Marley barks at the man. The crewman gives his full attention to the red-faced captain.

"Damn drunk. He's just going to kill her. Why not let us exact a little fun from her before hand? A little pre-payment for our troubles."

You shiver behind Silverman, hiding, you hope, from the crewmate's vision.

"You're getting paid handsomely for her delivery, unspoiled," Marley barks. "I told you I'll not tolerate such things aboard my ship! Now get ready for coupling!"

"Well maybe it's time to strip you of--"

"AHOY! Mutiny! Throw us a line!" a voice from The Denizen shouts, interrupting the mate's mutinous words.

Several hands get to work on securing lines enough to transport you and the few others necessary for the exchange before the ships have to pull away from one-another and the lines snap. Coupling ships wasn't something easily done, nor was it something that continued for very long.

In a way, you were almost glad for being hurried by Silverman across the gap as he held you to keep against any escape attempts you might make. It was almost good to be off the Mutiny where the men still gaped at you liked wolves at a steak, and regarded Marley with such loathing you were positive he'd be mutinied against and gullied when he got back aboard.

Once again, over the gap, on another ship, you are greeted by different faces and leering eyes. You hear the noise of ropes snapping and crewmen hurrying about their duties as the ships groan and protest against the task of staying sidled up to one another. You're passed from Silverman to Marley, who takes you by the arm and holds you by his side as the three of you stand on deck waiting.

Your insides are writhing with a horrible sense of foreboding, and you squirm under Marley's grasp. He only grips you tighter beside him, and you only feel more panicked.

A lean figure approaches, small hat resting on his crown of graying hair. He has a skinny nose and shrewd, hawk-like eyes looking out from his bushy brows. Those eyes rest first on Marley, and then on you. He grins, surprisingly-straight teeth gleaming as he takes your chin in hand and moves it up and down to get a better look at you.

"This is the tart that belongs to Sparrow?" the man asks with an educated voice whi