Saints and Sinners

Usual disclaimers…

Thank you for the reviews. Ducky – no, I won’t be updating every week-end as before.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> You’ll get each chapter when you get it –
sorry, folks!

Apologies – I never noticed that the whole chapter had
not uploaded properly! :-o

This follows on from the same night as the previous
chapter.

…

Chapter Four

“Go on, dearie.
You go home – you’ve already done enough covering for Margaret,” Sarah,
the cook smiled kindly.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “At least that rain has stopped.”

“Are you sure?” Celia asked. “Thank you, I could do with a rest before evening service
tonight.”

“Dunno why you bother,” Judith, the other serving wench
remarked. “Even those who are
churchgoers don’t go.”

“It’s what I came over to the Caribbean for,” Celia
shrugged. “I might as well try and
convert the disbelievers here as anywhere else. See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, love. You
take care of them pirates!”

“I will, Sarah,” she chuckled headed out of the back
door, her now dry clothes wrapped up in a sack, for she intended washing her
unifrom that night.

…

“Why are we doing this?” Matthias Swain grumbled as he
and some of his crewmates followed their captain through the town and towards
the ramshackle church.

“Because yer need to learn stuff like God an’ th’devil –
heaven an’ hell,” Jack Sparrow informed him, his arms wide and his hands
dancing and weaving as he spoke.
“You’re always sayin’ that I’m a good captain, teachin’ you stuff – well
this is part of yer education, savvy?”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Gabriel Jennings replied without
conviction. “But surely Mister Gibbs
could’ve taught us about them things?”

“That he could,” Jack agreed, nodding vigorously at his
crewman. “But it’s best learned from a real
religious person, an’ that’s why we’re goin’ ter evening service.”

Celia closed her prayer book, sighing heavily.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> It was not the first time she had waited
alone in the church for someone – anyone, to attend, and she reasoned
that no-one would be turning up now.
She started down the aisle, checking as she heard voices outside, then
moved backwards, towards the alter table which she had righted when she arrived
earlier that evening. Her heart almost
stopped as the door creaked open and the voices ceased.

“W-welcome to God’s house,” she stammered, hoping she
sounded more confident than she felt.

“It’s a pleasure ter be here,” came a now familiar
drawl.

“C-Captain Sparrow?!” she gulped, blushing deeply as the
pirate captain and three other men entered the church.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “W-what are y-you doing here?”

“Come fer evening service,” he replied, slurring his
words. “Besides, you look a bit
lonesome…”

“No wonder he was so eager ter come,” quipped Matthias,
nudging the man next to him as they looked at the blonde woman standing at the
top of the aisle, obviously curvaceous despite her shapeless dress.

“I-I was just leaving,” Celia stammered, still backing
away. “It will soon be too dark to be
walking back home on my own.”

“So it will,” Jack agreed, advancing on her.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “A pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be
on her own anyway, eh?”

“Perhaps you can come another week?” she suggested,
ignoring the implication of his words as she felt her way around the table.

“Ah,” Jack sighed ruefully. “I don’t think we’ll be here next week. I tell you what, how about we walk yer home after th’service,
eh?”

“Pardon?”

“No-one in this town dares cross th’captain an’ crew of
th’Black Pearl, eh, men?”

“Nah,” his crew chorused proudly, puffing out their
chests.

“B-but…”

“We’ve walked all this way,” Jack pouted theatrically,
looking at her beneath his lashes.
“You’re not goin’ ter turn us away, are you?”

“Of course not,” Celia sighed, standing behind the alter
table and opening her prayer book, watching as the strange captain and his men
sat on the only pew still intact.

“My Heavenly Father, I thank You through Jesus Christ, Your

style='font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Georgia;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>beloved Son, that You have protected me by Your grace. 

style='font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Georgia;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>Forgive, I pray, all my sins and the evil I have done. Protect me, by Your

style='font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Georgia;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>grace tonight. 

style='font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Georgia;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>I put myself in your care, body and soul and all that I have. Let Your holy angels be with me so that the evil enemy will not gain power over me. 

style='font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Georgia;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>Amenstyle='font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Georgia;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Lucida Sans Unicode"'>” 

“Amen,” the men chorused.

“That was beautiful,” Jack slurred.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “You have such a lovely voice.”

“Gawd, yer layin’ it on a bit thick, Cap’n,” John
Orchard whispered into his captain’s ear.

“Am I?” Jack wondered, pressing his finger to his lips
as he thought. “Y’reckon I should ease
off a little?”

“Just a tad…” Gabriel Jennings advised.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “She looks ready ter bolt out th’back door.”

“Do you wish me to continue?” Celia asked
acerbically. “I would have thought you
could chat amongst yourselves in the tavern…”

“Sorry, luv.
Forgive my crew their manners.”

“Our manners?” John hissed.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “That’s rich…”

“You havin’ a go at me, Orchard?” Jack growled, turning
to glare at him.

“No, Cap’n, sorry…”

“Carry on, luv,” Jack smiled graciously.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “We won’t interrupt any more.”

Celia jumped as a loud bang sounded close by and she
looked anxiously at the door.

“Jennings, Swain, check that out,” their captain
ordered. “It’s all right, luv,” he
assured Celia. “Probably just some
idiot who can’t handle his pistol, eh?”

“Captain Sparrow… I may be naïve but I am not
stupid. That was quite clearly not
a pistol shot,” Celia replied acidly.

“I was just tryin’ ter reassure you,” Jack muttered
darkly, turning to look as his two crewmen came back into the church.style="mso-spacerun: yes">

“Looks like th’feud between Ezra Barrentine an’ Simon
Marlow has started up again – in a big way!” Gabriel Jennings informed
him. “Th’Dirty Duck is up in flames…”

“Bloody hell,” Jack sighed. “Why can’t those two just kill each an’ be done with?”

“Do you mind not talking that way in God’s house?style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I really cannot understand why you came here
at all,” Celia retorted. “It’s patently
obvious that you are not interested in the service. How did you know about it anyway?”

“Ethan mentioned it, in passing,” Jack chuckled.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Thought I’d come an’ give my crew an
education in religion.”

“Hmpf! I’m sure
you did. Now if you will excuse me, I’m
going home.”

“Not alone, yer not, missy,” Jack declared.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Not if those two fools are battling it
out.”

“And will I be safer with your escort?” she sniped,
looking Jack up and down with distaste.

“I never hurt women, an’ my crew know that if they hurt
a woman they’d have me ter deal with,” Jack told her seriously, all trace of
slurred speech gone.

“Oh. I-I…”
Another loud bang made Celia’s jump again and she found herself being escorted
out of the back door of the church by the four men, all with their swords
drawn. “Is it likely to be dangerous?”
she asked a little fearfully. Although
there had been fights in the town since she had arrived, this was the closest
she had been to one and it scared her.

“Not if we keep to th’back alleys,” John Orchard told
her. “Where d’yer live, anyway?”

“With Aggie and Giselle.”

“What?” Jack exclaimed, looking at her
incredulously. “You live with a couple
of whores?”

“Those whores rescued me and looked after me,” she
defended. “There’s nothing wrong with
them, only what they do for a living.”

“Hey! I wasn’t
critising,” Jack replied, holding his hands out in mock surrender and nearly
hitting Gabriel with his sword.

“Didn’t know ya cared, Cap’n,” the crewman grumbled,
dodging out of the way.

“How did you know who the fight was between?” Celia
wondered as they walked down a narrow street, which lead to the stream that
meandered through the town.

“Th’Dirty Duck is th’drinkin’ hole of Ezra
Barrentine. We saw Simon Marlow headin’
that way when we were comin’ to th’church.
It doesn’t take many brains to put two an’ two together - even Swain
managed it!” Jack chuckled. “Y’know, it
really isn’t that safe for you to be out alone at night – or even in th’day,
come to that.”

“I know,” Celia sighed.
“I’ve already had this from everyone I know.”

“So why d’ya do it, then?” Gabriel enquired.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Yer obviously don’t have many people
attendin’ yer services.”

“It’s what I’m here to do,” she shrugged.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Convert heathens to God.”

“A thankless task here, then,” Jack sympathised.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Can’t understand why th’church sent a young
slip of a girl to the most notorious pirate town in th’Caribbean.”

“They didn’t,” Celia sighed ruefully.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “I was meant to go to the Virgin Isles with
a friend, but our ship hit a storm and sank – I ended up here.”

“Maybe it was meant to be, eh?” Jack suggested, looking
meaningfully into her eyes. “They say
God works in mysterious ways.”

“Hmm,” she replied unconvincingly, edging away as he
moved closer to her.

The group looked around as the sound of rioting
increased and Celia clutched her rosary beads, working them as she prayed
silently.

“Looks like tonight might be th’night one of them does
finally get it,” Matthias Swain remarked.
“Ain’t been a fight this bad fer a while.”

“True,” Jack agreed, glancing at the young girl he and
his men were escorting. “You all right,
Celia?”

“F-fine,” she whispered, wishing she were anywhere but
this hellhole of a town.

“Soon be home, eh?”

“Not that that is likely to be any safer,” she
shuddered. “I hope Aggie and Giselle
are all right.”

“They can look after themselves, believe me - especially
Giselle,” Jack commented dryly, having felt the sting of her slap on more than
one occasion. “They’ll run as far away
from trouble as quickly as they can, savvy?”

“I know,” Celia sighed as they reached the house.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Well, thank you for your escort,” she
smiled.

“You sure you don’t want me ter keep you company until
th’girls return?” Jack enquired hopefully.

“No! No,
I’ll be fine,” Celia assured him. Thank
you again, Captain Sparrow.”

“Goodnight, Miss Hammond,” he sighed ruefully.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Sweet dreams, luv.”

…

The following day

“Jack! To what
do I owe this pleasure?” Ethan
Penhallick looked up from where he and Syndony Chester were lying on a blanket
beneath a tree in the gardens of his mansion.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean ter interrupt,” Jack apologised,
shrugging his shoulders ruefully at his friend’s companion, who glared angrily
at him. Jack could not understand
Ethan’s attraction to Syndony – she was good looking, that was plain to see,
but she was too sharp tongued for Jack’s liking, and he could not remember ever
having seen her smile. “I have a
proposition for you,” he told Penhallick.

“I’m all ears,” the pirate king grinned, sitting up and
taking more interest in what Jack had to say.
“Sit down,” he offered.

“”Nah, I’ll stand if it’s all th’same.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I have it on good word that a shipment of
tobacco will be leavin’ La Havana in three days, heading fer Europe, which
gives us enough time ter position ourselves to attack.”

“How many guard boats?” Penhallick enquired, already
working out in his mind which ships could accompany the Black Pearl in
the attack.

“Four, from I’ve been told. I reckon with th’Pearl an’ perhaps th’Serpent an’ Sea
Nymph, we could take them on…”

“Sea Nymph?
So you’ve already spoken to Curzon then?”

“Not yet,” Jack grinned. But have you ever known Abe turn down a chance like this?”

“No,” Ethan laughed, shaking his head.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Your source…?”

“Stays my source,” Jack replied firmly, wagging
his finger. “Are you in?”

“Is your source reliable?”

“Hasn’t let me down yet,” the pirate captain
shrugged. “Of course, if yer not
interested, I’m sure I can find others who would be…”

“But no-one else has a ship that can match the Pearl
for speed.”

“You don’t have a ship that can match th’Pearl
for speed,” Jack retorted. “Th’Serpent
is fast, I grant yer, but not that fast.”

“All right, all right,” Penhallick conceded with a grin,
whilst holding his hands up in surrender.
“Y’know I like to wind you up.”

“So, I’ll have a word with Abe Curzon then?”

“Aye, do that, Jack, and tell me what he says over
dinner tonight?”

“That I will,” Jack grinned, clasping his hands together
and bowing his head. “See you at
eight?”

“Eight’s fine.
I’ll make sure your favourite little nun is on duty for you,” the
younger man teased.

“I’ll have ter have a wash then!” Jack grinned.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “You can have him back now, Syn.”

“‘Bout bleedin’ time too,” the madame grumbled sulkily,
pulling a face at Jack’s back as he turned and made his way across the
manicured lawn.

“That’s enough of that,” Ethan chided gently as he
leaned over and started undoing the laces on the front of her dress.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Let me make it up to you…”

…

“I dunno why you had ter work tonight,” Margaret
sympathised as she watched Celia hurriedly wolf down some food.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Yer’ve been here since th’crack of dawn.”

“I know,” the blonde woman sighed resignedly.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “But what Mister Penhallick wants, Mister
Penhallick has,” she shrugged. “At
least I have time for something to eat.”

“Barely,” Margaret snorted. “Oh gawd, here we go,” she groaned as a servant’s bell rang out.

Celia put down the hunk of bread she had been eating and
straightened her skirts as she stood, picking up a tray containing a shoulder
of mutton, stuffed with oysters, whilst Margaret took a tray laden with
vegetables out of the kitchen, up the stairs and across the hall to the dining
room, where their employer was entertaining a guest. Margaret carefully knocked the door and opened it when called,
setting the tray down on the table, but leaving enough room for Celia to place
her tray down.

“Thank you, girls,” Ethan Penhallick acknowledged.

“Good evening, Celia,” Jack greeted with an easy-going
smile.

“Captain Sparrow,” she acknowledged, her cheeks
reddening. ‘Is there no escape from
this man?’ she wondered, noting in spite herself, that he was dressed in
finer clothes than she had seem him in previously.

“Were you safe last night?”

“Safe enough, thank you, Sir.”

“Glad ter hear it,” he grinned, bowing his head to
her. “I kept thinkin’ about you all
night.”

“Oh…” Celia stammered, fixing her eyes on a pattern in
the rug, wishing that her face were not glowing as much as it was.

“I was worried that yer weren’t safe on yer own,” Jack
explained with a broad grin. “Why, were
you hopin’ that I had lain awake burnin’ with desire fer you?”

“No! Of course
not,” she asserted. “E-excuse me…”
Celia turned tail and fled the room, a perplexed Margaret close behind.

“Yer know Jack Sparrow?” she gasped as they
reached the relative privacy of the corridor leading to the servant’s stairs.

“No!” Celia exploded.
“That is, I had the misfortune to bump into him yesterday and he turned
up at the service last night. Said he
wanted to educate his men in religion,” she snorted.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Margaret chuckled as they
climbed down the stairs. “He’s a
strange one, from what I hear – not like yer usual pirate.”

“I had noticed,” Celia remarked dryly.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> His comment about lying awake all night had
struck closer to home than was comfortable for her, for she had not been able
to sleep the previous night, thanks to the rioting in the town, and had found it
extremely difficult to budge the image of the pirate captain from her mind as
she tossed and turned.

“You really shouldn’t tease my staff,” Ethan laughed
after the door closed behind his servants.

“Ah, but she’s such an easy target,” Jack chuckled.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “I’m surprised no-one’s tried it on yet,
though.”

“She’s very good to the whores from what Syn’s told me –
looks after ‘em and patches them up if a punter beats them.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> They, in turn look out for her and have
threatened to go on strike if any man harms her.”

“Still a risk,” Jack mused.

“Aye, and one she’s prepared to take,” Penhallick
shrugged. “Now, enough about my staff,
have you spoken to Curzon?”

“Aye, an’ he’s in.
So we’ll have ter move quickly if we’re goin’ to be in th’right place at
th’right time.”

“It’ll take a couple of days to sail up and move to
position,” Penhallick reasoned. “So
we’ll have to go tomorrow.”

“I’m ready, an’ so is Abe,” Jack informed him as he sat
down, eager to tuck into the delicious smelling food.

“My ship is ready as well, so sail on the first bell of
the afternoon watch?”

“We have an accord,” Jack replied, holding his tankard
up in toast.

…

Authors notes:

The prayer is by Martin Luther and is copywritten, so I
don’t own those words, either.

The Dirty Duck was and still is an informal name for a
pub/tavern called the Black Swan.

First bell afternoon watch is 12.30pm.