Chapter Nine
"OY!" Evie shrieked and flapped her shawl at the monkey, who, quick as lightning, grasped hold of her banana, leapt in a blur of brownish gold to the poster of her bed and from there scampered up the velvet curtains to the canopy where he perched and made light work of the fruit, chattering at her the whole time.
"You rum little blighter!" Evie scowled in disbelief. "You savage little thief! 'Ave you got any idea 'ow scarce fresh bananas are in this God-forsaken 'ell 'ole?"
The monkey grinned and chirruped something in response. Something smart, no doubt, thought Evie grimly. Little bastard.
With a sigh she turned back to her soup and bread, at least there were a few choice cuts of fish in the soup and the bread crusty. But bananas - fresh, ripe bananas - were a delicacy Tortuga did not yield often and she was quick to glut on as many as she could when they did appear, expensive as they were. Strangely, on six or seven bananas a day, she often felt lighter and more cheerful - like she was munching on a little slice of sun, she would sometimes think and then blush, for that were a girl's fancy. As for the monkey - what had she been thinking? He'd turned up on the docks of Tortuga between a pile of slightly damp, rolled up carpets, a motley jumble of hats, gloves, shoes and miscellany such as buttons, spectacles, watches and cufflinks and a large, water-stained writing desk. In a cage he was, and mewling most piteously, wrinkling his brow at her when she paused to examine a golden reticule from the debris next to him. The cage was far too small and the little creature's face was most eloquent in its attitudes and she felt a pang of very real compassion upon seeing his plight. Poor little devil, squished into that nasty-smelling cage, amidst all this broken trash, yelled and poked at all the day long. Why, he just needed a mum is all, someone to give him a cuddle now and then and good meals thrice a day. And what about her, wouldn't it be nice to have a little companion like that, not like a cat or dog but almost baby-like, what could do tricks and sit on her shoulder and chatter to her while she prepared for work and curl in her hair as she slept. And she had felt all warm inside at the thought and purchased him.
Things had not turned out quite as she had imagined. The monkey was a menace. He stole things, pulled her hair, soiled her furnishings, used his food as missiles, careened himself from one end of her room to the other heedless of what he might break and screeched endlessly at her. If she scolded him, he scolded her back. If she put something out of his reach, then all his thoughts were bent to acquiring it. If she had something upon her plate that she especially savoured - like a banana, she thought, glaring at the cheeky bugger as his cheeks bulged with the sweet yellow flesh atop her bed - that he must have it. And then, when her customers were up, he feigned jealousy (for she was sure he disliked her as much as she him given that not once would he sit upon her lap or her shoulder or let her pet him) and screamed endlessly at the men. He discovered a great sport in dropping onto their heaving buttocks from above right at the critical moment so that they shrieked and jerked backwards, their pleasure ruined. She would of got rid of him now if she could only have got her hands upon him - for he was very careful to keep out of her reach. She had half a mind to simply leave her door open - but she was not so heartless as that, for the streets of Tortuga would not be kind to a wretched little monkey, nor would its half-starved dogs and cats. Evie swigged from her bottle of gin and levelled a steely glare at the monkey, who finished the banana and let the skin drop to the carpet below. But just let him steal one more banana and then test how cold her heart was, by God...
Evie finished chewing and carried the gin bottle to her bed where she pulled the curtains shut hard about her - couldn't count her money in front of the wretched thing for he'd like as not scarper off with a piece or two as he'd done the other day. Two gold bits, the little brat, and she hadn't a clue where he'd squirrelled them away. She daren't even secrete any more of her earnings into the bed post, for he'd be sure to catch it and investigate and then where would she be? Scowling so hard she near choked on her gin, Evie dumped her coins out on the mattress and began to count. What had she been thinking, for pity's sake, she didn't need another mouth to feed - and she'd be off to Bessie Bunton quick as a flash if such a misfortune ever visited her ton get rid of the thing - her bleed was due, that's why she'd had that ridiculous moment of sentimentality and the little devil had known just how to play her!
A warning screech came from beyond the curtains and Evie hastened to hide her coins away before the curtains rustled and the vexing bugger poked his head inbetween then, twittering in his nonsense language.
"What do you want?" she asked crossly. "You got me banana, and there ain't no more. Bugger off!"
The little monkey put his head to the side and stared at her inquisitively and in a moment of frustration she poked her tongue out at him. "No more! And I'm stepping out again... try not to make a mess or I'll sell you to the publican of The Mermaid's Tail who's known all about to use less popular cuts in 'is stews!"
The monkey screeched again and vanished once more behind the velvet, landing with a thump somewhere above her head. She hastened to wrap her money up hard in a kerchief, so that it would not clink about, and secrete it down behind the bed, in a little rodent hole there. But the night was not over yet - she'd stopped only for her supper and intended to make the best of what was left of it. And so it was that a moment later she'd spritzed herself with jasmine water, shaken out her hair, yanked her bodice down an inch or two and shut her door, swearing like a sailor to the imp she left behind.
Outside the night was warm and vibrant; it was close to midnight and many were turning their head to a hot meal and the air was fragrant with the scent of roasting meat and vegetables, frying fish and spices. Evie strolled the street, sipping from her flask of gin, enjoying the comparative peace of the streets as pirate and whore fixed their concentration on a feed. Whilst the men were all so occupied, there would not be much work about but it would do well for her to be seen. So Evie drank and strolled and side-stepped garbage and watched the miscreants shovel food into their mouths, belch, wipe with their sleeves and chug back on their drink. In the frame of one open window, Giselle had draped herself, balancing a joint of meat, a tankard of rum and a fellow who looked like he'd bite any second now.
"Oy Evie, 'ow's tricks!" she sang out, catching sight of her friend and Evie grinned back. "Waitin' for a nibble now!"
Giselle raised her tankard and Evie her flask and together they drank to a profitable night. Before the toast was finished Evie had passed that tavern by and continued on her way, drawing closer to the docks. Small, shabby groups clustered on the roads, sharp laughter splitting the night in bursts, some bold fellows sang out a cheeky remark or two to Evie who responded in kind but for now the Tortuga evening enjoyed a rare moment of rest.
Evie flirted a refill of her flask and two cuts of fowl from a jolly collection of reprobates then neatly extricated herself and found a quiet spot at the end of a wharf, where the inky black water below her lapped gently at the thick, barnacle-encrusted pillars. Thoughts of sea beasts kept her from dangling her legs over the side, or indeed, getting close at all. But with the noise of Tortuga faint behind her and nothing but a wide expanse of midnight blue before her, the cliffs of the cove only dimly outlined against it in this time of the new moon, and the night sky dotted with hundreds of tiny lights she felt a curious and ethereal sense of seperateness, of having stepped outside the world for a moment. It was oddly bewitching and she lifted her face to the whispering sea breeze and gazed at the stars above her. There were so many - there had been times, when she'd had quite overmuch of cocoa leaf that she'd lain on her back on a wharf somewhere and attempted to count their number as they faded into the dawn, but it had always proved an especially fruitless exercise. From what Hector and other sailors said, the stars were used by them to navigate their way through dark nights and she pondered so intimate a relationship. But then again it was not all much different to a whores' knowledge - the peculiar ability to ascertain from only the merest gesture or flicker in the eyes what customers could be dangerous and who would be lamblike; who would be fussy and who would be grateful - who would tip well and who would be tight-fisted. The mood of the air and whether it spoke of a good night's earnings or a hard slog. Even now she could feel things had shifted - what had started as a brisk evening was dwindling to a moderate temperament and she was not much in the mood to overwork herself reeling them in. She took another swig and leaned back on her elbows as a dark shape slid silently into the harbour and coasted towards the port - a late ship - and her spirits perked up somewhat. Sailors, fresh from a haul at sea, would definitely bring new fervour with them and reignite the spark upon Tortuga - if, indeed, their voyage had gone well.
Some way from the wharfs, the dark ship dropped anchor and the deck blazed to life with torches as the unseen crew scrambled for the long boats. The brilliant orange flares moved hastily, swarming down the side of the ship, arresting mere feet above the water and then, clustered together, beginning a rapid and rolling journey towards the docks. Their pace was frenetic and Evie screwed shut her flask and stood, rearranging her skirts and moving back towards the path that led to Tortuga, to be ready to catch the very first that put foot upon solid land once more.
As the long boats drew ever closer, she could hear the cheering of the crew, make out their waving arms - this was a jolly lot to be sure, and from the shadows two or three more whores emerged, as if having smelt the fresh meat upon the breeze. Evie nodded and grinned to them - after all, there was plenty to go about - and they took up their positions, hair loose and shoulders back so that their breasts thrust forward, smiling their brightest and widest.
The longboats were but a few yards now from the docks and she could discern the motley shapes of happy sailors - no, pirates! The ragged higgledy-piggledy of their costumes, their free and easy fashion, their colourful language betrayed them and there, straight and tall with shoulders thrown back, their Captain, for he could hardly be any other, his boot upon the helm of the boat furthermost amongst them, upon his head a large and broad-brimmed hat, a magnificent clutch of feathers spraying upwards from its band.
The dim glow of Tortuga threw a ruddy and faded light upon the dock his boat drew up beside and while his cheerfully cussing men roped it up, he hauled himself upwards and stepped into it and Evie beheld, to no little mixture of delight and astonishment, that it was Barbossa - Barbossa as she had first known him, proud and grand and gazing about him as though he were ruler of all he surveyed.
Perhaps it was the gin, or perhaps it was the welcome break in the monotony of the night, but quite despite herself Evie picked up her skirts and hurtled down the dock towards him. He laughed to see her then caught her up in his arms and swung her about so that she shrieked with joy, burying her face in his neck and inhaling his briny scent. Around them the hoots and calls of the crew filled the air as they danced triumphantly upon solid land once more and chose themselves a whore but Evie was oblivious to all but the solid press of Barbossa’s chest against hers and the strength of his arms around her waist.
“’Tis cheerin’ to have such a welcome, wench.” He declared as he put her upon the ground once more and she felt herself flush.
“Well, it’s been a mite dull around these ‘ere parts” she offered as explanation and remembered to toss her hair and put her hand upon her hip so that she seemed flirtatious and inviting rather than wistful and needy. He bared his teeth in a snaky grin and put an arm about her shoulders, ushering her towards the town, his limp now much improved but still in evidence.
“Then it be a fortuitous thing we dropped anchor this eve.”
“Speakin’ of which!” she exclaimed. “’Ow’d you come by that lil number then, eh?” and gestured with a jerk of her head to the anchored ship resting quietly in the bay behind them. Barbossa chuckled and squeezed her shoulder.
“Now, now, Evie, is ye memory so short? “
Evie whirled about to survey the mysterious ship, squinting through the night, but could make nothing of it out. “You don’t mean - is that - “
Barbossa’s chuckle grew louder. “Aye. That be me Pearl. “ He tipped the brim of his hat towards her. “And I be her Captain.”
Evie gaped and grasped hold of his arm. “’Ow on earth did you convince Sparrow to part with it?”
And Barbossa’s chuckle grew to peals of laughter so that he was obliged to halt his step and declare his merriment to the sky. Somewhat perplexed, Evie observed him sharply. He was once again every inch the magnificent pirate Captain, in a beautiful steel-grey leather jacket studded with shining silver buttons, a very elaborate embroidered vest and a very new and very magnificent deep blue hat. The stoop that had gripped his shoulders upon his last visit was gone, his back was straight and his sword hung shining by his side. But now that she had taken more careful stock of him, he was not quite as he had been before - no, not quite. But what was different?
She did not have the opportunity to ponder that further for with a roar he swung her up into his arms again, kissing her hard upon the mouth. She yielded willingly and supposed his frenetic manner could not really be questioned - he was a man risen from ruin, after all - and how swift an ascent!
“Sparrow, as it turns out,” he explained, finishing the kiss, “was much amenable to persuasion.”
And would offer no further explanation, hustling her fast through the streets and pausing but long enough to purchase meat, bread and wine, hasty tales of ships conquered and ports sacked in the past few months spilling from his lips and he gestured proudly to the buttons of his jacket:
“Incan silver” he boasted, “melted. Had them made for me special in Barbados.” And she duly admired them before slipping a hand down his pants to which he uttered a growl and shoved her up against the nearest wall, a hand grasping her breast and his teeth assaulting her neck and now she giggled and withdrew her hand. “Let’s get up to me room first, darlin’” and he hissed his frustration but withdrew his grip. He was indeed in a good mood to heed her so and she found his fervour intoxicating, prompting her to tease in such a way that he chased her up the stairs of the Mason Rouge and came dangerously close to fucking her up against the banister except that she slipped free at the last moment and let them in, breathless and laughing, into her room, illuminated only by the fireplace. He strode to the center of the room, dropping his hat and coat upon her chair and grinned.
“’Tis true what they say about familiar sights being a balm to sore eyes.” And the way he fixed his gaze upon her prompted her to smile and lower her eyes. They stood in silence for a moment in the semi darkness, simply looking at each other and Evie felt a warm shiver grip her. Barbossa took a step towards her and a screech split the night as silver eyes flashed from her dresser. They both started and Barbossa unsheathed his sword as she leapt behind him. The shriek died into a pealing chatter and Evie relaxed even as a flash of anger gripped her. That damn monkey!
“Oh bugger you, you little bastard!” she swore and darted over to the dresser as the monkey leapt onto the rug and scampered away. She tossed a hairpin or two after him but they did not come even close to hitting their mark. Barbossa had recovered sufficiently to put down his sword.
“A monkey, wench? How came ye by such a thing, the pickin’s been slim?” And he laughed as she threw a handkerchief at him then set to pouring them both a glass of wine.
“Not ‘ardly!” she sneered. “The little bugger tricked me into bringin’ ‘im ‘ome and has done nothin’ but cause me grief since!”
Barbossa scoffed and kicked off his boots. “Such a closet be no place for a monkey. “ He stretched himself out upon the bed and withdrew a shiny green apple from a pocket, and a small knife, carving off a slice. It crunched satisfyingly between his teeth, fresh, crisp sound that roused the monkey from his hiding place to the end of the bed where he fixed round, bright eyes upon Barbossa. Evie watched curiously, her glass of wine arrested at her lips. Barbossa studiously ignored the monkey, instead carving off another slice and devouring it. The next slice he did not eat, but placed close by his side then swiftly cut off another piece and chomped into it with gusto. The monkey crept onto the coverlet, his glittering eyes darting hastily from Barbossa, to the apple slice, and back to Barbossa again, and he dared another short dart forward. Barbossa continued to pay no mind to the monkey, chewing upon his apple and drinking of his wine, and the monkey drew ever closer, his tiny body poised for flight but his desire for the fruit enough to coax him forward.
Finally he came close enough to snatch up the apple in his little paw and dash to the end of the bed once more where he turned wary eyes to the Captain and his long tail quivered. But Barbossa behaved as though nothing had happened and the monkey fell to nibbling his sweet treat with evident delight. Evie pursed her lips in irritation as Barbossa chuckled and gnawed the apple to its core. “What have ye been feedin’ him, Missy?” He enquired, gesturing that she should fill his glass, and she mused how easy it was to lose a man’s attention.
“Bits and pieces, “she sniffed, pouring the wine.”bread, fish, meat…”
“Oh ye daft whore! Such a creature only eats fruit. ‘Tis no wonder he’s been such a menace, half-starved he’d be.”
In a rage she hastily stifled, Evie snatched up a fresh bottle of gin and uncorked it. And how was she to know? If she hadn’t rescued the wretched thing he’d probably be a dog’s breakfast by now! And as for the Captain who couldn’t wait to stick his cock into her but five minutes ago, now all his interest was vested in the dining habits of a stinking monkey! Perhaps she should go back out to turn tricks and leave the two of them to it!
Meanwhile, Barbossa had produced another apple and was proffering a slice to the monkey who eyed it with much longing and Barbossa with much caution. Finally, hunger overwhelmed his fear and he leapt forward, snatched up the fruit and leapt back, almost too quick for the eye to catch. When Barbossa did not shout or lash out the monkey’s curiosity was piqued and when the next apple slice appeared he did not hesitate to sidle forward and take it and neither did he retreat but a tiny monkey step or two and nibbled upon the fruit whilst looking all the while at Barbossa with large, wondering eyes. What was left of the apple was given to him next and he squeaked in monkey ecstasy as Barbossa laughed softly: “Clever little scoundrel” Then turned to Evie who stood fuming by the sideboard with gin bottle in hand, his expression altering suddenly to one of vexed demanding.
“Well, wench!” He thundered. “Do ye think ye have kept me waitin’ long enough for me satisfaction, or would it amuse ye to deny me but longer?”
Evie gaped in outrage. “What do you mean? I been waitin’ on you to finish makin’ love to that rotten creature!” She pointed to the glutting monkey who grinned, his cheeks bulging with apple flesh and Barbossa shot a sharp look at the monkey and turned back to her.
“I were passin’ the time while ye dawdled! Have ye grown lazy in my absence, then?”
“Oh for pity’s sake!” There would be no winning this argument - and she was longing for his touch. She threw herself upon him and he rolled her over and beneath him as their lips joined in a hungry kiss. The monkey shrieked and leapt from the bed, but she paid him no heed - and nor did Barbossa.
He was rough and demanding of her, as though it had been a full year or more since last he had felt the touch of a woman, but she found she did not mind over much. There was a satisfaction in his frenzy, a curiously gratifying sense of being so desired that he paid no heed to the occasional whimpers and gasps his savagery provoked but sought only to satiate his own driving need with the way he twisted her body or took a nipple between his teeth or in the force of his thrusting. There was no wanton cruelty in it, only uninhibited lust and it enflamed her and sent her blood pulsing hot throughout her body.
When his climax abated he lay still atop her for a long moment, the fingers of one hand splayed across her jaw, his nose pressed against her cheek, then exhaled in a long hiss. She was looking directly at him, at the hundreds of fine lines that cracked his skin, the curling wisps of hair that grew from above his lip and chin, and so when he opened his eyes once more she caught in their blue depths something strange and perturbing - a glimmer of distress. And that was something she had never yet glimpsed in him. The warm flush of their rutting was overtaken by a chill but in the next instance he had chuckled and pushed himself up, eyes steely once more.
“I’m nearer fifty than I were a decade ago,” he muttered, “It be a fortuitous thing indeed I’ll enjoy the last years of me prime in full, Captain of a ship.” He retrieved his wine glass from the rug and drained it before his face contorted. “The wine be sour.”
Evie leaned over the bed to fetch her own glass for a sip. “I thought it was rather fine.” And he harrumphed so she pulled a face at him. “Not that my tongue is as educated as yours!” she mocked and he half-smiled before tugging on her hair.
“And ye’ve been denied the schoolin’s of same this eve, haven’t ye?”
She attempted a coy smile and let her legs loll apart invitingly. “I’m ever so eager to learn, Cap’n’!”
And he grinned and moved upon her. Settling back into the pillows she caught sight of the monkey peeking over the end of the bed, watching them and tossed a pillow at him with a scowl. He vanished and she gave herself over to sheer bliss. By the time Barbossa brought her to ecstasy, he was ready to have her again and she welcomed him eagerly. He had been rough with her in the past, many times, particularly if it had been some months between his last port, and always his initial frenzy had been followed by gentleness, a more considered and sensuous pace. Now, however, he was rougher even than before and she was grateful for the lubrication her pleasure had brought her. She was gasping and breathless by the time he was done, and so was he and drenched in a cold sweat that spoke of the effort it had been for him. As he released her and rolled over, Evie thought about his earlier remarks. It would press hard upon so ordinarily virile a man to succumb to the ravages of age, as all men seemed inevitably to do. Staring at his scarred and tattooed back she felt the urge to slip her arms about him and tell him it mattered not to her but she knew most men did not ordinarily appreciate the sympathies of a woman in this matter, and that Barbossa most certainly would not.
Instead she rose, naked and supine, and fetched his supper from where it had been discarded on the sideboard. He was silent on the bed, lost to his thought, and it occurred to her to say that for all the strain of it, he’d remained hard as rock throughout, then thought better of it. But that was the strange thing, wasn’t it? Evie’s vast experience of older men had demonstrated age brought an inability to keep sailing at full mast, as it were, and that certainly weren’t what troubled Barbossa… still, better to keep her mouth shut and save herself a black eye.
His face was sour when he sat up to receive his food and his mood matched, complaining that the meat was stringy, the vegetables tough and the sauce congealed.
“I didn’t cook it!” Evie took a good long swallow of gin and her head buzzed enjoyably. “And it’s been sittin’ there an hour or more, what do you expect?”
He scowled and grunted at her and she thought she had better make peace so as not to be bickering the rest of the night. “Do you want me to fetch you somethin’ fresh then?” she queried gently and that broke his temper.
“Nay wench, I’ve had me fill. Ye be a good lass.” And he cupped her cheek before gesturing for another drink.
She took the leftovers back to the sideboard, picking at it a little and shrugging her shoulders. Though cold, the meat tasted rather tender and juicy to her, but then she didn’t make so much a habit of fine dining as her Captain did. She glanced back at the bed as she uncorked a fresh bottle and saw that the villainous monkey had dared to re-emerge, in her absence. The sight of him seemed to cheer Barbossa somewhat more and he enquired of the little wretch:
“So, ye return for more sweets do ye, ye little beggar? ‘Tis fortuitous for ye I be somewhat fond of the same flesh that so delights ye! Evie!” he called to her and she raised an eyebrow in response, thoroughly unimpressed by the sight before her of the monkey perched entreatingly at Barbossa’s feet and Barbossa himself smiling at the rotten thing - all upon her bed and smart burgundy coverlet! “Fetch me me jacket.”
With a roll of her eyes, she obliged and then turned to stoke up the fire as the curious flirtation continued behind her. Barbossa produced more apples and obligingly split them with the monkey who chattered his thanks and cheerfully devoured his share. When Evie took a step to the bed the monkey started and screamed and she threw up her hands and exclaimed “Alright, alright!” and instead fetched a wrap from her wardrobe to cover her nakedness, pulling her dresser chair as close to the bed as the monkey would allow before shrieking. Barbossa laughed to see it and for Evie it was too much.
“Damned if I’m bein’ kicked out of me own bed by a bleedin’ monkey!” she swore and threw herself heavily onto the covers to which the little rascal burst into a cacophony of squealing protests and leapt upon Barbossa’s shoulder.
“Here now!” The Captain smiled and sat upright and the monkey turned his back to Evie and buried his little hairy head into Barbossa’s hair, his long thin tail wrapping desperately around Barbossa’s neck. He reached up to stroke the trembling creature and chuckled while Evie pouted and reached for her gin bottle, ever present by the bedside.
“Oh if you like ‘im so much, you can ‘ave ‘im!” she declared and Barbossa cocked a brow.
“Who be ye speakin’ to?”
She narrowed her eyes at him as he continued to pet the little fellow. “You’d be doin’ me a favour!”
“Well, then, how about it, ye wee rascal?” He queried to the monkey who spun around on his shoulder and cocked his parti-coloured head to the Captain. “Would ye like to seek the world beyond the confines of a whore’s bedroom and sail the seas upon the shoulder of a mighty Captain?”
The monkey cocked his head in the other direction, his dark eyes round and curious before emitting a high shriek that curdled Evie’s blood. Barbossa slid his eyes to the whore and gave her a toothy grin. “I believe we have an accord.”
“Well thank the Powers for that!” she snipped and slid closer, not minding the protesting noises the monkey made. “’E’s big enough to share!” she snapped at the monkey and slipped an arm about Barbossa’s chest. “And if you’re takin’ up with ‘im, your goin’ to ‘ave to get used to me, I’m afraid!” she finished pertly and felt Barbossa’s chest vibrate against her cheek with his merriment.
“Squabbled over by a whore and a monkey!” he declared and lifted his glass to his lips. “I’ll drink to that.”
“You ‘aven’t told me ‘ow you got Sparrow to give up the Peal, you know!” she accused him sometime later. “’E was in love with that bloody ship - did you find ‘im a better one or somethin’?”
They were playing cards and were neck and neck. Evie’s skills had improved somewhat considerably since last they had met and she did not hesitate to cheat, either, for she was quite sure he would not hold back now. The monkey sat above them on the bed-head, observing their progress closely.
Barbossa laid out the turn and his smile was sneering. “I procured Jack a better station altogether.”
“Meaning?”
He matched her bet and raised it, giving her pause to consider the stakes. “Ol’ Jack discovered he was more attached to land than he first though. Far more attached. So we made ‘im…” and here Barbossa had to put down his cards, for he was suddenly overcome with mirth. “We made ‘im a Governor!”
Evie was perplexed. “’Ow?”
Barbossa wiped his eyes and continued to laugh. “How, what, Missy?”
“’Ow did you make him a Guv’nor… you ain’t got that kind of influence.” Which made Barbossa laugh all the harder at her naivety - which in turn roused her temper, prompting her to toss down her cards.
“You think it’s so bloody funny to laugh at me, I’d like to see your smarts if you’d never been off this fuckin’ island but I’ll wager I’ve a wit one or two more than you.”
And he grew suddenly sombre and regarded her with grave eyes.
“But Evie, those parts of ye untouched are all the more endearin’.” But she scowled at him still and so he fetched up his jacket.
“Here,” he said. “I’ve a gift for ye. “ and she brightened at that, for he’d given her nothing since a couple of pearl combs quite some time before.
From deep within a pocket, he withdrew a couple of shining gold pieces. Evie’s eyes lit up upon sight of them for she could see at once they were very heavy, very thick, rich gold, and quite a handsome size as well. A slight smile playing upon his lips he dropped them into her outstretched palm and she gasped to feel their weight, wiggling her fingers so that the dim glow of the candlelight might play upon their shining surfaces.
“Cor! These are beauties!” she admired them and he put one hand into her hair and rubbed her neck.
“Cursed Aztec gold.” He divulged, his lips pursing in amusement and she glanced up at him with wide eyes.
“So it wasn’t a fib!” and flipped the coins over so that they chinked against each other. Engraved o n their backs was a death’s head, grinning at her with a cadaver’s mirth.
“Eight hundred and eighty two pieces.” He murmured and ran a finger around the outline of one carved skull. “A pretty pocket indeed. We been celebratin’ all over the Spanish Main and further since.”
Well, she hadn’t really expected Tortuga to be their first port of call. “’Ow many others you given a piece to then?” she queried sardonically and he laughed, but did not answer.
“But they, of course, are merely the jewels in the crown - the true prize was the Pearl. With her, I’m nigh unstoppable now.” The timbre of his voice was tinged in victory.
“Hector.” She looked at him firmly. “What ‘appened to Sparrow?”
He held her gaze for a moment before sitting upwards and sliding off the bed, a sardonic glint in his eye. “I would not have expected such concern for that rascal from you, Miss Evangeline.”
Addressing her in the same manner in which Sparrow had made her ponder if they had spoken of her. But she was not to be put off.
“It’s not concern. It’s bloody natural curiosity. I know ‘e ain’t been seen ‘round ‘ere as long as you ‘aven’t. You demand I ‘elp you get the dirt from ‘im for you, vanish with ‘im for months on end, return without ‘im, but ‘oldin’ ‘is treasure and ‘is ship, and you don’t expect me to wonder? “
Barbossa’s smile was sinister and quiet, one hand caressing the back of her dresser chair as he surveyed her with head tilted slightly to one side.
“But naturally, Missy, you would wonder. “ He purred and nudged her chamber pot from out beneath the bed. “And it is with no small amount of pleasure that I deliver to you the no doubt welcome tidin’s that Captain Jack Sparrow has permanently retired.”
Awareness was beginning to grow on Evie like an itch. “Permanently?”
Barbossa refastened his pants and half-chuckled. “For all his boastin’s, Sparrow hailed from Greenland and with the right amount of rum and the right amount of flattery was pleasingly suggestible. I persuaded him, after a few days of toleratin’ his inept command and haphazard decisions, to share with me the bearin’s of this long-lost Island. Meself and what were left of me crew had been workin’ on the others since we’d set sail, settin’ in their hearts a displeasure and dissatisfaction with the inexperienced Captain and they were all ready then to seize hold of the ship, which we duly did. They’d heard enough of me particular criticisms of Sparrow and observed for themselves how better my orders and suggestions fared than that of the supposed leader of the ship and with the aid of Bo’sun, Koehler and others, were all too willin’ to name me Captain and maroon the young Sparrow on the nearest island.” He stretched his long body out besides Evie again, who turned to him frowning.
“Couldn’t ‘e just ‘op on another ship?” and Barbossa’s grimace was somewhere between frustration and amusement.
“Not if there be no other livin’ soul upon this island, wench.” He dryly shared and laughed softly in his throat. The picture was becoming clear to Evie, who sat up straighter and turned to face Barbossa full on.
“So, you dumped ‘im on an empty island to meet ‘is maker, took off with the ship and fetched the treasure?”
Hearing it said thus spurred Barbossa’s laughter on and Evie did not quite know what to say. “What was on the island?”
“Trees. Grass. A hell of a lot of sand!” His laugh grew harder.
Evie thought of the intrepid and dreaming Jack with his baby face and missing teeth, slowly starving a sweltering death beneath a harsh Caribbean sun. She certainly had no love lost on the scallywag but her stomach knotted uncomfortably at the thought and she observed the chortling Barbossa with unease, chewing on one fingernail.
“Why didn’t you just shoot ‘im?” She asked him and Barbossa recovered himself, stretching his arms high above his head and yawning.
“Because Sparrow were an affront to pirates everywhere!” he snarled. “He was a poor Captain but a poorer pirate. Every opportunity that came our way to increase our fortunes he disregarded, hellbent on that bloody treasure and nothin’ else. He roused no respect in the men and a pirate Captain only keeps his station through respect - do ye think I lasted so long by the grace of God? His ship - better even, yes, than my lost Siren - fast and sleek and beautiful - well she were wasted on him and he not deservin’ of her. If all pirates that sailed the seas were akin to Jack Sparrow, we’d be a bloody laughin’ stock. Asides we were plenty merciful - left him a pistol.” He finished his tirade with a disdainful snort and laid a rough kiss upon Evie’s shoulder.
It made Evie feel somewhat better to hear that and she drew Barbossa head onto her breast and stroked his cheek, feeling the creases of his roughened skin against her palm and the scratch of his beard against her nipple. The candles were burning low and Evie could tell from the sounds coming from beyond her walls that Dawn was swift approaching. Their card game lay abandoned, spread out upon the coverlet, and as sleep began to settle upon their limbs, the little monkey dared his disdain of Evie to clamber onto Barbossa once more and from there arrange himself in the crook of his arm. Evie tried to sneer at the wretch, but found herself a trifle endeared in spite of her efforts to resist.
“You goin’ to give the little blighter a name?” and Barbossa’s eyes flew open, bright and watery, surveying the inquisitive little creature who peered up at them with unblinking eyes.
“Aye,” he declared hoarsely. “’Tis only fittin’ that such a creature be brought above his station by bein’ bestowed with an appropriate moniker. “ He fell silent to ponder the matter a moment and then a wolfish grin split Barbossa’s face as he raised his hand to stroke the monkey’s brow.
“Jack”
"You rum little blighter!" Evie scowled in disbelief. "You savage little thief! 'Ave you got any idea 'ow scarce fresh bananas are in this God-forsaken 'ell 'ole?"
The monkey grinned and chirruped something in response. Something smart, no doubt, thought Evie grimly. Little bastard.
With a sigh she turned back to her soup and bread, at least there were a few choice cuts of fish in the soup and the bread crusty. But bananas - fresh, ripe bananas - were a delicacy Tortuga did not yield often and she was quick to glut on as many as she could when they did appear, expensive as they were. Strangely, on six or seven bananas a day, she often felt lighter and more cheerful - like she was munching on a little slice of sun, she would sometimes think and then blush, for that were a girl's fancy. As for the monkey - what had she been thinking? He'd turned up on the docks of Tortuga between a pile of slightly damp, rolled up carpets, a motley jumble of hats, gloves, shoes and miscellany such as buttons, spectacles, watches and cufflinks and a large, water-stained writing desk. In a cage he was, and mewling most piteously, wrinkling his brow at her when she paused to examine a golden reticule from the debris next to him. The cage was far too small and the little creature's face was most eloquent in its attitudes and she felt a pang of very real compassion upon seeing his plight. Poor little devil, squished into that nasty-smelling cage, amidst all this broken trash, yelled and poked at all the day long. Why, he just needed a mum is all, someone to give him a cuddle now and then and good meals thrice a day. And what about her, wouldn't it be nice to have a little companion like that, not like a cat or dog but almost baby-like, what could do tricks and sit on her shoulder and chatter to her while she prepared for work and curl in her hair as she slept. And she had felt all warm inside at the thought and purchased him.
Things had not turned out quite as she had imagined. The monkey was a menace. He stole things, pulled her hair, soiled her furnishings, used his food as missiles, careened himself from one end of her room to the other heedless of what he might break and screeched endlessly at her. If she scolded him, he scolded her back. If she put something out of his reach, then all his thoughts were bent to acquiring it. If she had something upon her plate that she especially savoured - like a banana, she thought, glaring at the cheeky bugger as his cheeks bulged with the sweet yellow flesh atop her bed - that he must have it. And then, when her customers were up, he feigned jealousy (for she was sure he disliked her as much as she him given that not once would he sit upon her lap or her shoulder or let her pet him) and screamed endlessly at the men. He discovered a great sport in dropping onto their heaving buttocks from above right at the critical moment so that they shrieked and jerked backwards, their pleasure ruined. She would of got rid of him now if she could only have got her hands upon him - for he was very careful to keep out of her reach. She had half a mind to simply leave her door open - but she was not so heartless as that, for the streets of Tortuga would not be kind to a wretched little monkey, nor would its half-starved dogs and cats. Evie swigged from her bottle of gin and levelled a steely glare at the monkey, who finished the banana and let the skin drop to the carpet below. But just let him steal one more banana and then test how cold her heart was, by God...
Evie finished chewing and carried the gin bottle to her bed where she pulled the curtains shut hard about her - couldn't count her money in front of the wretched thing for he'd like as not scarper off with a piece or two as he'd done the other day. Two gold bits, the little brat, and she hadn't a clue where he'd squirrelled them away. She daren't even secrete any more of her earnings into the bed post, for he'd be sure to catch it and investigate and then where would she be? Scowling so hard she near choked on her gin, Evie dumped her coins out on the mattress and began to count. What had she been thinking, for pity's sake, she didn't need another mouth to feed - and she'd be off to Bessie Bunton quick as a flash if such a misfortune ever visited her ton get rid of the thing - her bleed was due, that's why she'd had that ridiculous moment of sentimentality and the little devil had known just how to play her!
A warning screech came from beyond the curtains and Evie hastened to hide her coins away before the curtains rustled and the vexing bugger poked his head inbetween then, twittering in his nonsense language.
"What do you want?" she asked crossly. "You got me banana, and there ain't no more. Bugger off!"
The little monkey put his head to the side and stared at her inquisitively and in a moment of frustration she poked her tongue out at him. "No more! And I'm stepping out again... try not to make a mess or I'll sell you to the publican of The Mermaid's Tail who's known all about to use less popular cuts in 'is stews!"
The monkey screeched again and vanished once more behind the velvet, landing with a thump somewhere above her head. She hastened to wrap her money up hard in a kerchief, so that it would not clink about, and secrete it down behind the bed, in a little rodent hole there. But the night was not over yet - she'd stopped only for her supper and intended to make the best of what was left of it. And so it was that a moment later she'd spritzed herself with jasmine water, shaken out her hair, yanked her bodice down an inch or two and shut her door, swearing like a sailor to the imp she left behind.
Outside the night was warm and vibrant; it was close to midnight and many were turning their head to a hot meal and the air was fragrant with the scent of roasting meat and vegetables, frying fish and spices. Evie strolled the street, sipping from her flask of gin, enjoying the comparative peace of the streets as pirate and whore fixed their concentration on a feed. Whilst the men were all so occupied, there would not be much work about but it would do well for her to be seen. So Evie drank and strolled and side-stepped garbage and watched the miscreants shovel food into their mouths, belch, wipe with their sleeves and chug back on their drink. In the frame of one open window, Giselle had draped herself, balancing a joint of meat, a tankard of rum and a fellow who looked like he'd bite any second now.
"Oy Evie, 'ow's tricks!" she sang out, catching sight of her friend and Evie grinned back. "Waitin' for a nibble now!"
Giselle raised her tankard and Evie her flask and together they drank to a profitable night. Before the toast was finished Evie had passed that tavern by and continued on her way, drawing closer to the docks. Small, shabby groups clustered on the roads, sharp laughter splitting the night in bursts, some bold fellows sang out a cheeky remark or two to Evie who responded in kind but for now the Tortuga evening enjoyed a rare moment of rest.
Evie flirted a refill of her flask and two cuts of fowl from a jolly collection of reprobates then neatly extricated herself and found a quiet spot at the end of a wharf, where the inky black water below her lapped gently at the thick, barnacle-encrusted pillars. Thoughts of sea beasts kept her from dangling her legs over the side, or indeed, getting close at all. But with the noise of Tortuga faint behind her and nothing but a wide expanse of midnight blue before her, the cliffs of the cove only dimly outlined against it in this time of the new moon, and the night sky dotted with hundreds of tiny lights she felt a curious and ethereal sense of seperateness, of having stepped outside the world for a moment. It was oddly bewitching and she lifted her face to the whispering sea breeze and gazed at the stars above her. There were so many - there had been times, when she'd had quite overmuch of cocoa leaf that she'd lain on her back on a wharf somewhere and attempted to count their number as they faded into the dawn, but it had always proved an especially fruitless exercise. From what Hector and other sailors said, the stars were used by them to navigate their way through dark nights and she pondered so intimate a relationship. But then again it was not all much different to a whores' knowledge - the peculiar ability to ascertain from only the merest gesture or flicker in the eyes what customers could be dangerous and who would be lamblike; who would be fussy and who would be grateful - who would tip well and who would be tight-fisted. The mood of the air and whether it spoke of a good night's earnings or a hard slog. Even now she could feel things had shifted - what had started as a brisk evening was dwindling to a moderate temperament and she was not much in the mood to overwork herself reeling them in. She took another swig and leaned back on her elbows as a dark shape slid silently into the harbour and coasted towards the port - a late ship - and her spirits perked up somewhat. Sailors, fresh from a haul at sea, would definitely bring new fervour with them and reignite the spark upon Tortuga - if, indeed, their voyage had gone well.
Some way from the wharfs, the dark ship dropped anchor and the deck blazed to life with torches as the unseen crew scrambled for the long boats. The brilliant orange flares moved hastily, swarming down the side of the ship, arresting mere feet above the water and then, clustered together, beginning a rapid and rolling journey towards the docks. Their pace was frenetic and Evie screwed shut her flask and stood, rearranging her skirts and moving back towards the path that led to Tortuga, to be ready to catch the very first that put foot upon solid land once more.
As the long boats drew ever closer, she could hear the cheering of the crew, make out their waving arms - this was a jolly lot to be sure, and from the shadows two or three more whores emerged, as if having smelt the fresh meat upon the breeze. Evie nodded and grinned to them - after all, there was plenty to go about - and they took up their positions, hair loose and shoulders back so that their breasts thrust forward, smiling their brightest and widest.
The longboats were but a few yards now from the docks and she could discern the motley shapes of happy sailors - no, pirates! The ragged higgledy-piggledy of their costumes, their free and easy fashion, their colourful language betrayed them and there, straight and tall with shoulders thrown back, their Captain, for he could hardly be any other, his boot upon the helm of the boat furthermost amongst them, upon his head a large and broad-brimmed hat, a magnificent clutch of feathers spraying upwards from its band.
The dim glow of Tortuga threw a ruddy and faded light upon the dock his boat drew up beside and while his cheerfully cussing men roped it up, he hauled himself upwards and stepped into it and Evie beheld, to no little mixture of delight and astonishment, that it was Barbossa - Barbossa as she had first known him, proud and grand and gazing about him as though he were ruler of all he surveyed.
Perhaps it was the gin, or perhaps it was the welcome break in the monotony of the night, but quite despite herself Evie picked up her skirts and hurtled down the dock towards him. He laughed to see her then caught her up in his arms and swung her about so that she shrieked with joy, burying her face in his neck and inhaling his briny scent. Around them the hoots and calls of the crew filled the air as they danced triumphantly upon solid land once more and chose themselves a whore but Evie was oblivious to all but the solid press of Barbossa’s chest against hers and the strength of his arms around her waist.
“’Tis cheerin’ to have such a welcome, wench.” He declared as he put her upon the ground once more and she felt herself flush.
“Well, it’s been a mite dull around these ‘ere parts” she offered as explanation and remembered to toss her hair and put her hand upon her hip so that she seemed flirtatious and inviting rather than wistful and needy. He bared his teeth in a snaky grin and put an arm about her shoulders, ushering her towards the town, his limp now much improved but still in evidence.
“Then it be a fortuitous thing we dropped anchor this eve.”
“Speakin’ of which!” she exclaimed. “’Ow’d you come by that lil number then, eh?” and gestured with a jerk of her head to the anchored ship resting quietly in the bay behind them. Barbossa chuckled and squeezed her shoulder.
“Now, now, Evie, is ye memory so short? “
Evie whirled about to survey the mysterious ship, squinting through the night, but could make nothing of it out. “You don’t mean - is that - “
Barbossa’s chuckle grew louder. “Aye. That be me Pearl. “ He tipped the brim of his hat towards her. “And I be her Captain.”
Evie gaped and grasped hold of his arm. “’Ow on earth did you convince Sparrow to part with it?”
And Barbossa’s chuckle grew to peals of laughter so that he was obliged to halt his step and declare his merriment to the sky. Somewhat perplexed, Evie observed him sharply. He was once again every inch the magnificent pirate Captain, in a beautiful steel-grey leather jacket studded with shining silver buttons, a very elaborate embroidered vest and a very new and very magnificent deep blue hat. The stoop that had gripped his shoulders upon his last visit was gone, his back was straight and his sword hung shining by his side. But now that she had taken more careful stock of him, he was not quite as he had been before - no, not quite. But what was different?
She did not have the opportunity to ponder that further for with a roar he swung her up into his arms again, kissing her hard upon the mouth. She yielded willingly and supposed his frenetic manner could not really be questioned - he was a man risen from ruin, after all - and how swift an ascent!
“Sparrow, as it turns out,” he explained, finishing the kiss, “was much amenable to persuasion.”
And would offer no further explanation, hustling her fast through the streets and pausing but long enough to purchase meat, bread and wine, hasty tales of ships conquered and ports sacked in the past few months spilling from his lips and he gestured proudly to the buttons of his jacket:
“Incan silver” he boasted, “melted. Had them made for me special in Barbados.” And she duly admired them before slipping a hand down his pants to which he uttered a growl and shoved her up against the nearest wall, a hand grasping her breast and his teeth assaulting her neck and now she giggled and withdrew her hand. “Let’s get up to me room first, darlin’” and he hissed his frustration but withdrew his grip. He was indeed in a good mood to heed her so and she found his fervour intoxicating, prompting her to tease in such a way that he chased her up the stairs of the Mason Rouge and came dangerously close to fucking her up against the banister except that she slipped free at the last moment and let them in, breathless and laughing, into her room, illuminated only by the fireplace. He strode to the center of the room, dropping his hat and coat upon her chair and grinned.
“’Tis true what they say about familiar sights being a balm to sore eyes.” And the way he fixed his gaze upon her prompted her to smile and lower her eyes. They stood in silence for a moment in the semi darkness, simply looking at each other and Evie felt a warm shiver grip her. Barbossa took a step towards her and a screech split the night as silver eyes flashed from her dresser. They both started and Barbossa unsheathed his sword as she leapt behind him. The shriek died into a pealing chatter and Evie relaxed even as a flash of anger gripped her. That damn monkey!
“Oh bugger you, you little bastard!” she swore and darted over to the dresser as the monkey leapt onto the rug and scampered away. She tossed a hairpin or two after him but they did not come even close to hitting their mark. Barbossa had recovered sufficiently to put down his sword.
“A monkey, wench? How came ye by such a thing, the pickin’s been slim?” And he laughed as she threw a handkerchief at him then set to pouring them both a glass of wine.
“Not ‘ardly!” she sneered. “The little bugger tricked me into bringin’ ‘im ‘ome and has done nothin’ but cause me grief since!”
Barbossa scoffed and kicked off his boots. “Such a closet be no place for a monkey. “ He stretched himself out upon the bed and withdrew a shiny green apple from a pocket, and a small knife, carving off a slice. It crunched satisfyingly between his teeth, fresh, crisp sound that roused the monkey from his hiding place to the end of the bed where he fixed round, bright eyes upon Barbossa. Evie watched curiously, her glass of wine arrested at her lips. Barbossa studiously ignored the monkey, instead carving off another slice and devouring it. The next slice he did not eat, but placed close by his side then swiftly cut off another piece and chomped into it with gusto. The monkey crept onto the coverlet, his glittering eyes darting hastily from Barbossa, to the apple slice, and back to Barbossa again, and he dared another short dart forward. Barbossa continued to pay no mind to the monkey, chewing upon his apple and drinking of his wine, and the monkey drew ever closer, his tiny body poised for flight but his desire for the fruit enough to coax him forward.
Finally he came close enough to snatch up the apple in his little paw and dash to the end of the bed once more where he turned wary eyes to the Captain and his long tail quivered. But Barbossa behaved as though nothing had happened and the monkey fell to nibbling his sweet treat with evident delight. Evie pursed her lips in irritation as Barbossa chuckled and gnawed the apple to its core. “What have ye been feedin’ him, Missy?” He enquired, gesturing that she should fill his glass, and she mused how easy it was to lose a man’s attention.
“Bits and pieces, “she sniffed, pouring the wine.”bread, fish, meat…”
“Oh ye daft whore! Such a creature only eats fruit. ‘Tis no wonder he’s been such a menace, half-starved he’d be.”
In a rage she hastily stifled, Evie snatched up a fresh bottle of gin and uncorked it. And how was she to know? If she hadn’t rescued the wretched thing he’d probably be a dog’s breakfast by now! And as for the Captain who couldn’t wait to stick his cock into her but five minutes ago, now all his interest was vested in the dining habits of a stinking monkey! Perhaps she should go back out to turn tricks and leave the two of them to it!
Meanwhile, Barbossa had produced another apple and was proffering a slice to the monkey who eyed it with much longing and Barbossa with much caution. Finally, hunger overwhelmed his fear and he leapt forward, snatched up the fruit and leapt back, almost too quick for the eye to catch. When Barbossa did not shout or lash out the monkey’s curiosity was piqued and when the next apple slice appeared he did not hesitate to sidle forward and take it and neither did he retreat but a tiny monkey step or two and nibbled upon the fruit whilst looking all the while at Barbossa with large, wondering eyes. What was left of the apple was given to him next and he squeaked in monkey ecstasy as Barbossa laughed softly: “Clever little scoundrel” Then turned to Evie who stood fuming by the sideboard with gin bottle in hand, his expression altering suddenly to one of vexed demanding.
“Well, wench!” He thundered. “Do ye think ye have kept me waitin’ long enough for me satisfaction, or would it amuse ye to deny me but longer?”
Evie gaped in outrage. “What do you mean? I been waitin’ on you to finish makin’ love to that rotten creature!” She pointed to the glutting monkey who grinned, his cheeks bulging with apple flesh and Barbossa shot a sharp look at the monkey and turned back to her.
“I were passin’ the time while ye dawdled! Have ye grown lazy in my absence, then?”
“Oh for pity’s sake!” There would be no winning this argument - and she was longing for his touch. She threw herself upon him and he rolled her over and beneath him as their lips joined in a hungry kiss. The monkey shrieked and leapt from the bed, but she paid him no heed - and nor did Barbossa.
He was rough and demanding of her, as though it had been a full year or more since last he had felt the touch of a woman, but she found she did not mind over much. There was a satisfaction in his frenzy, a curiously gratifying sense of being so desired that he paid no heed to the occasional whimpers and gasps his savagery provoked but sought only to satiate his own driving need with the way he twisted her body or took a nipple between his teeth or in the force of his thrusting. There was no wanton cruelty in it, only uninhibited lust and it enflamed her and sent her blood pulsing hot throughout her body.
When his climax abated he lay still atop her for a long moment, the fingers of one hand splayed across her jaw, his nose pressed against her cheek, then exhaled in a long hiss. She was looking directly at him, at the hundreds of fine lines that cracked his skin, the curling wisps of hair that grew from above his lip and chin, and so when he opened his eyes once more she caught in their blue depths something strange and perturbing - a glimmer of distress. And that was something she had never yet glimpsed in him. The warm flush of their rutting was overtaken by a chill but in the next instance he had chuckled and pushed himself up, eyes steely once more.
“I’m nearer fifty than I were a decade ago,” he muttered, “It be a fortuitous thing indeed I’ll enjoy the last years of me prime in full, Captain of a ship.” He retrieved his wine glass from the rug and drained it before his face contorted. “The wine be sour.”
Evie leaned over the bed to fetch her own glass for a sip. “I thought it was rather fine.” And he harrumphed so she pulled a face at him. “Not that my tongue is as educated as yours!” she mocked and he half-smiled before tugging on her hair.
“And ye’ve been denied the schoolin’s of same this eve, haven’t ye?”
She attempted a coy smile and let her legs loll apart invitingly. “I’m ever so eager to learn, Cap’n’!”
And he grinned and moved upon her. Settling back into the pillows she caught sight of the monkey peeking over the end of the bed, watching them and tossed a pillow at him with a scowl. He vanished and she gave herself over to sheer bliss. By the time Barbossa brought her to ecstasy, he was ready to have her again and she welcomed him eagerly. He had been rough with her in the past, many times, particularly if it had been some months between his last port, and always his initial frenzy had been followed by gentleness, a more considered and sensuous pace. Now, however, he was rougher even than before and she was grateful for the lubrication her pleasure had brought her. She was gasping and breathless by the time he was done, and so was he and drenched in a cold sweat that spoke of the effort it had been for him. As he released her and rolled over, Evie thought about his earlier remarks. It would press hard upon so ordinarily virile a man to succumb to the ravages of age, as all men seemed inevitably to do. Staring at his scarred and tattooed back she felt the urge to slip her arms about him and tell him it mattered not to her but she knew most men did not ordinarily appreciate the sympathies of a woman in this matter, and that Barbossa most certainly would not.
Instead she rose, naked and supine, and fetched his supper from where it had been discarded on the sideboard. He was silent on the bed, lost to his thought, and it occurred to her to say that for all the strain of it, he’d remained hard as rock throughout, then thought better of it. But that was the strange thing, wasn’t it? Evie’s vast experience of older men had demonstrated age brought an inability to keep sailing at full mast, as it were, and that certainly weren’t what troubled Barbossa… still, better to keep her mouth shut and save herself a black eye.
His face was sour when he sat up to receive his food and his mood matched, complaining that the meat was stringy, the vegetables tough and the sauce congealed.
“I didn’t cook it!” Evie took a good long swallow of gin and her head buzzed enjoyably. “And it’s been sittin’ there an hour or more, what do you expect?”
He scowled and grunted at her and she thought she had better make peace so as not to be bickering the rest of the night. “Do you want me to fetch you somethin’ fresh then?” she queried gently and that broke his temper.
“Nay wench, I’ve had me fill. Ye be a good lass.” And he cupped her cheek before gesturing for another drink.
She took the leftovers back to the sideboard, picking at it a little and shrugging her shoulders. Though cold, the meat tasted rather tender and juicy to her, but then she didn’t make so much a habit of fine dining as her Captain did. She glanced back at the bed as she uncorked a fresh bottle and saw that the villainous monkey had dared to re-emerge, in her absence. The sight of him seemed to cheer Barbossa somewhat more and he enquired of the little wretch:
“So, ye return for more sweets do ye, ye little beggar? ‘Tis fortuitous for ye I be somewhat fond of the same flesh that so delights ye! Evie!” he called to her and she raised an eyebrow in response, thoroughly unimpressed by the sight before her of the monkey perched entreatingly at Barbossa’s feet and Barbossa himself smiling at the rotten thing - all upon her bed and smart burgundy coverlet! “Fetch me me jacket.”
With a roll of her eyes, she obliged and then turned to stoke up the fire as the curious flirtation continued behind her. Barbossa produced more apples and obligingly split them with the monkey who chattered his thanks and cheerfully devoured his share. When Evie took a step to the bed the monkey started and screamed and she threw up her hands and exclaimed “Alright, alright!” and instead fetched a wrap from her wardrobe to cover her nakedness, pulling her dresser chair as close to the bed as the monkey would allow before shrieking. Barbossa laughed to see it and for Evie it was too much.
“Damned if I’m bein’ kicked out of me own bed by a bleedin’ monkey!” she swore and threw herself heavily onto the covers to which the little rascal burst into a cacophony of squealing protests and leapt upon Barbossa’s shoulder.
“Here now!” The Captain smiled and sat upright and the monkey turned his back to Evie and buried his little hairy head into Barbossa’s hair, his long thin tail wrapping desperately around Barbossa’s neck. He reached up to stroke the trembling creature and chuckled while Evie pouted and reached for her gin bottle, ever present by the bedside.
“Oh if you like ‘im so much, you can ‘ave ‘im!” she declared and Barbossa cocked a brow.
“Who be ye speakin’ to?”
She narrowed her eyes at him as he continued to pet the little fellow. “You’d be doin’ me a favour!”
“Well, then, how about it, ye wee rascal?” He queried to the monkey who spun around on his shoulder and cocked his parti-coloured head to the Captain. “Would ye like to seek the world beyond the confines of a whore’s bedroom and sail the seas upon the shoulder of a mighty Captain?”
The monkey cocked his head in the other direction, his dark eyes round and curious before emitting a high shriek that curdled Evie’s blood. Barbossa slid his eyes to the whore and gave her a toothy grin. “I believe we have an accord.”
“Well thank the Powers for that!” she snipped and slid closer, not minding the protesting noises the monkey made. “’E’s big enough to share!” she snapped at the monkey and slipped an arm about Barbossa’s chest. “And if you’re takin’ up with ‘im, your goin’ to ‘ave to get used to me, I’m afraid!” she finished pertly and felt Barbossa’s chest vibrate against her cheek with his merriment.
“Squabbled over by a whore and a monkey!” he declared and lifted his glass to his lips. “I’ll drink to that.”
“You ‘aven’t told me ‘ow you got Sparrow to give up the Peal, you know!” she accused him sometime later. “’E was in love with that bloody ship - did you find ‘im a better one or somethin’?”
They were playing cards and were neck and neck. Evie’s skills had improved somewhat considerably since last they had met and she did not hesitate to cheat, either, for she was quite sure he would not hold back now. The monkey sat above them on the bed-head, observing their progress closely.
Barbossa laid out the turn and his smile was sneering. “I procured Jack a better station altogether.”
“Meaning?”
He matched her bet and raised it, giving her pause to consider the stakes. “Ol’ Jack discovered he was more attached to land than he first though. Far more attached. So we made ‘im…” and here Barbossa had to put down his cards, for he was suddenly overcome with mirth. “We made ‘im a Governor!”
Evie was perplexed. “’Ow?”
Barbossa wiped his eyes and continued to laugh. “How, what, Missy?”
“’Ow did you make him a Guv’nor… you ain’t got that kind of influence.” Which made Barbossa laugh all the harder at her naivety - which in turn roused her temper, prompting her to toss down her cards.
“You think it’s so bloody funny to laugh at me, I’d like to see your smarts if you’d never been off this fuckin’ island but I’ll wager I’ve a wit one or two more than you.”
And he grew suddenly sombre and regarded her with grave eyes.
“But Evie, those parts of ye untouched are all the more endearin’.” But she scowled at him still and so he fetched up his jacket.
“Here,” he said. “I’ve a gift for ye. “ and she brightened at that, for he’d given her nothing since a couple of pearl combs quite some time before.
From deep within a pocket, he withdrew a couple of shining gold pieces. Evie’s eyes lit up upon sight of them for she could see at once they were very heavy, very thick, rich gold, and quite a handsome size as well. A slight smile playing upon his lips he dropped them into her outstretched palm and she gasped to feel their weight, wiggling her fingers so that the dim glow of the candlelight might play upon their shining surfaces.
“Cor! These are beauties!” she admired them and he put one hand into her hair and rubbed her neck.
“Cursed Aztec gold.” He divulged, his lips pursing in amusement and she glanced up at him with wide eyes.
“So it wasn’t a fib!” and flipped the coins over so that they chinked against each other. Engraved o n their backs was a death’s head, grinning at her with a cadaver’s mirth.
“Eight hundred and eighty two pieces.” He murmured and ran a finger around the outline of one carved skull. “A pretty pocket indeed. We been celebratin’ all over the Spanish Main and further since.”
Well, she hadn’t really expected Tortuga to be their first port of call. “’Ow many others you given a piece to then?” she queried sardonically and he laughed, but did not answer.
“But they, of course, are merely the jewels in the crown - the true prize was the Pearl. With her, I’m nigh unstoppable now.” The timbre of his voice was tinged in victory.
“Hector.” She looked at him firmly. “What ‘appened to Sparrow?”
He held her gaze for a moment before sitting upwards and sliding off the bed, a sardonic glint in his eye. “I would not have expected such concern for that rascal from you, Miss Evangeline.”
Addressing her in the same manner in which Sparrow had made her ponder if they had spoken of her. But she was not to be put off.
“It’s not concern. It’s bloody natural curiosity. I know ‘e ain’t been seen ‘round ‘ere as long as you ‘aven’t. You demand I ‘elp you get the dirt from ‘im for you, vanish with ‘im for months on end, return without ‘im, but ‘oldin’ ‘is treasure and ‘is ship, and you don’t expect me to wonder? “
Barbossa’s smile was sinister and quiet, one hand caressing the back of her dresser chair as he surveyed her with head tilted slightly to one side.
“But naturally, Missy, you would wonder. “ He purred and nudged her chamber pot from out beneath the bed. “And it is with no small amount of pleasure that I deliver to you the no doubt welcome tidin’s that Captain Jack Sparrow has permanently retired.”
Awareness was beginning to grow on Evie like an itch. “Permanently?”
Barbossa refastened his pants and half-chuckled. “For all his boastin’s, Sparrow hailed from Greenland and with the right amount of rum and the right amount of flattery was pleasingly suggestible. I persuaded him, after a few days of toleratin’ his inept command and haphazard decisions, to share with me the bearin’s of this long-lost Island. Meself and what were left of me crew had been workin’ on the others since we’d set sail, settin’ in their hearts a displeasure and dissatisfaction with the inexperienced Captain and they were all ready then to seize hold of the ship, which we duly did. They’d heard enough of me particular criticisms of Sparrow and observed for themselves how better my orders and suggestions fared than that of the supposed leader of the ship and with the aid of Bo’sun, Koehler and others, were all too willin’ to name me Captain and maroon the young Sparrow on the nearest island.” He stretched his long body out besides Evie again, who turned to him frowning.
“Couldn’t ‘e just ‘op on another ship?” and Barbossa’s grimace was somewhere between frustration and amusement.
“Not if there be no other livin’ soul upon this island, wench.” He dryly shared and laughed softly in his throat. The picture was becoming clear to Evie, who sat up straighter and turned to face Barbossa full on.
“So, you dumped ‘im on an empty island to meet ‘is maker, took off with the ship and fetched the treasure?”
Hearing it said thus spurred Barbossa’s laughter on and Evie did not quite know what to say. “What was on the island?”
“Trees. Grass. A hell of a lot of sand!” His laugh grew harder.
Evie thought of the intrepid and dreaming Jack with his baby face and missing teeth, slowly starving a sweltering death beneath a harsh Caribbean sun. She certainly had no love lost on the scallywag but her stomach knotted uncomfortably at the thought and she observed the chortling Barbossa with unease, chewing on one fingernail.
“Why didn’t you just shoot ‘im?” She asked him and Barbossa recovered himself, stretching his arms high above his head and yawning.
“Because Sparrow were an affront to pirates everywhere!” he snarled. “He was a poor Captain but a poorer pirate. Every opportunity that came our way to increase our fortunes he disregarded, hellbent on that bloody treasure and nothin’ else. He roused no respect in the men and a pirate Captain only keeps his station through respect - do ye think I lasted so long by the grace of God? His ship - better even, yes, than my lost Siren - fast and sleek and beautiful - well she were wasted on him and he not deservin’ of her. If all pirates that sailed the seas were akin to Jack Sparrow, we’d be a bloody laughin’ stock. Asides we were plenty merciful - left him a pistol.” He finished his tirade with a disdainful snort and laid a rough kiss upon Evie’s shoulder.
It made Evie feel somewhat better to hear that and she drew Barbossa head onto her breast and stroked his cheek, feeling the creases of his roughened skin against her palm and the scratch of his beard against her nipple. The candles were burning low and Evie could tell from the sounds coming from beyond her walls that Dawn was swift approaching. Their card game lay abandoned, spread out upon the coverlet, and as sleep began to settle upon their limbs, the little monkey dared his disdain of Evie to clamber onto Barbossa once more and from there arrange himself in the crook of his arm. Evie tried to sneer at the wretch, but found herself a trifle endeared in spite of her efforts to resist.
“You goin’ to give the little blighter a name?” and Barbossa’s eyes flew open, bright and watery, surveying the inquisitive little creature who peered up at them with unblinking eyes.
“Aye,” he declared hoarsely. “’Tis only fittin’ that such a creature be brought above his station by bein’ bestowed with an appropriate moniker. “ He fell silent to ponder the matter a moment and then a wolfish grin split Barbossa’s face as he raised his hand to stroke the monkey’s brow.
“Jack”