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Sea Change	By : Nemain Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > General Views: 4238 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sea Change
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 7
- 8
- 9
Sea Change Chapter Eight (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N *GLOMP* Goddess Foxfeather gets a big heap of muse
kibble for her Tims� Readers/Reviewers:
Thanks for bearing with the slow update schedule! I�ll try to be better! *crosses heart *

Myrtle lay
awake in the growing darkness of the crew�s quarters. Light filtered through minute chinks in the
ceiling, what was really the deck above her head, but that minimal illumination
was fading fast as thick clouds rolled across the sky. She could hear the men around her grunting
and muttering, some asleep and some not.
Someone broke wind and another crew member guffawed, setting off a low
volume chorus of laughter and commentary.
She closed her eyes and tried to appear asleep as one of the men moved
between the rows of hammocks and pallets, his bare feet slapping on the wooden
boards. She had long thought pirates
wore boots, like in her penny dreadfuls or like the nice but stuffy sailors on
the Nautilus but, she had found out
rather quickly, boots were too expensive and by virtue of that, too valuable to
wear every day. The sailors on the
pirate ships she had been on were usually barefoot, the soles of their feet
discolored and thick with calluses and grime.
Myrtle dreaded to look at her own feet, even when she managed to sneak a
quick sponge bath with boiled sea water in the galley. Her thoughts were diverted from this tack
though as the slapping footsteps stopped beside her pallet on the floor. She kept her breathing deep and even, almost
soothing her own fears with the steady rhythm.
The footsteps did not move on, though; the man�s breathing sounded
closer, as if he were kneeling or squatting near her head. He did not smell like Jack, she thought. This man smelled of sour sweat and rotten
food. She guessed that he was one of the
galley hands, one of the men Jack had consigned to working below because they
could not work well above. _He really is
soft hearted for a pirate, _ she thought furiously. _What would you have him
do? _ she added as the sound of breathing got
closer to her ear, _Shoot him on sight for being difficult? _ As his warm breath tickled the fine
hairs on the side of her face, she whimpered softly. _ YES! _
�I know you
didn�t do it, lass,� the man breathed, making Myrtle nearly choke on the
unclean smell coming from his mouth. �I
know ye ain�t no murd�ress��
Myrtle felt
her heart leap in her chest. Slowly,
almost against her will, she opened her eyes to find herself staring into the
unwashed face of a man she knew only vaguely from the galley. Jack had sent her down there earlier, told
her to find Beeson and ask him to show her the ropes of working in the galley. Beeson was not, as Jack had put it, entirely
altogether right in the head. Indeed,
Myrtle thought, looking at the man himself, he had not seemed right when she
met him in the galley, brandishing a knife at Bailey, who himself had come over
from the Sea Witch as a trade for one
of Jack�s more seasoned crewmen looking to cash out at King�s Port. Beeson was staring at her intently, obviously
waiting for acknowledgement. �How do you
know?� she managed after a moment. �Did
you see who did it?�
�Aye,� he
said softly, his face splitting in a smile that showed teeth crooked and dark
as gravestones, �I seen �em��
She sat up
carefully, trying to avoid hitting her head with his because he did not move
away. �Who did it? Why didn�t you say anything earlier? We need to find Jack and tell him so my name
can be cleared! I was nearly killed for this!�
Beeson
shook his head, still smiling. �Nay,
lass, we cannae tell him!�
She
frowned, pulling the thin blanket she had found to sleep under up to her
shoulders, her skin crawling under the man�s intent stare. �Why not?�
�Cause,
lass, if we tell him, I�m gettin� keel hauled an� takin� you wid me.� He laughed then, a rolling and guttural sound,
shoving himself to his feet. The men in
the quarters shouted catcalls of implication as to why he had been over at the
sole female�s pallet.
Myrtle did
not care at that moment what they thought of her. She scrambled to her feet, tripping over the
thin bedding, and lurched towards the hatch.
She felt hands grabbing at her ankles, some good on accident and some honestly
trying to impede her progress. She
yelped as a splinter slid under the still-tender skin on the sole of her feet
but she did not slow as she climbed the short ladder to the main deck. For one moment, she wanted to shout for Jack
but better judgment won out. She caught
her breath and walked quickly towards Jack�s cabin, raising her fist to knock
soundly on his door.
�Can I help
you, dove?�
She gasped
and turned to face him, pivoting on the ball of her foot and wincing as another
splinter joined the first. �Beeson,� she
began, her voice shaking with some unknown emotion.
�Beeson?� His brows snapped together under his red kerchief In the darkening night, Jack looked fierce,
shadows planning his face into harsh lines and hiding the subtle nuance of
emotion playing across his face. �What
did he do?�

�He says he knows who killed
the man on Anna Maria�s ship,� she said softly, wondering if any of the men had
followed her from the sleeping quarters.
�He said he can�t tell you or you�d keel haul him and he�d take me with
him��
Jack let
out a breath he had not been aware he had been holding. �I told you once, darling, Beeson�s not right
in the head. Prob�ly
one of his�creative truths,� he smiled, laying a warm hand on her
shoulder. �If it�d make ye fell better,
my bunk has room��
Myrtle
blinked in surprise. A bolt of warm
pleasure moved through her body, settling between her thighs, and she opened
her mouth to say yes, but something made her pause. �My foot,� she said, color flooding her face.
�Padron?� Jack leaned back, his
hand going to his chin, smoothing his beard to hide his smile of amusement at
her shyness. It was rare he had contact
with anyone who still bore at least a trace of modesty.
�It�s
bleeding�� She shifted her weight and
lifted her wounded foot, balancing against the doorframe to his cabin.
Jack
cradled her heel in his hand, making considering noises as he looked at her
foot in the near pitch darkness. �Come
into my quarters,� he ordered, his voice all business. �You�re no use to me if you go septic.� He pushed the door open and waved her
in. Myrtle shot him a confused glance
but hopped in, not letting the bleeding foot touch the deck. Jack turned to face the open deck and bowed
to Gibbs and one of the crewmen on night watch.
�As you were, gentlemen��
Gibbs
grunted as the cabin door shut. �He�ll
come to no good end, takin� up with her��
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Sea Change