Apprentice To The Sorcerer

I met Barbossa about to row to his ship. He swiveled on the spot, looking me up and down in that curious way he so often employed. “Missy,” he greeted. “Yer either here ta pick me apart fer bringing the whelp or yer here fer yer gift. Which be it?”

“The latter, Captain Barbossa,” I answered, obeying his wordless command to precede him into the boat. “We needed Will. I don’t like him being here but maybe that will change.”

“Pragmatic as always,” Barbossa said, taking up the oars. “Like that about ya, I do,” he announced.

I gave him a look. “Why are you rowing yourself over?” I glanced around to see if anyone would join us but no one else seemed to be heading in our direction. “You’re the captain; you aren’t supposed to row yourself over.”

Barbossa’s face twitched. “Ya treat Jack like this too, don’t ya?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for my response. “If’n ye want me receivin’ me due accolades, you can row us over.” He sat back and I knew he didn’t expect me to do anything of the kind. “Less o’course, ye ain’t inclined ta pay that sort of due to a captain what ain’t yer own,” he added thoughtfully.

I took up the oars and sliced into the water. “You’re a captain even if you aren’t mine,” I said, suppressing a swell of indignant pride. “It looks bad if you do it yourself.”

“Yer missin’ the basic fact that I’m the male in the boat,” Barbossa argued. “But go ahead; far be it fer me ta interfere in a woman’s schematic.”

“I have a bullet scar that shows you’re capable of just such interference,” I huffed, but I smiled on the inside. Barbossa was such a rogue.

A few minutes into my hard rowing, Barbossa leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankles. I caught a whiff of feminine perfume in the breeze. It seemed to come from his hat. I saw a new band on the battered thing, and it looked like a woman’s handkerchief.

So. Even crass, dirty pirate captains were capable of pitching woo, not just the outrageous, dirty ones like Jack.

“Strong in the arms, aren’t ya?” Barbossa nodded approvingly.

“Strong enough to do my work, which is all I care about,” I answered. “So, what did you get me?”

Again, Barbossa’s face twitched. A distinct glint of humor lit up his gaze. “Curious, are ye? Never met a woman who wasn’t.”

“Pirates are a curious lot anyway,” I defended myself. “Else they wouldn’t go running off after Aztec gold.”

“Touché,” Barbossa murmured, looking well pleased with my answer. “You’ve developed the proper attitude too, finally. Knew ye fer a smart lass.”

“You keep saying that,” I pointed out.

“And I’ll likely say it until ya fuck up,” he returned, actually grinning at me. “But to yer inquiry, I picked up more than one thing ta give ya. You’ll have ta store it all in Jack’s cabin, to which he graciously agreed.” His eyes narrowed at me, but lost none of their amusement. “Ya ain’t sleeping with him on ship, are ya?”

“No.” I resisted the urge to splash him for his impertinent query. We were almost at the Delectatio Morosa now.

“Lemme guess,” Barbossa said. “Ya won’t tumble in his cabin ‘cause he’s still yer captain?”

“However did you know?” I replied coolly.

“’Cause yer as disciplined as a naval officer and as stubborn as a jackass,” he answered. “What’s that around yer neck?”

“My pan pipes,” I returned evenly. “What’s that around your hat?”

“A token from Magdelena,” Barbossa answered.

“Is Captain Barbossa going to commit to one woman, like so many of our number seem to be doing?” I brought the boat alongside as I asked, taking the steadying rope up.

“Maybe,” Barbossa said, surprising me. “Gettin’ tired of wearing an infernal sheepskin.”

“Ah, so love isn’t in it?” I teased, half expecting to make him angry.

“Such a gauzy idea in that word,” Barbossa said, not seeming upset at all.

“Send Magdelena to see me and I’ll fix it so you can stop wearing the sheepskin and possibly avoid the repercussions Peter and Arabella gleaned,” I offered.

Barbossa threw me a cunning look before hauling himself aboard. I clambered up after him, scanning the deck automatically. Very few men walked about.

“I take it the shrinkin’ lass is in a family way?” Barbossa asked, leading me toward his cabin. “And ‘ow could ya do what ya claim?”

“Yes, she’s pregnant,” I confirmed. “And I’ll let Magdelena explain it to you after I see her. I fear your delicate sensibilities wouldn’t hold up under the strain of an in-depth clarification on birth control.”

Barbossa gave a short bark of a laugh as he threw open the hatch. “I wish ye had a sister,” he declared.

Jack had said something to me like that once while I still labored under the misconception he didn’t know who I was. I gave Barbossa the same response. “I wouldn’t introduce you,” I replied.

He laughed again. “Careful, missy,” he cautioned, striding inside his quarters. “You keep sweet talkin’ me and I might go toe to toe with Jack over ye.”

“I killed him, what makes you think I can’t kill you?” I said, smirking.

“Oh, but yer slayin’ me right now,” Barbossa said with a wink

I grinned at him. “You really are a terrible man,” I said. “But I like you.”

“Good of ye ta be so forward,” he shot back. “Now, get yer shit so’s I c’n flop. I be as beat as Jack’s conscience.” He gestured toward a tremendous pile of fabric bolts to the left of the entryway. “Fergive me if’n I don’t help ya move it to th’ boat.”

“All this?” I felt amazed.

“Ever hear about not lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth?” Barbossa grunted, falling into his bed. “Aye, all o’ it. Ye surely don’ think I be chaffin’ at the harness for silks and linen?” He rolled onto his back, heaving a great sigh. “There be sewing tools at the bottom.”

I gave him a hard look. Fabric forgotten, I went over to him and leaned over his head. “Lay still,” I commanded, peeling his eyelid back. “Stick your tongue out at me.”

“I ain’t sick, missy, I’m just tired,” Barbossa complained.

“Do. It.” I said.

His throat looked red. I took his pulse. The slender formation of his wrist took me by surprise. I counted silently. It certainly was strong, but slightly off cadence. I pushed his shirt back and put my ear to his heart. It sounded strong. I heard a slight rattle in his lungs, which suggested mucous. Rising up, I met his eyes. “No work,” I said firmly. “You are on bed rest until I say otherwise.” I dug into my bag, bringing out a few bottles.

“What be wrong with me then?” Barbossa asked, a tinge of worry in his tone.

“Influenza,” I said. “Most likely.” I started mixing the ground eucalyptus and the mint powder together. “Don’t worry, it isn’t an advanced case. We can keep your lungs clear.” I strode to the hatch. A man ambled by. I grabbed him. “You know me?” I asked him.

“You’re Lei, the physick,” the man said.

“Right. Go get me a tankard of boiling water and send word to bring Magdelena Blanco aboard. Your captain is sick.”

The man rushed off, perhaps prompted by my clipped words and narrowed eyes. I went back to mixing herbs. Barbossa coughed wetly. I found his piss pot and slid it over to him with my foot. “Spit,” I said. “Don’t swallow that back down. It is good you’re bringing it up by yourself; it means your body is strong and fighting off the contagion.”

“Ain’t you afraid ta be in here with me then?” Barbossa asked, spitting a huge wad of yellow-green phlegm into the pot.

“No.” I looked at him over the top of the bottle I was shaking. “Influenza came to Port Royal several times. I’ve never fallen to it. Still, I would treat you; I’m a physician.”

The sailor brought my tankard of boiling water. “Cook had some going for soup,” he explained at my surprise over his speed. He peered in at Barbossa, but didn’t breech the hatch. “Captain going to be alright?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “Get the quartermaster over here, will you?” I poured a measure of the blended herbs into the tankard, walking over to give it to Barbossa.

“Yer a bossy thing,” Barbossa commented, sitting up to take what I offered. “What be this swill?”

“Medicine, that’s all you need to know,” I said. “Drink it.”

Though the temperature precluded such a thing, Barbossa did as I said. He didn’t look fussed at all over near to boiling tea going down his throat. I wandered over to his liquor shelves and found some vodka. “Hope you have less of an objection to potato juice than Jack,” I muttered, “Because you’re going to be drinking a bit of it. The alcohol will cut that mucous and make you rest easy.” I handed him the bottle. “Now that isn’t an excuse to get stinking drunk,” I warned. “Stay within your limit.” I yanked off his hat and hung it up. His greasy brown hair tumbled everywhere. “I’m fixing up doses of medicine for your woman to give you. You’re to drink the tea every six hours even if she has to wake you up for it.”

Barbossa said nothing, merely sighed and slumped back down into his dirty bedding. I stuck my head out the hatch to see if his quartermaster approached. He did. “Mr. Redden,” I greeted. “Captain Barbossa is sick. Magdelena Blanco is coming to tend to him. I’d appreciate it if any help she required would be forthcoming.”

“Aye,” Mr. Redden said easily.

“Good,” I replied. “Someone should take him out to the deck for fresh air about noon tomorrow. While he’s out of his cabin I want his bed stripped and his linens washed in boiling water. They are to be completely dry when put back on his bed. At no time is he to catch a chill or breathe cold, wet air.”

“Aye,” Redden said again, mumbling my instructions to himself to make sure he had them properly. “Anythin’ else?”

“Yes.” I grinned. “Help me get some men together and get all that fabric out of his cabin.”

*************************************************************************************

I didn’t have time to meet Magdelena properly. I gave her instructions, pleased by how much she seemed to care over Barbossa’s health, then had the cloth moved to the beach. I wanted it all aired out before I stored it in Jack’s cabin. Sabado helped me unwind and hang every last bit of it.

“Some of dis be very fine,” he commented. “What you make?”

“Lots of clothes, maybe curtains,” I answered. “Fancy a new shirt or two?”

“I just ruin it,” he grunted. “But I like de indigo silk.”

“You would, it’s the most expensive,” I teased.

“I have good taste,” Sabado said, grinning.

We sat for awhile, listening to fabric flapping in the strong breeze. I thought of Jack. He would look good in a new shirt. A red silk shirt…

“So I take it I won’t be going over blueprints with Hector tonight?”

My brother and I jerked to attention at the sight of Jack standing between us and the ocean. “How you do it?” Sabado swore, standing up. “You not here. I see if you are.”

Jack grinned at him.

I shook my head. “No, Captain Barbossa is sick,” I answered. I would think about Jack’s mysterious appearing act later. Nothing he could do seemed all that surprising anymore. “It might be more than a week before he’s capable of doing anything but having broth and tea ladled down his throat.”

“Ah,” Jack said softly. “Then I am free tonight.”

A jolt of lust shot through me. Our eyes locked.

Sabado cleared his throat. “I take care of de fabric,” he announced.

Jack took my hand, pulling me close. “Thank you, Mokulu,” he murmured, still looking only at me. “I feel a sudden urge for a bath.”

We began walking. I caressed his palm with my middle finger, feeling him shudder. Thinking of how good he would feel inside me, I plucked a few lemons as we passed the end of the beaten path. I didn’t go anywhere without the sea sponge. Currently it remained safely tucked into my medical bag.

“How much do you want a bath?” I asked.

“The bath is unimportant,” Jack murmured. “All the wetness I require is inside you.”

I shivered. Dropping my bag, I began to strip. “Then give me a minute to insert a sponge. I’ve had enough waiting.”

Jack growled his approval, tearing at his layers of clothing. The objects in his hair chimed with the force of his enthusiasm. I watched his lean body, eager for every bare inch of him. In moments we both stood naked to the sun. I cut open a lemon and squeezed its juice into the sponge. “After I put this in,” I said, looking up at him as I squatted, “there will be no need for withdrawal. You can come inside me, like you ought, like I want.”

The sponge didn’t feel cold. Carefully, I pushed it inside me, stopping when I felt it hit the barrier to my womb. A small trickle of lemon juice ran down my legs.

Jack fell upon me, his eyes burning with greed. I gasped as he wrenched my legs apart and bent his head. The feel of his tongue gathering the trail of juice on my skin sent me soaring. “My clever Lizzie,” he groaned. “You know I’d rather come inside you. I’m so ready to come inside you.”

The deep ache burned. I wrenched upward, pushing Jack into the sand. Straddling him, I took his heavy cock in my hand. “Fuck me, you pirate,” I panted. “I keep my lust for you buried, but when I can dig it up you shouldn’t delay.”

Jack thrust upward, impaling me. I cried out, raked my nails down his chest as a spasm of deep satisfaction gripped me. He felt like iron wrapped in velvet. “You want me to dig, Lizzie?” he grunted, pulling out for another breath-stealing push. “I’d rather hammer.”

His blows lifted me off his body in a brutal, sweet cadence. Snaking his hand between us, he toyed with my clit. I shook head to toe, taut with his attention and the feeling of emptiness being filled. A feral desire swept through my body, made my teeth gnash together. I wanted him. I wanted his seed, his blood, his flesh, his very soul. “Jack,” I moaned. “Oh God, harder, please!”

“You beg so nicely,” he growled.

I found myself underneath him, flipped to my back so quickly I scare had time to know it. He found his rhythm, entering and leaving me, spreading me wide to receive him. I surged up, biting him hard on his shoulder, tasting the sun-drenched flavor of sweat and cane sugar. He threw his head back, exposing his chiseled throat and bulging veins. I barely held him though my thighs clenched around his muscled waist. “Oh yes,” I hissed. “Yes, Jack, fuck me hard.”

“You like it hard,” Jack answered, driving into me faster. “You like me using your sweet little cunt, don’t you?” He arced his hips, changing his angle and hitting something so deep inside me I felt I had to relieve my bladder. “I’m going to fill you so full of cum you’ll drip me for a week.”

My ache transformed to raw pain. I had to have him. I bit him again, this time tasting blood. He howled, stroking into me so hard he took my breath. I felt his lips and teeth all over me, biting, sucking, licking, driving me to a fever pitch of reception. His thumb swirled upon me and I came, gasping my pleasure against his chest. I tore at his back, his arms, anywhere I could reach. It didn’t slow him, to my pleasure. Every scrape against his skin made his hips move that much harder.

Suddenly, Jack stiffened. Covering my body with his, he convulsed. He pumped hot semen into me, gasping as the eruptions stole his control. My name escaped him, breathy as a prayer.

Marked by each other, we lay gasping in the sand. Jack pulled me against him, murmuring sweet nonsense words in French against my neck. I licked blood from him, feeling him shiver. “I love what you do to me,” I whispered. “Get that house built, I beg of you. I can’t bear being separated from you.”

Jack withdrew from me, seeming reluctant. Sighing, he nuzzled my hair. “They start on the morrow,” he assured me. “Soon I’ll be plowing into you in a bed, staying there long afterward. I may never leave it s’long as you occupy the sheets.”

We lazed in the evening sun, drinking in each other and dreaming of what would come.