Hidden Treasures: a POTC gift exchange

Hector watched Miss Swann duck into her tent with faint amusement. No doubt she was eager for a moment of privacy after long months bunking in hammocks with the rest of the crew. He’d like a moment to himself as well. But he still had some idiots to manage.

The acquiring of the tents had been a test of sorts, to figure out who was best suited to what role in their upcoming mission. He knew what Pintel and Ragetti were capable—and no so capable—of. But Gibbs and the rest of Jack’s ragtag crew was still a mystery. As were the afore mentioned Miss Swann and Mister Turner. They’d performed admirably in acquiring the tents though, especially Miss Swann. Which afforded her the privilege of the second largest tent for herself, and the honor of accompanying him on negotiations with Sao Feng.

On that note, she’d forgotten the clothes he’d prepared for her. “Master Ragetti! Take these to Miss Swann for me.”

—

“The Captain asked me to bring your clothes poppet. Where do you…” he trailed off as he looked up to see the interior of the tent. Somehow, in the, what was it? Five minutes? She’d been in the tent alone, it had been transformed from an empty canvas room to– Well, the bedchamber of some rich lady. Elizabeth sat on a stool at one of them fancy tables with a mirror on em. She was fiddling with her hair, face showing the utmost concentration.

It was probably better if he didn’t interrupt her.

He stepped further inside, letting the tent close behind him, intending to place the clothes in a corner somewhere or whatever. But that’s when he noticed the weapons. Just out of view from the door, the whole floor was covered in them. Swords, guns, knives, bombs, and was that a canon? Anything. Everything. The whole tent was filled with them. HOW?

Screw the question of where the got the mirror from. Where did the weapons come from? There was no way she was keeping them all in her hammock. And their ship fucking sank not far from Singapore. She couldn’t have hidden this all in the longboat they squeezed in to reach land.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. He lifted his head so fast he cracked his neck. Her expression made him nearly faint.

—

Elizabeth watched Ragetti’s face go through an array of emotions as he looked around the tent. Mostly at her collection. The hand not holding the haphazardly folded clothes moved as if he was counting the weapons on his fingers. He wouldn’t get very far using his hands. She cleared her throat and made sure the threat came through in her expression. “Thanks,” she said, “just leave them.” He dropped the pile on the floor, his eyes not leaving her. She waited a moment for him to leave. But he didn’t. He just kept looking at her, eyes going watery as they looked into hers. “Leave.”

He snapped out of whatever funk he’d gotten himself into into a flurry of movement. “Yes of course. I’ll- I won’t tell the Captain, don’t worry!” Then he bowed, and shuffled backwards out of the tent (still bowed), until the tent flapped closed again.

She hadn’t been bowed to since she left Port Royal to find Will. And she’d never been bowed to like that. What the hell? No one even bowed to the Captain. Well, all the better he seemed so afraid he’d never snitch to Barbossa. That man and his ‘excessive stores of gunpowder should be kept to the powder-room’ rule. Like she was going to walk around with her weapons not ready to use. What’s the point of a pistol if you didn’t have powder?

She ignored the pile of clothes on the floor and continued doing her hair. She thought Barbossa knew her better by now. Of course she stole a discreet outfit for herself when she went and stole the tents. She wasn’t an idiot. She’d seen the British soldiers lurking around. Besides, she doubted Barbossa grabbed something with enough storage space.

She hissed as she stabbed herself with a pin. She’d sharpened them for use as emergency weapons. Something that wouldn’t be such a problem if she still had her maids to do her hair. Now that had been an adjustment when she left home. She’d seriously considered cutting all her hair off. But that was months ago, she was quite proficient at doing her hair by herself now. Even without a mirror. For the mission ahead though, she was glad she had one. She didn’t want to embarrass herself on what amounted to a diplomatic mission.

—

Hair done, she considered her collection. Technically, she could take everything. But that would leave her unable to move well enough to fight. And that wouldn’t do. In an ideal world, she could just grab her favourites and be done with it. But all of them were her favourites. She didn’t want to choose.

All of them were deadly. The guns loaded and ready to use. The swords sharpened. Fist sized bombs reminiscent of the one she and Will used to blow up that pirate on the Isla de Muerta. Maybe she could take a few of each? But which ones…

Earlier, Barbossa had explained their role in the mission. They’d meet up at the Singapore hideout. There, they would have to remove their weapons as a show of good faith. A show, he’d said, with all the dramatic emphasis he was so fond of. She smiled. She could make a show of removing some weapons.

A woman alone wearing a knife at her hip? Anyone would think she was merely sensible, but not a threat. Considering her clothes, she was best of choosing a knife that matched them in style. Since she only had one of those (incidentally stolen at the same time as the clothes), she put it to the side to grab when she put on her final layer.

Said final layer would be the rather large coat she found, made of a rough fabric that would hide her shape quite well. It should be able to hide plenty of weapons underneath without compromising her movement. Now the leather over the shoulder holster that would fit no less than four pistols was actually a gift from Barbossa. Back before he became wary of and annoying about her collection. There was no way she wasn’t taking that. And her usual pistols still rested snugly inside so she supposed there was no reason to change them out.

Then again. She’d taken this lovely pistol with golden details from one of the assholes who sank their ship three days ago. It would look so nice with not just the leather but the blue tunic she’d wear underneath as well.

Right. That decided, she considered how many bombs she should take with her. She tested the pockets of her breeches and found- space for two. Maybe three if she expanded the pocket. But she didn’t have time for that. Annoyed, she settled for two.

With much regret, she realised swords just wouldn’t do for this mission. They’d be too visible, even under the coat.

That left her with.. four pistols, a knife and two bombs. That wouldn’t do. She needed at least one bigger weapon to feel comfortable leaving camp. Even leaving her tent, if she was really honest with herself. 

If she wanted to be nimble enough to fight her way out of the hideout if things went to shit, she could take two more things, she thought. One for each boot. There was this huge blunderbuss she just loved but she’d only used it once. If she had to be selective, she needed something she was proficient in and trusted with her life.

“Ten minutes till sundown!”

Shit. They left at sundown.