The Cry of Liberty

Chapter Ten: Mango

Given that Jack's first mate was in the brig, and that he trusted her the most out of the remaining sailors on board, it made sense for him to appoint Sasha as his temporary first mate. She insisted on staying up and keeping an eye on things once the sun dipped below the water. He didn't argue with her, figuring it was easier to let her keep watch and ensure the ship was on course.

Sasha sat down on the stairs that connected the wheel deck to the main, pulling her knife from her belt and slicing into the mango she had nabbed from the food supplies. It had been a particularly scorching day at sea with the night not offering much more relief. Her cotton shirt was sticking to her sweat drenched skin, making her annoyed. She pulled the soaked fabric over her head and set it beside her, leaving her in her chest wrapping and trousers.

Her mind wandered to what her crew were doing now, having hopefully made it to Morocco safely and were now on their way to get her from Cuba. She would be stuck there for at least a month before they could come collect her, giving her the opportunity to spend time with the locals and take a break from being at sea. She noticed some movement below her and looked down to see Jack shutting the door to his quarters.

"Can't sleep?" He jumped at her question. Jack looked up at her perched on the stairs, running her knife through the flesh of a fruit. "It's still sweltering, be a miracle if any of the men can manage a few winks."

"Aye, but it just means we're getting closer." Jack joined her, moving her discarded shirt so he could take a seat. She sliced off a chunk of mango and offered it to him. They shared the fruit in silence, enjoying the sounds of the waves hitting against the Wench.

"So," Sasha chucked the pit and skin over the side of the ship when they had finished. "What's your plan now that you'll surely be extricated from Beckett and his precious Company?" She wiped the sticky juice from her hands onto her trousers and slid the knife into its leather cover.

"Don't know. I suppose I'll need to reacquire a crew." He looked over at her as she fought to put her hair up off of her shoulders. "Got any good leads for hidden treasures?"

"You're askin' the wrong pirate, Jack. I don't deal in the glittery bounties of legend." She laughed. "I'm sure Tia Dalma could point you in the right direction with that compass she gave you."

"I can only imagine what else she's told you."

"I liked hearing about the young pirate who saved the seas from the Spaniard hell bent on destroying all who sail against the law. He seemed an interesting young lad." Sasha leaned with her elbows on her knees, looking up at the stars in the sky. "I liked the tales you used to tell me during our last voyage together. The freedom of it all, it helped me through that hellish couple of months." Jack couldn't help but stare at the pale pink lines across her back, illuminated by the moon and the ship's lanterns.

"I have missed the adrenaline of getting away with a governor's gold, the thrill of cannon fire, not having to answer to anyone."

While he spoke, he slowly reached out his hand and ran his fingers along one of the scars, from her shoulder blade to just below the fabric of her wrap. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine and she whipped her head around to look at him. She tried to will the goosebumps away on her arms, knowing she couldn't blame it on the weather. His fingers jumped to another one, running the length of her side. Sasha turned her head to look at him, unsure of how to feel or what to do. He was focused on her back but pulled his hand away when he felt her stare.

"Jack," She blinked, trying to form the right words to say. "You wouldn't be trying to exploit a sailors loneliness, would you?" Her voice was low. She wanted him to work for it.

"Only if said sailor was willing."

"And if they were?" Sasha reached across him to grab her shirt, only for him to catch her arm. Jack looked down at her seriously.

"Only if you are sure." He emphasized, clearing his head of the memory of her screams so long ago. Sasha leaned up as best she could in his grasp, giving her consent with a heated kiss.