Parlait

Barbossa lie in his hammock a bit away from the rest of his crew, he’d wanted to give them their space, for his years as a Tar in Portugal’s navy had had proven to him how difficult it could sometimes be to sleep while officers were about in close quarters. Besides, he’d made his mark on the sea, and his crew, through a lot of battle hardened command, his crew knew what he was capable of with a sword, and sleeping only in breeches, the brawn of his body accentuated his fearsome talent, and it all made for an uneasy rest among his men. He was intimidating, whether he meant to be or not.

Had he believed he could trust himself to lie beside Elizabeth and not let his emotions and his body’s hunger for hers overrule his good sense, he wouldn’t still be here, intruding into the space that was that of the common sailor. He took a moment to offer a brief prayer of thanks to Calypso, for had she not renewed his vitality and resiliency, a night in this hammock would have had him turned into a hunchback come morning. But no, he swung out of his hammock and strode off in better condition than some of his young men did when the sun rose.

The men; he eyed them watchfully, wondering if they all were truly asleep, or just feigning so because of his presence. It was important for his crew to be able to talk behind his back on occasion, that type of thing did relieve stresses that would otherwise become out of hand. Besides, he was Captain; he had his own cabin, his status dictated against him sleeping down here, in the galley, in a hammock. He’d have to eventually strengthen himself against his love and lust for Elizabeth, and join her in his bed. But, could Elizabeth be trusted with him? He hoped so, he’d hung his hammock in the very furthest corner of the galley, away from his men, trying to not interject himself into what were their quarters, but he was still there, disrupting the natural order of things.

Tonight, however, Barbossa had his own reasons for wishing to not be surrounded by his crew. A lit lantern hung from the above deck, flickering over his bare chest as he sat up against his pillow, smoking a cigar, sipping some wine straight from the bottle and holding a letter from Elizabeth in his lap. He’d been elated when over dinner, his companion Blood had handed the correspondence to him. It hadn’t taken Elizabeth long to write back to him, and it had been so difficult to go the rest of the day without reading the words she’d set down to him. What had she thought of the poem he’d dared to write? What had it stirred in her? Was she wooed? Did she desire more?

He swallowed the last of his wine, setting the bottle on the floor and put the cigar to his mouth, taking a deep draw upon it. Finally, as he’d been waiting to do all evening, he opened Elizabeth’s letter, then before he began to read, withdrew the cigar from his lips and on a long, anticipatory sigh, puffed out a perfect ring of smoke.

My Most Darling Capt. H. Barbossa,

I must start off by apologizing for my
lacking of precise penmanship. Reclined
here in bed against these pillows has given
my hand a rather irksome slant to the starboard
side, and I am told by my most constant, and
aggravating, chaperone, that sitting in a straight
back chair, like the one at your desk, may in
fact do me greater internal injury and cause me
days more needed recovery. I already miss you
so very dreadfully, my love, and so I have chosen
to sacrifice the slope of each letter in my effort to
soon be joined by you as hastily as is possible.

Your letter came as a surprise, even more so the
words that you chose to write. I can safely say that
no other gentleman has ever avowed to me what you
have seen fit to, and no other letter that I have ever
received, or read, has had such a profound effect on
me. I know not how to respond to such perfection,
for you have far transcended those words which I
crave from you. I’ll no longer ask if you love me,
for I know, and I know now more than ever before,
that you will one day tell me so. Until then, I can
be most patient.

As I said, I have not the gallantry that you possess
to accurately match that which you have given me in
words, but I have thought of some things I wish for
you to know. The first is that I love you. Yes, I am
aware I have made that known to you, but what you
may not carry as knowledge is that you are the only
man I have ever said those words to. I have made
no secret of Admiral James Norrington, Mr. William
Turner, or Captain Jack Sparrow as having been part
of my past, but the words I have so freely said to you,
given to you, I have never uttered to any of them.

The second thing I wish you to know, I suppose is
more truthfully part of the first, also. I have never
loved another man before you, though I have often
confused friendship, obligation and desire for the
sentiment I speak of. The reason that I, in full,
with every part of me, love you with such great
certainty, is because you are the only man I have
ever met who so wholly comprehends, feels and
respects what love is. I know you sit and scoff at
me, but you have no validity in doing so, I know I
am right in this matter.

My boldness is due to one thing: your fear. Now
settle, my most terrifying beast, I mean not to call
you a milksop. I wish instead to say how smart men,
how men in their sincerest moments, acknowledge
the few powers that be greater than their own. Of
these is love. You know this well, you respect it
greatly and you feel it deeply enough to be wisely
afraid. Until now, I have never seen a man so strong
beneath such a noble yoke, so strong that you have
given me the strength and the security to truly love
you. And I do, I cannot say, or even think the words,
without your image raised to life in my mind’s eye,
soon to overtake me and fill me with titillating warmth
and happiness, much like your ever so strong body
above my own.

Thirdly, no, for there truly is no third thing. There
is only that I wish to see you. I miss you, cannot
sleep without your arms about me, cannot get through
the day without your touch upon me. We’ve been
so long separated, and I am stirred to dying now
for the want of you by your letter. I do forgive you
your afore mentioned debilities, and so you must
forgive me my sharpened passions. I think often
of our first meeting, I wonder as to what may have
been our outcome had there been nothing in this
world, or the other, to prevent our union. I wake
at night thinking that I remember your hand on my
ankle, your fingers pressing my calf and upper leg,
the core of me opening to your touch, such a nervous
desire to feel you within my greatest of secrets,
quelling my needs, and yet inspiring them to greater
heights; your touch, so very near upon me, only
to have the moonlight steal it away.

I feel that curse is upon us again. Only now it is
I who suffer it. My mind and my heart and my needs
all willing and intending, but my body is not a thing
that can provide either of us the blessing we seek.
But if I could only see you, if only to play you in
a game of chess, or just to talk, I would feel once
again like I am alive.

Long ago, when first we met, you shocked an
angry, feared, portentous girl, who embarrassingly
realized the flutter of something within her whenever
you drew too close to her, by teaching her of stars
and constellations. She regrets that she has forgotten
most of them, but would like very much to again
learn, if not just to have some few moments to
gaze at the heavens with her former tutor. Please,
I ask no more than this. Your letter has all at once
charmed me and saddened me, for you are not
with me as you once were. I beg you to be again.
Please, I burn for you, sir.

Your Most Willing Captive,

Miss Elizabeth Swann


P.S.

If I may know, with fond consideration to all
that we have been to one another, why is it that
I am still classified as your “captive?”

Barbossa felt his heart beating in his ears and all his muscles tense by the time he reached the end of her letter. A light sweat clung to his limbs and chest and he was nearly breathing hard. He hadn’t expected such provocative begging from her. She wanted to see him, wanted him to come to her, and damned if she hadn’t known exactly what to say to him to get him there! She wrote to him of feeling cursed, of feeling isolated from all pleasures; how was he not to sympathize? How was he not to go to her? He’d never before come up against a woman so smart, so cunning, and to think she wanted him. And she loved him, out of all the men she’d known, even one she’d thought herself married to, she’d only ever said to one of them that she loved them, him. His heart pounded in his broad chest as if she’d said it to him for the very first time again, the rest of his body beginning to respond in kind to her words and her want of him, but he quickly began to repress the more physical symptoms of Elizabeth Swann’s spell. He would go to her, but not tonight, her words were too fresh in his mind, and upon his starved body, to trust himself, and from the sound of her letter, he’d need every ounce of strength and resolve he had to face her without disrupting her recovery. A woman like that wanting him was so much stronger than the pull Tia Dalma herself had over him.

“I burn for you, sir.” Barbossa’s finger traced the words, no other woman had ever written or said such to him, not even Graciella. His wife had not been one to discuss her desires, but when alone with him, she’d trusted him enough to let them show. Elizabeth however, she had very few inhibitions, and so very many desires. He felt his blood pound through his veins once more as he read her words, burning for her as she burned for him, having though to smile and chuckle softly as to how and where she’d placed the word “sir,” as if the presence of those three letters saved her reputation, prevented her from slipping totally away from being a proper lady; a proper lady, like the one that had boarded his ship that night years ago in Port Royal, who stood with him at the bow, her wearing the maroon dress, standing in the moonlight. He, so carefully aligned within the shadow of the mizzen, ducking the moon’s glow, pointing out to this vain and haughty girl the vain and haughty queen upon her throne in the night sky, Elizabeth’s eyes bravely focused on the constellation beyond the tip of his skeletal finger where it breached the silvery light. She’d flatly refused to become his pirate bride.

“I’d sooner die than be married to sea scum, Captain! And I suppose you’re to tell me that I share much in common with Queen Cassiopeia? That I am also as conceited and contemptuous?”

Barbossa didn’t remember what his reply was, but he knew he’d purposefully stepped out into the moonlight then and let the fullness of the curse be upon him, growling at her in all his skeletal gore, only to have her step into him with a glare and bitingly tell him, “Perhaps she too was surrounded by miscreants!” He should have back handed her, but at that moment, more than any other since she’d come aboard his ship, he’d wanted to kiss her, would have, had it not been for lack of lips, would have suffered the touch of her mouth to his though he would have felt nothing from it, tasted not the sweet moistness that was her mouth, been left with only a memory of what it was like to kiss a woman, but not feel what it was to kiss Elizabeth Swann.

Kissing Elizabeth Swann…yes, he’d go to her! He’d something to give her, taken during the last raid though at the time Barbossa had no real thought as what to do with it. But now he knew; his Elizabeth was yet too delicate to sit within a straight back chair, but a handsomely carved oak rocking chair that would curve supportively into her back should work nicely for her to sit within and write to him. He’d take it to her, but not tonight, he had a letter to answer.

* * * * * *

Elizabeth sat smiling in the sun, though the brightness made her squint terribly. She’d won, and she was feeling rather smug, curled up in the rocking chair which sat upon the deck, just outside the cabin door. Beside her stood Blood, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the cabin door, looking at her and shaking his head.

“I’m telling you, Madame, you’ve likely done yourself no favors at all standing up, walking out here and now sitting like that.” It had shocked Blood when she’d demanded to come outside, and then had furthered her demand by getting to her feet. But, he had expected she’d be difficult to keep managed this morning, for Captain Barbossa had paid them an unexpected visit just moments after Elizabeth was handed her breakfast.

The cabin door suddenly flung open, and in strode Barbossa, a large, ornately carved oak rocking chair heaved up in one hand as he swept gallantly into the room. The look on Elizabeth’s face had been priceless though, as was the way she smiled, giggled and blushed when the old rogue tipped his hat to her and declared, “I have brought the lofty and vain queen her throne.” Blood took no meaning in it, but Elizabeth certainly had, laughing fully and richly with Captain Barbossa, who then again tipped his hat to her, and swept out of the cabin just as gallantly as he’d entered it. And following that, Elizabeth demanded that her “throne” be set outside the cabin door; that she might sit there and enjoy the sea air and sunshine…and watch her Captain in performance of his duties. She wouldn’t hear the word “no.”

“I’ve suffered no ills, doctor.” She was quick to tell Blood, her eyes tracking the Captain no matter where he strutted on deck. “I am in one piece, and I am also more content than I have been for days!” The Captain…her heart beat fast just to look upon him, the sauntering way he walked, the spread of his shoulders, the trimness of his waist, she could practically feel the muscles of his arms move with each gesture of his hands to his crew. Did he notice that she’d broken free of her confines? Would he spare a moment from the busy morning routine to come speak to her once more? Admire how she looked upon her throne?

“Content, are you?” Repeated Blood, with an arrogant smirk, knowing he held the power to make her day outing as short as it may need to be if she were to take a worse turn, or to end it just because he felt like doing so. He thrust his hand into the pocket of his vest and rustled the parchment there loud enough to get Elizabeth’s attention. “Then I suppose this morning’s mail bearing your name and the Captain’s seal is of no temptation to you?”

“You’ve my letter!” Her eyes were wide with anger, anticipation and a bit of embarrassment, for she’d not given Blood the chance to tell her she had a letter before demanding to come sit outside; she’d set herself up, won the battle to get out of the cabin, but was losing the greater war. “Give it over at once!”

Blood laughed smugly. “I doubt that your dear Captain would wish to risk his most private feelings to be exposed before his crew, don’t you? Suppose in handing you this letter, it is swept off to yonder deckhand by the wind?”

Elizabeth scowled. “You only want me to go back inside and stay in bed!”

“Oh,” groaned Blood facetiously, hand over his heart. “Whatever shall I do? Pseudo Madame Barbossa has foiled my plot!”

Elizabeth turned towards him, about to give him a solid piece of her mind, when she was distracted by a rather distinct and strong presence beside her, which quickly melted her into a quivering, womanly creature. “Captain!” Her scowls melted away as her hand was lifted to his lips, pushing herself into his other hand as it stroked over her hair, coming rest on her shoulder. His touch felt so ambrosial, made her skin tingle all over.

Barbossa kept the hand that he’d kissed pressed over his heart, rubbing the belly of her forearm lightly with his thumb and soaking in the smoothness of her skin. She tensed against his touch, wanting more, making him want to give it, but no, he couldn’t, not here and not now. He looked instead to Blood. “Should she be out here?” Elizabeth’s fingers strained to reach up and brush his beard, making him smile.

Blood sighed. “I suppose she’s able to be anywhere that she’s sitting quietly and being restful, though she insists on being otherwise.”

Barbossa’s smile broadened, so to his grip on Elizabeth’s shoulder. She shifted in her chair, craning her neck at an odd angle to lay her head against his coat, close her eyes and sigh as his fingers combed through her hair. It was difficult not to pull her more against him, but he settled for instead tugging the shawl about her shoulders more over her breasts, but whether he hid them from his crew, or from himself, he wasn’t sure. What recklessness on her part, venturing out clad only in the white gown? So near him in such flimsy material, when he was in such an amorous state of longing for her? “If yer comin’ on deck, best not to be doin’ so in yer nightdress, girl.”

Elizabeth smiled, it was good to once again have the Captain’s respect for her and her body voiced, she’d always loved his decorum. She raised her head to look at him. “He wouldn’t allow me to get dressed.” She shot Blood a glare.

“Madame!” Blood quickly piped up. “It was all I could do to stand by in assistance when you so superiorly rose to your feet and began to walk towards the door. You gave me no warning at all!”

Barbossa laughed, patted Elizabeth’s hand. He couldn’t help but be amused by the interplay between she and Blood, and he knew well the challenge she’d been to the doctor, for each day over breakfast and dinner, Blood made that known. “I wouldn’t be surprised if’n she did just that.” Blood nodded, Elizabeth still scowled, and Barbossa sank to one knee beside her, Elizabeth turning to him, her eyes smiling upon him, and just to further impress her, he pulled a walnut from his pocket and crushed it soundly between thumb and forefinger, then offered it to her.

“Thank you, Captain!” Elizabeth smiled, turned completely towards him now, looking into his eyes as she slid a piece of walnut into her mouth, dreaming of the night she’d be able to feel all his strength and power above her again. “I’ve never seen a man do such before.”

“Y’could listen to him a bit more,” Barbossa’s voice was near whispering as he held out a palm full of nut and shell to her. “The doctor be me emissary to make y’well. So please, let him be of his work.”

“Thank you, Captain!” Blood’s voice rose in mimicry of Elizabeth’s just moments ago, and again, Elizabeth turned her head and glowered at him.

“He also won’t deliver your letter to me!” She turned back to Barbossa and said.

At that, Barbossa’s eyes shifted heatedly up at Blood. What sort of game was the doctor playing? Perhaps it was this manner that was the cause of Elizabeth’s difficult attitude. “That so, Blood?”

“Again,” said Blood confidently. “She insisted so strongly upon coming out here, I had neither time to dress her, nor place your letter in her hands, Captain. She goes well out of her way to be disobedient and then would make me seem the culprit for where she ends up.”

Barbossa smiled, but bowed his head to hide it from Blood, chuckling softly as his eyes stared once more into Elizabeth’s, he’d forgotten how she looked in the mornings, how her hair was often tussled about her face, but her skin bright with the morning sun. “That be me girl,” he whispered to her, then brushed the hair from her eyes and leaned in to press a kiss on her forehead. Her hands climbed his chest, fingers curling around the collar of his shirt and holding him there for a few moments, he didn’t fight, just let his lips and mustache brush her skin softly. Eventually though, he felt too much attention being drawn to them, and pulled away, getting to his feet again. “Be takin’ her back inside, doctor. And, by the names a all God’s angels, give her the letter!”

Blood’s hand now fell upon Elizabeth’s shoulder and he drew a deep breath. “Is that agreeable, Madame?”

Elizabeth looked up, forcing a smile, for she did not want to leave the Captain, not until he’d kissed her properly at least, but she knew he wouldn’t, not out here, with all the crew about. “I suppose so.”

“That be better,” smiled Barbossa, taking Elizabeth’s hand and kissing her palm once more, wishing he could stay by her side, whether inside or outside the cabin. But, she had gotten up and walked under her own power, without falling this time. That news was more than encouraging. She’d asked to see him, he’d wanted to see her, they’d shared correspondence; perhaps they were now due for an outing? “But I think y’each could be needin’ some time apart. Be y’of the opinion she’s well enough to join me on deck this evenin’ doctor?” His glance shifted down to Elizabeth again, and he smiled at her once more. “To learn of stars?”