FanFiction.Net - unleash your imagination 
mobile edition|
Author of 37 Stories |
STOWAWAY
Chapter 22 (conclusion)
(my excuses for the awkward formatting. Originally this was done with tabs, but doesn't want to support that)
Well, she'd wanted him gone, hadn't she? He had made her feel hunted. Owned. He had decided over her fate regardless of what she wished for herself.
Just like...
Matt.
She spat the name, along with the memories. Matt who had sweet-talked and flattered and then, when she had turned out to have a will of her own, had seen no problem in beating it out of her. Matt who had taken her away from the fishers' village she grew up in and locked her in a hut away from the wind and the sea.
Matt who had levered his big body on top of her because he wanted a son, and beat her when she could not give him one.
There were more images, bloody and yet infused with the gruesome satisfaction of the moment. She had seen them enough times in her dreams that they no longer upset her as they once did.
Matt who had owned her.
Janeen grimly stuck her needle through the fabric, trying to ban the memories to the attic of her mind, where they could claw and screech at the walls without giving her too much unrest. Once again she did not quite succeed, and a cold shiver ran down her spine.
When Lizzie and she had left their lodgings early that morning, she had seen Matt. He had lumbered through the crowd appearing even larger than she remembered him, his hands clenched into fists as always.
And despite the fact that she was older, stronger, no longer the young girl he had so easily intimidated in the past, no longer property, despite the fact that he was dead, she had cowered in the doorway.
Then there was Jack, and she liked him, had been soothed by the light, unfocused movements of his hands, smiled at the lilt in his speech. He had been kinder to her than she had had any right to expect, but then charity was just a different word for property, wasn't it?
Charity never came without a price.
She certainly had been dragged back aboard quickly enough when she had seen the chance to get aboard the Dutch ship. Among all the other lies she had almost forgotten that she had told him she was taken there.
His touches had been gentle, as if she was something that might break, but Janeen had not forgotten the iron grip that had bruised her wrist.
Not that it mattered now.
She was free. She earned wages – no luxury but enough to eat, and she had come to like Lizzie, who was busy with a fancy dress and could use help with the plainer clothes.
She wasn't owned by anyone. Nor hunted; the last governor didn't seem to have spread the word any wider.
She was free.
"When can these repairs be finished?"
Jack was aware of the surprised look Mister Gibbs gave him, but cared not. "Well?"
"Four days Capt'n, three perhaps if the new timber arrives today."
"Good! We'll make haste; it's 'bout time we set off again."
Ignoring the crew, Jack turned away and disappeared into his cabin. Not that there was any quiet to be found there, with carpenters working at various places around the ship – and privacy on this little wooden world was an illusion in any case.
But his cabin locked, the lock had been replaced, and there was a good bottle hidden in a double cupboard there.
Dawn came far earlier than was seemly, Jack reflected fuzzily. There was a dreadful hammering in his head, as if two little men sat inside his head to pound on his brain whenever he attempted to achieve conscious thought.
On second thought, that would be the carpenters who had started early. Jack opened his mouth to bellow for them to go away when he remembered that he wanted to set out soon, so it was probably best to let them work.
He clung to the remains of sleep like a limpet, but they disappeared fast as the hammering continued. Not even a pillow over his head could bring much relief.
"Women," he muttered under his breath. Always being difficult. Anamaria had been difficult, but then he had liked that, the fire and the spirit. Janeen had much the same on occasion but now it smarted – all that he offered she turned down. He had offered his most private thoughts and feelings, and she had turned them down.
She had wanted a normal life.
Well, Jack was no real judge of normalcy, but the thought had occurred that if that was truly what she wanted she might have to adjust some of her expectations.
Normal lives generally weren't coveted. Certainly not by pirates...
As hammering took up just on the other side of the bulkhead of his cabin, Jack rose with an anguished bellow and flung the pillow against the wall.
There was only one thing left to do.
She was free.
"Your young fella' not coming today?"
It was two days since she had last seen Jack and well past noon. Janeen tried to ignore the heat while she did repairworks on a pair of Sunday trousers. The unrest would not leave her, though she had seen no sign of Matt. No sign, in fact, that he hadn't been a figment of her admittedly very lively imagination.
"No Liz," Janeen answered dully. "He's not coming anymore."
"Why not?" the old woman gave her a sharp look. "You sent him away?"
Janeen was silent for a while.
"Jah..."
"Why? He was good to you, wasn't 'e?"
She couldn't answer that, not out loud. There were all kind of reasons, and they all mixed together and confused her.
He had been good to her, hadn't he? The problem was that it felt as if he'd only be good as long as she pleased him. When she hadn't behaved as he expected after she'd bedded him, he had grown possessive and angry.
Janeen was through with being small and meek just so that people would not be angry with her.
"Well lass, no man is sweet to ye all the time, y'know?" Old Liz said gently. "He's just gotte respect ye."
She nodded her head numbly. Yes, respect.
She bitterly reflected that she probably wouldn't recognise it if it came up and bit her.
Nonetheless, she was free.
Except, how free could you really be on an island?
"Jack, fer god's sake either go after the lass or forget her, but DO somethin', will ye? All this moping makes the crew look 'round for better berths, and you know how hard it is to find decent crew in a place like this."
Captain Jack Sparrow looked up from the piece of rigging he was winding and saw the determined stance of Mister Gibbs.
"Working on it, Mister Gibbs!" he answered jovially. When it was clear to his first mate that he would get no more out of his captain, Jack was left alone again.
He stared at the strand of oakum in his hands, worrying it slowly while his thoughts were elsewhere.
Yes, he was working on it. On the ship, to be precise. So that they could be off.
The urge to go ashore, bundle up Janeen and march her off to the Pearl had sprung up several times over the past few days, but the thought resurfaced every time: "Would I have done that with Anamaria?"
Not in a million years. Anamaria made her own choices, without consulting him or expecting his judgement. And he had liked that, admired the fire and independence in her.
Now he considered it, Janeen had displayed those same traits on more than one occasion.
He just hadn't liked it as much in her.
Because they turned her against me sometimes.
It was a harsh thought, and he roughly continued with the rigging to shove it to the background. Pirates weren't much prone to self-reflection, and obviously he wasn't nearly working hard enough if his mind could come to such scathing conclusions.
The work was nearly done. If tomorrow morning they took on food and water, they could sail with the evening tide.
The superstitious streak in Jack insisted that he lead the provisions party so that fate had the opportunity to let him run into Janeen. Besides, it was a last-minute opportunity to recruit some more crew, though he had no doubt Gibbs would do his best tonight. They could still do with about ten able seamen, a carpenter, someone skilled in patching up the wounded, a sailmaker, a second mate and a cooper. After these repairs some of these weren't strictly necessary, but always desirable to have aboard.
Come to think of it, he'd have to go ashore to replenish his private stock of rum.
She was free, but it was not the freedom of the sea.
She missed it, really. Missed the way the planking had moved under her feet, missed the way it had rocked her at night. Missed the way you could look miles far every way you looked.
It had had a safe feeling to it. If you knew everybody on the ship, there was no reason to look around anxiously as she did now, always worried to find the big shape of Matt blocking out the light.
Jack didn't do that. Not only because he was smaller, but the pirate didn't seem to occupy space in the same way. He sort of... insinuated himself, hands fluttering as if adjusting to the currents on the air.
At first she had been uneasy about the hands, expecting them to lash out suddenly as they traced their paths through the air. She had no doubt that they could, but they had not, and she had learnt that it was just his way.
Out at sea the world felt small and transparent. A three-masted wooden world without past or future, with only today, and perhaps tomorrow. There had been something comforting about that.
Even though she didn't exactly remember many peaceful days on the ship, with Jack running hot and cold as unpredictable as anything and her own emotions doing no less.
"I don't want you to be mine, but I would like you to be with me."
She remembered those words suddenly. The words had surprised her too much at the time to pay much attention to his expression, but she remembered that now. For a moment there had been no mischief dancing in his eyes, no stance in his shoulders, no pretence. She had thought at the time that he was trying to tell her what she wanted to hear, but no – for once it was real.
Perhaps it would have been fair to show herself for once. Tell him her real name. Lower the shields. Take the risk.
She could always make him drop her off somewhere if it didn't work out.
Well, it was too late for that now; the cooper's apprentice who had come for his trousers this morning was sure the pirate ship was gone.
In a way that was a relief. Here in Grenada she didn't know anyone and had no desire to learn to know anyone. She could just be Janeen.
Jack watched as the first boat rowed out with the evening tide.
It carried all-important caskets of water while the second boat was being loaded with seabiscuits, caskets of salted meat, bags of flour and nets with limes, green bananas, pineapples, mangoes and cantaloupes.
Four crewmembers milled around behind him, carrying all these things to put them with the heap on the docks, where Gibbs and the new carpenter Jacks'n loaded them into the new boat. There were the last people and the last things the Pearl had ashore.
This tide would carry their boat toward the Pearl and Pearl out to the open sea, and they would leave Grenada behind.
Probably forever. Oh, he had said he would return, but he didn't feel very inclined to self-torture if Janeen stayed here. No, Florida sounded attractive now, and after that, well who knew? The sea was his mistress, and he was at her beck and call.
Had always been, would always be.
"Hand me that net of pineapples, would ye? Come on, lend a hand!" Gibbs said. Jack heard the rest of the crew pause their chatting, and turned around.
Janeen.
In trousers, wide shirt and with her hair tied back. She held a canvas bag, but it dropped to the planking of the docks when she met his gaze.
She gave him an uncertain smile, and in that instant Jack felt everything fall into place. She was no more sure of how to act toward him as he was toward her. Right now, though the thought was ridiculous, she looked as if she thought it a very real possibility that he'd send her away.
He answered her smile.
"Heard you were looking for a sailmaker," she said, a shake in her voice as if she wanted to turn and run. Between them the last bags were loaded into the boat.
"We are indeed," he said with a gesture for her to get into the boat. "What's your name?"
She smiled, but the nervousness was not gone.
"Jahzara"
At first he thought she continued the pretence of not knowing each other, but then he saw her eyes, and it cost her to say this.
"Well, Jahzara, consider yourself part of the crew."
Mister Gibbs directed the last man into the boat, and Jack thought he caught a smug look from his first mate. He said nothing, just wondered if Gibbs had done a bit of targeted recruiting last night. He didn't know if to be annoyed at the meddling or grateful for the outcome.
Probably the last.
As the boat pulled out of the harbour Jahzara took a deep breath, and he smiled at her. Perhaps this was a new beginning. He knew she came as much for the sea as for him – maybe more. But that was all right, for that love was always first in his thoughts also. Perhaps if they both courted an unattainable mistress, things were equal again.
She smiled back, the nervousness fading from her face, and Jack felt a curiously light feeling to his stomach.
Will, lad, perhaps you were onto something...
[END!]
Cheers,
Arwen Lune
