a

Pearl

by Erinya
May 2, 2005

"C'mon, girl. Breathe!"

"I can't," Elizabeth gasped; and then cried out, writhing, as another wave of pain wracked her slender body. "Oh, God--I can't do this anymore, Ana--"

"Aye, but ye can," Anamaria said, very sternly, and wiped away the sweat standing out on Elizabeth's brow, very gently. "Ye must. Won't be much longer now, I reckon. Now, wi' me, lass." Taking her patient's hands in hers, Ana inhaled deeply, exhaled; after a moment, the laboring woman matched the rhythm shakily. "Good...that's right, easy..."

Elizabeth started to speak, but the words died on her lips. Suddenly the lax, delicate fingers came to life, grasping Ana's hands with unexpected strength, viselike, until the quartermaster caught herself listening for the crack of bone. The girl's back arched, half-lifting her from the mattress. She screamed.

* * * * *

Captain Jack Sparrow had been summarily banished from his own cabin hours earlier. "Out, Cap'n," was Anamaria's imperious decree, and despite all his powers of persuasion and the weak protests of his lady, she would hear no argument. "This ain't a man's job. Ye'll just get in the way. And she'll be feelin' none too pleased wi' ye, soon enough. Get out!"

So he'd backed out of the cabin, and had been getting in the way of the crew ever since, as he was good for absolutely nothing whatsoever in this state. Couldn't even trim a bloody mainbrace just then, not if his life depended on it. Instead, he paced, and cursed himself for a fool. Never should have let the girl stay aboard the Pearl when she'd told him she was with child. Never should have got her that way in the first place. Ship was no place for her and certainly no place for a kid. What bloody use did he have for a brat, anyway? Would certainly be a very poor trade, should its mother--

The scream went straight through him like a blade, and stopped him in his tracks; it seemed to go on and on. Then the sound was choked off abruptly; in the ensuing silence, Jack found he couldn't remember how to breathe properly.

Gibbs blocked him at the cabin door.

"Move aside, damn it," Jack growled, and Gibbs took a step back at his tone; that, and the pistol suddenly aimed at his forehead. "I really don't want to have to shoot you, mate...."

But Gibbs held his ground. "Cap'n, jus' give 'em a moment--" And behind him, through the door, Jack heard a different voice, raised in a thin, angry cry. A babe's cry....Despite himself, he let the flintlock dip a fraction.

"Healthy lungs. Means a good, strong bairn," Gibbs nodded wisely.

"I don't care about the kid, blast you!"

"A real shame, that," said Ana dryly. She stood in the doorway, her arms full of soiled linens. "She's a beauty, right enough. Put your piece away, ye bloody fool, an' go on an' have a look."

He shoved the pistol in his belt with a strangled oath, and pushed past both of them into the dim interior of the cabin. A strange, sharp odor lay thick in the room--the smell of blood, and other things, and he thought how odd it was that birth and death should smell so much alike.

"Jack?"

"Aye, love," he said. "I'm here."

She was very pale, her face drawn with fatigue, her tangled hair spread damply around her on the pillow; but in that moment he could see only that she was alive, and smiling at him, and beautiful. He reached out to brush a sweat-darkened strand from her face, then drew back at the sight of the small stranger bundled by her side.

"Our daughter, Jack," and her voice was soft and full of wonder. "Do you want to hold her?"

"No, no," he said hastily. "That's quite all right. Pirate, you know, no good at all with babies--"

"Bollocks," Ana snorted from the doorway. "Don't let him get away wi' that, Lizzie-girl. Look," and she strode over to the bed. Elizabeth handed over the bundle, only a little reluctantly, and Ana lifted it with surprising gentleness and deposited it into Jack's unwilling arms. He held it as far away from him as possible, alarmed. It seemed equally dismayed, screwing up its small squashed-tomato face and making an ominous noise that soon erupted into a full-fledged wail.

"No, not like that," Ana scolded, but there was a suppressed laugh hidden somewhere in her expression. "C'mon, it won't kill either of ye to hold her good an' close...so's she can hear your heart beat. Aye, that's better."

Indeed, the noises tapered off as he cradled the thing gingerly; he examined it dubiously. "Why is its head the wrong shape?" he demanded.

Elizabeth laughed faintly. "That's just what I said. It's all right, Jack--it won't last. Ana says her head'll be properly round in just a few days."

"I should hope so." He frowned at it. "You sure this one's ours, 'Lizbeth? Hate to say it, but it's not really very pretty, is it--"

"Jack! And she's a she, not an it--"

"Sorry, she's not very..." But he broke off, for the tiny creature in his arms had chosen that moment to open her great dark eyes and regard him gravely, as if she were sizing him up instead of the other way round.

And for the third time in his long and generally undeserving life, Jack Sparrow found himself falling, hopelessly and undeniably, in love.

Elizabeth was watching him intently; she must have seen his face change. "She has your eyes, Jack.”

"An' her ma's complexion," Ana added.

"Aye, that she does....Bloody hell, Elizabeth. A boy I could raise, but what sort of things am I to teach a fine young lass like this one?"

"The same things you'd teach a lad, I imagine," his lady said, and laughed again. "To climb the masts and trim the sails and shoot an apple off Mr. Cotton's head from a hundred paces."

"Poor Mr. Cotton!" He gazed down at the future terror of the high seas. "Meanwhile, you can train her to be a proper lady, love...that is, if you still remember how."

"Once a lady, always a lady, more's the pity. I suppose she must learn all that tiresome nonsense, though I daresay neither of us will like it much." Elizabeth sighed, settling back into the pillows. "I believe I'll teach her to read and think to make up for it. Thank goodness Papa sometimes forgot he wasn't educating a son."

"Aye, old Weatherby did something right at least--Ouch!" Tiny fingers had latched onto the bead at the end of one of his chin-braids, and tugged, hard. "Ye gods, up to mischief already. Ow." He extricated himself, rubbed his smarting chin, and said thoughtfully, "Never thought I'd say this, but perhaps it's time I shaved, after all..."

His offspring, having lost her new toy, immediately raised a vehement protest.

"Sorry, love. Those are mine. Can’t have ‘em."

"Better give her over to me, Jack," Elizabeth said over the noise.

"Aye, little one’ll be hungry, no doubt,” put in Ana.

When the child had quieted at her mother's breast, Jack asked softly, "So what are we to name her, then, our little pirate lass?"

"I thought," Elizabeth said drowsily, "that we might call her Pearl."

~.~

All our authors thrive on feedback. Email the Webmaster to have comments forwarded to the author.

Back to One-Shots Menu

Back to Drabble Challenge: 'Breath/Breathing'