A/N: His crew may be a ragged, illiterate lot, but Captain Barbossa is very much a cosmopolitan man: educated, well-spoken, obviously well-travelled, with courtly manners when he cares to exercise them, and he has extremely good taste in food, jewelry, and clothing (judging by his handsome grey split-sleeve coat, stunning gold-buttoned waistcoat, chased silver accoutrements, and feathered hat — even if it *is* a bit moth-eaten — he's quite the dandy). While he may indiscriminately toss around cheap trinkets as favors to other women in order to gain more and better service, he's uncommonly thoughtful in his choosing of gifts for someone he loves and knows well, as we shall see.

-oOo-

THE FINEST DRINK E'ER KNOWN TO GODS OR MEN

-oOo-

"What are you doing? You'll break your back, Hector; put that down!" The innkeeper rushes to help Barbossa set a heavy barrel on the kitchen floor, then watches as he pries the bung out. "Oh my! For me? This will last for the next twenty years!"

"Aye, an' 'twill be a fine lot of food ye'll cook with it, too," says Barbossa, reaching two slender fingers into the hole to extract a fat peppercorn. "There be other spices aboard th' Pearl, as well, an' ye shall have measures of any ye want."

He has more than spices, having also taken a large quantity of chocolate from a rich Spanish ship, and the innkeeper's eyes grow wide when, having made a second visit to the Black Pearl later that afternoon, he returns with two large, tightly-sealed coffers of dried cocoa beans. "For years I been drinkin' it bitter when I chanced t' pass through Jamaica," Barbossa explains, "but then I were made t' try it wi' honey or cane an' sweet spice." He rolls his eyes to express his delight. "Now ye shall have each day a cup of th' finest drink e'er known t' gods or men, but ye must promise me ne'er t' waste a drop on yer lodgers or that useless wench Cora."

"But I need something to persuade her to stay here…"

"Bribe her wi' somethin' else, then, but promise: ye'll keep it for yerself. Well… an' me. I'll make ye th' first cup in th' mornin', an' after, I'll show ye how best t' crush an' brew it."

Before dawn, though a grouchy Cora does do the work of laying the fire, it's Barbossa himself, rather than the innkeeper, who is hard at work in the kitchen, boiling the water, and grinding the beans with a mortar and pestle until they're finely powdered. "Go fetch us back some milk, then, wench," he orders, flipping Cora a coin, "an' I might let ye have some of this after all. Make sure th' milk be fresh, not turned!"

It's on the tip of Cora's tongue to tell him to piss off — that he's not her master, and just because he's a ship's captain and sleeps in her mistress's bed doesn't mean he can order her about — but the temptation to have a taste of the chocolate is way too much. "Yessir," she replies, scampering off.

She returns with the first milk of the day, sweet and thick with cream, and Barbossa nods his approval. "All right, ye've earned yerself a cup," he tells her. "Now see t' yer mistress an' I'll have it ready for both of ye when she comes down."

The kitchen is fragrant with the scents of chocolate and cinnamon when the innkeeper comes in. "Well, this is new," she laughs at Barbossa, giving him a smacking kiss on the cheek. "I didn't know you were so domestic."

In me own house? 'Course I am. "I've a world an' a lifetime of skills," he counters. "For one, it be useful t' know how t' feed meself on somethin' other'n hard tack an' bits o' furry salt pork." Another moment, and he sets a large cup of steaming chocolate before the innkeeper, and a smaller one before Cora. "Drink up, ladies, but be careful: 'tis hot, and I'm not wantin' ye t' be blisterin' yer tongues."

Barbossa watches anxiously as the innkeeper takes first one sip, then another, and he smiles widely at the look on her face. "Good?" he asks.

"Oh my!" She takes another sip; rolls it around in her mouth. "I've never had anything like it!"

"An' you, missy?"

It's the first time Barbossa hasn't addressed Cora as 'wench,' which has her favoring him with half a smile. "Go-o-o-od," she mumbles through the chocolate as she greedily drinks.

But it isn't her reaction that sets Barbossa's heart to thumping; it's the innkeeper's as she looks at him, not with Cora's greed for something rich and treasured, but with gratitude that, though he should visit a hundred ports and have twice as many rousing adventures, he would still find the time to think of her during his travels.

"It's wonderful, Hector," she whispers. "You're wonderful."

Barbossa never tires of hearing that from her, and when he smiles, his blue eyes crinkle at the corners. He doesn't reply, but one look could tell anyone with half an eye what he's thinking: Anythin' for you, m' sweet Dove.

-oOo- TBC -oOo-