Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
Chapter 8 - Treachery
Elizabeth cursed her smooth, white, aristocratic hands. They were currently blistered and raw from several hours of vigorous deck scrubbing. With such a small crew, it seemed odd that clean decks should be a priority. Should they not spend more time keeping the vessel seaworthy and pointed in the correct direction?
Early that morning, Higgins had set her the task of washing every horizontal surface on the ship. Further specifying that the work she be performed on her hands and knees, he had spent most of the day finding excuses to watch her from behind. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his bland, appreciative leer. It gave her ideas, that leer.
As for the rest of the crew, they seemed to spend a considerable portion of their time drinking and carousing below deck. They were young, handsome layabouts, to a one - clearly more at home in a hen house than a crow's nest. It was clear that they had been chosen for the same quality that had won Elizabeth her job. Unlike her, however, they snickered at Higgins behind his back, and ignored both his leers and his feeble attempts to give them orders. It seemed the captain had a weakness for beautiful young men, and Elizabeth felt certain that one day it would cost him his ship. It was a wonder the vessel stayed afloat now.
But float it did - in the wrong direction, as luck would have it. The Merry Widow was bound for England. That did Elizabeth no good at all. She would have to find some way to change its course, and quickly. Will's predicament sounded rather dire. Knowing him, he was probably blissfully unaware of the danger, mooning around Tortuga with little thought for anything but Jack Sparrow (well, perhaps that and his newfound passion for flamboyant hats). The sooner she saw to his safety, the better for all involved.
Elizabeth waited until nightfall to act. When the other sailors invited her to join in their debauchery, she made an excuse to slip away and look for Higgins. She found him, as expected, leaning wearily over the wheel at the front of the ship. He was, of course, obliged to do most of the navigating himself on this ship of fools. He straightened now, hearing her approach.
"Evenin', captain," she said, half-bowing and touching a hand nonsensically to her head. It was fortunate that no one stood on formalities here. Her grasp of nautical etiquette and forms of address was tenuous at best.
Higgins turned to face her, keeping one hand on the wheel. "Good even' to ye, young Turner. What brings ye above?"
Elizabeth mustered a blush. "Well, beggin' your pardon sir, but I 'oped. that is, I've always wanted to try." She trailed off, gesturing shyly at the wheel.
The captain brightened. His smile, for once, was paternal rather than predatory. "Want to have a go, do ye? Step up, lad."
Elizabeth stepped in front of Higgins, allowing him to put his hands on her shoulders and center her body before the wheel. In her own hands she concealed a pair of shackles, a souvenir pilfered from one of the shady young rascals below. Judging from his state of inebriation this evening, he wouldn't be missing them for a few hours at least.
"Right. First ye face the wheel dead on, like so. Plant your feet. Relax your shoulders. (What shoulders they are! And such a smooth, white neck above 'em)," said Higgins, muttering the last part to himself. His paternal mood had evidently been short-lived. She could feel his belly pressing against her back now, and his breath moistening her ear. As he reached for her hands she moved, clapping the shackles over his wrists. Before he could react she ducked down through his arms and stepped free. Only then did she take the dagger from its hiding place in her boot and touch its point to the captain's neck.
Higgins slouched, assuming his customary posture of defeat. "What is it ye want, lad? I've no manner of gold or jewels aboard," he sighed.
"I do," Elizabeth rejoined. "And I will pay you handsomely, if only you will kindly do as I say." In her urgency, she had lapsed back into the haughty diction of a governor's daughter. "You will turn this ship around. You will sail it to the island of Tortuga. There, you will anchor and I will row ashore. You will wait three days for me. If all goes well, I will give you a signal at that time. Then you may continue on your way."
"I should have known ye'd be trouble. Not even a boy, are ye. Never thought I'd be trapped by the wiles of a strumpet like yourself. Still." The captain tilted his head, considering. "Ye have me cornered, and I need the gold besides. What do I tell the crew?"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I doubt very much that they will notice the change."
Chapter 8 - Treachery
Elizabeth cursed her smooth, white, aristocratic hands. They were currently blistered and raw from several hours of vigorous deck scrubbing. With such a small crew, it seemed odd that clean decks should be a priority. Should they not spend more time keeping the vessel seaworthy and pointed in the correct direction?
Early that morning, Higgins had set her the task of washing every horizontal surface on the ship. Further specifying that the work she be performed on her hands and knees, he had spent most of the day finding excuses to watch her from behind. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his bland, appreciative leer. It gave her ideas, that leer.
As for the rest of the crew, they seemed to spend a considerable portion of their time drinking and carousing below deck. They were young, handsome layabouts, to a one - clearly more at home in a hen house than a crow's nest. It was clear that they had been chosen for the same quality that had won Elizabeth her job. Unlike her, however, they snickered at Higgins behind his back, and ignored both his leers and his feeble attempts to give them orders. It seemed the captain had a weakness for beautiful young men, and Elizabeth felt certain that one day it would cost him his ship. It was a wonder the vessel stayed afloat now.
But float it did - in the wrong direction, as luck would have it. The Merry Widow was bound for England. That did Elizabeth no good at all. She would have to find some way to change its course, and quickly. Will's predicament sounded rather dire. Knowing him, he was probably blissfully unaware of the danger, mooning around Tortuga with little thought for anything but Jack Sparrow (well, perhaps that and his newfound passion for flamboyant hats). The sooner she saw to his safety, the better for all involved.
Elizabeth waited until nightfall to act. When the other sailors invited her to join in their debauchery, she made an excuse to slip away and look for Higgins. She found him, as expected, leaning wearily over the wheel at the front of the ship. He was, of course, obliged to do most of the navigating himself on this ship of fools. He straightened now, hearing her approach.
"Evenin', captain," she said, half-bowing and touching a hand nonsensically to her head. It was fortunate that no one stood on formalities here. Her grasp of nautical etiquette and forms of address was tenuous at best.
Higgins turned to face her, keeping one hand on the wheel. "Good even' to ye, young Turner. What brings ye above?"
Elizabeth mustered a blush. "Well, beggin' your pardon sir, but I 'oped. that is, I've always wanted to try." She trailed off, gesturing shyly at the wheel.
The captain brightened. His smile, for once, was paternal rather than predatory. "Want to have a go, do ye? Step up, lad."
Elizabeth stepped in front of Higgins, allowing him to put his hands on her shoulders and center her body before the wheel. In her own hands she concealed a pair of shackles, a souvenir pilfered from one of the shady young rascals below. Judging from his state of inebriation this evening, he wouldn't be missing them for a few hours at least.
"Right. First ye face the wheel dead on, like so. Plant your feet. Relax your shoulders. (What shoulders they are! And such a smooth, white neck above 'em)," said Higgins, muttering the last part to himself. His paternal mood had evidently been short-lived. She could feel his belly pressing against her back now, and his breath moistening her ear. As he reached for her hands she moved, clapping the shackles over his wrists. Before he could react she ducked down through his arms and stepped free. Only then did she take the dagger from its hiding place in her boot and touch its point to the captain's neck.
Higgins slouched, assuming his customary posture of defeat. "What is it ye want, lad? I've no manner of gold or jewels aboard," he sighed.
"I do," Elizabeth rejoined. "And I will pay you handsomely, if only you will kindly do as I say." In her urgency, she had lapsed back into the haughty diction of a governor's daughter. "You will turn this ship around. You will sail it to the island of Tortuga. There, you will anchor and I will row ashore. You will wait three days for me. If all goes well, I will give you a signal at that time. Then you may continue on your way."
"I should have known ye'd be trouble. Not even a boy, are ye. Never thought I'd be trapped by the wiles of a strumpet like yourself. Still." The captain tilted his head, considering. "Ye have me cornered, and I need the gold besides. What do I tell the crew?"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I doubt very much that they will notice the change."