Chéri

Ch.5: Arrrrr, that's me booty!

The Marauder's Mistress lay just outside the port of Nassau, Bahama Islands. The seas had been rough the past few days of sailing, but the stubborn xebec had soldiered her way on well enough. Now, the Caribbean had calmed again, and the Pirates were making plans.

"...so, how are we getting onto this boat again?" was the question Jackson had posed half a week ago. Now knowing the answer, he wished he had never asked. 

Jackson fussed while Leigh put the powder on his face.

            "I still don't understand why it can't just be Amelia and you," Jackson whined.

            "Well, first off, Amelia doesn't want to do it," said Leigh, not stopping with her application of the powder, "And second off, you're the only one who knows what your brother looks like. I don't want to get there and end up grabbing the wrong bloke."

            Jackson sighed, "Yeah... I guess that's fair."

            "You guess a lot of things."

            The Captain was no longer as mad and hellbent as she was during the storm, instead just quietly focused on the task at hand. She took out a small cylinder of pink chalk and a soft brush.

            "What's that?" asked Jackson.

            "It's to make your cheeks rosy," she said, touching up Jackson's face with the rouge, "We've got to make this believable."

            "I still think it'd be better if I just went as myself."

            "Listen, sweetie, they're not gonna allow just any boy aboard the Redoubtable. Best case, you'll get turned away. Worst case, you'll be pressed into service. Doing it this way, we'll be aboard and back off with no one the wiser."

             Jackson sighed and waited through the rest of the makeup application. Leigh penciled in his brow and applied eyeshadow until he looked somewhat acceptable.

            "There we go!" she exclaimed, "You'll fit right in."

            Jackson didn't even want to look into the mirror. He already felt ridiculous in the dress he was wearing. The corset pinched at his sides and the many layers he had on underneath just felt pointless. He had a chemise on below the corset and two petticoats on to fill out the skirt of the dress. Stockings also confused him. What was the point of such long socks? And why was yet another piece of clothing required to hold them up? It just wasn't practical. He also had to abandon his sensible leather boots, which were good through wear and weather by the way, for dainty half-inch heels with a bow at the front. Furthermore, his black lace fichu and lowcut neckline were just too extravagant and only drew attention to Jackson's nonexistent breasts. Worst of all, the dress only opened up at the back with a set of complicated hooks and eyes. Jackson couldn't get out of the damn thing except for the help of someone else.  

"Now go on," said Leigh, "I have to get ready as well."

Jackson felt only more absurd next to the Captain, who was still wearing her normal clothes and looked dashing as ever. Reluctantly, the boy got up and left her chambers, stepping awkwardly in his heels.

It was late afternoon and only a tad cloudy. There was a dull warmth to the air and errant rays of burnt orange were spilling across the dry planks of the ship. The boat was motionless on the waves and there wasn't much work to be done. As a result, most of the crew were mulling about on deck. That was very unfortunate for Jackson, who would have to be seen by them.

Amelia stifled a laugh when Jackson shuffled out of the Captain's quarters, hands hiking up the skirt of his dress. It must've been too hard though because she quickly started coughing and giggling.