Give me Love, Give me Life

TITLE: ABH- Give me Love, Give me Life
Author: Cecilia Long
Part 6 of ?
PAIRING JS/OF
RATING NC-17 This part PG
DATE POSTED: January 24, 2004

THIS IS IN THIRD PERSON JACK................

DISCLAIMERS:
I sorely wished I owned Jack and his compatriots, but I do not. I am only borrowing them and will returned them relatively unscathed. Go see the movie! Give them MORE money. Everyone say SEQUEL (Now a reality in the making!
YAAH US!)
ARCHIVE INSTRUCTIONS: Will be archived eventually at wildbadgers.net.
Anyone else must
ask first please.

AUTHOR NOTES:

All language between >< are assumed to be in French. The generic history of coffee is true... And from here on in become AU to reality, following history as best as possible for generics. Chapter seven will again have some adult content, but I like story with my smut... GRIN

These two chapters are unbetaed as my beta is overwhelming busy.... And I have been being bugged to continue for a while


I would love feedback. ITs been a while
since Ive written much so Im a bit rusty. Take flames and visit old hobs with em ye scabberous dogs!


JACK’S STORY


Jack flexed his hand carefully as he weaved his way through the small market, a small grimace crossing his face. It was not only the pain from the bandaged injury to his hanat cat creased his brow, but the sudden influx of the blue and red uniforms of French armed forces that had not been there when he left. Pulling the tricorn leather hat down as far as he could to look inconspicuous without looking like he was looking inconspicuous, Sparrow stepped back into the shadows of one of the booths and tried to occupy himself with a thorough examination of some leather belts as a group of the Frenchmen passed.

He was leery of his luck at the moment, and he normally wasn’t one who paid attention to good or ill omens. Events of the past day and Gibbs’ rantings had placed a seed of doubt in his mind. The first mishap was the previous morning, not long after he had maneuvered the Pearl at the highest point in the tide into the natural slip between two sandbars. The Captain had wanted to get the ship in just a bit further, and in a rush against time to lighten the load, he had nearly crushed his hand as they removed the oak lumber to be used for repairs from the hold of the ship. Then he gave himself a good cut on the same hand from the razor sharp edge of a barnacle cluster as he was showing one of the men how to properly scrape them off this morning. It was just mere coincidence that this was his left hand, the same hand with the pale white scar from his unearthly encounter with the cursed Aztec gold, but while he paid no mind to that, Gibbs had.

Jack hadn’t thought anything at first about the couple of close calls he had. It was only when his overly superstitious Quartermaster almost forced him back to town at gunpoint yelling something about having the third time being a charm somewhere else, that he began to even to dwell on it.

“You gonna buy that or jus’ fondle it to death?” Jack heard the irritated voice of the craftsman say as the pitch blackened fingers of the pirate ran the smooth leathetweetween them for the umpteenth time.

“Oh, sorry,” Jack murmured. He cleared his throat and said more clearly, “I was just admirin’ the fine workmanship of the tanning and such.” Dropping the long strip of cowhide, the pirate was going to take the opportunity to slip out, when he saw the same group of Frenchmen returning his direction, looking around for something or someone.

The pirate grabbed the same belt and tried to discreetly watch the soldiers, until he noticed that the merchant was not glaring at him anymore, but studying him with a growing interest. “So, sir, I take it you will be buying something from me today?”

“Jus’ looking right now,” Jack cautiously replied, and carefully lay it back in amongst the others, and started to turn away.

The merchant’s eyes flicked over to the soldiers and back again. “No. I really think you be wanting to buy something from me today.”

Jack grimaced. This merchant knew the game. Whirling back he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black pouch. “ ‘ow much?” he said, grabbing one of the belts and sliding it off the wooden beam it was hung over.

“That one? It’s a bit big fer ye. Let me find ye one…”

“It’s fine. ‘ow much?”

“Six shillings.”

“Six?” Jack barked. “This aint worth more then three.”

“Three? You insult me. That is six feet of high quality cowhide that took me two years to acquire and make. To keep me happy, and quiet, five shillings, and a handful of coppers fer the trouble of cluttering up my booth and pawin’ at all the merchandise,” the merchant grinned knowingly, the smile lifting his chubby jowls as the pirate dug into his pouch grumbling the whole time.

Dropping the coins reluctantly into the outstretched palm, Jack flung the belt over his shoulder, and groused his way from the makeshift structure. He figured he’d give it to Gibbs, who had more of the stature to wear the immensely long belt. From the corner of his eye Jack watched the uniforms stroll pass, the men chattering between themselves. When a new soldier joined them, it became obvious from the greetings and gestures that the object of their seeking had been found, and the group headed off to the nearby tavern.

Jack left the vicinity of the makeshift shop as fast as he could, and at the edge of the small market in the square, he stopped to consider his next action.

As he looked around and down the short streets, he thought about how things had been cleaned up rather well in the short time he was gone. There was a constant grinding of handsaws, and the hammering of wood, as the citizens continued to repair their homes and businesses. The town was alive and busy despite itself, a vast change from the sleepy little settlement it usually was. The colony was still not large enough to muster a lot of individual activity unless they had an influx of ships. Not every port could be a Port Royal, he surmised.

The pirate made his way down to the docks, determined to get a gander on the ship and access the threat. There were several new ships in the harbor, most of them looking for repairs with some amount of storm damage. Life at the edge of the sea, in the harbor itself, was a completely separate entity then that further inland. Here he was more at home, with the hustle and bustle of the dockside labor. As soon as there was light and ships, there was almost constant motion as ships were loaded and unloaded; an endless parade of lighters and launches from ship to shore and back again. This is where most of the towns men found work if they didn’t have their own fishing boat. The dockmaster was probably the single largest employer next to the Governor’s fortress.

The French warship was the only new military vessel that he could see. He figured a few well-bought drinks afterwards in one of the taverns and there would be no problem ascertaining what it was there for. From behind a stack of kegs, he gave the French barque a once over. It wasn’t a large ship of the line; more a fifth rate with about forty to fifty guns, but still something to be contended with.

There was no urgency in the actions of the remaining crew and soldiers to indicate they were preparing for anything other then their daily duties and normal routines. Jack figured it was a convoy ship taking a new group of soldiers to their Caribbean stations, and had stopped here as a courtesy to the French governor with men and messages.

It was then he heard a familiar female voice to the side of him, calling out in French to someone. Still ducked down behind the barrels, Jack strained to peek around the through the cracks between them. On the stretch of road that led along the edge, he first saw a uniformed French soldier, tall and dark hair, in the crisp uniform of the French navy. He knew that he was obviously not the voice; and then he saw her, his Brandy girl.

She was waving to the soldier, who responded with a wide smile of his own back to her. Neither had seen the pirate crouched down in his hiding place. He wasn’t quite close enough to hear them clearly, only picking up the occasional word. Her long reddish brown hair was half up in a comb, while the rest of it cascaded over a well-fitted dark blue bodice that accented her figure above the matching blue wide skirt.

Jack’s eyes narrowed as she gave the quite dashing man a very long and very large hug, looking awfully happy to be seeing this stranger. He brushed off the twinge of discomfort from the rise of acid that burned in his throat and twisted his gullet. This didn’t make sense to him. By her own admittance she had no family, no close friends aside from her housemaid, and to top it all, she wasn’t even French.

This had to do something with that letter she had been reading before he left. It was the only thing that made sense to him. What didn’t make sense was what a French Officer could possibly have that would interest his Brandy. While he was not the most fluent in speaking it, thankfully due to Ana and other crewmates he understood plenty of the mainland European romance language. He was able to make out the words ‘private’ and ‘secret’ from this distance, but the wind kept blowing the soft-spoken conversation away.

His sweet Brandy looked around, her brows furrowed as she pondered on whatever he had asked her. Then she smiled, and pointed further down the dock to a rather large dilapidated shack, astoundingly still upright even after the hurricane. It was the area used by the fishermen to sort and sell their wares in the early morning. Now, being late afternoon, it was empty, and the perfect spot for whatever was so ‘private’ and ‘secret’. The officer bent over and picked up a leather bound case, and held out his arm, as ever the gentleman, for her to set her hand upon. With a slow, nonchalant stroll, they started off to the deserted wooden structure.

His innate pirate sense, curiosity and something else Jack couldn’t put a finger on, was winning out over the part of him that screamed leave it be. It was only too easy for him to make his way unseen to the back of the large barn like shed. Darting around to the side, Jack stepped back and surveyed his surroundings a tad closer, The ends of the building opened up to allow air and access, with long tables for gutting and arranging the catch, before they sold it or put them in huge vats of brine for preserving. Wrinkling his nose at the stink, Jack went inside.

He didn’t have but a minute or two. Growling a bit in frustration, there no place where he could hide. With the bright sun, it was going to be near impossible for him to see anything in the dark of the vast room from the outside, and unless they stood right by, he still wouldn’t be able to hear, not with all the noisy gulls and seabirds circling around, waiting for scraps. Jack barely avoided a smelly reminder of their purpose in staying as a large glob of bird excrement splattered the ground next to him. Holding a hand over his hat, as if it would do any good, Jack glanced warily up. All those damn dirty, noisy birds and their immeasurable racket, swooping in and out of the window like holes in the r par part where an open loft with a few empty crates were stored, leaving their pasty marks everywhere it seemed.

Jack stopped in mid thought, and smiled, his gaze drifting again slowly to the avian ballet above him, and to the lines of large brown pelicans that sat on the wide planks and small platforms. If he could only get up into the rafters…but he saw no ladders, and the closest beam was too high for him to reach easily or quietly.

He darted his eyes between the long metal and wood poles that would hold the strings of catch, and the long belt in his hands, and his grin only grew larger. He would have to remember to thank Gibbs for the use of his present that he hadn’t given him yet. Jack heard the voices of the two and saw their shadows darken the bright light through the slats as they passed the long side headed for the open way. Throwing the end of the belt weighted with the steel circle over, he held both ends of the strong leather, and half climbed, half swung himself up into the darker recesses, wincing at the pain in his hand from the effort.

Jack nestled himself next to an empty crate, behind several rather large and smelly pelicans restin the the same dark area. They fluttered their feathers in irritation at the unwelcome intruder, sending a new waft of rotting fish odor his way, but settled down rather quickly, just as the couple rounded the corner laughing and chatting.

>“…and even the Captain turned a fine shade of green and had to hang his head over a chamberpot. So much for his big speech about the fortitude of real men,”< chuckled the gentleman.

>“I am so glad that the weather was kind to us all the times I traveled by sea. I can’t imagine what you were going through out there.”< Jack smiled at the melodic sound of her voice, just as pretty in that blasted French as it was in his English.

Peeking over the edge of the small platform, he could just make them out in between the big brown birds. She had turned to face the man, holding his hands, the leather case set next to them. >“So how are your parents? How is the vinery?”<

>“The vinery is doing quite well last I heard. The grapes have been
>quite plentiful and the wine flavorful and quite popular the last few
>years. They even had accounts going over to the Americas. I wouldn’t
>even doubt if you couldn’t find a few bottles floating around down here
>in the Caribbean. You should have a healthy account the next time you
>get back to France.”<

>“And your parents? Gabriel?”< There was a tinge of concern in her question.

The Frenchman scuffed his feet. >“My father has not been well. I do not think I will see him again alive. On the other hand my mother is doing quite well, but once father goes, I cannot say.”<

>“I’m so sorry, Gabriel. I am so sorry I have been remiss in keeping
>contact with them since I left. I suppose I was lax in my duties. I
>take it your brother has taken over the managing of the winery and the
>vinyards?”<

>“Oui, Madam, so there is no fear over that for you. It is still in
>most capable hands, and he is perfectly content in continuing the
>arrangement you had with my parents.”<

There was a moment of awkward silence and then she knowingly asked,> “But I take it this is not the pressing reason you needed to see me, to have me physically move to here so we could meet? While I adore the chitchat and getting familiarized with what’s been going on, I don’t think that anything of that sort needed such an urgent and secretive meeting, eh Monsieur de Clieu? Especially here in such a malodorous place.”<

“Non,” Gabriel de Clieu responded carefully. He took a moment and scoured the room with his senses to ensure they were alone, so he thought.

Jack leaned back further against the crate, thankful that the fop met his expectations and didn’t look up. This is the first place the pirate captain would have looked, but then again he was a pirate and more accustomed to dealing with people such as himself, while the Frenchman was just an amateur.

>“What I tell you and show you must stay between us even if you decide
>you cannot help me. You see, Madam Hyutheson, you are the only one I
>know even in the position of being able to help me.”< Gabriel reached
>down and opened the leather case. Carefully he withdrew from the
>padded insides a small pot with a tiny plant in it. >“Do you know what
>this is, milady?”<

Jack’s Brandy laughed. >“As much as you know I am not some uneducated peasant, my first answer would be a plant, Monsieur, but that would be too easy. I know there must be some trick to this question. If you require me to tell you what kind of plant, and why it is so important, that I cannot do.”<

>“This is not just any plant, Madam. This, right here, is a fortune
>that I hold in my hands, and if the wrong people find out too soon, my
>death.”<

Jack tried to lean forward a bit so he could see better. The pirate could see fortunes and such over something more material, like silk and goods, but he did not see how that little tree the man held could be anything so lucrative. Death over a silly plant?

> “What is it then?”<

>“I smuggled this from the gardens of the King himself. This is a coffee tree, and a have another entire batch of seedlings hidden back in France, just waiting.”<

Jack twitched, and if they had been looking up they probably would have seen the flash of the whites of his eyes as they widened in shock.

>“Coffee? An actual coffee tree?”< Brandy exclaimed. The pirate could
>almost see her mind plotting by the steely look in her blue eyes. >“If
>someone were to establish coffee reserves outside of Africa…”<

>“Oui, Madam, you see what I see then. The problem is, that the coffee
>does not grow well in most environments. My research would have me
>believe that down here in the Caribbean or Brazil, that the plant could
>establish itself quite nicely. This one here is on its way to
>Martinique. I have a friend who will attempt to grow it there, and
>build a reserve of seedlings for the plantations.”<

>“What plantations?”< Brandy looked confused.

DeClieu took the ceramic pot and slipped it carefully back into the case, fastening the long leather straps tightly around it. > “That is where you come”< ”< He stood up straight and fixed his eyes on her. >“You are one of the few people I believe who can see and understand my vision, and I know you do. Breaking the monopoly of Africa on coffee, and yet having the sole supply right here, in the Americas? You see how profitable that could be, but it will take years to set up, and we must do it as secretively as we can.”<

>“I still do not see how I come into this?”<

>“There is this little matabouabout purchasing the land…”<

>“And I am the only one with the funds to do so, correct?”< Brandy suspiciously asked.

De Clieu flushed red briefly at the charge. >“As far as our ability to raise funds quickly and in a large amount, I must say oui, Madam. But it is also your name. That is just as important. Your lord husband may not have left you much with his sudden demise, but he did leave you with a title and an English royal title as it is. With that title, you can go much farther in the recourse of buying land, especially on English soil, even it is disputed...The suspicion of a widowed Lady seeking a place to retire to versus a French Royal Officer of peasant blood?”<

>“What is it exactly that you are asking me for, Gabriel?”<

>“I have a contact, whom if you agree to do this, can acquire you land in several different areas. Once we have land I can acquire hands who will set up regular ordinary small farms to keep the guise until the time is right. Once I arrive in Martinique, I will look into landings, under the guise of a servant. Then when I have the holdings in order, I will send the officiator to you, and the final payment will be made in exchange for the deeds. To start the process, I would need about… 3000 Louis d’Or or 1500 of your Gold Guineas, to go with me and show we mean business. In the end it would probably require and investment of about 10,000 Guineas.”<

Both Jack and Brandy choked back an expletive, the pirate’s a bit more forceful in its intensity, and the birds ruffled up at the explosive breath behind them, blocking his view. The pirate leaned forward further, his head practically between the odiferous birds. Brandy was now quiet and contemplative after her initial reaction. Jack found this oddly strange since most people when presented with a figure equal to he total annual earnings of some nobles of the lands, would be laughing hysterically and wondering where the punch line to the joke was. But his lady stood there, stone faced and silent, and that he found quite interesting.

>“How exactly do you see the accord between you and I?”<

>“You will have made the initial investment monetarily. I have gone to
>great personal risk, and will continue to take the risk, and will take
>the future responsibility of getting the product ready to give to the
>world. Then your marketing skills and such will ensure our success. the the end, very rich partners.”<

>“How long do I have to decide, Gabriel?”< she finally said quietly.

>“My ship leaves on the morning of the following day, at tide.”<

>“If I do this, you realize it will cost me almost everything tangible
>that I have saved over the years?”<

>“You know above all others that nothing worthwhile comes for free.”< Gabriel leaned closer to her, whiswhispered, barely audible to the straining pirate,>”And if you make this sacrifice, and keep the patience I know you have, the rewards will be beyond our comprehension. I know you can see that.”<

Jack carefully extended his hand to grasp a beam, to gain better balance as he pressed himself as far forward as he could. Forgetting that he had injured that hand, twice, the pain shot through him, and the Captain could not help but to jerk back, hissing at the sting. This not only disturbed the birds but made a great deal of noise in and of itself as Jack bumped around to regain his balance and not fall off. Thankfully he had the state of mind to fall backwards a bit, so when the couple below looked up, he was not initially visible, but with the ruckus Gabriel started to move forward to peer up.

Sparrow frowned, and his eyes narrowing, the quick-minded bandit, thrust his arms out, and pushed one of the foul brown pelicans off its perch into the open air. With a great commotion and a show of fluttering feathers, the seabird flew off through the wide entry barely missing colliding with the two on the ground.

Brandy took a step backwards, tripping slightly on the leather case, almost falling into the arms of the Officer. “Dear lord,” she gasped in her native tongue as she regained her footing. “I do say of the things I like about the Caribbean, pelicans are not high on my list.”

“Then let us take our visit to where we can get a hot meal and a good drink, and we talk more about things more pleasant.” The Frenchman replied in a thick accent, picked up the leather case and again presented his arm for her hand.

As the two left the building, Jack leaned back against the solid wood behind him; his legs now free to dangle over the edge. They swung lazily back and forth as he ran the discourse of the conversation over and over again through his head. Jack sighed and using his arms to lower himself, dropped neatly onto the packed earth. Brushing off dust in more of a mindless act then one of actually caring if there was dirt on his clothing, he meandered his way back up to the main thoroughfare, and to the path leading to his temporary residence.

There was obviously a lot more to his Brandy then met the eye. He knew she was not a poor woman, but the idea that she could even contemplate funding a venture like this made the mind reel and started a war inside him. The pirate and the man were at odds. The pirate had a job here, as was his sworn duty as Captain of the Pearl to find his crew a bounty to pursue. The man had sworn an oath in his blind passion never to hurt her. Somehow, someway, he had to find a way for the twain to meet. It would just take a bit of thought and a bit of patience for the opportune moment. After all, he had been in tougher situations then this in the past. He had survived the East India Trading Company, Singapore, Mutiny, Nassau, the Commodore, the Curse, and much more.

Jack breathed in deeply, his hand stuck into the top of his sash, looking up the hill towards her villa. “After all,” he murmured, “you are Captain Jack Sparrow.”