Even More 'Dark of the Moon' (20/36)
Profuse thanks, as always, to Hereswith, who took time out from her vacation to edit this in her inimitable fashion.
Perhaps I should put a warning on this, in case someone out there is very easily squicked. (But, in that case, why would they even be reading this?)
This seems to go along with the drabble theme for this week (or at least Jack thinks so)...
[20 - Odd Occurrences]
The Black Pearl’s night music, the shush or rush of wind and wave, the musical creaks of rope and stay and the very wood of her, were soothing as a lullaby to Jack, her rhythms a part of him, like the beat of his heart, like the tide of blood through his veins. The ship spoke to him - had done since he’d first laid eyes on her - and when he took his ease she wove her dreams through his own, murmuring endearments, or demanding his attendance upon her cares and needs. He’d soon grown used to the usual sounds of the crew, the pounding of heavy feet, the faint calls, shouts, occasional laughter or curses. But sounds that were out of the ordinary, that some instinct told him spoke of trouble, had the power to rouse him from the deepest slumber.
His eyes opened to blackness. It was at least two hours before dawn. The ship sighed, calm and sleepy around him. But something had woken him…
And there it was: small, hitching sob, quickly muffled.
He gave an inward groan.
A bit of careful shuffling, and squirming. Silence. Then a watery sniff, and another sob.
“Letty!” he hissed.
There was a tiny, frightened intake of air, and then nothing, as though she was holding her breath. He scowled at the dark, waiting. Sure enough, there came a gasp that turned to a louder, shuddering whimper.
“Letty! What the devil’s wrong?”
“N-nothing!” She sniffed again, trying to be quiet about it.
He ground his teeth. “Letty, what’s wrong? You ain’t crying for no reason!”
“I c-can’t tell you!” More subdued weeping.
“You were fine when I blew out the lamp.” A thought occurred, and he said more gently, “Is it that husband of yours? D’you miss him?”
“No!” This was followed by a disconcerted moan. “I mean… no, it’s n-not that.”
He smirked slightly, but growled, “Well, what then?” She did not reply, merely continued weeping, and finally his patience was at an end. “Letty, do I have to get up and shake it out of you? The sea’s calm as glass: you can’t be ill.”
“I… no! I…”
“What?”
“I’ve started my courses!” she wailed, and began to sob in earnest.
It took a long moment for the sense of this to penetrate the obliviousness of Jack’s youthful male brain, but when it did the result was electrifying. “What!” he exclaimed and sat bolt upright, quite forgetting he was in the hammock. Uncaring, it tossed him to the floor with a painful thud, something that hadn’t happened to him since his first week on a ship.
He swore vilely (inspiring Letty to squeal in fear), sprang up and fumbled about, trying to light the lamp. Having got it lit, however, he merely stood there for a minute, staring in outraged disbelief at the quivering, blanket-shrouded mound of bleeding female before he turned tail and slammed out of the cabin.
He reached Bootstrap’s door in record time, but looked about surreptitiously before he knocked, light but firm. “Bill! Bill, wake up!”
The call was low, but urgent, and it brought Bill to the door with little delay.
“What’s toward?” Bill frowned sleepily. “Ship’s all right?”
“No. I mean… yes.” Jack glanced ‘round again, and lowered his voice even more before continuing. “It’s Letty.”
“Letty?” Bill frowned deeper, suspicious. “What’ve you done to her?”
“Not me! God’s teeth…”
“What then?”
Jack hesitated a half second, then said in a whispered growl, “She’s started her courses!”
Bill’s brows shot skyward and, to Jack’s fury, he sputtered and then roared with laughter.
Jack scowled at the noise and shoved Bill into the cabin, following and closing the door. Martin was out on watch, fortunately, so Jack was the only immediate witness to Bill’s unrestrained, and unappreciated hilarity. “Shut up!” Jack snapped, as Bill collapsed onto his cot. “What in hell should I do?”
Bill wiped a tear of amusement away as he gained some control. “Oh… oh, Lord, that’s givin’ you your just desserts, ain’t it?”
“I beg your pardon?” said Jack, outraged.
“Oh, don’t act innocent with me! I saw you today, playin’ ‘er like a fish on a line.”
“Was not!”
“Jack!” Bootstrap subdued his mirth and lifted an accusing brow.
Jack scowled. “Well, maybe a bit. I won ‘er, didn’t I? And play’s all it was. But what do I do now?”
Bill ran a hand through his hair, considering. “Look: you go get her a bucket of fresh water - she might want to have a wash. I’ll go hunt up the rest. Some clean rags; a stack of bandaging from the surgeon’s chest would work, maybe. Some rum, too - Mary likes a nip the first day or so. Takes the edge off fine, she says. Lord, you’ll have to come up with considerable largesse for Reed. He won’t take kindly to doin’ that sort of laundry.”
Jack rolled his eyes, feeling an immediate need to change the subject. “Right. I’ll go get the water then. Shall I leave it by the door? You can talk to her when you fetch the… the rum, an’ all.”
Bill laughed again. “It’s not contagious, Jack!”
“Aye,” said Jack, doubtfully. “But you’re married. You’ll know what to say.”
“You better figure out what to say right quick, unless you plan to abandon her for a week.”
“A week!”
“Maybe. They’re all different, of course. Mary’s lasts about five days.”
Jack stared. Then straightened. “Rum,” he said, decisively.
“Aye?” Bill’s lips quivered.
“Takes the edge off. Smart woman, your wife.”
“She is, that,” Bill agreed, with a wry smile.
“Right, then. I’ll bring the water. And thanks, Bill. Don’t noise it about, eh?”
“Reed’ll know.”
“I’ll take care of Reed. Considerable largesse. And rum. That’ll do it.”
Bill grinned. “Whatever you say, Jack.”
*
TBC
Perhaps I should put a warning on this, in case someone out there is very easily squicked. (But, in that case, why would they even be reading this?)
This seems to go along with the drabble theme for this week (or at least Jack thinks so)...
[20 - Odd Occurrences]
The Black Pearl’s night music, the shush or rush of wind and wave, the musical creaks of rope and stay and the very wood of her, were soothing as a lullaby to Jack, her rhythms a part of him, like the beat of his heart, like the tide of blood through his veins. The ship spoke to him - had done since he’d first laid eyes on her - and when he took his ease she wove her dreams through his own, murmuring endearments, or demanding his attendance upon her cares and needs. He’d soon grown used to the usual sounds of the crew, the pounding of heavy feet, the faint calls, shouts, occasional laughter or curses. But sounds that were out of the ordinary, that some instinct told him spoke of trouble, had the power to rouse him from the deepest slumber.
His eyes opened to blackness. It was at least two hours before dawn. The ship sighed, calm and sleepy around him. But something had woken him…
And there it was: small, hitching sob, quickly muffled.
He gave an inward groan.
A bit of careful shuffling, and squirming. Silence. Then a watery sniff, and another sob.
“Letty!” he hissed.
There was a tiny, frightened intake of air, and then nothing, as though she was holding her breath. He scowled at the dark, waiting. Sure enough, there came a gasp that turned to a louder, shuddering whimper.
“Letty! What the devil’s wrong?”
“N-nothing!” She sniffed again, trying to be quiet about it.
He ground his teeth. “Letty, what’s wrong? You ain’t crying for no reason!”
“I c-can’t tell you!” More subdued weeping.
“You were fine when I blew out the lamp.” A thought occurred, and he said more gently, “Is it that husband of yours? D’you miss him?”
“No!” This was followed by a disconcerted moan. “I mean… no, it’s n-not that.”
He smirked slightly, but growled, “Well, what then?” She did not reply, merely continued weeping, and finally his patience was at an end. “Letty, do I have to get up and shake it out of you? The sea’s calm as glass: you can’t be ill.”
“I… no! I…”
“What?”
“I’ve started my courses!” she wailed, and began to sob in earnest.
It took a long moment for the sense of this to penetrate the obliviousness of Jack’s youthful male brain, but when it did the result was electrifying. “What!” he exclaimed and sat bolt upright, quite forgetting he was in the hammock. Uncaring, it tossed him to the floor with a painful thud, something that hadn’t happened to him since his first week on a ship.
He swore vilely (inspiring Letty to squeal in fear), sprang up and fumbled about, trying to light the lamp. Having got it lit, however, he merely stood there for a minute, staring in outraged disbelief at the quivering, blanket-shrouded mound of bleeding female before he turned tail and slammed out of the cabin.
He reached Bootstrap’s door in record time, but looked about surreptitiously before he knocked, light but firm. “Bill! Bill, wake up!”
The call was low, but urgent, and it brought Bill to the door with little delay.
“What’s toward?” Bill frowned sleepily. “Ship’s all right?”
“No. I mean… yes.” Jack glanced ‘round again, and lowered his voice even more before continuing. “It’s Letty.”
“Letty?” Bill frowned deeper, suspicious. “What’ve you done to her?”
“Not me! God’s teeth…”
“What then?”
Jack hesitated a half second, then said in a whispered growl, “She’s started her courses!”
Bill’s brows shot skyward and, to Jack’s fury, he sputtered and then roared with laughter.
Jack scowled at the noise and shoved Bill into the cabin, following and closing the door. Martin was out on watch, fortunately, so Jack was the only immediate witness to Bill’s unrestrained, and unappreciated hilarity. “Shut up!” Jack snapped, as Bill collapsed onto his cot. “What in hell should I do?”
Bill wiped a tear of amusement away as he gained some control. “Oh… oh, Lord, that’s givin’ you your just desserts, ain’t it?”
“I beg your pardon?” said Jack, outraged.
“Oh, don’t act innocent with me! I saw you today, playin’ ‘er like a fish on a line.”
“Was not!”
“Jack!” Bootstrap subdued his mirth and lifted an accusing brow.
Jack scowled. “Well, maybe a bit. I won ‘er, didn’t I? And play’s all it was. But what do I do now?”
Bill ran a hand through his hair, considering. “Look: you go get her a bucket of fresh water - she might want to have a wash. I’ll go hunt up the rest. Some clean rags; a stack of bandaging from the surgeon’s chest would work, maybe. Some rum, too - Mary likes a nip the first day or so. Takes the edge off fine, she says. Lord, you’ll have to come up with considerable largesse for Reed. He won’t take kindly to doin’ that sort of laundry.”
Jack rolled his eyes, feeling an immediate need to change the subject. “Right. I’ll go get the water then. Shall I leave it by the door? You can talk to her when you fetch the… the rum, an’ all.”
Bill laughed again. “It’s not contagious, Jack!”
“Aye,” said Jack, doubtfully. “But you’re married. You’ll know what to say.”
“You better figure out what to say right quick, unless you plan to abandon her for a week.”
“A week!”
“Maybe. They’re all different, of course. Mary’s lasts about five days.”
Jack stared. Then straightened. “Rum,” he said, decisively.
“Aye?” Bill’s lips quivered.
“Takes the edge off. Smart woman, your wife.”
“She is, that,” Bill agreed, with a wry smile.
“Right, then. I’ll bring the water. And thanks, Bill. Don’t noise it about, eh?”
“Reed’ll know.”
“I’ll take care of Reed. Considerable largesse. And rum. That’ll do it.”
Bill grinned. “Whatever you say, Jack.”
*
TBC