A Most Unusual Interest

A Most Unusual Interest Chapter Twelve (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather gets tons of muses in her choice of denomination for beta-ing! *G * And tons and heaps of thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed!

Myrtle could not help but feel a little bit smug, despite the niggling guilt in the back of her mind. She had cleaned herself and dressed hurriedly, Jack’s pants not surprisingly snug on her full hips and thighs. She tried not to think of him as she stuffed her bare feet into some old half boots one of the men had found for her when she first arrived on board and let herself out of the cabin. Most of the crew was attempting to right the mast so she moved unnoticed to the hatch, lowering herself below deck with a gasp and cringe. It smelled, she thought, like Hell must. Mildew, tar, oldd, hd, human sweat and offal…things that had spilled during the battle and mingled, going quickly bad in the heat of the Caribbean summer. No one seemed to be down there with her and for that, she breathed a sigh of relief. Splashing through the few inches of water remaining despite the bailing effort, she made her way to the bow where the prisoner was being held. It was so dark she almost missed him, huddled in the shadows as he was. “Hello?” she called softly.
Goliath lurched forward, rattling the bars on the small cell as he grabbed for her. “Myrtle,” he growled, his eyes still glassy.
She tripped over her own feet trying to avoid his grasp and landed hard in the water. Trying to regain some dignity, she stood and folded her hands behind her back. “Yes, Myrtle. Who are you?”
Goliath glowered but did not move, his hands still outstretched towards her. He was not breathing.
She stepped forward cautiously, reaching until her fingers brushed his. Quick as a cat, his hand turned and closed around where her fingers had been. “Now, now,” she murmured. “That isn’t polite…” Glancing down, she saw a small stool with a lump of hardtack and flagon of precious water on it. “At least Jack had them bring you something to eat.” She picked up the breadstuff and pinched off a piece, considering it. “Maybe you’ll tell me what’s going on if I feed you?”
Goliath made a muted groaning noise as if he was trying to talk but could not. His eyes rolled in his head and he lowered his arms.
“You’re hungry then?” She pinched off a bigger piece, the hardtack sticking to her damp fingers. “Here, take it…” She held it out patiently, ready to jerk away should he grab for her again. Instead, he stared steadily at her, neither seeing her nor ignoring her. “Oh, for the love of…” Myrtle stood on her toes and, in a fit of daring she would not have chanced before being with Jack, shoved a piece of the hardtack through Goliath’s slightly parted lips.
His bellow was deafening.

Jack closed his spyglass with a smile of satisfaction. “Fear not, Mister Gibbs. Tis only Anna Maria and her ship…”
“Anna Maria?” Gibbs wondered. “I was thinkin’ she were headin’ north, out of the Caribbean. Good pickin’ that way, we hear…”
“Anna Maria would never leave the Caribbean,” Jack grinned, swinging down to stand next to Gibbs, staring out over the sea at the black spot growing larger as it approached. “Mayhap she’s been hearin’ of our dire straits…”
“From who, I wonder?” Gibbs murmured.
Jack paused, his grin slipping a little. “Good question.” He fiddled with the spyglass again, wondering if maybe Anna Maria had been hijacked herself, when the sounds of a scuffle interrupted his reverie.
Dawson and Jimmy were wrestling across the deck, each with a handful of the other’s hair, each cursing and kicking and hitting at the other. “Liar!” Dawson spat.
“She did too!”
“Stop!” Jack roared, grabbing Jimmy as Gibbs grabbed Dawson. “What in the name of nine hells is going on here? Shirking orders, messing about instead of working?” His florid hand gestures had given way to fists on his hips, his bon viveur attitude subsumed beneath the façade of a stern captain.
“He were sayin’,” Dawson shouted, “that Miss Myrtle been in your cabin, Cap’n. That the two of you…” His face reddened and he fell silent.
Jimmy’s chin jerked in defiance as Jack’s steely gaze turned to him. “I weren’t gossipin’, Cap’n, sir. I jus’ be tellin’ him that he bes’ not be settin’ his cap for such a lady an’ that, besides, I’m thinkin’ you had her for your own already…”
Jack’s frown twitched in an almost-smile but he swallowed it. Instead, he growled, “Get back to work! Once more with you two an’ you’re cleanin’ the hull. With your bare hands.” He had turned his back on them and smiled faintly at Gibb’s stern expression when Goliath’s bellow burst from below decks, mingled with a shrill scream which was all too brief. Jack’s eyes flared wide for a moment and then he was running, scrambling briefly for the hatch before yanking it open and dropping througorgoorgoing the ladder entirely. He was at the cell before Gibbs could even set foot on the first rung. Goliath had his hands around Myrtle’s throat and had lifted her off her feet. She gurgled as she clawed at his hands and arms, her feet kicking uselessly as her face turned purple, blue around the lips. “Leggo!” Jacks shouted, grabbing for Goliath’s fingers. “Gibbs!”
Gibbs slid to a halt with his knife drawn. He slashed at Goliath’s arm, nicking it more than cutting it, but it was enough. The large man let go and rounded on Gibbs, again rattling the bars as he lunged. Myrtle hit the floor, landing on her knees with a heaving sob before Jack could grab for her. “Oh, dove, are you alright?” he asked as she pulled herself up using his leg and arm.
She glared at him briefly, rubbing at her throat. “I know,” she croaked, “why he isn’t breathing.”