Apprentice To The Sorcerer

During the remaining two days til Isla Cruz, Jack allowed me to go about my business alone. I felt grateful for it. Thought the men were the same with me now as they ever were, I walked around feeling ever so slightly out of place.

We raided a Spanish trader off the coast of Georgetown. I fought with the crew like always, noticing I had a slightly tighter group of mates nearby. With the fighting and looting over, the traders sent off in boats, I sewed up a few men and dug out a few bullets. Now that they knew I was female, they complained more about pain.

I knew in my heart it wasn’t a failing of mine that made the men do these small things. I behaved little different than I always did. But Jack’s men, they respected women. From now on I would receive more protection and be expected to give feminine counsel. My duties had evolved once again. I gave a bit more sympathy than usual, talked more, and used the defter touch I’d always wanted to use but hadn’t for fear of being seen as delicate.

All his men tended to, Jack came over to have a finger sewn up. I hated finger wounds. The hands had so much sensation in them, and so little play of skin. I washed his nasty cut and sat with his hand in my lap. By this time I had enough blood on me that it didn’t matter to add his. I merely tried not to rest his hand on anything but the patch of cloth I’d soaked with spirits.

“So, how’re things?” Jack asked.

I put the needle in him and began. “Good,” I answered truthfully. “My mates still want me around.”

“You really had a doubt?” Jack made a face as I threaded another stitch. His finger twitched a bit.

“Careful,” I said softly. “I’d hate to ruin your pretty hand.” I smiled at him teasingly.

“Are you flirting with me?” Jack looked behind himself quickly, as if expecting someone else to be standing there.

“Not really,” I defended. “You do have pretty hands.”

“Men do not have pretty hands,” Jack corrected me stiffly.

“You do,” I argued. “Stop moving, sir, or I’ll get this done crooked.”

“You try sitting still with a needle in your finger,” Jack replied. “It isn’t like other parts. Cut on yer hand and we’re talkin’ serious business.”

“Which is why I want you to be still. I could hit a nerve.”

“You’ve already hit a nerve, just not in my hand.” Jack grinned.

“You have a filthy, filthy mind,” I said scathingly.

“I have filthy needs.” Jack eased forward, propping his chin up in his other hand. “And don’t tell me you know nothing of filthy needs; I won’t believe it.”

I was starting to shake now, both from nervous upset and his innuendo. Having him so close simply reeked of danger.

“I’ll bet you’ve explored a little,” Jack went on, his voice pitched so softly I knew no one else could hear him. “Shocked poor William, didn’t it? He’s the kind of man to put a woman on a pedestal and keep her there. No illicit touching, no public displays, no sense of adventure.”

I pulled the thread tighter, keeping my head down.

“He’d have kept you on that pedestal till yer last breath,” Jack said. “That’s where he and I differ. I can’t wait to knock you off your pedestal.”

I bit my lip so hard it bled. The taste of copper burst over my tongue.

“I’m dyin’ to do it.” Jack’s voice dropped to a silky caress. “In fact, I died once with the taste of you in my mouth and I wouldn’t care if I had to again.”

“Please, stop,” I whispered. A drop of blood from my lip splashed onto his wrist.

“Oh Lizzie,” Jack murmured, ducking down until he could see my lip. “Turn that emotion to something good, won’t you?” He leaned away from me, letting me finish my work unhindered. It only took a minute without his interference. The blood droplet on his wrist wasn’t even crusting when I stopped.

Jack stood, looking at my handiwork. “Good work,” he said. His eyes met mine. Deliberately, he lifted his wrist up to his mouth and licked my blood from it. My knees went weak.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

Jack wandered away.

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All night long I dreamed of Jack’s pink tongue, lashing out to catch my blood. I saw the pleasure in his eyes over and over, the moment he got the taste of me, the widening of his pupils.

I writhed in my hammock. I tossed my blankets off. I got up and drank a cup of grog. Mokulu joined me at the barrel, his cup out. For a minute I thought about not telling him my problem. I didn’t really want to discuss it but I had no thoughts other than my own on the matter.

“You not have to tell me,” Mokulu said, reading my frustration. “I see plain enough what befall my Hodari. You not just love de captain, you want to mate de captain.”

“Is it that obvious?” I squeaked. “I mean, of course I don’t.”

“Of course you do, and no, no one else see as much as I. But we all suspect.” Mokulu put his hand on top of my head, a gentle gesture that reminded me of my father’s guidance. “Nothing wrong wit’ it. De captain, he make people look. Why you feel shame over dis?”

“I’m just afraid.” I leaned against the bulkhead and sighed. “It isn’t really shame.”

“He not hurt you.” Mokulu draped his arm around me. “Even if he wanted to, he not.”

“I’m not afraid of him…like that,” I said lamely. “But I feel like if I let him in he’ll swallow me whole.”

Mokulu nodded. “I see,” he said thoughtfully. “But he already have you.”

I laughed weakly. “When you put it like that,” I joked.

“What? Is truth.” Mokulu started steering me back to my hammock. “I say, make him work for you and then give what you can. Use woman tricks. No man resists.”

I let him fuss over me, tuck me in and ruffle my hair. It felt good to have a brother.