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Pirate!England x Reader
Vehemently
Part Six

After the round of intimidation, the captain had shoved you unceremoniously into a rather cramped storeroom just off the galley without saying another word, besides a brusque introduction to the cook. You had pushed yourself up from the musty remnants of the bottom shelf that you had fallen against and poked your head out of the door.

The cook—Matthew, England had said—had retreated to a rickety, wooden chair and had sat so stiffly that you had been sure he was determined to stay folded until the turn of the century. You had decided that if you were going to be here for a while, Matthew would have to be your friend. You had approached him and extended your hand for an introduction that was less terse.

You had spoken to him—at him would be more appropriate, you had decided—for the better part of the afternoon and into the evening. He was the placatory type, and you had gotten the feeling that he and Naomi would get along well. He had twiddled his thumbs and adjusted his eyeglasses often, but he had never looked you directly in the eye. You had figured that it would take a while, but the two of you could be friends. He didn’t seem the type to turn anyone down.

That had been a week ago, and now you had docked in some small English port that you didn’t recognise. It was a shabby sort of town, as far as you could tell. You couldn’t possibly see how anyone could enjoy himself, but you guessed the crew was having a nice time on its shore leave.

Allistor and Alfred had stayed behind with you—the captain had said you needed a caretaker, and Allistor had said that he and Alfred could restock the supplies tomorrow. And so the captain and the crew had gone their separate ways in the town, the latter for pleasure and the former for business.

They had left in the absurdly early hours of the morning, and now it was almost twilight. You had slept most of the day after their departure, but when you’d remembered in a drowsy haze that Alfred and Allistor had volunteered to stay behind with you, you had bolted upright and rushed to the deck. Alfred himself had been asleep, and Allistor had been leaning on the railing, looking off into town almost wistfully.

You had been up there for two hours now, having a good laugh with Allistor, so you decided it was finally appropriate to ask Allistor about the unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“It’s nothing; I only have it in preparation for shore leave. I’m not allowed to smoke on the ship, you see.”

“Oh, okay. Then why do you even have it?”

“Not mine. It’s Seamus’s.”

“Why does he—”

“One day, I decided I could have a quick smoke without Captain Kirkland finding out. In short, I accidentally set my hammock on fire, and I’m not allowed to even have cigarettes on my person.”

You smiled, leaning backwards against the railing. “I feel like you’re leaving something out. Only your hammock?”

“All right; it was originally—no. I’m not going to finish this.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him.

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

Allistor rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair. You usually didn’t like it when someone did that, but you felt like it was okay for him to do it. “So,” he said, “What d’you think the rest of the crew is doing right now?”

“Well,” you groaned, shifting yourself to sit on the rail, “Seamus should be out at a pub, no? He’s probably trying to flirt with a barmaid.”

“And she’s having none of it. I can see that.”

“Matthew’s trying to restock like a good little boy. He hasn’t let himself relax the whole time he’s been there. He’s probably worried sick over the rest of the crew.”

“Oh? I don’t know him very well.”

“I know he doesn’t talk much, but it’s through his actions that he speaks. He’s like a mother hen.” You popped the crick in your neck.

“What about the captain?”

“What about the captain?”

“What d’you think he’s up to?”

“I don’t know; seducing some young woman?”

“Really, though.”

“I presume you know and care?”

“Almost,” Allistor said, “I, er, I suppose I can tell you this. He hasn’t said anything about it, but I do know this isn’t a normal docking.”

“Is it not?”

“They’re usually at larger ports.” Allistor started cracking his knuckles. “He’s got to be meeting someone, and he’s doing his best not to let anyone know about it. And whoever he is, he must be pretty important, because the captain doesn’t stop for anyone.”

You grinned. “Is that all?”

“It’s what I’ve guessed.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into it.”

Alfred stirred in his seat. “He puts too much thought into things he shouldn’t and not enough in other matters.”

“Hm?” You glanced over towards him. “Alfred? Have you been awake this whole time?”

“No,” he said, stretching, “just the last few minutes. Really, Allistor, you think too much. And too little. You’re a bit of a contradiction, really.”

Allistor swung around to face him and said in a hushed voice, “I’ve told you I’m not interested. Be glad I’m not involved at all.”

“If you—” He jabbed Allistor’s chest. “—wouldn’t…” He then relaxed and spoke in a way that you didn’t have to strain to hear. “Scared you enough, then?” Alfred strode to your side and slinked his arm around behind you on the railing. “I’ve a bet going on with the captain, see, on how long I can keep Seamus thinking that he’s been cursed ever since the ship’s cat keeps avoiding him.”

“Is that…is that supposed to be bad?”

“It is, but I don’t know why Seamus is still worried about it. We’ve got enough signs of bad luck on the ship, anyway. We’ve too many redheads aboard for any sailor’s liking—” Allistor flicked Alfred, who grinned. “—and we even have a woman aboard. But Seamus keeps spitting in the ocean and trying to lure the cat to him.”

“Strange that she’s avoiding him,” you said, “as Alice likes nearly everyone.”

“I know. But when Seamus returns from shore, watch him. He’ll step onto the ship with his left foot and toss a few coins in the water.”

“Sailor superstitions are so bizarre,” you said, removing the hand Alfred had slipped to your waist, “and I want nothing to do with them. Just…don’t tell me any more, so I do not have to feign ignorance when confronted about something I’ve done that’s unlucky.”

“To my experience,” Allistor said, “You don’t spend enough time with the crew for them to notice.”

“It’s not like I can,” you said, “I want to help you guys; I swear I do. I feel really useless, but I can’t come help you guys because one, I don’t know how to do anything you do, and two, I doubt the captain would approve.”

“Since when d’you care?” Alfred asked.

“I…” You trailed off as your attention was drawn to a clatter at the end of the dock. You slid off the rail and stood on your toes, straining to see out of idle curiosity.

The captain stormed onto the deck with such choler that you figured he could have been aflame, but you didn’t have much time to see if he were. He swiftly thundered across the deck, swept the boys out of the way, and grabbed you by the shirt collar, knocking you off balance. He held you too far out for you to grasp the railing, and you felt like your legs were going to fall off due to the pressure from his and their cutting into the rail.

“Why did you tell me you were Barbados?” he spat in a half-whisper. His knuckles were white on the collar of your shirt, and they shook from fury.

“What?” you choked out.

“Don’t toy with me, Saint Kitts. Antonio told me everything.” The captain’s face was flushed, and a vein throbbed in his neck as he spoke. He shook you as if to let go, and you yelped.

“What?” Ignorance; feign ignorance, you thought. “What are you tal—”

“You know well what I’m talking about, Saint Kitts,” he said through clenched teeth.

At least it’ll be over soon. May as well… “And you know well that I never said I was Barbados,” you said, ceasing your grappling for the railing and giving your full attention to the losing light in his stupidly green eyes.

He didn’t say anything, but his mouth opened and shut while his eyes narrowed even further. Behind him, you saw Allistor restraining Alfred from interfering with growing difficulty.

“You just seemed keen on believing I was,” you said, somehow enjoying the reveal as much as it was horrifying you, “and there was no one to tell you otherwise. No one that leaves Court.”

His grip faltered but still held you fast. The captain had made a mistake, and he didn’t want to admit it. Realising that Allistor and Alfred are watching his blunder unfold, he roughly composed himself. He yanked you completely on deck and brushed off his coat in an agitatedly strained manner, as if he didn’t know what else to do with his hands. “Allistor. Alfred,” he said, his voice rigid but his face still incredibly blotchy, “You may begin your shore leave. Return in two days.”

“Capt—”

“Do keep anyone from doubling back.” He closed his eyes and waited for the sound of their departing footsteps.

You were frozen. The silent, frightening England was coming back, and you really didn’t want him to. Maybe if you stayed still, he wouldn’t notice you…

After the boys trampled down to the pier, the captain took you by the elbow and hauled you back to his quarters. The only thought that ran through your head was that there was not a lock on the door.

He let go of you and took his coat off, hanging it on the back of a chair. He started pulling weapons from his person, notably a thin knife from one of his boots, and putting them on the table. His back was to you the entire time; you could grab a gun and pull something diabolical, and he wouldn’t have time to stop you—except you didn’t know how to shoot. He kept a flintlock pistol at his hip and turned to the wide window. He didn’t say a word.

The captain’s quarters were messier than you expected; the way he acted, you thought everything would be organised and untouchable. His desk and shelves were strewn with papers, some yellowing with age, and he had a map tacked straight onto the wall with different coloured routes drawn onto the oceans. He had a tightly bound journal with a broken pot of spilt ink next to an hourglass on his desk, and the ship cat, Alice, was asleep on the pillow on his bed, which was attached to the wall. Once you dismissed the few bottles peeking out of an open cabinet, you drew your eyes to a small clothesline above the window, on which was a pair of gloves and—much to your surprise—your handkerchief.

Captain Kirkland slammed his hands on the edge of a shelf, his shoulder blades straining through his shirt. You heard him panting, and he ducked his head. “How dare you,” he growled, “How dare you. What makes you think you can just masquerade as another territory?”

I did it for Naomi, you thought, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

“When I attacked the Spanish ship, its crew performed exactly as I expected: they ran back to Antonio to tell him that I was the one who had stolen Barbados from him,” the captain said, beginning to pace with a rather cross expression, “I received word that we would meet up at this port in order to discuss it at precisely when I planned. We met today to negotiate. Terms were congenial, but things deviated from the plan from that point.” He glanced sideways at you. “Antonio and I reached an agreement: there is no longer animosity between us, only peace. We ended the war.”

Your jaw dropped. Spain would be able to focus on the territories he had instead of gaining more from the captain. Naomi would be so pleased.

“However, we then began to discuss the subject of land. I mentioned the topic of Barbados,” he said slowly, scathingly, “Antonio and I agreed that I would split the land over which we were currently quarrelling. And I own you now. But he then told me that whom I owned was not Barbados but Saint Kitts.” His lip twitched. “Imagine my surprise.”

“Frankly, I’d rather not. You have no right to be cross at me,” you said, surprisingly articulately for someone so daunted, “You are the one who kidnapped me in the first place. I did nothing; I wanted no part of this. You brought this upon yourself.”

“Then why didn’t you say you were Saint Kitts? It would’ve saved you so much trouble,” snarled the captain.

“I didn’t want—anyone else getting hurt. I knew it would be better for me to—”

“Really, you shouldn’t think too well of yourself. I’ve been trying to tell you. Your self-sacrifice means nothing. You are lying and deceptive, and you are foul,” he hissed, “Do you know how many regulations you’ve broken? Do you know what you could’ve done to the structure of the Caribbean?”

What gall. “Talk to me about regulations when you’re a gentleman.”

He didn’t answer, sighing and turning towards the window. He sluggishly traced a carving in the shelf with his finger and then paused abruptly. He brushed a few strands of hair behind his ear.

You eyed the knives he had put on his desk. So what if you didn’t know how to shoot? You didn’t have the best aim, but you were sure you could hit him if you threw one of the blades. Still, it was too risky; the captain was already edgy. You thought something felt off about him, to be honest.

He leant on the shelf under the window to look towards the port. He tilted his head.

“Captain?”

He swished around with genuine surprise painted across his face, but his expression hardened quickly. He cleared his throat. “Well. My purpose for you is no longer relevant. I have no need for protection against Antonio. The peace with Antonio has rendered you useless.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I shall attempt to sell you, as Barbados, to Francis. If I misto—were unaware that you were not Barbados, then he will be as well.”

You would’ve smiled if the situation had not been so serious. Captain Kirkland had made a mistake, and he did not want to admit it.

But was he really going to send you to Francis? You had no intention of seeing him again, after that first horrendous meeting. You bet Francis would not be so inviting the next time you saw him.

“Francis, however,” he continued, clasping his hands behind his back, starting to pace again, “is currently in the Carolinas. It will take three weeks to sail there.”

Three weeks until you had to face Francis again. You hoped the days would sail by slowly. What could you do to prevent being handed over to Francis at all?

Nothing, it appeared.

“The problem at hand is what to do with you in the meantime. You’re not just going to be at your leisure in the galley.” The captain turned, yanking his gloves off of the clothesline. “You’re going to be here a while longer, and you’re going to be useful in that time. You will act as part of the crew.” He pulled on the left one with a soft snap. “But not before a bit of punishment. Saint Kitts.”