A Most Unusual Interest

A Most Unusual Interest Chapter Five (NC-17)

Disclaimers Apply

 

 

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… Kurt and Jack are
battling it out over the damsel-in-distress rights… Readers/Reviewers: From
here on out, I’m going to update at least twice a week, Thursdays and
Saturdays, with more updates between as I have the time. And thank you so much!!!!

 

 

 

 

“She can’t
mop,” Dawson grumbled, dashing a hank of wet hair from his eyes.

“Or cook,”
Gibbs added, looking faintly ill.

Jack made a
noncommittal noise low in his throat and continued to pace his cabin. Myrtle’s second day on The Pearl was
shaping up to be no better than her first.
She had nearly drowned Dawson in a mopping incident which necessitated
sending Jimmy over the side to bring him back aboard, and her cooking have
proved to sicken the members of the crew who had even so much as tasted
it. “How can,” Jack mused mostly to
himself, “she ruin hardtack and dried fish?”

“It’s a
stumper, alright,” Gibbs muttered darkly.
“I saw you jus’ lock ‘er in her cabin till we see the ship she described
then toss her to ‘em!”

Jack smiled
faintly. “Temptin’ but alas,
unfeasible.” He ceased his pace and
began toying with the braid of his beard in silence, staring out the porthole
to the expansive sea. “Maybe…she would
be useful in navigation?”

“Cap’n,
no!” Gibbs sounded positively aghast at the idea. “She’ll sink us for sure!”

Jack glared
at the door as a frantic knock fell, interrupting the otherwise peaceful
room. “See who it is, Dawson and tell
‘em we’re busy.” He frowned and added
to Gibbs. “Nothin’ vital, mind. Just…rollin’ maps belike.”

“Cap’n!”
Jimmy burst in, nearly knocking Dawson over. “You hafta come see!”

“Is it a
ship?” Jack asked, lurching forward.

“No,
worse!”

“Worse?” Jack swung through the door like a man on a
mission, trailed by a sopping, sullen Dawson and a worried Gibbs. “Two ships?”

“No! Jimmy scampered ahead onto the open deck and
pointed straight up.

“That be
the sun, lad,” Jack sighed. “You’ve
seen it afore.”

“No,
look!” Jimmy dared to grab Jack’s chin
and turn his head.

After a
growl of warning, Jack focused his eyes.
A form moved in the crow’s nest, shorter than anyone else on the ship
and not as…masculine. Myrtle leaned
out, a spyglass pressed to her eye and oblivious to the men below. “Get her down!” Jack roared, striding
towards the ladder himself. His swaying mannerisms briefly gone, he shouted up
at her, “What the Hell are you about?
Get down here!”

“Cap’n, she
scampered up like…like a monkey!” Jimmy panted, trying to keep up. “Said she needed to be doin’ somethin’
useful an’ then she saw the nest and…” he spread his hands in a “you figure it
out” gesture.

Jack
stopped, two rungs up the ladder and scowled at the young man. “And you let her?”

“Didn’t
give me no choice, Cap’n…” Sheepishly,
he held out his arms to reveal red, chapped wrists. “Twisted me arms, lit’raly.”

Jack glanced
back up at Myrtle, then down at Jimmy’s wrists before nodding at Gibbs. “Keep an eye on ‘er. When she comes down, send ‘er to me.”

“Aye, sir…
If I might be askin’…”

Jack
turned, his face set in lines of annoyance.
“Yessssss?”

“Will you
be needin’ the cat?” Gibbs looked
appropriately contrite for even mentioning it, but assault on a crew member and
defying orders was a flogging with the cat o’nine tails, a punishment he had
seen Jack enforce only once, and then it was very reluctantly after a former
crewman saw fit to beat the living daylights out of Jimmy for no discernable
reason other than he was young.

“I think…no.” Jack swallowed against the image of Myrtle,
virtual stranger though she was, flayed on his deck. “Just send ‘er to me. Who’s
supposed to have the watch?”

“Me, sir,”
Jimmy muttered shamefully.

“Go help
Cookie, eh? He’s been fixin’ the mess
our…guest…made o’ the galley.” Jack
sighed as Jimmy left to do as he was told.
“Gibbs…”

“Aye,
sir. Immediately.”

 

Myrtle felt
fully alive for the first time in weeks.
Up in the crow’s nest, she was suspended between sea and sky, flying, it
felt like. It was all she could do not
to fling her arms wide and hoot for joy.
She was free, unencumbered by grief or duty, unfettered by her role as a
woman, or her lack thereof… The sea
seemed to stretch on forever, even the horizon seemed to disappear into a hazy
blue gray, sky and water merging into one continuous sphere. She sighed and brought the spyglass up to
her eye again, searching for any speck of a ship that could possibly escaper
her bare eye. Jamaica lay behind them,
who knew what ahead of them… Jack
probably knows, she thought to herself.
He’s a real pirate…he knows everything about the sea… he probably
knows everything about the world!
Myrtle felt a hot blush creep up her cheeks and snapped the glass
shut. “Stop it,” she whispered to
herself, the words disappearing on the salt breeze. “When you’re done, he will leave you at whatever port you ask and
be done with you. No more, no less.” She leaned against the low wooden edge of
the crows nexst and smiled softly. Guess
Hazel was wrong. Climbing trees does
come in useful for girls after all. She
looked down at the deck so far below and saw Jack striding towards the wheel,
her smile fading at his apparent anger.
Gibbs, who she could barely discern except for his striped shirt, was
staring up at her. “Hullo!” she called,
waving. “Nice weather!” Gibbs made some motions at her and shouted
in a voice snatched away by the breeze.
“Must want me down,” she murmured to herself. “Not bloody happening.”
She snapped the glass open and made a small show of turning a full circle, peering out to
sea. On her second pass, a black spot
caught her eye. The size of a large
gnat on the horizon, she pulled the glass down and looked at the lenses,
checking for dust or dirt, before looking to starboard again. “A ship,” she breathed. “Ship!”
Her voice was not strong enough to carry down to the men below.
Frantically, she found the ladder and began her downward trek. It was slow going, trying to hurry and not
drop the glass, but when she was within arm’s reach, Gibbs grabbed her and
swung her to the deck. “Mister Gibbs!”

“No mouthin’
‘bout proper, lass!” he barked. “The
Cap’n be wantin’ to see ye…”

“Ship!”

He stared
for a moment, the word transmuting to unladylike language for a moment in his
ears. “Pardon?”

“Ship! Boat!
Ship!” She was bouncing excitedly on her toes, her small breasts an
annoying distraction for Gibbs in that moment.


“Stop!” he
growled, turning her to face the wheel and pushing her slightly. “Tell ‘em, not
me!”

Myrtle
fairly skipped to Jack. “Ship off the
starboard!” she cried, smiling with self congratulations.”

Jack
blinked. “What kind?”

“Um…”

“What
sails?”

“Er…”

He
sighed. “Were it close enough to
detail?”

“No,” she
sighed, feeling deflated.

“Come to me
when it is.”

Myrtle
glared briefly and trudged back towards the crow’s nest. “Cap’n,” Gibbs began.

“It’ll keep
her out of your way for a while longer, Mister Gibbs. Go to starboard with this,” he handed him the good spyglass, the
one kept solely for the captain’s use, “and tell me what you see.”

“Aye, sir…”