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dwgm500 words today, theme: "Sickness and Health". Many thanks to my dear ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hereswith for beta reading, editing, and excellent suggestions.
Previous bits...
And here's today's...
34. Sickness and Health
~ An Execrable Business, continued...
It was nearly three hours before the weather and seas calmed enough so that Jack felt safe leaving his Pearl in another’s hands.
“Have ‘em call me if there’s any change, or if a ship’s sighted,” he instructed Barbossa, who now had the watch. “I’ll turn in for a while.”
“Aye, Captain,” came the reply, facetiously respectful.
Bloody Hector.
Yet thoughts of his new cabin boy were naturally brought to the fore by the oblique reference. Jack trotted down the companionway wondering what sort of changes she’d wrought among his effects, and it was with considerable interest, even besides that of a man smitten with a pretty and most intriguing maid, that he quietly entered, closed the door, and took in the scene. The lamps were still set low, yet it was immediately apparent she’d been busy. Order had not quite emerged from chaos (she hadn’t touched the table, for example, save for removing the dirty dishes), but he could see she’d gathered all his discarded clothing in a corner (and he was sure there was still plenty in his sea chest; startling how many garments he’d acquired in the last few years), got rid of the crockery and rubbish, put as many books as would fit back on the shelves, piled those that wouldn’t fit neatly nearby, and put all his collection of knives in the Chinese vase.
She’d made up his bed, too, and was now asleep on top of the covers, snoring softly, a volume of poetry lying open across her chest.
Delight put a grin on his face, but he was dripping wet and doubted she’d appreciate him sharing, so as quietly as he could he stripped off his hat, baldric, coat, waistcoat, and boots. His shirt and breeches were damp as well, but not dripping, and he didn’t want to startle her with a show of nakedness. Not right off, at least.
She hadn’t awakened, so he crossed the cabin to the bed and peered down at her. She even snores pretty. He chuckled aloud at the thought, quietly, but she stirred.
He sat down close beside her, removed the book from her slackened grasp and set it aside, and watched her rouse, noticing with a sudden frown that there was a bloodstained handkerchief wadded around the fingers of her right hand.
“What’s this, love?” he asked as her eyes opened, slipping his hand under her apparently injured one.
“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry!” she said, struggling up.
He helped her to sit, then drew away the handkerchief.
She said, “I cut it. On one of your knives. So clumsy of me.”
It wasn’t bad, but it looked raw and sore, and was now smeared with a little blood from pulling off the makeshift bandage. “Poor finger,” he murmured, and, watching her expression, he slowly bent and took it into his mouth. The feel of it, the sharp taste of copper on his tongue, and the sound of the hitch in her breath, filled his senses.
TBC...
hereswith for beta reading, editing, and excellent suggestions.Previous bits...
| 1. Tortuga 2. Happiness 3. Festive 4. Last Minute 5. Calm 6. Truth 7. Bargain 8. Spook 9. Down 10. Wounds 11. Moon 12. Monsters | 13. Beauty 14. Name 15. History 16. Service 17. Advice 18. Captain 19. Awe 20. Cross 21. "You've made a big mistake" 22. Heroism 23. Gold 24. Echo | 25. Greed 26. Advance 27. Challenge 28. Adventure 29. Sentence 30. Treasure 31. North 32. Coat 33. Good and Evil |
And here's today's...
34. Sickness and Health
~ An Execrable Business, continued...
It was nearly three hours before the weather and seas calmed enough so that Jack felt safe leaving his Pearl in another’s hands.
“Have ‘em call me if there’s any change, or if a ship’s sighted,” he instructed Barbossa, who now had the watch. “I’ll turn in for a while.”
“Aye, Captain,” came the reply, facetiously respectful.
Bloody Hector.
Yet thoughts of his new cabin boy were naturally brought to the fore by the oblique reference. Jack trotted down the companionway wondering what sort of changes she’d wrought among his effects, and it was with considerable interest, even besides that of a man smitten with a pretty and most intriguing maid, that he quietly entered, closed the door, and took in the scene. The lamps were still set low, yet it was immediately apparent she’d been busy. Order had not quite emerged from chaos (she hadn’t touched the table, for example, save for removing the dirty dishes), but he could see she’d gathered all his discarded clothing in a corner (and he was sure there was still plenty in his sea chest; startling how many garments he’d acquired in the last few years), got rid of the crockery and rubbish, put as many books as would fit back on the shelves, piled those that wouldn’t fit neatly nearby, and put all his collection of knives in the Chinese vase.
She’d made up his bed, too, and was now asleep on top of the covers, snoring softly, a volume of poetry lying open across her chest.
Delight put a grin on his face, but he was dripping wet and doubted she’d appreciate him sharing, so as quietly as he could he stripped off his hat, baldric, coat, waistcoat, and boots. His shirt and breeches were damp as well, but not dripping, and he didn’t want to startle her with a show of nakedness. Not right off, at least.
She hadn’t awakened, so he crossed the cabin to the bed and peered down at her. She even snores pretty. He chuckled aloud at the thought, quietly, but she stirred.
He sat down close beside her, removed the book from her slackened grasp and set it aside, and watched her rouse, noticing with a sudden frown that there was a bloodstained handkerchief wadded around the fingers of her right hand.
“What’s this, love?” he asked as her eyes opened, slipping his hand under her apparently injured one.
“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry!” she said, struggling up.
He helped her to sit, then drew away the handkerchief.
She said, “I cut it. On one of your knives. So clumsy of me.”
It wasn’t bad, but it looked raw and sore, and was now smeared with a little blood from pulling off the makeshift bandage. “Poor finger,” he murmured, and, watching her expression, he slowly bent and took it into his mouth. The feel of it, the sharp taste of copper on his tongue, and the sound of the hitch in her breath, filled his senses.
TBC...
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no subject
Date: 2009-02-12 04:59 pm (UTC)Patiently awaiting tomorrow's bit!
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Date: 2009-02-13 02:32 pm (UTC)