Of Doves and Sparrows: Ch.1

Molly Orchers was known playfully as the Dove in the Crow’s Nest. It was a most fitting title as she worked as a bartender and singer at her family’s sea front pub in London, The Crows Nest and she was a plump fair girl with raven hair, rosy cheeks, bright black eyes and a sweet low, cooing voice. When men really wanted to flatter her, which was often, they would say that such a voice could calm the damned souls of hell. She appreciated their praise of course but was far to sensible to lose her head and more besides over it. Also the male clientele of the Crow’s Nest tended to be very rough, mostly consisting of sailors and sometimes even pirates forced into hiding from their usual tropical haunts. Molly wasn’t scared of them though. She had three weapons at her disposal; a strong instinct for danger and knowing whom to avoid, a dagger tucked into one of her garters (which she was not afraid to use as one or two mashers will attest while rubbing painful wounds on their thighs) and her father. Her entire family tended toward the robust and strong side but none more so than her dad. And every man who came to the Crow’s Nest knew that if they hurt Molly, their lives would not be worth a halfpenny. Of course, he was gone at the moment, off with the fishing boats so Molly had to rely exclusively on her first two resources.
On a rainy night, Molly stood at the bar wiping the counter down and cleaning glasses. Aside from a few men sitting drunk and sleepy at the scattered tables, the place was rather empty and quiet.
A man she had never seen before walked through the doors. His garb, though damp, ragged and entirely unsuited to the late autumn evening, indicated strongly that he was a pirate and quite an important one at that. Molly watched him stagger to the bar with some interest and concern. Interest because he was tall, lanky and very handsome with high cheekbones, a fine nose and an uncommonly well-formed chin adorned with a braided goatee. His hair hung in messy and at the moment damp dreadlocks with various trinkets strung into and among them. Concern because he was shivering and once he was near enough to the bar, Molly could see an ashen pallor to his face beneath the tan. He sat down heavily at the bar, dropped some coins onto the table and asked for rum.
Molly quickly poured and handed him the drink. He threw back about half the contents in one go and coughed. “Thanks luv.”
“You’re welcome.” Molly said, barely remembering to pick up the money. “Are you all right?”
“Absolutely fine.” He sneezed, sending a fine mist of water off the dreadlocks and onto the bar top. “Well perhaps a little touch of something or other but nothing a good stiff drink and a pretty face can’t put right.”
Molly smiled and felt herself blush a little. “ I don’t think a warm, dry place to sleep tonight would hurt either. How about a room?”
He shook his head. “Kind offer luv, but I’d best get back to the ship.” He got up from the bar rather unsteadily and clutched his head. “Not to worry, luv. Captain Jack Sparrow will be just...” He fainted and fell face down on the floor.
Molly jumped with surprising agility over the counter. She knelt beside Jack Sparrow and carefully turned him over, drawing his head into her lap. She laid her hand against a cheek that fairly burned under her fingers.
“No, I think you’re staying here tonight, Jack.” She told the unconscious pirate as she draped his arm around her neck and stood up slowly and carefully. It was not difficult. She’d assisted much heavier men from that bar floor. Bracing him against her back she half carried and half dragged him to the nearest room.