Arrrrrrr *breath* rrrrrrrrrr!
Chapter 3 of The Sparrow's Nest
P.S. Just a quick thanks to all the people who have put up with my whinging about this story and who have been my continual betas throughout this process (dang, this kinda sounds like an Oscar acceptance speech, don't it?) So thank you Mel, Niggsy and Colin for your tolerance and forebearance! This one's for you.
Where Charlie had felt anxiety and underlying excitement at seeing her father, Sam felt only anger and resentment. Sentiments fuelled by the way the man was sitting, leaning back on his chair, hat on the table, swigging rum as if he wasn’t tearing what was left of a family apart. Sam had been watching him for some time, hidden away in one of the dark corners of the inn. What was so special about this man? His appearance hardly matched the legends surrounding his name. Fight cursed pirates? Send the East India Company packing? This one? Sam doubted he could even stand up. Still, he wouldn’t take his sister away from him, of that he would make certain.
It had not taken long to seek him out, all one had to do was ask where to find Captain Jack Sparrow and people pointed in the direction. Sam knew he had to be on Nassau somewhere, otherwise why would Charlie have come straight to him for help? She had left the beginning of a trail of breadcrumbs that all Sam had to do was follow. Now he had to choose a course of action. Trying to run him through was probably a bad idea, seeing as the captain also had a blade, was a good deal older, and probably better with it drunk than sober. Also, Charlie would never forgive him for just killing him outright. He had to be clever about getting rid of him. Clever meaning getting rid of him without putting his head on a spike.
When he finally decided to move, he crossed the room with purposeful strides, knocking a couple of men out of the way in the process, and slammed his fists down on the captain’s table. Jack barely jumped, just blinking up at the boy in a sort of drunken haze. He blinked a few times, the expression on his face a blank mask.
“... And what can I do for you, lad?” he asked jovially, apparently not reading the anger on Sam’s face, nor the fact that he was almost spitting feathers. The younger Sparrow growled.
“You’re not taking her.”
Jack blinked. “Who?”
“My sister.”
“Ah. ... Which one’s that, then?”
“She’s somehow got it into her head that she wants to be a pirate and go gallivanting off into the sunset with you. I won’t have it.”
Jack paused for a moment, tapping his chin with his fingers and trying to recollect. His eyes lit up as he remembered. “Ah yes, young girl, dark hair, lovely bottom.”
Sam saw red as his sister was mentioned in such a way, and by such a man. Of course, had his rational head been on, he would have realised he was talking about Charlie like that because he was oblivious to her relation to him, but his anger far outweighed rationality. He leaned over the table, bringing his face closer to Sparrow’s. “She’s staying with me. You can find someone else to do your dirty work.”
Jack cocked his head to the side in an almost inquisitive manner. “That would be her choice, wouldn’t it?”
“Not anymore it isn’t.”
“Is that so?” Jack looked the boy straight in the eyes for a long while, all traces of joviality gone. The captain was looking for something, the drunken haze temporarily lifted for a few moments, and father and son stared at each other for a long time. Sam’s emotions were written clearly on his now ruddy face, but Jack’s look was unreadable. Suddenly a glimmer of expression flashed across the older man’s face and he got up, staggering a couple of paces sideways as he donned his hat. “She’s all yours, mate.”
Sam blinked, having not expected to have won that easily. He frowned now in confusion and turned around as the drunken captain swaggered past him. “What?”
“You win,” he said, heading for the door. “She’s yours. Not in the habit of stealing sisters. Well, not your sister, anyway.” He turned and glanced back at him as he opened the door. “Savvy?” And with that, he was gone.
Sam was left blinking at the closed door, wondering quite how he had managed to pull that off. It didn’t matter, anyway. His mission was accomplished and Jack Sparrow was out of their lives, where he belonged.
~*~*~*~*~
Charlie was dressed, groomed, and bolting through the streets at a rate of knots. Sam had left his brothel while she was being attended to by Rose, and she had a fair idea where he had wandered off to. The girls had told her that he had been in a fit of temper when he left, and that just confirmed her suspicions. Her brother had gone off to find Jack, and that did not bode well. She headed for the inn where she had left her father only hours before, regretting that she was already soiling her clothes with sweat.
Seeing the swinging sign above the tavern door only made her speed up, and she burst through the door with such force that she nearly knocked another patron flying. Her eyes scanned the crowd for the captain, but his distinctive figure was nowhere to be seen. She did, however, spot her brother. He was propping up the bar, a mug of rum in hand, and looking distinctly pleased with himself. She was going to swing for him.
Sam swung around on his stool as he heard the door swing open with some force, and he clocked his sister standing in the doorway with a murderous look on her face. His eyebrows rose slowly. The only thing that had remained the same about her clothing was her boots. Otherwise her outfit was completely changed. A clean ivory shirt was worn beneath a brown, sleeveless jacket with a belt at her waist. Her legs sported matching brown breeches and her hair was pulled back out of her face in a messy bun. It was funny, he was sure he had a jacket just like that...
Charlie breathed out loudly through her nose and marched over to Sam, fuming. “What did you do?” she demanded as soon as she was within two yards of him. She surprised herself by grabbing hold of her brother’s shirt and yanking him closer. “What did you do, Samuel?”
“You’re not going with him, Charlie,” he said calmly, gripping her hand and making her release his shirt. Any other sensible man would have backed away at the look in her eyes, but Sam stayed put. “He’s gone.”
He hadn’t even seen the blow coming. Her hand struck his face with such force that it made his eyes water and nearly knocked his head right off his shoulders.
“How dare you?” she uttered, somewhat aware of the silence around them after the sound of the smack. “How dare you make decisions for me, as if you have a say?”
“I do have a say,” Sam growled, his cheek already reddening.
“No, you did have a say.” She backed away from him, shaking her head. “Not anymore. I hope for your sake he’s still here.”
“Charlie, he’ll just-”
“Don’t Sam,” she interrupted, holding up a hand, the anger slowly making way now for hurt. “Just don’t.”
She turned her back on him and ran out of the inn, leaving her brother staring after her, looking totally, utterly lost.
She headed straight for the docks, figuring that if he was still on the island, that that was the most likely place he would be. Her heart thumped in her chest as she searched for him, panicked. She had just found him, she couldn’t lose him now. It just wasn’t fair. She wished she had Rat with her; two pairs of eyes were undoubtedly better than one, but he had been... engaged when she had run out after her wayward twin. It would hardly have been fair to interrupt him.
She had the almost irresistible urge to shout the captain’s name, but she kept quiet for fear of drawing attention to herself. Instead, she searched with her eyes and kept her mouth firmly closed. She ran from jetty to jetty, looking desperately for him and feeling her heart reach her throat. As she came to the last of them, she was beginning to lose hope. She had lost him. She had spoken with him, met him, looked the man who had given her life right in the eyes, and now she would never get the chance to know him.
Charlie’s pace had slowed considerably as she rounded the corner around the back of a ship to reach the last jetty in the port, having little hope left of finding him. She barely had to look to see what her heart had been dreading: there was no one there. Her heart sank to her stomach as she walked along the empty jetty, her boots thunking gently against the wood. She reached the end and sank down onto the floor, her legs hanging off the side and over the gently lapping waters below. She slowly reached behind her head and roughly pulled the tie out of her hair that held it in the bun, causing her hair to flop down in messy ringlets about her face. So, he was gone, then; that was it. There would be no adventure on the high seas for her now, no opportunity to know the man she had spent months searching for. It was all over.
She squeezed her eyes shut and choked back a sob as tears slipped free, rolling down her cheeks. It had all been going so well. She would never forgive her brother for this. Not ever. She sniffed and wiped her cheeks with the back of her fist, easing her eyes open again. As she looked down at her lap, she caught the sight of a pair of boots standing beside her. She blinked.
“Don’t cry, love. It’s a most unattractive way of expressing emotion.”
Charlie looked up slowly, not altogether trusting the familiar voice. She had to take her time and check, just to make sure. First came the boots, the breeches, and the striped sash with all sort of strange things hanging off it, a compass, a sword, a pistol, and further up a hat with hair beneath it strewn with beads and other oddities. Yes, it was him. Jack was looking at her blubbing with something akin to disapproval. He flapped his hands at her, gesturing for her to shift over to give him room.
“Move.”
And move she did, sniffling slightly as she pushed herself along the edge. With a soft grunt the captain set himself down next to her, one leg hanging over the side and the other hitched up so he could rest his arm on it. He looked at her, an eyebrow cocked and his eyes lazily narrowed.
“What’s all this snivelling in aid of, then?” he asked. “Lose something?”
“Nearly,” she admitted, wiping her eyes a final time with the heels of her hands. She took a breath and calmed herself, enjoying the feeling of the cool night air blowing gently over her hot, puffy eyes. “You seem to have distaste for weeping. Don’t you ever cry?”
“Me? No.”He took his gaze from her and looked out across the bay, grinning slightly. “I either drink so much that I can’t remember what my own name is, or I shoot something. You should try it.”
“I would rather shoot my brother,” Charlie muttered, glowering at her hands. Jack surreptitiously moved his pistol from one hip to the other, effectively keeping it out of her reach.
“Ah yes, the brother,” Jack said softly, almost to himself. He remained quiet for a moment, seemingly mulling this over in his mind. “You can’t blame him for caring, love. Had I a sister, I might have reservations myself about letting her run off with a notorious scallywag. We pirates are not always the safest bunch of gentlemen to be around, especially for a woman.”
Charlie arched an eyebrow at him. “Trying to put me off, Captain?”
Jack smiled with one side of his mouth. “Just being honest with you, mate. Make the most of it while it lasts.”
“Oh yes? And what other dangers would you warn me of?”
“Oh, there’s a rather lengthy list, but I would know something first.” He looked at her, leaning back on his elbows and letting his other leg drop to hang over the side. “Would you be willing to forego your life here to take up a risky life out on the ocean? Are you certain this is what you want?” His eyes searched her face silently. “It’s not a quiet life, and not many pirates die of old age.”
“I’m not afraid of dying.”
“No?” Jack raised his eyebrows. “Ever been faced with death?”
“Well... I... not really...”
“Then how would you know if it frightens you?”
Charlie’s cheeks burned and she looked away, suddenly shamed by her rash statement. This man had probably faced death more times than she had had hot dinners, and here she was brashly stating that death didn’t frighten her. She looked down at her hands. “I don’t suppose I would.”
“How old are you, love?” Charlie raised her head again at the sudden question, blinking at him.
“Seventeen.”
“Your name?”
“Charlotte. Charlie, really.” Jack’s mouth twitched up in a smile again.
“Just Charlie?”
“Just Charlie. We bastards don’t tend to get the luxury of surnames.”
“Ah.” Jack breathed, regarding her for a long moment before pushing himself to his feet. “Well, Just Charlie, we had best get moving. Lots to do.”
Charlie blinked again and struggled to her feet herself, dusting off her backside as she did so. “Lots to do? You mean you’ll still have me even if I haven’t brought you a ship?”
“I’ll have you so long as you don’t start snivelling again,” he said, straightening his hat and beginning to walk back up the jetty to the dock. “Shoot one of the more expendable members of the crew next time. Much less hassle.”
“Yes, sir,” she smiled and shook her head, following him. “But aren’t I one of the more expendable crew members myself?”
“I wouldn’t call the first mate an expendable crew member.”
Charlie’s step faltered and she very nearly fell flat on her face. She? First mate? How on earth did that happen? One moment she thought herself abandoned and alone, and now Jack was back and she was given the highest position aboard a ship they didn’t even have without even trying. “What? Me? Why?”
“Because quite frankly I wouldn’t trust the rest of the crew I’ve hired with a wet herring, savvy?”
“And... you would trust me?” Charlie was quite touched by the fact, and it showed on her face as she jogged to catch up and walk beside him. Jack looked at her with a very shrewd expression.
“I’ve not had a lot of luck with first mates,” he admitted. “I trust you to be the exception.”
“I see,” she said quietly, following wherever he led. He had given her quite the responsibility. She wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to manage a crew full of potential ruffians in the captain’s stead. What man would listen to a woman barking orders? She was hardly an impressive woman either. Small, dark, and easily overlooked. She was no Anne Bonny by any stretch of the imagination.
Jack suddenly stopped halfway along the dock, whirling around to face the parade of ships and putting his hand on Charlie’s shoulder to steer her in the same direction.
“Pick one,” he said, gesturing grandly to the selection before them. Charlie blinked, looking first at him, then the ships, then back again.
“Any one?” she asked. Jack smiled benevolently, his hand still on her shoulder.
“Ladies’ choice.”
Charlie caught her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it thoughtfully as she surveyed the ships one by one. They would need something fast and armed to the teeth, and she knew enough about ships to be able to pick one of those out. She broke away from Jack’s gentle hold and went to take a closer look at one that had caught her eye. It was a pretty sloop, newly painted in tan and rich brown varnishes, but it was also sturdy and well-built. She cocked her head to the side and walked the length of it. Fourteen guns in all; yes, this would do nicely.
“This one,” she said decisively. Jack sauntered over at his own pace and gave the little boat a once over with his sharp eyes, his fingers lightly tugging at one of the braids of his beard. What exactly he was looking for, Charlie could only guess, but after a moment he nodded.
“A fine choice,” he said, his eyes sliding over to her. “We’ll make a scallywag of you yet.”
Charlie felt something inside her chest swell, and it brought a beaming smile to her face seemingly out of nowhere; it was a very good feeling. So this was what it felt like to have a parent’s praise. It was something she had never experienced before, and she would do what she had to, to get that feeling again. She had no real time to dwell on it, however, as the captain quickly turned and walked back the way he had come.
“Come along, now. Step to; we haven’t got all night.” Charlie blushed and said nothing, she just picked up her pace and jogged to catch up with him. “The proper response is, ‘Aye, Captain’,” he said after a moment. “Let’s practice that, shall we?”
Charlie just about managed to keep the smile off her face. “Aye, Captain.”
“Very good.” He stopped again and whirled around, nearly causing Charlie to crash into him. She had to lean back as he leaned forward, his very being exhibiting drunkenness but his eyes showing perfect clarity. “Before we execute this exquisite example of lawlessness, is there anything here you want to take with you?”
Charlie had to think for a moment, her lip going back between her teeth. She owned very little, save the clothes on her back and the few coins in her purse. She had no trinkets or keepsakes to fetch, no extra clothes. She shook her head, unable to think of anything that she couldn’t liberate from someone nearby.
“No, I don’t think...” she stopped as Jack cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. Suddenly, she gasped. “Rat!” She inwardly cursed herself for being so forgetful of her friend. “I can’t leave him behind, he’d never forgive me.”
“Best go and fetch him, then.”
Charlie nodded curtly with an ‘Aye, Captain’ for good measure, and started down the street at a run. Abruptly, she skidded to a halt and turned, calling back to him: “Will you wait here for me?”
“If you’re not going to drink that...?” he pointed to the flask in her belt. She looked down, plucked it out and threw it to him. He caught it deftly and worked a wobbly bow into the movement. “Much obliged.”
She threw a final smile over her shoulder at him before disappearing down the dark alley leading from the dock, leaving Jack standing there with the little flask. A slow grin appeared on his features as he set his fingers on the cork, ready to pull it free and drink the sweet nectar inside, but he paused before he could loosen it, suddenly aware that he was being watched. His eyes slid down to the side before his head followed. Sitting beside him was a scruffy-looking mongrel, wagging its tail. It looked suspiciously like that dog with the keys.
“What do you want?” he asked it gruffly, eyeing the animal with some suspicion. The dog’s tongue just lolled happily out of the side of its mouth. Jack huffed and returned to his endeavour, tugging at the cork insistently. The bloody thing wouldn’t budge! The captain started to mutter incoherently, getting rather frustrated with the little round cork that was standing between him and his precious rum.
In a sudden flash of movement, the dog at his side leapt up and snatched the flask right out of his hands, then proceeded to bolt down the dock with it. Jack watched the scene unfold, his eyes wide with unmitigated horror.
“Oi! No! Stop!” He shouted, waving his hands in the air frantically. “Come back!” In his desperation, he nearly pulled his pistol on the dog, but it was too far ahead to be shot, so he gave chase instead, arms flailing, and cursing loudly for all of Nassau to hear.
P.S. Just a quick thanks to all the people who have put up with my whinging about this story and who have been my continual betas throughout this process (dang, this kinda sounds like an Oscar acceptance speech, don't it?) So thank you Mel, Niggsy and Colin for your tolerance and forebearance! This one's for you.
Where Charlie had felt anxiety and underlying excitement at seeing her father, Sam felt only anger and resentment. Sentiments fuelled by the way the man was sitting, leaning back on his chair, hat on the table, swigging rum as if he wasn’t tearing what was left of a family apart. Sam had been watching him for some time, hidden away in one of the dark corners of the inn. What was so special about this man? His appearance hardly matched the legends surrounding his name. Fight cursed pirates? Send the East India Company packing? This one? Sam doubted he could even stand up. Still, he wouldn’t take his sister away from him, of that he would make certain.
It had not taken long to seek him out, all one had to do was ask where to find Captain Jack Sparrow and people pointed in the direction. Sam knew he had to be on Nassau somewhere, otherwise why would Charlie have come straight to him for help? She had left the beginning of a trail of breadcrumbs that all Sam had to do was follow. Now he had to choose a course of action. Trying to run him through was probably a bad idea, seeing as the captain also had a blade, was a good deal older, and probably better with it drunk than sober. Also, Charlie would never forgive him for just killing him outright. He had to be clever about getting rid of him. Clever meaning getting rid of him without putting his head on a spike.
When he finally decided to move, he crossed the room with purposeful strides, knocking a couple of men out of the way in the process, and slammed his fists down on the captain’s table. Jack barely jumped, just blinking up at the boy in a sort of drunken haze. He blinked a few times, the expression on his face a blank mask.
“... And what can I do for you, lad?” he asked jovially, apparently not reading the anger on Sam’s face, nor the fact that he was almost spitting feathers. The younger Sparrow growled.
“You’re not taking her.”
Jack blinked. “Who?”
“My sister.”
“Ah. ... Which one’s that, then?”
“She’s somehow got it into her head that she wants to be a pirate and go gallivanting off into the sunset with you. I won’t have it.”
Jack paused for a moment, tapping his chin with his fingers and trying to recollect. His eyes lit up as he remembered. “Ah yes, young girl, dark hair, lovely bottom.”
Sam saw red as his sister was mentioned in such a way, and by such a man. Of course, had his rational head been on, he would have realised he was talking about Charlie like that because he was oblivious to her relation to him, but his anger far outweighed rationality. He leaned over the table, bringing his face closer to Sparrow’s. “She’s staying with me. You can find someone else to do your dirty work.”
Jack cocked his head to the side in an almost inquisitive manner. “That would be her choice, wouldn’t it?”
“Not anymore it isn’t.”
“Is that so?” Jack looked the boy straight in the eyes for a long while, all traces of joviality gone. The captain was looking for something, the drunken haze temporarily lifted for a few moments, and father and son stared at each other for a long time. Sam’s emotions were written clearly on his now ruddy face, but Jack’s look was unreadable. Suddenly a glimmer of expression flashed across the older man’s face and he got up, staggering a couple of paces sideways as he donned his hat. “She’s all yours, mate.”
Sam blinked, having not expected to have won that easily. He frowned now in confusion and turned around as the drunken captain swaggered past him. “What?”
“You win,” he said, heading for the door. “She’s yours. Not in the habit of stealing sisters. Well, not your sister, anyway.” He turned and glanced back at him as he opened the door. “Savvy?” And with that, he was gone.
Sam was left blinking at the closed door, wondering quite how he had managed to pull that off. It didn’t matter, anyway. His mission was accomplished and Jack Sparrow was out of their lives, where he belonged.
~*~*~*~*~
Charlie was dressed, groomed, and bolting through the streets at a rate of knots. Sam had left his brothel while she was being attended to by Rose, and she had a fair idea where he had wandered off to. The girls had told her that he had been in a fit of temper when he left, and that just confirmed her suspicions. Her brother had gone off to find Jack, and that did not bode well. She headed for the inn where she had left her father only hours before, regretting that she was already soiling her clothes with sweat.
Seeing the swinging sign above the tavern door only made her speed up, and she burst through the door with such force that she nearly knocked another patron flying. Her eyes scanned the crowd for the captain, but his distinctive figure was nowhere to be seen. She did, however, spot her brother. He was propping up the bar, a mug of rum in hand, and looking distinctly pleased with himself. She was going to swing for him.
Sam swung around on his stool as he heard the door swing open with some force, and he clocked his sister standing in the doorway with a murderous look on her face. His eyebrows rose slowly. The only thing that had remained the same about her clothing was her boots. Otherwise her outfit was completely changed. A clean ivory shirt was worn beneath a brown, sleeveless jacket with a belt at her waist. Her legs sported matching brown breeches and her hair was pulled back out of her face in a messy bun. It was funny, he was sure he had a jacket just like that...
Charlie breathed out loudly through her nose and marched over to Sam, fuming. “What did you do?” she demanded as soon as she was within two yards of him. She surprised herself by grabbing hold of her brother’s shirt and yanking him closer. “What did you do, Samuel?”
“You’re not going with him, Charlie,” he said calmly, gripping her hand and making her release his shirt. Any other sensible man would have backed away at the look in her eyes, but Sam stayed put. “He’s gone.”
He hadn’t even seen the blow coming. Her hand struck his face with such force that it made his eyes water and nearly knocked his head right off his shoulders.
“How dare you?” she uttered, somewhat aware of the silence around them after the sound of the smack. “How dare you make decisions for me, as if you have a say?”
“I do have a say,” Sam growled, his cheek already reddening.
“No, you did have a say.” She backed away from him, shaking her head. “Not anymore. I hope for your sake he’s still here.”
“Charlie, he’ll just-”
“Don’t Sam,” she interrupted, holding up a hand, the anger slowly making way now for hurt. “Just don’t.”
She turned her back on him and ran out of the inn, leaving her brother staring after her, looking totally, utterly lost.
She headed straight for the docks, figuring that if he was still on the island, that that was the most likely place he would be. Her heart thumped in her chest as she searched for him, panicked. She had just found him, she couldn’t lose him now. It just wasn’t fair. She wished she had Rat with her; two pairs of eyes were undoubtedly better than one, but he had been... engaged when she had run out after her wayward twin. It would hardly have been fair to interrupt him.
She had the almost irresistible urge to shout the captain’s name, but she kept quiet for fear of drawing attention to herself. Instead, she searched with her eyes and kept her mouth firmly closed. She ran from jetty to jetty, looking desperately for him and feeling her heart reach her throat. As she came to the last of them, she was beginning to lose hope. She had lost him. She had spoken with him, met him, looked the man who had given her life right in the eyes, and now she would never get the chance to know him.
Charlie’s pace had slowed considerably as she rounded the corner around the back of a ship to reach the last jetty in the port, having little hope left of finding him. She barely had to look to see what her heart had been dreading: there was no one there. Her heart sank to her stomach as she walked along the empty jetty, her boots thunking gently against the wood. She reached the end and sank down onto the floor, her legs hanging off the side and over the gently lapping waters below. She slowly reached behind her head and roughly pulled the tie out of her hair that held it in the bun, causing her hair to flop down in messy ringlets about her face. So, he was gone, then; that was it. There would be no adventure on the high seas for her now, no opportunity to know the man she had spent months searching for. It was all over.
She squeezed her eyes shut and choked back a sob as tears slipped free, rolling down her cheeks. It had all been going so well. She would never forgive her brother for this. Not ever. She sniffed and wiped her cheeks with the back of her fist, easing her eyes open again. As she looked down at her lap, she caught the sight of a pair of boots standing beside her. She blinked.
“Don’t cry, love. It’s a most unattractive way of expressing emotion.”
Charlie looked up slowly, not altogether trusting the familiar voice. She had to take her time and check, just to make sure. First came the boots, the breeches, and the striped sash with all sort of strange things hanging off it, a compass, a sword, a pistol, and further up a hat with hair beneath it strewn with beads and other oddities. Yes, it was him. Jack was looking at her blubbing with something akin to disapproval. He flapped his hands at her, gesturing for her to shift over to give him room.
“Move.”
And move she did, sniffling slightly as she pushed herself along the edge. With a soft grunt the captain set himself down next to her, one leg hanging over the side and the other hitched up so he could rest his arm on it. He looked at her, an eyebrow cocked and his eyes lazily narrowed.
“What’s all this snivelling in aid of, then?” he asked. “Lose something?”
“Nearly,” she admitted, wiping her eyes a final time with the heels of her hands. She took a breath and calmed herself, enjoying the feeling of the cool night air blowing gently over her hot, puffy eyes. “You seem to have distaste for weeping. Don’t you ever cry?”
“Me? No.”He took his gaze from her and looked out across the bay, grinning slightly. “I either drink so much that I can’t remember what my own name is, or I shoot something. You should try it.”
“I would rather shoot my brother,” Charlie muttered, glowering at her hands. Jack surreptitiously moved his pistol from one hip to the other, effectively keeping it out of her reach.
“Ah yes, the brother,” Jack said softly, almost to himself. He remained quiet for a moment, seemingly mulling this over in his mind. “You can’t blame him for caring, love. Had I a sister, I might have reservations myself about letting her run off with a notorious scallywag. We pirates are not always the safest bunch of gentlemen to be around, especially for a woman.”
Charlie arched an eyebrow at him. “Trying to put me off, Captain?”
Jack smiled with one side of his mouth. “Just being honest with you, mate. Make the most of it while it lasts.”
“Oh yes? And what other dangers would you warn me of?”
“Oh, there’s a rather lengthy list, but I would know something first.” He looked at her, leaning back on his elbows and letting his other leg drop to hang over the side. “Would you be willing to forego your life here to take up a risky life out on the ocean? Are you certain this is what you want?” His eyes searched her face silently. “It’s not a quiet life, and not many pirates die of old age.”
“I’m not afraid of dying.”
“No?” Jack raised his eyebrows. “Ever been faced with death?”
“Well... I... not really...”
“Then how would you know if it frightens you?”
Charlie’s cheeks burned and she looked away, suddenly shamed by her rash statement. This man had probably faced death more times than she had had hot dinners, and here she was brashly stating that death didn’t frighten her. She looked down at her hands. “I don’t suppose I would.”
“How old are you, love?” Charlie raised her head again at the sudden question, blinking at him.
“Seventeen.”
“Your name?”
“Charlotte. Charlie, really.” Jack’s mouth twitched up in a smile again.
“Just Charlie?”
“Just Charlie. We bastards don’t tend to get the luxury of surnames.”
“Ah.” Jack breathed, regarding her for a long moment before pushing himself to his feet. “Well, Just Charlie, we had best get moving. Lots to do.”
Charlie blinked again and struggled to her feet herself, dusting off her backside as she did so. “Lots to do? You mean you’ll still have me even if I haven’t brought you a ship?”
“I’ll have you so long as you don’t start snivelling again,” he said, straightening his hat and beginning to walk back up the jetty to the dock. “Shoot one of the more expendable members of the crew next time. Much less hassle.”
“Yes, sir,” she smiled and shook her head, following him. “But aren’t I one of the more expendable crew members myself?”
“I wouldn’t call the first mate an expendable crew member.”
Charlie’s step faltered and she very nearly fell flat on her face. She? First mate? How on earth did that happen? One moment she thought herself abandoned and alone, and now Jack was back and she was given the highest position aboard a ship they didn’t even have without even trying. “What? Me? Why?”
“Because quite frankly I wouldn’t trust the rest of the crew I’ve hired with a wet herring, savvy?”
“And... you would trust me?” Charlie was quite touched by the fact, and it showed on her face as she jogged to catch up and walk beside him. Jack looked at her with a very shrewd expression.
“I’ve not had a lot of luck with first mates,” he admitted. “I trust you to be the exception.”
“I see,” she said quietly, following wherever he led. He had given her quite the responsibility. She wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to manage a crew full of potential ruffians in the captain’s stead. What man would listen to a woman barking orders? She was hardly an impressive woman either. Small, dark, and easily overlooked. She was no Anne Bonny by any stretch of the imagination.
Jack suddenly stopped halfway along the dock, whirling around to face the parade of ships and putting his hand on Charlie’s shoulder to steer her in the same direction.
“Pick one,” he said, gesturing grandly to the selection before them. Charlie blinked, looking first at him, then the ships, then back again.
“Any one?” she asked. Jack smiled benevolently, his hand still on her shoulder.
“Ladies’ choice.”
Charlie caught her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it thoughtfully as she surveyed the ships one by one. They would need something fast and armed to the teeth, and she knew enough about ships to be able to pick one of those out. She broke away from Jack’s gentle hold and went to take a closer look at one that had caught her eye. It was a pretty sloop, newly painted in tan and rich brown varnishes, but it was also sturdy and well-built. She cocked her head to the side and walked the length of it. Fourteen guns in all; yes, this would do nicely.
“This one,” she said decisively. Jack sauntered over at his own pace and gave the little boat a once over with his sharp eyes, his fingers lightly tugging at one of the braids of his beard. What exactly he was looking for, Charlie could only guess, but after a moment he nodded.
“A fine choice,” he said, his eyes sliding over to her. “We’ll make a scallywag of you yet.”
Charlie felt something inside her chest swell, and it brought a beaming smile to her face seemingly out of nowhere; it was a very good feeling. So this was what it felt like to have a parent’s praise. It was something she had never experienced before, and she would do what she had to, to get that feeling again. She had no real time to dwell on it, however, as the captain quickly turned and walked back the way he had come.
“Come along, now. Step to; we haven’t got all night.” Charlie blushed and said nothing, she just picked up her pace and jogged to catch up with him. “The proper response is, ‘Aye, Captain’,” he said after a moment. “Let’s practice that, shall we?”
Charlie just about managed to keep the smile off her face. “Aye, Captain.”
“Very good.” He stopped again and whirled around, nearly causing Charlie to crash into him. She had to lean back as he leaned forward, his very being exhibiting drunkenness but his eyes showing perfect clarity. “Before we execute this exquisite example of lawlessness, is there anything here you want to take with you?”
Charlie had to think for a moment, her lip going back between her teeth. She owned very little, save the clothes on her back and the few coins in her purse. She had no trinkets or keepsakes to fetch, no extra clothes. She shook her head, unable to think of anything that she couldn’t liberate from someone nearby.
“No, I don’t think...” she stopped as Jack cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. Suddenly, she gasped. “Rat!” She inwardly cursed herself for being so forgetful of her friend. “I can’t leave him behind, he’d never forgive me.”
“Best go and fetch him, then.”
Charlie nodded curtly with an ‘Aye, Captain’ for good measure, and started down the street at a run. Abruptly, she skidded to a halt and turned, calling back to him: “Will you wait here for me?”
“If you’re not going to drink that...?” he pointed to the flask in her belt. She looked down, plucked it out and threw it to him. He caught it deftly and worked a wobbly bow into the movement. “Much obliged.”
She threw a final smile over her shoulder at him before disappearing down the dark alley leading from the dock, leaving Jack standing there with the little flask. A slow grin appeared on his features as he set his fingers on the cork, ready to pull it free and drink the sweet nectar inside, but he paused before he could loosen it, suddenly aware that he was being watched. His eyes slid down to the side before his head followed. Sitting beside him was a scruffy-looking mongrel, wagging its tail. It looked suspiciously like that dog with the keys.
“What do you want?” he asked it gruffly, eyeing the animal with some suspicion. The dog’s tongue just lolled happily out of the side of its mouth. Jack huffed and returned to his endeavour, tugging at the cork insistently. The bloody thing wouldn’t budge! The captain started to mutter incoherently, getting rather frustrated with the little round cork that was standing between him and his precious rum.
In a sudden flash of movement, the dog at his side leapt up and snatched the flask right out of his hands, then proceeded to bolt down the dock with it. Jack watched the scene unfold, his eyes wide with unmitigated horror.
“Oi! No! Stop!” He shouted, waving his hands in the air frantically. “Come back!” In his desperation, he nearly pulled his pistol on the dog, but it was too far ahead to be shot, so he gave chase instead, arms flailing, and cursing loudly for all of Nassau to hear.