Saints and Sinners

Usual disclaimers – pah!

Many thanks for your reviews and to Kat for
correcting my mistakes.

Hils wishes to send an apology – she had hoped to
upload the new story which we had devised between us, by now, but unfortunately
her editor’s computer has given up the ghost.
When it is finally published, I shall let you all know!

Ani

style='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode";
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>…

Chapter fifteenstyle='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode";
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>

“Twenty gold bars!” Elliot Deane exclaimed with
wide eyes. “That style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>is good,
ain’t it?”

“Not as good as I’d hoped,” his captain informed
him with a theatrical sigh. “But yes,
young Mister Deane, it is good.” In
fact it was better than Jack had hoped for after he and his crew had stripped
the galleon of all good armourments and replaced them with older and less
powerful ones from the style='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>Black
Pearl, and swapped good sails for patched up ones.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> It was much, much better and he felt a grin
creep across his face. ‘style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>What can I buy Celia by way of celebrationstyle='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode";
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>?’ he mused, pressing his finger to his lips as he
thought. ‘A
new dress? Nahstyle='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode";
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>,’ Jack dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand,
nearly hitting Gabriel Jennings in the face.
‘Shoesstyle='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode";
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>? style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Books?style="mso-spacerun: yes"> style='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>Jewelsstyle='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode";
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>? style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Oh, bugger it!style="mso-spacerun: yes"> style='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>I’ll ask
Aggie…’

“Cap’n?”

“Hmm?” Jack
shook his head as the voice of Matthias Swain penetrated his thoughts.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “What?”

“Are yer comin’ ter th’Bride?”

“Later,” Jack replied vaugely, waving his men
on. “I’ll join yer later.”

“Bloody hell, he’s got it bad fer her,” Elliot
sniggered once they were out of earshot.
“He’s even more daft than usual.”

“That ain’t possible,” Adam Butler snorted
scathingly. “An’ he’ll soon tire of her
once she’s learned all th’tricks.”

“Don’t talk about th’cap’n like that,” John Orchard
warned, flexing his muscular frame.
“He’s th’best cap’n I’ve ever served under, pirate or no.”

“He’s still daft though,” Elliot shrugged.

“Yer th’one who’s daft fer thinkin’ th’cap’n is,”
the ship’s carpenter snapped. “I think
I’ll head fer Scarlett’s first,” he told his crewmates, feeling his blood
rising and not wanting to get into a fight with them. “Catch yer later.”

“Th’Bride’ll be dry by th’time yer an’ th’cap’n get
there.”

“Scarlett’ll be dry by th’time I’ve finished with
her,” John replied, roaring with laughter as he made his way down an alley
towards where the whore usually bartered her trade.

style='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode";
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>…

style='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode";
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'> 

Celia went to hurry across the small town square as
she spotted Jack, then stopped as he bent to kiss a woman on the cheek,
scolding herself as a pang of jealousy stabbed at her.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> ‘style='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>You do
not like him,’ she told herself.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> ‘style='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>He is a
pirate…’ But her
words to herself did little to alleviate the unease she felt.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> She backed away as he turned, but was too
late and forced as smile as he saw her and waved.

“Celia, luv!” Jack beamed, striding across the
square. “Just th’person…”

“Yer cheated me!” a voice snarled from a doorway as
Jack passed. “Yer bid over th’odds fer style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>her, just
so I wouldn’t have her.”

“Eh?” Jack puzzled, his step faltering as he looked
at the glassy eyed, drunken figure with a frown, which turned to a look of
concern as he saw a dagger being waved mere inches from his face.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “What th’fuckin’ hell are you on about?” he
snapped, dropping a parcel he’d been carrying and reaching for his sword belt.

“One hundred guineas fer that’whore.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Thought yer’d show me up, did ya?”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> He lunged forward, aiming the tip of the
stiletto at Jack’s heart and cursing the quick reactions of his quarry as the
pirate captain dodged out of the way at the last moment.

“style='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>Jackstyle='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode";
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>!” Celia shrieked, her hands flying to her mouth in
shock and fear. “Oh, dear Lord…”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> She took a couple of steps forward and
stopped as Jack mounted a counter-attack with his own dagger, forcing the
assailant back into the doorway.

“I don’t even know who th’hell you are,” Jack
retaliated. “Why th’fuck would I want
ter show you up, eh?” He darted
forward, hoping to at least disarm the man, but found himself falling backwards
as his aggressor tackled him and pinned him to the ground.

“No!” Celia screamed, running for all she was worth as the
stranger drew out a pistol and cocked it, aiming straight at Jack’s head.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> She hurled herself at him, knocking him off
balance just as a shot rang out.

“Yer bitch!” the man spat,
before smiling a nasty smile. “Well,
well, well…” He reached out and grabbed
a handful of hair, pulling her towards him and over Jack’s prone body.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Look who it is… I think yer an’ me’ll be
goin’ somewhere quieter an’ I won’t have ter pay a hundred guineas fer ya.”

Celia glanced down in horror
at Jack, his best shirt already stained red with his blood, which was pooling
on the cobbles beneath him. “Over my dead
body,” she hissed, smashing her head into his face and making him reel
back.

“Yer can join him after I’ve
finished with ya, slut!” he growled, reaching for her once more.

“No yer bleedin’ won’t,”
another voice bellowed and Celia looked in amazement as Jack’s attacker went
flying through the air away from her.

“John,” she gasped, looking
up at the ship’s carpenter as he advanced on the combatant with his pistol
drawn. She winced and looked away as he
took aim and fired without hesitation, showering onlookers with blood.

“Celia, Cap’n!” the burly man
exclaimed, turning and hurrying back to them.

“H-he’s dead…” she gulped,
tears springing to her eyes. “Oh, dear
Lord…”

“No he’s not.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Come on, get him back ter th’ship.”

“He’s not?” she echoed, staring
at John and then down at Jack, blanching at his pallid features.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “How do you know?”

“He’s breathin’, but we need
Matty ter look at him.”

“Surely there’s a qualified
doctor in town? It will do him more
harm if he is dragged all across town.”

“He belongs on th’ship,” John
insisted. “Grab his feet.”

“Why?” Celia pressed as she
scrambled to her feet and slid her hands under Jack’s boots.style="mso-spacerun: yes">

“If he’s on board, no matter
in what state, th’men’ll accept he’s still cap’n. If he’s not an’ they think he’s dyin’, there could be
mutiny. If he lives then he’s lost
th’most important thing in th’world, yeah?”

“But this will kill him!” she
cried, straining as she lifted his dead weight up.

“Just get him to th’Bride –
th’crew are there.”

Celia did not reply, concentrating
her energy on carrying the heavy, immovable burden, but sending up thanks that
the infamous tavern was not too far away.

“John?style="mso-spacerun: yes"> What’s…?
Bloody hell!” Joshamee Gibbs swore as he saw who the brawny carpenter
and the tall, but slight woman were carrying as he made his way towards his
favourite tavern.

“Get help, they’re in
th’Bride,” John gasped with exertion.
“How th’hell are you managin’ ter carry him?” he panted to Celia, who
was by now, red-faced and sweating.
“Put him down, they’ll be here before long.”

Celia gratefully placed
Jack’s legs carefully on the ground and then tore open his shirt, whimpering as
she saw the gaping black hole in his shoulder with blood pumping out of it.

“He’ll be all right,” John
Orchard assured her with more conviction than he felt.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “He survived two on th’other side.”

“I hope so,” she whispered,
taking her rosary beads from around her neck and placing them close to the
wound and closing her eyes in prayer.

“He don’t believe…”

“I do – that’s enough,” Celia
stated, tucking the beads into Jack’s coat pocket. “Oh, Lord, please let him live.”

They both looked up at a
commotion and saw all of the crew, minus Adam Butler, who had gone to the
Faithful Bride, running down the street towards them.

“I’ve got him now,” Matthias
Swain assured Celia as he took up position at his captain’s feet.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Deane, Noah, you support his middle, Mouse,
you take his shoulders with John. One,
two, three – lift!”

“This is still a bad idea,”
Celia muttered as she followed the cortege down the steep hill towards the
docks.

“Th’doctor’s in town ain’t
any better than me,” Matthias told her.
“He’s got as much chance of survival with me pokin’ around inside him.”

“I don’t doubt your skill,”
Celia assured him. “But surely
manhandling him and carting him halfway across Tortuga won’t do him any good?”

“If he’s goin’ ter die, he’d
rather die on board th’style='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>Pearlstyle='font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>,”
Oliver Fernan stated. “Not in some back
alley of this stinkin’ hellhole.”

“He won’t die,” Celia muttered to herself, fighting the
urge to be sick. “He can’t die…”

…

Matthias Swain glanced up as Celia staggered in with a
pail of hot water, heated on the galley stove.
She ripped up her undershift and dipped a length of it in the water,
then washed away the blood which was still oozing from the wound in Jack’s left
shoulder and onto the table where he had been placed.

“Let’s see if I can get th’bastard this time,”
Matthias frowned as he carefully pushed a finger into the wound, causing Jack
to jerk involuntarily.

“Maybe I can have a go?” Celia suggested timidly.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “My fingers are smaller than yours.”

“Yer sure?” the ship’s doctor asked, raising his
eyebrows at her.

“Y-yes, I t-think so… what am I looking for?”

“A shot, or a piece of shot. It needs ter come out.”

“A-all right,” she nodded, moving in position as
Matthias removed his finger. “H-how do
I-I get i-it out?”

“Yer try an’ scoop it – fer gawds sake, don’t push it in
further!”

“I’ll try,” Celia gulped, moving to where Matthias had
been standing at Jack’s shoulder. She
gingerly approached the wound, closing her eyes momentarily in prayer before
inserting her finger into the hole and grimacing at the feel of the warm,
squishy flesh as it surrounded her finger.
Gently, Celia pushed down some more, terrified ofstyle="mso-spacerun: yes"> pushing whatever might be in there out of
reach. She almost jumped as the tip of
her finger brushed against something hard and she glanced up at Matthias,
hovering with an anxious look on his face.

“Yer found it?” he breathed. “Try an’ get ter th’side of it then work it upwards.”

“All right,” Celia whispered, tentatively moving her
finger to the side. “Could it be a
bone?”

“Yer’ll know soon enough.”

She gulped again as she felt the unmistakable shape of a
shot and thrust her finger in further until it was underneath the round piece
of metal, then she started to gently force it up, beads of sweat spotting her
forehead.

“Easy does it…” the ship’s doctor urged, mopping his own
brow with a dirty kerchief.

“I am,” Celia hissed, gasping as the shot slipped away
from her finger. “Damn it!”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> She took a deep breath and manoevered back
beneath the metal and started easing out once more until it almost flew out of
the wound with a loud plop.

“Yer did it!” Matthias exclaimed, a broad grin spreading
across his face. “Yer bloody did
it!” He grabbed a bottle of Jack’s rum
and poured it into the open wound, making his captain spasm once more.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Gawd,” he frowned.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “I hope there’s no material in there an’
all…”

“Material?” Celia echoed, looking aghast.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “What material?”

“From his shirt, like.
Sometimes when th’shot goes in, it can take a piece of fabric with it.”

“Oh, no,” she groaned, cleaning her gore stained finger
in the now bloodied pail of water and positioning herself to search in the
wound once more.

“Pity yer ripped his shirt – we could have checked it…”

“I’ll remember that next time,” Celia remarked dryly as
she pushed her digit down inside the wound once more.

“Gawd forbid, there’ll be a next time,” Matthias
lamented.

“Isn’t there always?”

“Aye,” he sighed, shaking his head.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Unfortunately, there is.”

Celia fell silent as she probed with her finger until
she was completely satisfied that there was no other foreign body in the
wound. “What will you do now?” she
asked as she withdrew her finger and cleaned it once more.

“Nothin’ – at least not until he’s got enough skin ter
sew th’hole up.”

“How long will that take?” she gasped in horror.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “You’re going to leave that open?”

“Aye, only fer a week or so. He won’t let me leave it any longer than that.”

“Why ever not?”

“He’s cap’n,” Matthias shrugged.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “He’s got ter look strong even if he ain’t.”

“This is ridiculous,” Celia snapped.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “He wouldn’t even be able to pick up a
dagger, let alone a sword.”

“He’s right handed,” Swain reminded her.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “He’s done it before, he’ll do it
again. Stronger than he looks, an’ than
most give him credit fer, is Jack Sparrow.”

“Joshamee can look after the ship in his stead, can’t
he?”

“He will, but it wouldn’t – couldn’t be fer
long.”

“Stupid, stupid…” Celia muttered as she looked at Jack,
amazed to see a bloom of colour returning to his face.style="mso-spacerun: yes">

“He’ll be fine,” Matty smiled. “Why don’t yer sit down before yer fall?”

“I think I will,” she sighed, her legs suddenly feeling
very weak and wobbly as she staggered to the stern seat and flopped down on it.

“Yer goin’ ter nurse him? Yer seem to have a natural temperament fer it.”

“Can I?”

“Aye, course yer can, lass. I’m always a shout away if yer need me, eh?style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Now, let’s get th’Cap’n into his bunk.”

“All right,” Celia sighed, slowly gettin to her feet
again.

“Not you!” he chuckled. “We’ve got a ship full of strappin’ lads – I’ll go an’ get a
couple of them, eh?”

“Thank goodness for that,” she smiled, going to sit but
changing her mind and she wandered over to where Jack was lying on the
table. She brushed a strand of hair
from his face and bent down, gently kissing his forehead.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “You idiot,” she murmured, quickly
straightening up again as she heard Matthias return with some of the crew.

“Let’s be ‘avin’ yer, Cap’n,” Thomas Frazer declared as
he and Gabriel Jennings approached the table.

“I’ll go and pull the covers back,” Celia said, hurrying
to the side cabin and yanking the blankets back, squashing herself against the
bulkhead as the two men, assisted by Matthias, carried Jack into the small
cabin and placed him carefully on the bunk.
“Could one of you bring in the captain’s chair, please?style="mso-spacerun: yes"> It’s more comfy to sit in,” she requested.

“Course, Miss Celia,” Gabriel smiled, turning on his
heel and going back into the main cabin.
“Anythin’ else yer need?”

“No, I can manage everything else,” she called, smiling
as the crewman re-appeared with the large, well used chair.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Thank you.”

“It’s a pleasure, Miss.
You just make sure our captain gets better, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” she promised, sitting down heavily with a
weary sigh. What had started out as an
enjoyable day catching up with her friends in the pirate town, turned out to be
one of the worst she could imagine. She
sat watching Jack’s chest rise and fall, then she suddenly jumped back to her
feet and hurried into the main cabin, to where his coat had been
discarded. Celia fished in the pocket
until she retrieved what she sought and went back in to Jack, placing her rosary
beads beneath the pillow. “I know you
don’t believe,” she whispered. “But it
won’t do you any harm even if it does no good.”

“Celia…?” Jack croaked, trying to force open his eyes
but finding them too heavy. “Is that
you, luv?”

“Yes!” she replied incredulously, grasping his
hand. “You’re safe now.”

“Where?”

Celia had to bend down so her ear was virtually pressing
against his lips before she could hear him.
“On board the Pearl,” she smiled. “Let me just get the chair…”

“Don’t leave me,” Jack rasped, gripping her hand as
tightly as he could.

“Gabriel brought the chair in, I only have to move it up
here.” Celia gently extracted her hand
from his and dragged the chair until she was sitting at his shoulder.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Here I am…” She took his hand once more, stroking it and crooning softly until
Jack fell into a deep sleep.

…

“Oh!” Celia’s
eyes shot open and she raised her head to look at Jack, breathing a sigh of
relief as she saw his dark brown eyes watching her.

“Sorry, luv,” he smiled weakly.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Didn’t mean ter startle yer…”

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” she apologised.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” he joked, his half smile turning
to a grimace as pain tore through his shoulder. “Did Swain get th’shot out?”

“No, I did,” Celia admitted. “My fingers are smaller than his.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, closing his eyes wearily.

“Do you want a drink of water?”

“Rum’d be nicer, but I don’t suppose yer goin’ ter let
me have any, are you?”

“I think water will do you more good at the moment.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> But I promise you can have some rum later,
all right?” Celia did not wait for his
reply but disappeared into the main cabin and over to the doors, calling for
some fresh drinking water to be brought in, and for the ship’s doctor to come as
well.

“I don’t need Swain fussin’ over me,” Jack sighed when
she returned. “I’ll be all right in a
day or so.”

“No yer won’t, Cap’n,” Matthias informed him as he
walked in unannounced, obviously having been close by when Celia called for
him. “Th’wound’s still open – there
ain’t enough skin ter sew.”

“Bugger!” Jack exploded, instantly regretting it as his
shoulder burned with renewed agony.

“Here’s th’water,” Elliot Deane announced, carrying a
pitcher and two beakers. “How yer
doin’, Cap’n?”

“You’ll be able to see him later,” Celia smiled, taking
the utensils from the young man and pushing him firmly out of the side cabin,
closing the drapes in his face.

“Never had yer down as assertive,” Jack remarked once
the pain had subsided enough for him to speak.

“I can be a lot of things when I have to,” she replied
as she poured some water into one of the beakers and carried it over to
him. She slid her hand beneath his head
to both lift it and hold it steady as she tipped the container up gently,
allowing Jack to sip from it.

“I love assertive women,” he teased, his eyes regaining
some of their sparkle as he looked at her.

“I can see yer gettin’ better already, Cap’n,” Matthias
winked. “I need yer ter sit up so I can
take th’dressin’ off.”

“Please can I have some rum?” Jack pleaded,
beseeching Celia with his eyes.

“I’ll be gentle,” Swain promised.

“Not as gentle as Celia, I’ll warrant.”

“I’ll do it if you like,” she offered.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “But don’t blame me if it hurts…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jack smiled, but his drawn face
giving away how much pain he was in.

“Must you look at it now?” Celia enquired of the ship’s
doctor. “Can’t it wait a day?”

“Nah.
Th’blood’ll dry an’ that would be murder ter get off, eh, Cap’n?”

“Aye.” Jack
braced himself as his two companions positioned themselves either side of him
and lifted him up. He gulped as white
hot fire coursed through his shoulder and down his arm, making his fingers
tingle with pain. “B-bloody hell,” he
cursed, sinking back against propped pillows, sweat dripping down his face.

“I’m sorry,” Celia fretted, taking a handkerchief from
inside the top of her dress and wiping Jack’s face with it.

“Not your fault, luv,” he croaked, managing a weak
smile.

Matthias Swain helped his captain sit up once more and
Celia leaned over him, unwinding the bandage holding the rag in place over the
wound, taking extreme care not to pull or tug at it and exhaling deeply when
the last piece unravelled. She gently
eased the rag from his wound, biting her lip as he winced and hissed with pain
where the blood had dried and stuck, but finally the wound was exposed and
Celia stood back gratefully to allow Matthias to inspect it.

“It’s lookin’ all right,” he beamed.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “We’ll make a surgeon of yer yet, Celia!”

“I don’t think so!” she snorted.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Although no doubt you’ll be calling on me
to help if anyone else gets injured…”

“If th’Cap’n allows, yes,” he chuckled, reaching for a
small case and opening it, taking out an earthenware bottle.

“What’s that?” she enquired, leaning forward to take a
closer look.

“I’ve died an’ gone ter heaven,” Jack murmured as her
breast brushed against his cheek.

“I’m not sure about heaven,” Celia scolded gently as she
moved away from him.

“It’s from th’aloe plant,” Matthias told her, answering
her question. “Th’natives use it ter
heal their wounds an’ burns an’ suchlike.”

“How on earth did you find out about it?” she wondered.

“I was looked after by natives years ago after I’d been
shipwrecked. That’s how I got ter be a
doctor of sorts. I learned about their
medicines an’ that.”

“W-would you teach me?” Celia enquired hesitantly.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “I mean, don’t, if you don’t want to…”

“I’d love ter,” Matthias smiled as he applied the
poition librally to Jack’s wound. “Yer
can practise on th’Cap’n.”

“Yes please,” Jack sighed, closing his eyes as the
cooling potion started to work on lessening the pain.

“Call me if yer need anythin’ else.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I’ll get Toby ter send some food up,” the
burly man smiled as he stoppered the bottle and replaced it in his case.

“He’s probably already onto it,” Celia smiled.

“Send Gibbs in,” Jack croaked.

“No!” Celia refuted, shaking her head firmly.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “You need to rest.”

“I’m Captain of this ship. I give th’orders.”

“Not whilst you are convalescing.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Mister Gibbs is more than capable of running
the ship for a few days until you are strong enough to resume command.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> You may then also throw me in the brig, if
you so wish…”

“Don’t bloody tempt me, young Missy,” Jack growled,
glaring at Celia and then at his crewman who was doing a bad job at stifling a
chuckle. “Have yer nothin’ better ter
do?” he snapped, sending Swain on his way.
Jack sank back into the pillows, the effort of speaking and the pain of
being moved, having worn him out.

“I will have to cover your wound again,” Celia
apologised, giving him a rueful smile.
“And I am sorry I spoke to you like that in front of Matthias.”

“Aye…” he sighed, closing his eyes wearily, recoiling as
she carefully placed a fresh dressing, which Matthias had left, against the
gaping hole in his shoulder. “Just try
an’ refrain from doin’ it in future, eh?”

“I will,” she promised, moving him forward so that she
could wind another bandage around his chest to secure the dressing.

“At least it shows yer care about me…”

“You don’t give up, do you?” she smiled, shaking her
head at him. “Even when you’re poorly.”

Especially when I’m poorly,” he chuckled softly.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Play on yer sympathy.”

“Ah, well you’ve just wised me up to your games, Captain
Sparrow,” Celia teased. “I shall know
not to show you an ounce of sympathy whatsoever…”

“Cruel woman,” he muttered, flopping back when she
finished binding him, his face etched with pain.

“Maybe some rum won’t do you any harm now,” she mused,
going to the main cabin and to where Jack stored his rum, taking a bottle from
the chest and carrying it back to him.
She hoisted herself up and sat on the edge of the bunk then uncorked the
bottle, holding the rim to his lips.
“Here you go,” she cajoled, tipping it back so some of the dark liquid
poured into his mouth.

“Beautiful,” Jack whispered. “Did yer pick up th’parcel I’d got with me?” he asked.

“Parcel?” Celia pondered thinking back to when she had
spotted him just before the attack.
“Oh! No, I didn’t think.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> It wasn’t important, was it?”

“I’d brought you a hat ter wear when you’re on deck,” he
smiled weakly. “Just paid Dolly fer it
too, I had.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she smiled, tenderly stroking his
hair. “I don’t really need one…”

“You do, you’re fair haired,” Jack stated, closing his
eyes. “I’ll get you one,” he murmured,
sinking into a deep sleep once more.

…