The Doctor

When Jack reached Honour, she was standing in an enclosed room with her back to the door, trembling. Her hair was tangled with thick cobwebs. She never noticed when Jack brushed away a large spider that was about to crawl up underneath her golden mane. As he picked up the torch she had dropped, he looked to see what had her so transfixed with fear. On three of the walls, from floor to ceiling and from corner to corner, were carved human faces, their eyes closed as if sleeping. Each one was unique, and to Jack’s surprise there were women’s faces along with those of men. The stone they were carved from seemed polished smooth. And quite unlike other ancient cultures, the faces were disquietingly realistic, not stylised or abstracted. There was nothing else carved on the walls. No writing, no deity figures. Just row upon row of slumbering faces. “Well,” said Jack. “You don’t see that every day. Are you all right?” Honour swallowed hard. “They... they were awake.” “Awake? As in...?” “As in staring at me.” “Honour, they are just stone carvings,” he said in reassuring tones. “Coming into this dark room from outside, your eyes played tricks on you. See?” He passed the torch close to some of the faces. The torchlight glimmered off the polished stone. “I swear, their eyes were open. I’m sure of it! Jack, there is something very, very wrong with this place.” “Sweetheart, we’ve all heard fantastic stories about ancient ruins in the New World. Claims that they’re cursed or haunted, but none of it is true. There aren’t such things as ghosts or curses. It’s easy for your imagination to get the better of you, especially with something as strange as this room is. But we are fine. It’s just an abandoned old temple. Just stones and paint. And I really, really want to get those cobwebs out of your hair. They do nothing for you.” “You’re sure we’re safe?” she asked, giving a wary glance at the walls around them. “Safe as houses, I promise. Now, let’s get back out in the sunlight and back to what we came here for. We can appreciate the artwork later. Just promise you won’t strike out on your own again? There haven’t exactly been groundskeepers about to patch up crumbling walls or broken floors.” “Trust me, after finding this awful gallery, I’ll stay close.” She quickly stepped back out into the sunlight. Jack chuckled at Honour’s flight of fancy. He had never seen anything like this strange chamber before, and the craftsmanship was on par with some of the European masters. It was understandable how she could have imagined the faces were something other than stone. He paused at the doorway to look back and admire them one last time. He thought better of his decision to loiter when, just at the moment he turned, he was certain he saw the eyes of several of the faces quickly shut.

“Aye,” Jack said with a satisfied smile. “The gateway to our destination. Excellent navigation skills, darling! Wherever did you learn to read a map like that?” “Some unscrupulous pirate I met a while back,” she smirked as she put the map away. “You were an excellent student as I recall.” “You were a passable instructor.” She drew her rapier and smiled broadly. “Now that we're here, shall we see what's on the other side?” “I was beginning to think you'd never ask!” The couple worked together with a renewed sense of purpose to penetrate the curtain of wild growth that stood between them and the temple site. It was easier than they expected. Within minutes they were through, and before them lay the temple complex of the Ancients. They stood together and surveyed where that mysterious race gathered to worship their gods. “Well, that's just disappointing,” sighed Jack. Honour unconsciously wrinkled her nose. “What a mess...” The area had been laid out like a grand courtyard, with a large central structure flanked by a handful of smaller ones. It must have been impressive to behold during the heyday of the Ancients, but time had been a cruelly neglectful steward. The small buildings had completely collapsed, making it impossible to divine their original shape or purpose. Fortunately, the main temple had fared somewhat better. One could still see the roughly pyramid shape of it, but its adornments lay crumbled at its base, the watchful statues of their gods dashed to rubble. “There must have been an earthquake, if not several,” observed Jack. “I'm sure the yearly storms that plague this region haven't helped matters.” Honour shuddered. “I hate hurricanes. What do we do next?” “LaFourche's journal said we need to find a chamber with an altar. I'm assuming it's in there since there's only one temple,” he said, motioning to the ruins. “'Assuming'? You mean he doesn't say for certain?” “Forgive me. I didn't think to ask if the chamber is in Temple Number One, Two, or Three. We've got one temple-” “That we can see...” she interrupted. “What say we try the obvious solution first before getting all picky, shall we?” “Fine,” replied Honour. “But which door do we use?” Jack turned and took a long look at the temple. It had three black openings in its face that seemed to lead within. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Not in the journal either, was it?” Jack opened the haversack and pulled from it the journal, a small copper box of gun cloth, and a striker. He handed Honour the journal and retrieved one of the torches he had fashioned back at their camp. She leafed through the book as he worked to get the torch lit in the humid air. “Hardly Botticelli, but interesting,” she said as she looked at the drawings. Jack slung the bag around his neck and held it open for her to return the book. “Grab an end, love, and we'll go see which door is our winner!” “Did you mean the chest, or you?” “If you grab my end, sweetheart, I'll have to douse this torch in favour of the one you'll have lit. Shall we?” They carefully carried the chest up the debris strewn steps to a landing at the middle of the temple's face. Once there, they set the chest down on the mottled grey stone. “Stay right her, Honour. I want to check these side doorways just in case they decided to be sneaky.” Quick as a flash, she snatched the torch out of his hand. “I'm just as capable of exploring as you are, Jack! I'll check this side door first.” “Honour, wait! You don't know what might be in there!” Jack watched as she walked to the doorway at the left side of the landing. She turned and gave him a mischievous smile before ducking inside. His heart nearly stopped when he heard her scream.

A sharp clang jarred her from her thoughts. Jack stood rubbing his sword hand, looking with disgust at yet another enigmatic seven-foot tall column. “Damn it!” he swore. “These blasted things are everywhere! Not as close together as the ones we found near the start of this overgrown maze, thank Heaven.” “Maybe they never expected outsiders to get this far. Or they changed the spacing to throw us off,” Honour mused. “Did it break your sword?” “No, thanks for asking. My hand’s fine, too.” “You’ll live,” she teased. “Dear Lord, this air is stifling! It's like breathing water!” She loosened the neck of her chemise, revealing a considerable amount of cleavage in the process. “Now, according to the map... what do you think you're doing?” Jack had stepped close to her, pretending interest in their map. The look on his face showed that his real interest lay with an entirely different landscape. She quickly covered herself with the parchment and gave him an exasperated look. “You have a one rut mind, Jack Wolfe!” “And you have two of the most amazing--” He paused as her eyes widened in warning. “-- blue eyes I've ever seen. Really. They're spectacular.” He took a respectful step back when Honour gave him a dismissive brushing wave of her hand. “As I was saying before your eyes nearly fell out of your head, we'll need to cut back to our right, and then bear off to the left in a wide arc.” “At this pace, we should be there in just over an hour,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll find plenty of these damned pillars to guide us. Hopefully I'll see them before I hit them.” “Do watch your blade, my husband. I’d hate for it to get dull,” she said with a saucy wink. “For you, love, my blade is always at the ready.” “Promises, promises…” Over the course of the next hour, Jack and Honour carried on much as they had when they were first married; talking and laughing about everything and nothing, each careful not to touch on their collapse or the intervening eighteen months. It was easier than either imagined. Any awkward silences were deftly filled by flirtatious banter or pleasant remembrances. For Jack, it was a happy reminder as to why he had been so taken with her from the start, and moreover, why he fell in love with her. In truth, the contents of the chest were no longer that important to him. It could be empty, and it wouldn't matter that much. He understood that the real treasure was right there beside him. He felt the tip of his sword graze stone. This time he was determined to proceed cautiously. “Honour, may I have your rapier, please? I think I found another column, but not where we're expecting one to be.” “What do you mean? We should be on top of the temple site by now. And I will not have you beating stone pillars with my sword! I just had it sharpened.” “I need your sword because it's longer than mine, dear.” “It takes quite a man to make that admission,” she giggled. “Now who's got the one rut mind?” he asked in mock exasperation. “I'm going to use it to poke around...” Honour's giggles burst into full laughter. Jack walked to her and pulled the rapier from its sheath. “Hey!” she protested. “Don't worry. I'll be gentle.” “You've told me that one before...” “And you never complained. Not once. Now, let's see what's in here.” He slowly slipped the blade in amongst the vines and branches that formed a forbidding wall in their path. Halfway in, the blade hit stone. Further probing showed that it was another pillar, but much larger than the ones they had already encountered. He handed the rapier back to Honour and carefully cleared away the foliage with his own sword. What he revealed left both of them staring in wonder. The massive column was at least four feet wide, and taller than Jack could reach with his sword. Carved into the face of the monolith was the figure of a man in ceremonial dress, facing to their right with his hands raised in front of him, palms out. The pose was not threatening, but somehow reverent. Jack took his cutlass and continued probing the undergrowth. Some ten feet to the right of the first monolith, he found a second. Upon its face was carved the mirror image of the first. “Jack? It's a gateway. I'm sure of it,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

The farther they pushed into the jungle maze, the thicker the undergrowth became. Honour kept track of their position with the map and compass, while Jack hacked away at the jungle's foliage to clear their way. After more than an hour of slow progress and seemingly endless swinging of his cutlass, Jack was ready for a break. “Why are you stopping?” she asked. He turned to her with an incredulous look on his face, the tip of his sword dragging in the dirt beside him. “In case you hadn't noticed, my beloved pet, I've been making a path through the jungle. Without assistance, I might add!” “I helped for a bit!” “What, fifteen minutes, if that?” “My arm got tired.” “More's the pity. The trees quake with fear when you lift a blade.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “You don't intend to let me live that down, do you?” “Let me think,” he said thoughtfully. “Not a chance.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at Jack as if she were about to give him the tongue lashing of a lifetime. Instead, the pair dissolved into laughter. “I really did hack that poor palmetto to shreds, didn't I?” she giggled. “Yes, you did! Like a whirling Dervish, you where. Very impressive. Where did you learn to handle a sword like that? You never did tell me.” Honour retrieved a skin of water and gave it to her husband. “In school,” she answered vaguely. He drank deeply from the skin and handed it back for her to drink. “Interesting school. I'm not familiar with any academies for young women that include swordsmanship. None within the financial reach of a stablehand or housemaid at any rate.” 'Damn him! Doesn't he forget anything?' she thought as she finished a mouthful of water. “The lord of the manor was a generous man. He did all he could to help my sister and me get an education.” It wasn't one of her better lies, but it was plausible. Jack cocked his head and frowned. “I thought you were an only child, Honour.” She froze for a moment, knowing full well she'd been caught. Indeed, she had told him she had no siblings that night they entertained each other with their life stories. Fortunately she hadn't made a bigger gaffe and let slip she had three sisters total. “Really? I was certain I told you about her.” “I'm certain you didn't,” he countered, making sure to keep any accusatory tone out of his voice. “Then again, communication never was our strong suit.” “We're talking now. That has to count for something.” She sat down on the ground next to him. “Since we're on the topic of children... did you ever want any? With me, I mean?” Jack chuckled. “Honour, the thought never crossed my mind.” Her face fell slightly in disappointment. “Until I met you, that is. My whole world changed then. Suddenly, a real life seemed possible. A fine home, a beautiful wife, a yard full of children-- just like our parents told us it would be if we sat up straight and finished our peas and carrots. Why do you ask?” “I was just curious. This place reminds me so much of Castara, and I was reminiscing. Besides, what makes you think you don't already have children?” she asked coyly. “Excuse me?” he sputtered. “Your reputation precedes you, remember? I'd heard lots of stories about you before we met, and not all of them had to do with prize ships and sacked towns.” He smiled at her rakishly. “And still you married me, in spite of what you heard.” “Maybe I married you because of certain stories? A girl gets curious, you know,” she smiled in return. Their faces drew closer to each other. “Did I, um, measure up to what you were expecting?” “Exceedingly so,” she whispered. A wicked gleam came into Honour's eyes. In a flash, she brought Jack's cutlass straight up in between them. He flinched, and gave her a puzzled look. “You need your strength for the jungle, lover boy. We have a temple to plunder, remember?” “Cutlass tease,” he laughed as he took his blade and returned his attention to clearing the path. “'We have a temple to plunder'... I'd rather plunder you!” he muttered. “I heard that!” Honour watched as he resumed slashing away the jungle growth, secretly thankful that he was busy and couldn't see the happy grin on her face. She looked around at the surrounding jungle as the moved along, trying to remind herself that though this wild place reminded her of Castara, the similarities were merely superficial. Even after seeing the artificial arrangement of everything with her own eyes, it was easy to forget the island had been completely reshaped by human hands long ago. At least she hoped they were human. She found it easy to push such worries aside, however, knowing Jack was there with her. He had a way of making her feel safe, despite their rocky past. It also help that Bonita wasn’t lurking around every dark corner like some terrible snake, waiting to strike…

She tossed and turned but sleep eluded her. Honour looked out of the tent to see the moonbeams dancing on the water. She thought how nice it would be to take a refreshing dip. Just for a few minutes....enough to make me a bit sleepy. Honour looked over at Jack. If he hadn't changed his sleeping habits in the last eighteen months, he could probably sleep through a monsoon. She quietly slipped out of the tent and walked fifty feet down to the lagoon. All that she heard were the chirping of the crickets and the croaking of the frogs. Carefully she took off her breeches and her shirt and hung them on the branches and then quietly slipped into the cool water, diving under and emerging, the water droplets clinging to her wet skin. Just like that day in Castara, she thought. Castara was so long ago. The beach and the grotto where they made love.... She shivered but not from the cool water. Regret for what she lost. And anticipation for what lay ahead. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ White smoke billowed and swirled, momentarily obscuring Jack's vision. He stepped forward, smiling in satisfaction as he looked upon the crippled, burning Mercedes. “Continue fire!!” he ordered. An unexpected movement in the periphery caught his attention. To his horror, he realized his beloved wife had taken refuge in the ship's boat! She was directly in the of the field of fire, virtually unprotected. “Honour, what are you doing?!” Sudden, searing agony overwhelmed him as a Spanish sniper's musket ball buried itself deep in his shoulder. The world reeled in slow motion... “JACK!!!” Jack sat bolt upright in the darkness, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The panic subsided as the quiet chorus of the jungle worked its soothing magic, and he began to realize where he was. He was safe. More importantly, so was Honour. It was only that accursed dream again. Rubbing the dull phantom ache in his shoulder, he looked to make sure he hadn't disturbed her sleep. But she wasn't there. Surely she hadn't wandered off. Even in their relatively civilized compound at Castara, she had been content to stay indoors after sunset. “Honour? Honour!” he called. No answer. He left the tent to begin the search, and grabbed a piece of firewood to fashion a torch. That's when he caught sight of her. Honour stood nearly waist deep in the placid waters of the lagoon, her exquisite form silhouetted by the moonlight. Beads of water glistened on her skin like precious gems. Jack watched in silence as she moved with fluid grace, cupping handfuls of water and letting it run in rivulets over her body. If it had been Venus herself bathing under that silvery moon, he could not have been more dumbstruck by her beauty nor more filled with desire. As he looked on, he never noticed the piece of wood slip from his fingers. One end hit the ground, and the other went into the fire, sending a shower of sparks heavenward. The unexpected display caught her attention. She looked back toward the camp to see if anything was amiss. Instead, she saw Jack standing by the fire, watching her. A momentary flash of modesty washed over her. But the urge to cover herself was swiftly replaced by other, stronger urges. She would not deny she was still taken with him. Ever since the night she had let him into her bed only to discover he was after the Sun key, the memories of how good it felt to make love with him had been impossible to shake from her mind. 'He is your husband, Rhiannon!' she thought. 'He already knows what you look like out of your chemise. What can it hurt? It was always so much fun to tease him, and he deserves it...' Smiling wickedly to herself, she dipped her head in the water and flung her long hair back, sending a glittering arc of water through the night air. Once more she brought up handfuls of water to cascade down her skin, but this time she did so more deliberately, seductively arching and stretching her body in an almost catlike fashion. She imagined Jack there with her in the water, his hands lovingly caressing her as she leaned back against him. She could almost feel the warmth of his lips on her neck, delivering kiss after tender kiss... Honour knew her seductive display would have Jack aroused to the point of frustration, and she laughed quietly to herself. What she hadn't counted on was the feelings it awakened in her. Her mind touched on the many times they had made love together, each memory stirring her longings for his touch into a delicious ache. But not tonight. Not just yet. Despite the hunger she felt, it was worth it to know Jack would be thrown off his game. He wasn't the only one who knew how to beguile. A small part of her nagged, trying to stir up some bit of shame at what she was doing, but it was drowned out by the sense of freedom she had at that moment. No pang of guilt, no feeling that she was betraying the memory of her first great love. She would always feel a measure of guilt for his death. Rhys' memory occupied a special corner of her heart, and that would never change. But he was just that- a memory. Little Zara filled her heart to bursting now, yet there was still room for one more great love. It was clear to her now who that love would be. Once again she dove into the water, then emerged with a sigh as she sought to shake off her own heightened desire. She turned and walked toward the shore, and had to stifle a laugh as Jack broke free of her spell and realized she was coming back to the camp. His awkward attempt to retreat unnoticed into the tent was both comical and sweet. Once she had pulled her clothes back on, she made her way quietly to the tent and slipped inside. He was lying with his back to her, pretending to sleep. She sat on her bedroll for a while and watched him with a bemused smile on her lips. “Too bad you didn't join me, Jack. It would have been fun!” she whispered. His sigh, the sigh of a man who was certain he had watched a golden opportunity pass him by, told her everything she wanted to know.

Honour emerged from the treeline carrying another armload of firewood. Just as the map had promised, they found a clearing with a stream of fresh water on one side and a small lagoon on the other. The lagoon was a surprise not mentioned on the map. Rather, it had been created by a breach in the outer “walls” of the maze, most likely made by a storm. Jack was making a final check of the tent stakes as she approached their camp. The light of day was fading quickly, and a cozy fire crackled away invitingly. She placed the wood on a pile beside the tent. He turned and gave her a satisfied smile. “Home sweet home. What do you think?” he asked. The tent was made from a broad piece of sailcloth, staked close to the ground at the back and staked taught over a three-foot long pole at the entrance. Palm fronds had been spread in a thick mat on the ground to form a mattress of sorts, and two bedrolls sat ready for use. “Very nice,” said Honour. “Where's mine?” “What do you mean, 'yours'? This is it! Our tent. You didn't expect me to drag a lot of extra amenities along with us, did you?” “Well, really... I didn't know what to expect,” she admitted sheepishly. “I've never done anything like this before.” “You've never slept out under the stars? It's really quite easy. I admit, it's not as comfy as our room in Castara, but it will do for the night.” She was grateful for the glow of the fire to mask the gentle blush that found its way onto her cheeks at the memory. “All right, then. But you stay on your side, understand?” Jack gave her a teasing bow. “My lady, I swear upon pain of death to stay on my side of the tent. But I will not place the same restriction on you. I'd be remiss in my duties as host if I weren't welcoming in every possible way.” Then, there it was. That smile. The smile that never failed to make her knees feel suddenly weak. She took a deep breath as he went into the tent first and laid out the bedrolls side by side, nearly touching. He extended his hand to help her inside. As she took it, she could see that damnable smile was still there. As she lay down beside her husband, she thought back to the previous night when she'd stolen into his bed and the comfort of his presence, even if he never knew she'd been there. But she pushed those thoughts aside, and rolled over with her back to him. “Good night, Jack,” she said quietly. “Good night, Honour,” he replied. “Honour?” “Yes?” She'd caught the odd note in his voice. “I... sweet dreams, love.” She smiled to herself. “Sweet dreams.” The jungle became a symphony of subtle noises as soon as the sun went down. Honour listened to various insects, a cawing of a bird she had never heard before and even the croaking of frogs. In a way it was comforting to know that life goes on. As long as they let her alone. And didn't have six to eight legs and spewed venom. She found it hard to sleep. Thank heavens that Jack wasn't a snorer. At least he wasn't in that month they were together. A month. Four weeks. Thirty days since it was June that they met, married and parted ways. She felt a twinge of guilt and regret. A twinge? An enormous amount. And in one night, her life changed forever. In all this time Jack had never once asked her about the chests of guilders. Honour laid there wide awake, unable to turn her mind off. In the past eighteen months, she had been able to. But not any more. Her fingers trailed over the palm frond peeking out from under the bedroll as she thought about the time she had been separated from Jack. Honour rolled over and faced her husband. He was sound asleep still. She gently touched his hair. So like Zara's..... 'I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sorry you weren't there for it. When the time is right, I'll tell you about her.'

“Honour, think about what you're saying! This is a bloody island in the middle of the bloody Caribbean sea. Now there has to be some explanation for the roundabout path on the map. Can you see anything that would stop us from trying to go straight across instead of the scenic route? A lake or volcanic crater, anything like that?” “No, there's nothing!” she answered. “It's all jungle as far as I can see. Jack, you have to believe me! You can see a pattern to it!" She climbed down from the tree and took the map from him. “You need to see it for yourself! It's remarkable! What, do you need a leg up? Go have a look yourself. Unless you're afraid of heights.” It was Jack's turn to make a face, followed by a wink that made her smile like a schoolgirl. He climbed the tree to the point she had reached and took in the landscape laid out before him. He was immediately struck by the utter lack of geographic landmarks. No hills, no valleys, no ridges, nothing. The jungle canopy was almost completely uniform in height and coverage. And just as Honour had said, his eye began to pick up regular patterns in the trees and brush that couldn't possibly be the construct of Nature. “It's impossible!” he thought aloud. “They built a jungle!” “What? Do you see it? The patterns?” It took him a few seconds to snap out his awe and amazement. “Yes... Yes! I see it! It's incredible!” He reached into his satchel and retrieved a small spyglass, extended it to full length and began to survey the farther reaches of the jungle. “Funny, I remember it being bigger!” she called up to him. “Excuse me?!” “Your spyglass, I remembered it being bigger than that, is all.” “My spyglass,” he answered, clearly annoyed by her tangent, “is the same size it's always been! This is a spare. Easier to carry around.” “Oh, thank heaven! I thought it had shrunk.” “Honour, may I please have a moment to concentrate?” “Sor-ry! Honestly, you show a little concern about his spyglass, and he gets all touchy!” she huffed. Jack resumed his survey of the island, working to re-establish their position relative to the beach where they had landed. “Honour, would you hold the map up again, the way I held it?”, he called down. “You mean sideways?” His mouth worked to form then stifle the beginnings of several choice retorts. “Fine! Yes, sideways please!” Honour held the map up at arm's length in front of her face to hide her satisfied grin. After checking the map against his instruments and the terrain, he climbed down to rejoin his wife. Ignoring her expectant smirk, he took the map from her and turned it the way she'd insisted was correct all along. “I was right, wasn't I?” she asked. He gave a resigned sigh. “Yes, mi querida muñequita, you were right. Whoever made the map took some artistic license, probably to make it useless to anyone but himself. Those squiggles you noticed match up with something I saw over that direction. It's no small wonder we went round in circles.” “Oh, it wasn't just the squiggles. Look here,” Honour said, pointing to a small mark in one of the margins. It was roughly drawn, resembling a backward 'Z' turned on its side and stretched vertically. “I assumed it was there to mark north." "You know... I wonder... no, impossible.... but it make sense..."

"Jack?" He looked up to see Honour looking at him. "Yes, Honour?" "No-nothing. It's a nice day for a boat ride." He smiled back and said, "Yes, it is." Honour's face broke out in a wistful smile. Jack looked away and continued to row. Within fifteen minutes they landed on the shore. He pushed the longboat and turned to her. "We're here. Ready for an adventure?" She gave him a warm smile and said, "As ready as I will ever be!" "Then let's do it!" "WHAT?" "Let's get this loaded and our provisions together." "Oh! That!" Her face blushed. Jack turned his back to her and smiled broadly. 'Yes, this is certainly going to be interesting.....' he thought. 'Interesting indeed!' The pair left their boat tied to a tree by a length of heavy rope and carried their provisions and precious cargo up near the tree line. Honour was surprised to find the chest remarkably light for its size and apparent construction. What surprised her even more was that instead of thinking she might have been dragged off on a wild goose chase, she was worried that Jack might have been duped. “Jack, I thought you said this chest was made of solid gold,” she said tentatively. “It seems rather... light.” “I had the same reaction, love,” he chuckled. “But then I realised there was little reason for anyone to build a fake of such an obscure relic. LaFourche never published his research on it, so few know what it's supposed to look like in the first place.” He tipped the chest up to show her the underside. A small portion of the gold had been chipped away to reveal what appeared to be dark wood. “It's made of a dense wood, acacia or something like it. Then they heavily gilt the whole thing, thick enough for them to make all these intricate engravings.” “Like the Ark of the Covenant in the Bible! If it's made of wood, why didn't you simply cut it open instead of going to all this bother? Don't tell me it didn't cross your mind.” “I gave it serious thought, believe me. The last thing I want to be doing is stomping through the jungle, even with you as my company,” he said with a wink. Honour smiled, finding herself once again drawn in by his flirtatious charm. “But LaFourche was very emphatic in his notes that the Ancients were mechanical geniuses," he continued "The same mechanism that locks the chest also serves as a booby trap to destroy the contents unless it is unlocked in the prescribed manner. Fortunately no one made the attempt before I acquired it. What's more, the keys can't be put into the lock unless it's on the correct altar.” “So we really do have to carry it to a specific location to unlock it, then? I thought this was some elaborate ruse to keep the treasure hidden from the crew,” Honour said with a note of worry in her voice. “No such luck, darling. But cheer up! It's not a very big island, and I have the only map. All we have to do is find a clearing to get our bearings, and we can start on our way.” "Let me see the map.” “What for? Don't you trust me?” She cocked her hip and held out her hand. An arched eyebrow gave him his answer. Jack smiled uneasily as he pulled the map from his haversack and handed it to Honour. She carefully unfolded it and began to read. It described a circuitous route through the jungle that terminated at an irregular square marking. “I was expecting an X to mark the spot. Isn't that the accepted way of marking treasure on maps?” she smirked. “Nah, those maps are for the tourists,” he said, returning her smirk. Fortunately she had failed to notice the lack of detail one would expect from a land map. “Besides, we've already got the treasure in hand. We're looking for the place to open it. No sense marking the place with an X unless they left more treasure there. Ooh, there's a thought!” “Jack Wolfe, stop that! You're making fun of me!” she pouted. “Only a little,” he smiled gently. “Come on, let's get our things organised.” In spite of the chest's relatively small size, it had a set of four rings affixed to it, two on either of the long sides, no doubt so it could be carried in a ceremonial procession. Jack slid two long wooden poles through the rings, to which he tied on a set of leather straps to fit around the chest and keep the poles from slipping free. He then added a plank of wood, longer and wider than the chest itself with ropes attached to one end to the configuration, and slid the plank underneath the chest. A wide belt with leather straps would serve as a harness for the improvised sledge. “No sense for the two of us trying to carry this thing through the brush like a couple of Ancient priests,” he said. “This will allow me to pull it along and leave me free to clear a path. You've said yourself I'm strong as a mule.” "No. I said you were mule-headed." "That's not very nice! You know I'm sensitive about the size of my ears." "You'll survive," she said with a laugh. "Now harness up. You've got hauling to do."

Jack steadily rowed the longboat through the gentle swells toward their destination. With every successive pull, his ship became a little smaller from his perspective. He shifted his view to Honour, who was quietly gazing at the mysterious island that lay before them. But then her eyes shifted to the horizon, and a hint of sadness seemed to come over her. “That’s a pensive look if I’ve ever seen one,” said Jack. “What? Oh, I’m sorry,” replied Honour. “Were you saying something?” “No. Just curious.” “What about?” “What you were thinking about,” he said with a smile. She looked at him for a moment, then back to whatever faraway spot on the horizon she had been looking toward. “Just... missing someone,” she said softly. “That’s all.” Jack decided not to press the matter. He was afraid he knew who that someone was, and he did not want to hear that name spoken if he was right. Besides, he was on the verge of a major conquest. If this forgotten island truly was the one in Lafourche’s journal, the treasure of inestimable value would be his. Then, why didn’t it feel that way? He began thinking back to all the people who had doubted him, doubted his sanity in pursuing this quest, that tried to talk him out of trying at all. Harkness, Jennings, Lafourche’s daughter, even Bonita. As a matter of fact, Bonita offered the most opposition to his resuming the search. He thought back to that day he left Castara... Jack had told Bonita time and again over the years about his desire to obtain Armand LaFourche's journal and, ultimately, the treasures of the Ancients. She had shown more than a passing interest in these lost people, almost a familiarity with them. She sensed something had changed when Jack returned to Castara, but the opportunity to find out more never presented itself. One day, after the final remaining issues with the smuggling operation had been closed and El Lobo was being made ready to sail, she found her chance. The island was nearly deserted, and everyone was out of the tavern tending to the needs of the few remaining ships. Bonita slipped upstairs and into Jack's room like a wraith. None of his belongings had been transferred to the ship yet, just as she had hoped. The first thing she noticed what that all his belonging had been packed up, as if he did not intend to return. That was a concern for later, she decided. She went work rummaging through the boxes and chests in hopes that Jack had indeed gotten his hands on the fabled journal. “Dat man, him such a pig!” she groused as she went though the disorganized containers. Her hand fell upon an article of clothing, too soft, too feminine to be one of his. She held it up, and knew at once who it belonged to. Honour. The wife of the man she was not ready to let go of. An odd dizziness came over Bonita, the same mild spinning sensation that always overtook her when “the Sight” began its work. She slowed her breathing and let the images come. But her breath stopped for a moment when Honour’s face appeared in her mind. She was close, perhaps as close as Barbados or one of the other nearby islands. If Jack were to go looking for her again, it was almost certain he would find her. But there was someone else, someone attached to Honour yet very far away... Bonita shoved the chemise back into the trunk she had found it in and spat on the floor, then resumed her hunt for the book. Finally, amidst a jumble of books in various languages about ancient civilizations, she found the the item she sought. She held the book up before her and ran her fingers over its cover, tracing the words “Un Journal des Conclusions concernant la Civilisation Perdue connu seulement comme les Anciens” with her fingertips. Greedily, she undid the ties holding the book shut and went to the window for more light to read its contents. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she drank in the images. They were so familiar to her, though she was seeing them for the very first time. The strange writings made sense, and the relationships of the objects to one another and their significance were all so crystal clear! “Who said you could go through my things?” Like a cat disturbed in the midst of a kill, Bonita’s head snapped around at the sound of the intrusive voice. Jack stood in the doorway, displeasure clearly registered on his face. She quickly recovered her composure, her bared-teeth snarl melting into a disarming smile. “Jack,” she purred, “Why him not tell Bonita him found Armand LaFourche and de book?” “It wasn’t any of your business.” “How this not be any of Bonita’s business?” she said testily. “All dese years Bonita work to bring de great Jack Wolfe closer to dis book and it secrets!” “Nice try. You’re forgetting that I am the one who tracked Lafourche down and negotiated for the journal. You were too busy pouting and being a general pain in the arse over my ill-fated marriage. Now, hand the book over.” She casually fanned herself with the journal, her smile returning as she tried to charm him. “What if Bonita tell him she knows t’ings. T’ings dat can help him find de Ancients. Bonita can help him find dey island. And him precious Honour.” Jack stepped forward and snatched the book from her hand, drawing an angry look from the dark woman. “You steal into my room, dig through my belongings and catch a glimpse of some drawings, now you’re a bloody expert on the Ancients? That’s slightly less preposterous than some insincere offer to help me find my wife, Bonita! You hated her from the first. Why should I think you would honestly change your mind?” “Because dat golden haired child hold de t’ing him need, no? Bonita knew her would break Jack Wolfe’s heart,” she hissed. “Did him listen to reason? No! Him were too much in love.” “You were only half right. You missed the swindling bit.” “Do him want to know, or do him want to quibble?” “Just like that, you’ll tell me? Fine. Where is she?” “Only if him promise to take Bonita wit’ him.” “Blimey. And they call me mad! You, my dear, are cracked. Barmy in the head. Full stop loony. No way am I taking you with me.” Bonita scowled at him. “And what him do again, eh? Barbados, den Martinique, Antigua, Petit Goave, Tortuga, all de way round de Caribbean and de colonies of de Dutch and Spanish, again and again like some dog chasing him tail? No wonder dey all laugh behind him back at Jack Wolfe, de great fool! Him not a pirate any more. Him a lovesick cuckold.” It took Jack a few deep breaths to calm himself after Bonita’s insults. She wanted him angry, but he was not about to give her the satisfaction of losing his cool. “You’re wasting your time trying to wound my pride, Bonita,” he said quietly. “I don’t have any left. If you’ll excuse me, I have a few things here to tidy up before I leave for Barbados and chase my tail again.” “No!” she blurted. “No, him need to go to Aruba dis time. Dat where de golden-haired girl be. Bonita has seen dis, so clearly. Go dere, and him will find him bride.” “I don’t believe you.” “Believe it! Bonita only want to help Jack, to see him happy again.” Jack laughed bitterly. “You want to see me happy? Bollocks! I don’t know what your game is, but I’m bloody sick and tired of playing it.” “Jack, listen to Bonita!” “Get out! Get out of my sight, woman! I will be leaving very soon, and I don’t want to see your face again before that happens. Now, for God’s sake, GO!” Bonita glared angrily at him for a moment, then thought better of arguing further and left the room quickly. Upon reaching her quarters, she flung the door open and stormed inside. “Damn that Jack Wolfe, and damn the woman him love!” she swore. In her rage, she kicked a wooden stool. The stool slammed into the wall just beneath a set of shelves, dislodging them and knocking their contents to the floor. Inside the largest of the boxes, amid various trinkets and charms, were two poppets bound back to back with twine. The shock of the box’s tumbling was enough to loosen the twine around them. When the container finally came to rest under Bonita’s bed, the dolls were nearly face to face.

The watch bell rung eight strokes, marking the start of the morning watch. Jack stirred from his sleep, knowing that his presence would soon be required on the deck to dole out justice. He threw the sheets over his head. 'Ten more minutes....that's all I ask...just ten more minutes....' But then he caught a whiff of the sheets. It was the scent of jasmine and that something extra. That imperceptible scent of a woman. Something that Jack was well in tune with. He should, he had his share of them. His father's voice echoed in his mind. 'Jackie, boy, if you can't remember if a woman laid in your bed, then maybe it's time to lay off the spirits.' He shook off the voice. 'Shut it, Da, I had a rough night.' Was it a wishful memory? Or something he dreamed? Or maybe.... Still......he would remember, wouldn't he? A question to ask her at another time. He sat up on the edge of the bed, his head aching from too much drink and the previous night’s ordeal. Finally he rose and went to the basin to splash some water on his face. He paused as he looked into the mirror. The reflection he saw was haggard, tired, overburdened. “God, I hate this,” Jack muttered as he pulled on a fresh shift of clothes. Official ship’s business demanded he don the standard captain’s regalia, complete with coat and hat. He shouldered his baldric, and shoved a pistol into his belt. The weapon was not loaded. It didn’t have to be. A good length of rope would be all that is needed to put an end to the life of a mutineer. Jack left his cabin, the strike of his boot heels resonating through the companionway with every resolute stride. He paused at Honour’s door with the intention of asking her to stay below deck until the hanging was over. ‘Let her sleep,’ he decided instead. ‘Let her wake up to a world that no longer has that animal in it.’ He walked on from her door and into the light of the morning sun. The crew were assembled on deck for the spectacle. A few men whispered among themselves as they placed wagers as to how long the condemned man would last once hauled into the air. Burgess stood beneath the foreyard, his ankles bound by shackles and his hands tied behind his back. Josiah Briggs stood beside him, the noose in one hand and a hood in the other. The island Jack had looked for all these years was the only bit of land visible in the vast ocean around them. Jack slowly walked to where Burgess stood. He regarded the man coldly, struggling to keep his emotions out of the proceedings. Attempting mutiny and threatening Jack’s life, as well as Briggs’, was quite enough. But Burgess had dared to lay his filthy hands on Honour. Jack would have preferred to take care of Burgess personally, but the ship’s articles were clear as to how this matter should be settled. “Samuel Burgess, you are guilty of attempted mutiny,” intoned Jack for all the crew to hear, “with the intent of murdering this ship’s officers and their family. According to ship’s articles, which we all signed and agreed to be bound by, there is only one resolution. You will hang by the neck until you are dead.” “I have something to say first,” countered Burgess. “This is not a court of admiralty, Burgess. You don’t get last words here. You get a last breath. Spend it well. Mister Briggs, proceed.” Burgess opened his mouth to protest, but Briggs swiftly put the hood over the man’s head, making sure that enough fabric caught in his mouth to act as a gag. The noose soon followed, and Briggs snugged it around Burgess’ neck. With a nod from Jack, three men took hold of the end of the rope and carefully pulled the slack from it. Jack took a deep breath, and turned his back to the condemned man. “Haul away,” he said flatly. Swiftly, Burgess was pulled into the air to hang some twenty feet above the deck. The three men held on to the rope as Burgess kicked and struggled his last. “Tie that line off,” ordered Jack. They secured the rope to keep Burgess’ body aloft until they could be sure he was indeed dead. Jack looked around at his crew. “Show’s over, gentlemen. Dismissed.” He glanced back up at the hung man, then began to walk toward the companionway. “That’s it?” asked Briggs. “Normally ye say a few words of warnin’ to the men, and make an example of whoever got strung up.” “They get it. Josiah, I want Burgess cut down and buried as soon as possible. Can you do that for me?” “Aye, that I can do. But what’s the rush?” “I don’t want Honour to see this. She’s been through enough. And once he’s gone, take us in to the island as close as we can get. We’ve got a mystery to finally solve.”

Honour paced about the small cabin, the Spanish pistol clutched tightly in her hand. It seemed like an eternity since the sound of what might have been a distant gunshot reached her ears. All she could do was worry, pace, and pray that her husband was still alive and safe. “Don't worry yourself so,” she said aloud. “Jack knows this ship better than anyone, and he knows what he’s doing. How I wish this was all over...” She heard the sound of boots outside her door. Her heart began to pound when the handle began to turn. “Jack, is that you?” “Yes!” came the muffled whisper. “Keep your voice down and open the door before someone sees me!” Quickly, she laid her pistol on the bed and rushed to the door. Her hands trembled as she unlocked the heavy deadbolt. “Thank goodness you're all right!” she said as she opened the door. But her breath caught in her throat as she found herself looking into the hardened face of Sam Burgess. “Aye, darlin’ lass,” he leered. “I'd say I'm doing better than all right now.” "You? You're behind this!" Honour's voice came in a whisper as she tried to calm the rising sense of panic that engulfed her. He reached out to grab her by the hair. "Damn right. I'm the brains behind this and if the crew under new management, shall we say, have done what they were supposed to do, I am now the captain of El Lobo del Mar." Honour shook her head and said, "No. You'll never take Jack Wolfe. You can't. He's MAD Jack Wolfe. He's too crazy to be killed. He--he'd never allow that to happen." Burgess thrust his face next to hers. "Aye, but do you hear him anywhere? You think he'd allow me to get near this sanctuary if he were still alive?" "He's occupied elsewhere. You will never take this ship. NEVER, you hear me?" Burgess sneered, "And you know what that means? As I am the captain, you now be the captain's wench. And you'll do as I say!" His dirty hand trailed down her cheek. She shuddered as his hand wandered southwards and across her chest. He smirked, "Just checking for weapons. Although I see you have no place to put them." His hand glided over her hip as a leer crossed his face. As he skimmed down her leg, she took her booted foot and ground it into his instep. Burgess yelped in pain. He struck her across the face and barked to the young man in the hallway, "Eli! Guard the door! It's about time this doxy learned who was in charge here!" Eli looked in fright from Burgess to Honour. "NOW or I wet my dagger with your innards, whelp!" Eli ran out of the room. Burgess grabbed her again by her hair and pulled her close to him, his mouth on hers. She fought the instinct to get sick. She extended her hand, her nails raking down his face, five long scratches on his left cheek. He let go and put his hand up to his face. She aimed for his eyes but he caught her hands and pushed her onto the bed. "That's going to cost you, trollop!" He grabbed her roughly and as his hand clamped over her mouth, she bit down hard. He screamed and she grabbed the candle holder with a puddle of hot wax swirling around the wick. She flung it into his face. He yelled again and Honour used that to her advantage as she leaped off the bed and made a break for the door. She flung it open and as she vaulted her body through the door frame, Burgess grabbed her by the hair and threw her backwards. She let out a scream. Meredith ran as if all the hounds from hell were after him. He saw Jack and Briggs rushing up the deck. Gasping, he shouted, "Quick! In her cabin!" Jack and Briggs pushed him aside and ran as if someone's life depended on it. Because it did. Honour's life. And that meant Jack's life, too. When Jack pushed Eli, the young man stumbled, lost balance, and his face hit the mast. He crumpled to the deck, trying to staunch the blood flowing from his broken nose. Jack and Briggs boot heels pounded on the deck planks as they ran down the companionway. They arrived at the door to Honour’s cabin to find Burgess holding a long knife to her throat. His other hand was twisted tightly in her hair, holding her immobile. The urge to kill displayed clearly on Jack’s face, he levelled his gun at Burgess’ head and cocked it. But a sudden, terrified gasp from Honour made him freeze. “I wouldn’t try it, Wolfe,” Burgess said smugly. “So help me, I’ll make her bleed before the bullet hits home.” “He means it, Jack. Please, be careful,” added Honour. Her voice was clear and strong, but understandably quavered with fear. “What do you want, Burgess?” Jack asked flatly. The oily man kept his smug expression, but his eyes were transfixed on the muzzle of Jack’s pistol. “Lower your weapon, then we talk.” “Drop your knife, and I’ll fetch tea. We’ll have a nice pleasant chat then.” “You know I can’t do that.” “Then we move on to terms.” “Of your surrender?” “Yours, you cheeky bastard. This is your only chance to leave this room alive.” Burgess shook his head. “No, that’s where you just don’t get it. You’re the ones in danger, not me.” “What, from your band of mutineers?” “They’re everywhere, Wolfe. All over your ship. You never know when they will come round the corner and cut you down whilst you dally with me.” “How many, then?” asked Briggs. Burgess’ eyes shifted to Briggs, then back to the pistol muzzle. He licked his lips nervously. “Enough to take this ship.” “Let’s do a count then, eh? There’s you and the skinny lad what’s scared out of his mind, that’s two.” He loudly tapped his ring against the lockplate of the pistol in his belt as he kept tally, making a pronounced metallic tap tap. “And how many did ye put overboard as I joined up with ye, Jack?” “Two,” replied Jack. Tap tap. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes stayed locked on Burgess’. “That makes four. Then there’s the two tied up in my cabin...” “Six,” said Briggs. Tap tap! “... And the two Honour and I killed. Eight total.” Tap tap! “Forty men aboard,” said Briggs. “Ye’d think that if there were any other mutineers prowlin’ about, one or two would’ve turned up by now. Ain’t like we’re hidin’. I’m thinkin’ there ain’t no more.” Jack nodded. “Or if there are, they’re waiting to see how this little drama plays out before they throw in.” Sweat beaded on Burgess’ brow and upper lip. His eyes jumped furtively again to Jack’s and Briggs, then back to the pistol. “Are you willing to take that gamble?” he said. The smugness had left his voice, replaced by a note of panic. “Pretty much, yeah,” answered Jack. “It’s over. You’ve lost. Now, get the knife away from her, Burgess. I’m willing to offer marooning instead of the rope.” “Not until you put that pistol away,” demanded Burgess. “How do I know you won’t shoot me anyway if I do as you ask?” “Because I already shot ye,” replied Briggs, and flame erupted from the muzzle of his pistol. The last two taps had not been taps at all; they were the sound of a pistol lock being cocked. The round hit the mutineer in the shoulder, and the knife flew from his hand to clatter on the deck. Honour broke away from the stricken man and ran to the safety of Jack’s arms. Briggs was on him instantly, and suddenly he could feel the steel of his own knife against his neck. “Quit yer squirmin’, it ain’t that bad,” the quartermaster growled. “Shall I take him topside and finish the deed, Jack?” Jack couldn't tear his eyes from Honour's. "No, my friend. We keep to ship's articles with these two. They put their marks to paper, and I intent to honour their pledge." Briggs struggled to contain himself, but obeyed his friend and Captain. "Aye, sir. I know a length of rope that will suit our purpose nicely." Josiah took a half step back, but did not drop his blade. A small patch of crimson on the mutineer's chest showed just how close Briggs was to running him through. Jack stroked Honour's hair. "Are you all right, darling? Are you hurt?" Honour raised her hand to her cheek. A darkened splotch was forming across it where Burgess had struck her. "I--I think I'm alright." In the companionway they heard sobbing. It was Meredith, curled up and crying because he knew what fate awaited mutineers. Honour broke herself reluctantly from Jack's embrace and knelt down next to the boy from Devonshire. She asked softly, "What is your name?" He turned his head and almost inaudibly replied, "Eli Meredith, ma'am." Almost as if she were speaking to a young child, she asked, "Eli, did you honestly think you could best Jack Wolfe?" He covered his eyes with his forearm and shook his head. "I had no choice. Burgess threatened to throw me overboard if I didn't cast my lot in with his." Jack said grimly, "You are a mutineer and you know what happens to them that do not meet their end at sword or pistol." He nodded. "Aye. I do." She couldn't help herself. Softly she said, "Jack--he's just a kid." Briggs asked him, "How many of you were there?" Eli shuddered, "I don't know." Briggs said, "I'll take Davis and McGlynn to make sure we got them all. I'll be needing your cutlass and that Spanish pistol there." Honour sat on the floor next to Eli. " I'll watch over him but please, Jack, get him out of here." She nodded towards Burgess. "Are you out of your mind? I'm not leaving you here alone." She said, "I would feel alot better if you imprisoned him. I will be fine. Please let me handle this one," she said in a low voice. "Really. It will be alright." "Alright but keep this dirk close by." He pointed his pistol at Burgess and said, "Let's go."

Jack remained cloaked in the shadows, unmoving as he watched the mutineers. The problem with this situation was the mutineers were not moving, either. They appeared to be quite comfortable bravely staying in the middle of the forward deck, well away from any close-quarter situations that might actually involve their using the weapons they brandished. Jack could feel his patience waning by the moment. But he could not risk being seen at this distance and possibly on the receiving end of a wild shot. Somehow, he had to get to the other side of the deck where the door to Briggs’ cabin was. “Come on, you maggots! Leave, fall asleep, do something!” he muttered. The rocking of the ship grew steadily pronounced as it moved through the water. He could see low clouds moving in under the moonlight. If the weather turned now, it could be a long night for everyone. As he contemplated making a dash for the door anyway, a loud noise came from just inside the forecastle. It was most likely crates that had not been stowed correctly, but it gave the two mutineers something to do rather than stare at one another. “Go on,” Frail ordered. “I’ll be right behind you.” “You’ve got the gun, why don’t you go first?” “Because I’m in charge, remember? And those what lead do it from behind the ranks.” “Yeah, I’m sure that’s how it gets done in your family...” chuckled Korman. “Just shut your mouth and open the door, eh?” “Right-o, Fearless One.” While their backs were turned, Jack silently darted across the deck and hid behind the steps leading to the quarterdeck. The door leading to where Briggs’ cabin was stood only a couple of feet away, if those two would give him time to duck in and quietly close the door behind him. Korman opened the door cautiously and peered inside. Frail stayed put, sticking to his strategy of leadership out of the line of fire. “So? What do you see?” he asked in a loud, nervous whisper. Korman sighed. “A busted crate of linen. I don’t think it will put up much of a fight unless you want a go at it. My money’s on the fabric.” “You’re a funny man. Now quit mucking about and secure that door.” “Blimey! You’re so quick with the orders!” complained Korman. “What are you gonna do about it, then?” Jack gritted his teeth as the two men bickered. Damn it! Why couldn’t they have a longer attention span? But as they stood nose to nose squabbling, an idea for another sort of distraction came to Jack’s mind. He smiled as he watched them argue, and pulled a large coin from his pocket. When he was certain they weren’t looking his way, he pitched the coin up onto the quarterdeck. The coin landed with a loud clatter, and the two mutineers’ heads snapped around to look towards the source. “Damn it!” growled Frail. “That wasn’t a crate this time. I’ll bet it’s Briggs!” “How do you know? Briggs wouldn’t be up there hiding just to count his pocket money!” “Him and Wolfe are rich! So of course they’ve got money on them all the time. Just goes to reason.” “Fine, I’ll go up there and see, just to prove you wrong,” grumbled Korman. “Oh, no you won’t! Not and steal my glory!” Frail ran up the steps to the quarterdeck, with Korman close behind. But when they got to the deck, there was no one there. Just a coin glinting in the moonlight. “Ha!” laughed Korman. “I told you he wasn’t up here.” Disgusted, Frail went and picked up the coin. “Well, I’ve got a shiny coin for my pocket at any rate...” “And I’ll be having it back, thanks. I seem to have dropped it,” came a voice from behind them. The mutineers turned and found Jack standing at the only way on or off the quarterdeck, with his sword drawn and ready. “Think this over carefully, gents,” he said deliberately. “You can die by my blade tonight, or hang from the yard tomorrow. I really don’t care which.” Both Frail and Korman stood there, frozen. All their false bravado from earlier evaporated in the night air. “At least fight men for once!” shouted Jack. He swung his sword at Korman, who barely managed to deflect the blow. “Shoot him!” yelped Korman. “Get out of the way and I will!” But Jack made sure keep Korman between himself and Frail, fouling any chance at a shot. As the men moved around the quarterdeck, the two mutineers became increasingly panicked. “Do it, damn you!” yelled Korman. “Move, now!” answered Frail. Korman started to duck to Jack’s left, but he was not able to escape the edge of Jack’s sword. As the blade slashed across his chest, the man stumbled backward, dazed and in pain, just as his compatriot fired the bullet intended for the captain they had chosen to betray. Frail fell to the deck with his dead crewmate on top of him. As he struggled to free himself, he felt the cold edge of a sword on his neck. “Easy now. Get up nice and slow,” said Jack. “You’ve spent your shot and you have nowhere to run.” Frail shoved Korman’s lifeless body off of him, and the man slowly got to his feet. He turned to face Jack. “I’ve seen men hang, Wolfe. I’ve seen what a horrible dance they do.” “So have I. Now your turn is coming. I hope you memorised the steps.” Frail shook his head. “I’ll die on my own terms, not yours.” “My sword or my rope, it’s still my terms, lad. You’ve got nothing to say in the matter.” “Oh, don’t I, though?” With that, Frail turned and jumped overboard into the dark, chill waters below. Jack shook his head and placed his sword back in its scabbard, then proceeded to heave Korman’s body over the side. “Don’t forget your friend!” he called to Frail. “I’d hate for you to die all alone.” “Just what the hell is goin’ on?!” Jack turned to find Briggs jogging up the steps. He was barefoot, and was still stuffing a pistol into his belt. “Glad you could join me, Josiah. Lovely night, isn’t it?” “Stow the joshin’, eh? I hope this ain’t what I think it is.” “A mutiny? Afraid so.” “Who’s the devil behind it?” “I keep hearing the name Burgess. Ring any bells?” “Sam Burgess? Aye, he’s a bit of a malcontent and on the lazy side. But I never figured him for leadin’ a mutiny. Have ye a guess as to how many in his company?” “Well, I’ve taken care of five, and Honour killed a sixth...” “Savin’ all the fun for yourself?” “You were getting your beauty rest. I know how cross you can be without a solid forty winks.” “All heart, you are. So it’s Burgess left for sure. And there’s usually a skinny bloke hangin’ about with him. I’ll wager he’s in on the scheme as well. So at least two...” At that moment, a blood-curdling scream came from below deck. A scream that was quickly muffled.

Jack remained cloaked in the shadows, unmoving as he watched the mutineers. The problem with this situation was the mutineers were not moving, either. They appeared to be quite comfortable bravely staying in the middle of the forward deck, well away from any close-quarter situations that might actually involve their using the weapons they brandished. Jack could feel his patience waning by the moment. But he could not risk being seen at this distance and possibly on the receiving end of a wild shot. Somehow, he had to get to the other side of the deck where the door to Briggs’ cabin was. “Come on, you maggots! Leave, fall asleep, do something!” he muttered. The rocking of the ship grew steadily pronounced as it moved through the water. He could see low clouds moving in under the moonlight. If the weather turned now, it could be a long night for everyone. As he contemplated making a dash for the door anyway, a loud noise came from just inside the forecastle. It was most likely crates that had not been stowed correctly, but it gave the two mutineers something to do rather than stare at one another. “Go on,” Frail ordered. “I’ll be right behind you.” “You’ve got the gun, why don’t you go first?” “Because I’m in charge, remember? And those what lead do it from behind the ranks.” “Yeah, I’m sure that’s how it gets done in your family...” chuckled Korman. “Just shut your mouth and open the door, eh?” “Right-o, Fearless One.” While their backs were turned, Jack silently darted across the deck and hid behind the steps leading to the quarterdeck. The door leading to where Briggs’ cabin was stood only a couple of feet away, if those two would give him time to duck in and quietly close the door behind him. Korman opened the door cautiously and peered inside. Frail stayed put, sticking to his strategy of leadership out of the line of fire. “So? What do you see?” he asked in a loud, nervous whisper. Korman sighed. “A busted crate of linen. I don’t think it will put up much of a fight unless you want a go at it. My money’s on the fabric.” “You’re a funny man. Now quit mucking about and secure that door.” “Blimey! You’re so quick with the orders!” complained Korman. “What are you gonna do about it, then?” Jack gritted his teeth as the two men bickered. Damn it! Why couldn’t they have a longer attention span? But as they stood nose to nose squabbling, an idea for another sort of distraction came to Jack’s mind. He smiled as he watched them argue, and pulled a large coin from his pocked. When he was certain they weren’t looking his way, he pitched the coin up onto the quarterdeck. The coin landed with a loud clatter, and the two mutineers’ heads snapped around to look towards the source. “Damn it!” growled Frail. “That wasn’t a crate this time. I’ll bet it’s Briggs!” “How do you know? Briggs wouldn’t be up there hiding just to count his pocket money!” “Him and Wolfe are rich! So of course they’ve got money on them all the time. Just goes to reason.” “Fine, I’ll go up there and see, just to prove you wrong,” grumbled Korman. “Oh, no you won’t! Not and steal my glory!” Frail ran up the steps to the quarterdeck, with Korman close behind. But when they got to the deck, there was no one there. Just a coin glinting in the moonlight. “Ha!” laughed Korman. “I told you he wasn’t up here.” Disgusted, Frail went and picked up the coin. “Well, I’ve got a shiny coin for my pocket at any rate...” “And I’ll be having it back, thanks. I seem to have dropped it,” came a voice from behind them. The mutineers turned and found Jack standing at the only way on or off the quarterdeck, with his sword drawn and ready. “Think this over carefully, gents,” he said deliberately. “You can die by my blade tonight, or hang from the yard tomorrow. I really don’t care which.” Both Frail and Korman stood there, frozen. All their false bravado from earlier evaporated in the night air. “At least fight men for once!” shouted Jack. He swung his sword at Korman, who barely managed to deflect the blow. “Shoot him!” yelped Korman. “Get out of the way and I will!” But Jack made sure keep Korman between himself and Frail, fouling any chance at a shot. As the men moved around the quarterdeck, the two mutineers became increasingly panicked. “Do it, damn you!” yelled Korman. “Move, now!” answered Frail. Korman started to duck to Jack’s left, but he was not able to escape the edge of Jack’s sword. As the blade slashed across his chest, the man stumbled backward, dazed and in pain, just as his compatriot fired the bullet intended for the captain they had chosen to betray. Frail fell to the deck with his dead crewmate on top of him. As he struggled to free himself, he felt the cold edge of a sword on his neck. “Easy now. Get up nice and slow,” said Jack. “You’ve spent your shot and you have nowhere to run.” Frail shoved Korman’s lifeless body off of him, and the man slowly got to his feet. He turned to face Jack. “I’ve seen men hang, Wolfe. I’ve seen what a horrible dance they do.” “So have I. Now your turn is coming. I hope you memorised the steps.” Frail shook his head. “I’ll die on my own terms, not yours.” “My sword or my rope, it’s still my terms, lad. You’ve got nothing to say in the matter.” “Oh, don’t I, though?” With that, Frail turned and jumped overboard into the dark, chill waters below. Jack shook his head and placed his sword back in its scabbard, then proceeded to heave Korman’s body over the side. “Don’t forget your friend!” he called to Frail. “I’d hate for you to die all alone.” “Just what the hell is goin’ on?!” Jack turned to find Briggs jogging up the steps. He was barefoot, and was still stuffing a pistol into his belt. “Glad you could join me, Josiah. Lovely night, isn’t it?” “Stow the joshin’, eh? I hope this ain’t what I think it is.” “A mutiny? Afraid so.” “Who’s the devil behind it?” “I keep hearing the name Burgess. Ring any bells?” “Sam Burgess? Aye, he’s a bit of a malcontent and on the lazy side. But I never figured him for leadin’ a mutiny. Have ye a guess as to how many in his company?” “Well, I’ve taken care of five, and Honour killed a sixth...” “Savin’ all the fun for yourself?” “You were getting your beauty rest. I know how cross you can be without a solid forty winks.” “All heart, you are. So it’s Burgess left for sure. And there’s usually a skinny bloke hangin’ about with him. I’ll wager he’s in on the scheme as well. So at least two...” At that moment, a blood-curdling scream came from below deck. A scream that was quickly muffled.

The air in Jack’s lungs began to burn at this throat. He realised that he had quit breathing. But that was all that burned. The familiar searing sensation of metal piercing his flesh was not there. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Honour was still holding the pistol. Despite her death grip on it, the trembling of her body kept the muzzle bobbing wildly. He turned to see the crumpled body of a man in the companionway. A cutlass lay beside him. Honour had saved Jack’s life. He turned back to her, and gently took the pistol from her hands. “There you are, love. That’s it. It’s all over. You did it! You saved me! Thank you!” Finally, Honour was able to tear her eyes from the dead man. “Jack, he... he had a sword. He was going to kill you...” “I know. I know, darling. And you stopped him.” Tears began to well in her eyes. “Why are they doing this? Why now?” “I wish I knew. Not enough plunder, one weevil too many in the hardtack, who knows? But right now, I have to find Briggs and make sure he is all right. If he hasn’t been harmed, then it’s likely the ship is still mine. Either way, I need him to help put this mutiny down.” “You don’t even know how many are involved, do you?” Jack feigned a reassuring smile. “Thanks to you, four fewer than when they started. But Honour, I need you to promise me you will stay here. No heroics. You have to stay put.” “All right.” “Now, I mean it! No arguments! This is too serious...” “Jack, I agreed with you. I’ll stay right here, I promise.” He looked at her blankly. “So you did. Are you not feeling well?” “Well enough for someone who just shot a man stone dead. Go put an end to this stupid mutiny, would you?” He pulled the Spanish pistol from his belt and handed it to her. “Here, take this for your protection.” Honour shook her head. “I’ve had enough of pistols for one night.” “And I hope you don’t have to use it. But just in case, I need you to take this. Keep it close. And when I leave the room, I want you to lock the door behind me. Don’t open it for anyone but me or Josiah.” Jack kissed her, then dragged the stabbed man out into the companionway. Honour closed the door and threw the deadbolt lock as he instructed. She paused and said a brief prayer for his safety, then looked down at the ornate Spanish pistol in her hands. Ordinarily, she would have given in to her curiosity and gone scouting around the ship to see what was going on. But things were different now. She had more to consider than just her life this time. On the other side of the door, Jack found himself pausing in prayer as well. While he asked for the strength of will to end this mutiny and save his ship, his most fervent desire was for Honour to stay safe in all this madness. Once again, he had managed to put her in harm’s way. He knew that he had to make this right, or die trying. Quietly he began to move through the companionway toward Briggs' quarters. Two men prowled the dark, empty weather deck. Normally there would be men stationed on watch, but this was no ordinary night. The bulk of the crew wanted no part in the mutiny, but chose instead to stay out of the way and see how events played out. If Jack prevailed, their hands were clean. If Burgess won, he could not easily retaliate against anyone for being loyal to the former captain. The sails had been trimmed and the wheel lashed in place, leaving these two mutineers to themselves. "Ow!! Damn you, careful with that cutlass!" Ed Frail yelped at his compatriot, Allan Korman. "If you had half a brain, you'd carry a pistol like me. Now, keep back off me!" “Careful you don’t overwork that half brain of yours and shoot yourself in the foot,” jeered Korman. “Besides, we’re supposed to be capturing Briggs in his cabin, not skulking around up here.” “That’s exactly why we’re up here, where Briggs would never think to expect us! This way he has to come to us. See? I’m smarter than him, and you too for that matter.” “Yeah, you’re a right wizard. Brilliant plan, making sure Briggs’ sleeps through the mutiny by our knocking about on the other end of the ship so as not to disturb his slumber. Colour me dazzled.” “It is a plan, and a good one! Why do you think Burgess put me in charge and not you? But you’ll spoil it all by running your yap. Now shut it and keep a sharp eye out for Briggs or anyone else not part of our company. Five shillings says I spot Briggs first.” Confident he had put Korman in his place, Frail turned and walked authoritatively into a stack of heavy crates. Jack Wolfe watched the two men from the shadows. ‘Good,’ he thought to himself. ‘They haven’t gotten to Briggs yet. Things are looking up.’

“Now, stand up nice and slow, Wolfe,” said the crewman with the pistol. “Sam’ll give you plenty of time for prayin’ on your knees when all this is over.” Jack hung his head in defeat. He could hear the men take a step into the room. Silently, he counted to three, then suddenly he lifted his head and hurled the wine bottle at the man with the gun. The bottle caught the man squarely in the forehead. Jack rolled to the side as the man staggered and fired blindly before falling to his knees. His compatriot with the knife charged with his blade held high, ready to strike. Jack stayed low and managed to dodge his attacker’s wild slash. He grabbed hold of the mutineer’s belt and pushed hard, causing the man to lose his balance. Momentum did the rest, and the man’s head collided with the edge of the heavy oak table, knocking him unconscious. Swiftly, Jack swept up the gun the first man had dropped, and used is as a club to incapacitate him as well. “That’s two,” he said to himself as he retrieved a length of rope and began to tie the men up. “Can’t have you lot getting back into the party too soon. A shame you didn’t brag how many others are with you.” He picked up the knife his attacker had dropped and slipped it into his belt. Then he went to the trunk by his desk. He opened it and retrieved two pistols. One was ornate, with an ivory finial and gold inlay. A souvenir from one of his encounters with Mendoza. The other was plain, with a heavy hexagonal barrel. All business, no embellishments that didn’t belong. Much like the man who originally owned it: Jack’s father. He checked to make sure both guns were loaded. After he primed them both, he tucked them into his belt at his back. Then he paused to collect his thoughts. “Dad, just in case you’re looking in on this, I could use your help. A well-timed warning, hell, even a calm heart and steady hand would be appreciated. It’s just that... I don’t want to die like this. I don’t want her to die like this, either.” He sighed as he slipped on his baldric. “Like you always said, standing around talking about a thing doesn’t get it settled.” Jack cautiously went to the door and looked down the companionway. Faint light spilled into the space where Honour’s door would be. Just then he heard scuffling, and muffled sound of her cry. He moved quickly and quietly until he was right outside her cabin. As he drew his knife, a man began backing out of the doorway, dragging a kicking and twisting Honour with him. But the man stopped in his tracks when he felt the blade of Jack’s knife at his throat. “You’re making a really bad decision, mate,” he said menacingly in the mutineer’s ear. “She’ll never forgive me for staining her dressing gown with your blood.” Honour managed to get her mouth free from the man’s hand. “Jack, he’s got a gun in my back!” “Aye, she’s right. So cut me throat if ye please. I’ll take her with me, and we’ll soak that gown in blood together.” After a moment, Jack slowly took the blade from the mutineer’s neck. “All right, mate. We’ll have it your way.” “What?!” Honour said incredulously. “Now you’re thinkin’ straight,” agreed the man. “In fact, what to I care about her?” laughed Jack. “She’s just another doxy to me. Here, mate, have some fun with her on me.” Jack shoved Honour free from her captor. She stumbled forward and caught herself at the foot of the bed. She turned to look back, her eyes full of confusion and anger. Taken by surprise, the mutineer turned toward Jack, the pistol still pointed at Honour. But the man’s expression swiftly became one of disbelief. Honour look down to see her husband’s hand holding the handle of a knife, the blade buried deep in the treacherous man’s chest. “Sorry, changed my mind,” Jack said to the dying man. “Husband’s prerogative.” Jack took the pistol from the man’s hand and held it out for Honour to take as the man slumped to the deck. "'Doxy'? You called me a doxy?!" "I was improvising!" "Are you sure it wasn't commentary?" "Oh, so now you're a critic." “What the hell is going on?” she demanded. “Has the crew gone mad?” “Yeah, something like that. It’s called mutiny. Here, take this and stop asking questions.” He knelt down to search the dead man for any other weapons that could be useful. Honour sat down on the deck, facing Jack and the open doorway. “Where the hell were you, anyway? You were supposed to protect me!” He motioned angrily at the dead body in front of them. “What do you call this? Afternoon tea? Now shut up and let me---” Jack fell silent as Honour raised the pistol, and he found himself looking right down its barrel. “Honour, I know you’re upset, but please...” His eyes went wide as he saw her finger squeeze the trigger. And they slammed shut as he heard the pistol fire.

As Jack and Honour sparred below decks, life aboard ship went on as usual. The men busied themselves with their duties, unconcerned about what their eccentric captain might be up to. Every man, save one. Samuel Burgess was at his station on the forward deck, but his attention was focussed on the quarterdeck and the actions of the men who occupied it. His face was fixed in a judgemental scowl as he watched Jack and Briggs leave the ship’s holy ground and go below. He put down one of the crates he had been moving and slowly walked over to a young man who was sitting on a barrel by the gunwale, measuring out lengths of rope. “Six months aboard this stinkin’ ship and how many times have we chased down any prey. Eli?” asked Burgess. “Three, maybe four times? And then it was more to appease the crew than honest piracy. I’m not a dog to be let out for a run every now and again. Wolfe, he’s got his head twisted round by that woman so, he’s forgotten what it means to be a pirate! I’ll bet twenty-five shillings her being aboard is why he broke chase with that freighter. To protect his little dove. Well, I’ve had enough of this rubbish. Wolfe needs to learn what happens to captains who quit actin’ like a proper captain.” Eli held his silence, busying himself with repairing a hemp cable with a marlinspike and the rope he had just cut. He understood what Burgess getting at, but he wanted no part in it if he could avoid the matter. The last thing Eli Meredith wanted next to his name was the title “mutineer”. “You ain’t talkin’ much,” said Burgess. “Ain’t got much to say. You’re talking enough for us both. I need to concentrate.” “What, you don’t mind bein’ a pirate aboard a pirate ship what don’t do any piratin’?” “I suppose so. The work is fair and the pay is good. I’ve got no quarrel with the captain or Master Briggs.” Burgess eyed the younger man with contempt. “No quarrels, eh? What if I was to hang you along with Wolfe and Briggs when I take this ship? Would you be content with that, too?“ Eli swallowed hard and slowly shook his head. “Didn’t think so. Just remember that when the time comes. You’re either with me or you’re with them, and those not with me in the end will swing, I swear to god they will.” Burgess went back to rearranging crates while Eli sat there, unable to concentrate on his work thanks to the sound of his heart beating in his ears. Finally, Eli cleared his throat. “And, ah, just when were you thinking of... teaching the captain this lesson you’re talking about?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word “mutiny”. It felt like he was trapped in a bad dream, one he knew would get worse. Asking when it would finally happen seemed like a safe precaution. Burgess stopped and smiled at him. “Aye, I knew you’d come round to my way of thinking!” “Well, actually---” “Tonight. We move tonight. I’ll let you know exactly when. Just be ready.” Eli’s jaw worked wordlessly for a moment. “Um, all right. Just how many of... us will there be?” He was praying there would be a large number of men involved so he could discreetly fade into the background when all hell broke loose. “Nah, mate. That’s for me to know, just in case you turn yellow and spill your guts. Then the only one they could nick is me, and the other can settle the score. You just be ready, understand?” Burgess gave him a wink as he shouldered another crate and walked away. Eli nodded. His stomach felt like it had turned to stone, and he silently cursed the day he stepped from dry land into this watery nightmare. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jack and Honour spent the rest of the day in their respective cabins, neither one willing to take one conciliatory step out their door. Briggs checked in on them from time to time, offering each of them food and friendly conversation. Both refused the conversation, but Honour eventually agreed to a small evening meal. Jack was too busy brooding to even think of eating. Finally, Josiah tired of trying to play the intermediary and retired to his own quarters for the night. He silently resolved that if the quarrelling couple weren’t making any progress by midday, he would force them into the same room and lock them in, and let nature take its course. Either they would kill one another, or they would spend the rest of the voyage in bed together. At this point, the beleaguered quartermaster didn’t favour an outcome. Jack looked up from the book he had been reading and noticed that night had fallen. He rubbed his eyes and tossed the book onto the large table, where it landed amid a tangle of charts and mapping instruments. He poured himself a cup of rum and walked to the window. The stars glistened overhead, and he could make out the wispy glow of the Milky Way. Whatever time it was, he knew it was late into the night. “Why?” he asked himself aloud. “Why do I do such ridiculous things when I'm around her? I can outwit pirate hunters and naval blockades without once losing my head, but not with her. Not with Honour Bright. It seems like from the moment I met her, I’ve never been able to control myself.” He took another sip of rum and stared out at the sea. “Why you? Why in the name of sanity did I have to fall in love with you?” Just then, he heard an odd sound at his door. He turned, and saw its handle moving tentatively. A broad grin broke out on Jack’s face. “Honour!” he whispered hopefully. Immediately, he knocked back the rest of the rum and stashed the cup in his desk. He raced to the bed and started tossing clothes and books onto the floor out of sight. “Just a moment!” he called. He straightened his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair, then began rummaging under the bed for one of the bottles of merlot wine he kept hidden there for just such an occasion. If Honour wanted to talk, he wanted to make sure the conversation had a happy ending. But as his hand closed on the neck of the bottle, he heard the cabin door slam open. He turned to see two of his crewmen, one brandishing a knife and the other a pistol, both with a murderous look in their eyes. “Look at that, Dougie,” one chuckled. “We’s gonna be the heroes of this here mutiny!” Jack’s breath caught in his throat. Mutiny. The one word that made any sea captain’s blood run cold. How many were against him? Was this just the start? Oh god, had they already gotten to Honour? He stared at the the two mutineers, and found he could only think of one word to say through clenched teeth. “Bollocks.”

Jack turned around from helping one of the men pull a cannon into the gun port. "What the HELL are you doing?" he shouted. Her hand was shaking as she wrapped both hands around the grip. "I--I'll shoot. I swear I will. I will shoot you if you don't stop this right now. I won't have it, Jack. I won't." Her voice was almost on the edge of hysteria. "Honour....Honour, sweetheart. Hand me the gun. Nice and slow...." "NO!" Tears were streaming down her face. "We won't do this again. Not now. Not EVER! Do you HEAR me?" Jack advanced slowly and cautiously towards her, his hand outstretched. "Please, darling....hand it over. Hand it over nice and slow...." She closed her eyes, the gun wavering. He knew that look. He saw it once before in Castara. Only she wasn't holding a pistol. She was holding a sword and the victim was a palmetto. Jack knew he had to make a move. He leaped towards her and gripped her arms with his hands. The gun pointed up in the split second before a bullet ricocheted off the mainsail, nicking the mast. They both looked up, startled. He held her tight and whispered, "Just calm down...calm down...take a deep breath..." Tears were streaming down her face but he didn't know if he was reaching her. She was in a place and time he couldn't seem to reach. Gently, he slipped the pistol out of her hand and tossed it to the deck. Honour didn't react except to bury her face in his chest and sob. "It's all right, love. Just settle down. Let me help you go somewhere safe..." "No!" she cried. "There's nowhere safe! Not on this ship, not anywhere!" She feebly pounded on his chest with her fist as sobs wracked her body. "That's enough," he replied sternly. "Come on, I've got to get you below." Honour put up only token resistance as he led her off the deck and into the companionway. "There, that's it. We're almost there," he said in the most comforting tones he could muster. He steered her through the doorway of her room. "See? Here's your cabin. I promise, you'll be safe inside here. I'll come get you as soon--" "NO!!" she shouted, and she shoved him away with all the strength she could find. "You said that before, and everything went to hell! You can't do this to me again, Jack! I can't watch you die!" She collapsed onto the bed, her tears coming harder than ever. "Honour, I can't take the time for this right now. I promise, it will all be over very quickly, no shots fired, no bloodshed. I swear it." "Stop the chase, and I'll believe you!" "I'm sorry, but I can't. I'll lose all respect of the men if I tell them to break off now, just because you want it." "To hell with them, and to hell with you!" she spat. "I don't doubt that for a moment, love. But for now I have to go back topside and take care of business. Please, stay here where you'll be safe. Nothing will go wrong, I swear it!" No sooner were the words out of his mouth, that the ship suddenly lurched then listed hard to its port side. Jack was knocked from his feet and went sprawling to the deck beside Honour's bed. "What in blazes...?!" He pulled himself back up and made his way to the door. The ship was starting to right herself, but he could hear the frantic shouts of the men on deck. "You said nothing would happen!" Honour said accusingly. "Well, the ship has other ideas!" he snapped. With that, he slammed the door and locked it.

Finally, the sound of the bells came. One, two, three, four. 'Still the middle of the night,' he thought. But as his eyes began to open, he could see that the cabin was illuminated with sunlight. He sat bolt upright in bed. "Bollocks! It's the middle of the morning!" he exclaimed. Hastily he pulled on his trousers, a fresh shirt, and boots and headed up on deck. It wasn't like him to sleep away the morning while at sea. Soon he was on the quarterdeck, still squinting in the bright morning sun. "Mornin', Jack! I was beginnin' to wonder if ye'd forgotten about us," joked Briggs. The young seaman at the wheel, Ned Tomlinson, stifled a chuckle. "I must have stayed up too late reading," lied Jack. "Tomlinson, how fare we today?" he asked quickly. "On course, Captain," the young man replied. "Master Briggs reckons we'll make landfall by evening next. I'm guessing you'll want to lay by until the next morning before we make our approach?" "You guess right, Ned," smiled Jack. "With no charts to guide us, I'll not risk the ship by getting her too close." Jack turned to speak with Briggs, but just then the lookout's voice rang out. "A sail, a sail! To port side, a sail!" he cried. Jack took the spyglass from beside the wheel and examined the unknown ship. She was an East Indiaman, riding fairly low in the water. Her sails were being trimmed as she attempted to attempted to catch more wind. She had spotted the pirate ship and was starting to run. He lowered the glass and looked down to the weather deck, and the expectant faces of the crew looking back at him. Jack paused for a moment and turned to Briggs. The quartermaster knew that gleam in his friend's eyes. He took a deep breath and, in spite of his feelings to the contrary, nodded in agreement. Stepping to the railing, Jack addressed his crew. "We have the advantage of the wind, and speed as well! That merchantman is riding low, which means there's cargo aboard. But she's already turned her heels to us. Shall we pass on, or make her a prize today? What say you all?" The crew replied with a resounding "Aye!!" Nodding his approval, Jack began barking orders. "Stations, then! Gunners, load with chain and grapeshot only, in case we need to make a point! The rest of you, lay on canvas! I want that distance between us closed and quickly!" He turned to Josiah and gave a flinty smile. "The island has waited this long. Another few hours won't make a difference." "Jack, are ye sure ye want to do this? What if they make a fight of it? Ye've got Honour to think of." "Josiah, they won't fight! This will all be over in an hour or two. There's nothing to worry about." "For your sake, and hers, I hope ye be right, Jack." Honour heard his boots pounding on the deck as he came down the hall. She held her breath as she waited and exhaled as she heard them pass by. A little voice inside her said, 'Disappointed, Honour? You know you wanted him to break the door down and....' "Nonsense!" She said to herself. She listened to the sounds of commotion and Jack giving orders to load the guns. Quickly she jumped up and threw her chemise over her head, hastily running to the port window. A ship was in the distance but it appeared to be getting closer. 'Oh no...NO! Does he really intend.....?' She felt herself get faint and bent over to get the blood back to her head. She found it hard to catch her breath. Memories of that fateful day came flooding back to her. Memories of a Spanish ship with the Norman Cross....memories of cannonballs in the great cabin and the sounds of men begging for her help. The smell of gunpowder...and the sight of Jack being spun to the deck. She held her hands out in front of her and whispered, 'The blood...oh, the blood....' She couldn't control the trembling of her hands. 'I can't....I WON'T!' I can't do this. Not again....not ever. This time it stops. This time it ends.' She fought down the rising wave of nausea that was beginning to overcome her. No, I won't do it! I'm not a coward. But enough is enough!' She ran down to Jack's cabin, frantically searching for the only thing she could think of to stop him. 'Where did he keep it? Did he move it? It has to be here somewhere....' She rummaged around in the chest of drawers. Nothing. She checked the armoire. Not there. She reached under the mattress. Her hand curved around something. Could that be it? She pulled it out and there it was. The flintlock. 'I have to stop him before he kills me or himself!' She opened the door and walked with a determined stride to the deck. But her bravado was fading from her. Walking up behind Jack, she pointed the flintlock. He turned around. The weapon began to shake in her hand and she said in a trembling voice, "Don't make me shoot you, Jack. It stops. And it stops now."

Jack looked at her and said softly, "I don't think I have ever seen you look so lovely, Honour. So...vulnerable. The dressing gown and the wet hair..." "Well, you have me at a disadvantage, Oxford boy. So don't get any ideas." She reached over and helped herself to an apple, the dressing gown affording him a view of what he once laid claim to. He swallowed hard. She polished the apple on her gown and said wistfully, "Was it really only eighteen months ago, Jack? It seems like another lifetime ago that you crossed my wake that night...." She took a bite of the apple and offered it to him. Suddenly he felt off his footing in his own game. Or was it a game? He looked at her as Adam must have looked at Eve. Temptation in her hand and in her eyes. Jack stepped forward and took the apple from her hand. He regarded it thoughtfully, looking at the bite she had taken from it. In a husky voice, he whispered, "Show me how it tasted," throwing the apple over his shoulder. He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. She felt herself giving in to those old feelings and emotions. She kissed him back and felt her knees go weak. As always when he kissed her. She broke away and her breath came in short, ragged gasps. "Damn you, Jack Wolfe! Just..damn you!" She felt the sash on her dressing gown untied and Jack's hand around her waist, drawing her close to him. His other hand was caressing her. Jack's head was spinning. Not from rum or ale or other spirits, but from the pent up passions he still held for Honour. It was all so overpowering; the scent of jasmine, the taste of her kiss, the softness of her curves which he could scarcely wait to explore once again. This wasn't mere conquest. This was something more. Much more. "I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't, Honour," he replied between their increasingly passionate kisses. Just then, the heavy latch of the cabin door announced the arrival of some unwanted visitor with a loud clack. The door swung open and in walked Josiah Briggs, still looking at whatever was on the paper in his hand. "Jack, I was lookin' over these calculations ye made, and I---" He stopped cold when he saw Jack and Honour in their lover's embrace. "--- I really wish I was drunk right now," he finished. Honour quickly clutched her dressing gown around her, the moment between her and her estranged husband shattered. "Don't you ever knock?!" fumed Jack. "Nay, but I sure wish I had now," said Briggs, still in shock. "I'll leave now," said Honour as she turned for the door. "No, please stay," said Jack. "Briggs, go!" "No, Josiah, stay," replied Honour. "I''m going. Good night, Jack." Honour brushed past Briggs and hurried down the companionway, back to her quarters. "I was startin' to feel like the ship's dog for a minute," the quartermaster quipped, trying to diffuse the situation between himself and his friend. "Right now, consider yourself in the doghouse until further notice." "I'm sorry for bargin' in that way, Jack. I had no way of knowin' the two of ye would be..." Jack raised an eyebrow. "Dining together?" "Call it what ye will. And I didn't see nothin', I swear!" "Liar. Your face is still red as a beet." Briggs scowled uncomfortably and pulled at his collar . "Well, 'tis a might warm in here." "Considerably more so before you arrived. Jack plopped down in a chair and poured himself some rum punch. "Fine then, O Destroyer of Moods, what's on your mind?" Briggs walked to the table and handed over the page he'd been reading. "It's these numbers. I double checked against what ye'd wrote this mornin'. See here, and here?" Jack looked at the entries, then quickly opened the journal. He compared them, and sagged back in his seat. "I transposed the heading numbers? Bloody hell. I never make mistakes like that!" "I'm guessin' ye had somethin' on your mind," said Briggs, as he nodded toward Honour's cabin. "Damned sloppy of me. Well, the damage is done. How far off are we?" Briggs smiled broadly. "Only half a day, if we clap on full sail again." "Half a day? That's all? Master Briggs, give the order!" "I took the liberty of doin' it already. Somethin' told me ye'd want it done." "Consider yourself out of the doghouse, Josiah. And thank you." Briggs walked to the table and handed over the page he'd been reading. "It's these numbers. I double checked against what ye'd wrote this mornin'. See here, and here?" Jack looked at the entries, then quickly opened the journal. He compared them, and sagged back in his seat. "I transposed the heading numbers? Bloody hell. I never make mistakes like that!" "I'm guessin' ye had somethin' on your mind," said Briggs, as he nodded toward Honour's cabin. "Damned sloppy of me. Well, the damage is done. How far off are we?" Briggs smiled broadly. "Only half a day, if we clap on full sail again." "Half a day? That's all? Master Briggs, give the order!" "I took the liberty of doin' it already. Somethin' told me ye'd want it done." "Consider yourself out of the doghouse, Josiah. And thank you." "Just doin' me job," said Briggs as he walked to the door. "And next time, do me a favour and hang a stocking on the door handle? I'm goin' to need me a drink or two after that." "I'll take it under advisement, if there's another time. You know where the rum is." "Aye. G'night, Jack." "Good night, Josiah." Jack watched as the door closed behind Briggs, and he gave a heavy sigh. He looked down at the floor and found the apple he and Honour had shared in their own intimate way. He picked it up and regarded it. "So close. So very, very, close..."

The morning sun broke over the horizon to the forward quarter of El Lobo as the ship knifed through the sea. Jack took a reading of the sun's position, compared it with the vessel's present heading, and made a slight course adjustment. As he lashed the wheel in place, he saw Josiah emerge on the weather deck. Jack smiled as he saw that the quartermaster was bringing more strong coffee. "Your timing is excellent, Josiah. Thank you." He took the coffee and felt renewed at it's very aroma. "Ahh...this is just what I needed." Jack added a healthy dose of rum. "Didn't sleep well last night." Josiah held back his remark but the smirk plastered on his face told Jack what he was thinking. "What was that look?" "What look?" "Uh huh," replied Jack. "It's not what you're thinking. I had a lot on my mind and little energy or desire to sort it out. So I thought, what better way to get a fresh start on things than to do a bit of reading in the fresh air?" "All the books in that library ye call a cabin, and that's what ye chose? That infernal journal? I'm surprised ye ain't read the ink off the pages yet." "This 'infernal book' is the reason we're out here, Josiah. You know that." Jack turned to a page he had marked with a strip of cloth. "I've been comparing these entries against the measurements I just took. I'd say we're about a day out from the island. give or take. The winds are following and we've no unwanted company, so I say we reef sail and save the strain on the masts." Josiah gave him a skeptical look. "A day or so out from an island ye don't even know the name of, much less the location?" "Must we go through this every time? No, I don't know the actual name of the island. No one does. As for its location, I'm reasonably certain I know approximately where it may be. Relatively speaking." Briggs held up his coffee cup. "I'll be needin' a bit of rum if ye expect me to make sense of that this early." "I'll pour the rum, you go tell the men to take in sail by one quarter," said Jack. "Oh, and while you're at it, do me the favour of rousting my ever-so-mild bride from her slumber and bring her on deck? I'd hate for her to miss such a delightful sunrise." Briggs gave him an incredulous look. "What the hell did I do to warrant such?" "Now, now, Josiah, you know I love you like a brother." With a resigned sigh, Briggs trudged down the stairs to the weather deck. "Aye, now I know how Abel felt..." he grumbled. Briggs went down to what was temporarily formerly his quarters. He knocked gently. No answer. He knocked harder. Then he pounded on the door. Honour finally heard it. "Go away!" she mumbled, snuggling deeper into her blankets. Briggs said through the door, "Cap'n requests your presence on the deck as of now." She rolled over onto her back, throwing her covers off her face and looking up at the ceiling. "Would you kindly tell the Devil of the Seven Seas that I am not home?" Briggs chuckled, "He knows better, Honour." "Then tell him I am disinclined to acquiesce to his request. Being an Oxford boy, he will understand that." She snuggled back down and threw the blankets back over her head. Briggs knocked again. "You know eventually you will have to come out, Mrs. Wolfe. The sun is ever so beautiful this time of morning and..." "What time IS it?" "Oh....I would say about fifteen minutes to sun-up. You can just see it break over---" "Break over his head? Oh, what a lovely thought! But you see, Dear Mr Briggs, that would prevent me from sleeping and we wouldn't want that, would we? So take my regrets, wrap it up in that red dress and tell my demanding husband that I will get up when I am good and ready. And not a minute before." Josiah climbed the stairs back to the quarterdeck. "Well...where is she? Taking her sweet time? Usually it is worth the wait." "Her reply was in the negative, Jack. She's harder to move than a fouled anchor." Jack sighed and stood up from the railing he had been sitting on. "Josiah, you've known me for at least sixteen years now, and I still haven't been able to teach you how to handle a woman." "If ye didn't find every woman what Hell's spat back out, I'd pay more attention." "Now, you just have to know how to tame the pussycat! With the right application of petting and a little catnip--or wine--a woman can be putty in your hands." Jack descended the seven steps from the quarterdeck to the weather deck. "Well, at least she's awake. That's a start. The ship is yours." He walked over to the barrel by the mainmast. "I think this will do." He hefted a boarding pike in his hands. "Good Lord, Jack! Skewering her won't solve anything!" "Don't be redundant, Josiah. I just need this for a little...leverage. Now....watch and learn."

Honour walked quickly down the hall to Jack's quarters to pick up a few of the less destroyed garments. The door reverberated as she slammed it shut. She caught several books as they started to fall from the shelf. What boring books! Oh, what have we here? She pulled a book out and could scarcely contain a giggle. Japanese prints, huh? She hastily put the book back and picked up another one. 'Kama.....Kama Sutra. Kama Sutra? What is this?' She opened it and quickly closed it. Curious, she opened it again. 'I didn't know that was physically possible...I guess if you don't mind the blood rushing to your head...' Putting the books back on the shelf, Honour picked up a few of the dresses with the lesser amounts of stains. 'Perhaps a day in the fresh air from the crossbeam will get Eau de 'Ho out of my dresses.' As she headed out, she turned back to the cabin and picked up the Kama Sutra. Thumbing through it, she began to look closely. Quite a few pages were dog-eared and there were checkmarks next to the graphic pictures. Once in a while a name was scrawled on the bottom. Her face began to burn when she realized she had stumbled across the equivalent of Jack's little black book. She hastily looked for her name on any of them but the pictures didn't seem familiar and her name was nowhere to be found. 'You bloody bastard!' she hissed. 'You've been keeping score. Well, let's see Jack Wolfe try it without a manual. I mean...with someone else.' She shoved the book under her armful of clothes and headed back towards Briggs' quarters. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Did you hear that?" asked Jack. He collapsed the spyglass he was using to survey the horizon and turned to Briggs at the ship's wheel. "Felt it, too," answered Briggs. "I figured we brushed over some debris." "No, that was right below our feet." Jack thought for a moment. "I'm going below to check things out. It would serve me right, leaving Honour alone-- I mean, unguarded." Briggs nodded slowly. "Aye, I'm sure ye did." Jack shook his head and made his way back to his quarters. Everything seemed quiet. He paused at the closed door to Briggs' cabin and raised his hand to knock. But he reconsidered, letting his hand drop to his side. He went on to his cabin, and paused as he turned the doorknob. It seemed oddly loose. When the door swung open, it was missing its distinctive groaning squeak. Looking around the cabin, he saw only a couple of the dresses Honour had thrown a conniption over earlier. Jack smiled to himself. Jack went to his desk and sat down, taking a moment to mark the ship's current position on the map. The island had to be on this course, he just knew it. Or was trying mightily to convince himself it was. He tapped a ruler absentmindedly on the desk. Whether he was right or not, it would be another two days, maybe more, before he knew for sure. If he was wrong, then kidnapping Honour had been a terrible mistake. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe, now that some time had passed, they could talk things out... He shook his head and laughed at the notion. Pure silly thought, that's all it was. Still, he felt a twinge of... guilt? Guilt for dragging her off on some wild expedition? Maybe if he'd taken her along on the trip to Martinique... "Martinique!" he said with a slap of the ruler on the desktop. He went quickly to a large sea chest that had been shoved in the corner. He opened the heavy lid and smiled with satisfaction. There, still on top and undamaged, was a large box. Undamaged save for the bow, which had seen better days. It contained a red dress, lovely and lacy, that he had bought as a coming home gift for Honour. The dress was still in pristine condition. "Just her style, and my favourite colour," he said as he closed the box and headed to her cabin door. He knocked three times and waited. "Who is it?" came Honour's voice through the door. "Take a guess, dear," he said cheerily. "Hmmm. Satan?" Jack's expression soured a bit. "Hardly. Care to try again?" "What do you want, Jack?" "I have something for you, love. Are you decent?" "Don't get your hopes up, Don Juan. Yes, I am." "Then open the door." "Why should I?" "Because I have something nice for you. A gift." "What is it?" "It wouldn't be much of a gift if I told you what it was." There was a long pause. "You're determined to make me open this door, aren't you? "That's the general idea, yes. It won't fit underneath." She hastily shoved the book under the pillow. Jack could hear the latch slide back, and Honour opened the door. "This had better be some gift," she said with distrust. He held out the box and smiled. "Pour vous." She looked at the box with the bedraggled ribbon and the look of pride and hopefulness on Jack's face and her heart melted a little. "Oh....Jack." She gently touched the ribbon. "Well, it has seen better days. After all, it has been all over the Caribbean and it got a bit squashed in my chest." She sat down on the bed with the package on her lap. "I picked it out with you in mind. I mean, it was a gift of a man to his wife. Except wifey wasn't there." She felt a blush on her cheeks. "Jack, you really didn't have to...." "I wanted to. I guess I kept it in hopes that someday I could give it to you. No matter what happened between us." She opened up the box and held up the contents. "Oh....my! This is just beautiful!" She stood up and held it up to her. "How does it look?" "Can't tell a thing with it up to your shoulders and one leg sticking out. Go ahead and try it on." She frowned. "I don't know...." Jack reclined on the bed and said, "Honour, there is nothing there that I haven't seen. Alright, so I haven't seen it in eighteen months.... oh don't get so pouty on me. I just want to....hello! What have we here?" He lifted the pillow. "Well, well, Miss Honour Bright! Doing a little research, are we? And you are already up to number.....69, is it?" She felt her face burn. "It looks like you are the one who did quite a bit of research. Let's see...Monique...Isabelle....Simone..." "You forgot Molly and Polly. I do believe they were number 34 and 35 respectively. Would you care to try for number 74?" She retorted, "With or without the red dress?" "There's no dress in there and you know it. Besides, I had no idea you were interested in a manual. If you want, I have a few other books and we can study them together." She stood up. "You haven't changed. Not one bit." "I haven't exactly had a reason to, darling. Being a pirate and living like a monk don't exactly go together." "And I haven't lived like a nun. What do you say to that?" He shrugged. "Off-setting sins. The scales are balanced. Now, how about those books..." "You're impossible! I've never known anyone who can rationalise even the most outrageous circumstances!" "Thank you, dear. I try." "Get out," she said tersely. "Oh, Honour, I'm sorry. I was just having a bit of fun..." "Get out!" "I said I was sorry!" "And I said GET OUT! Take your damned dress with you!" Jack got off the bed and backed toward the door. "I'm going to leave the dress with you. I meant it as a sincere gift." "I don't care! I don't want to see it, or you!" "Think it over. I'll be round later- much later- and you can give me a private showing. Of the dress." Honour shot him a look that Jack knew well. A look that told him it was time to duck. He moved quickly into the companionway, only to run right into a tall crewman named Davis. "Sorry, cap'n! I didn't see you!" he said quickly. "No worries, Davis. My clumsiness..." "I said take this with you!" shouted Honour. She came out of the cabin with the dress wadded in her hands, and threw it as hard as she could at Jack. Reflexively, he ducked, and Davis got a face full of red French lace. Honour didn't wait to see where the dress landed. She was too angry with Jack and his flippant attitude to even care. Not even the resounding slam of the door made her feel any better. Jack looked up at Davis, who was still too confused by what has just happened to even move. "Cap'n, what...?" "Not your best look, mate," said Jack as he peeled the dress off Davis' head. "I'd go with blue or green next time. Presentation is everything, remember that." "Um, all right..." Jack draped the dress over his shoulder and walked back to his cabin. He laid it on the bed and stared at it. "Nicely done, Jack," he said to himself. "Why did I do that? Why do I let myself get so out of control with her?" He sat down and stared dejectedly at the deck. "Because you still love her, you fool," he admitted quietly.

Startled by the outburst, Jack looked over to where Honour stood at the door to the companionway. "Ah! Honour! There you are!" he said as he backed away gingerly. "I, ah, was about to come and talk to you." She continued to stare daggers at him. "Were you, now?" "Yes! I, you see, I was thinking about what I said--" His words broke off when he backed into the mainmast. "-- about what I said earlier." "Really? When I'm cooperating so peaceably? Well, how's THIS for peaceable?!" In a flash, she launched the sgian dubh she had pulled from her boot. It whistled through the air as it flew at Jack. He flinched, and the blade caught the material of his shirt, pinning him to the mast. "ARE YOU INSANE??!! You could have killed me!" "Nonsense. I was aiming at your head." He grabbed the hilt of the short knife. It refused to come free from the mast. "You nearly hit my good shoulder, woman! I don't need a hole in that one too!" Honour put her hands on her hips and struck a pose that prominently showcased her ample cleavage. "Really? I know how fond you are of symmetry." Jack still struggled with the knife as she sauntered over to him. She whispered in his ear, 'I guess this is the closest you will get to being nailed.' By this time, Jack's crew gathered around but stayed at a respectable distance. 'just wait till I get my hands free....damn...this is silk....uh....' Amusing as it was to watch Jack's shirt impaled on the mainmast with him in it, she decided it would be best to retire to a place untill he cooled off. Preferably Tortuga. She scampered quickly down the companionway but not before she yelled her parting thoughts. 'Tup you and the ship you sailed in on!' Briggs put the pipe in his mouth to hide the smirk on his face as he went over to help Jack free himself. "Embedded too deep right now, Jack. 'fraid the shirt has to...'RIIIIPPPP! As the force of the shirt gave way, Jack found himself on the deck looking up at the crow's nest and a sky of blue. His head rebounded off the teak. He scrambled to his feet. "What are you looking at, you scabrous dogs?! All of you, to your posts! Don't make me say it twice!" Josiah's back was turned, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Holding his aching head, Jack looked at Briggs' smirking face. "Josiah, do not make me kill you today..." Jack began to notice something other than the sea breeze on his back. It was the sound of his men chuckling. His face began to burn hot with embarrassment. "That's it, the show is over. Back to your posts, the lot of you! Unless you're willing to spend the next two weeks without a drop of rum!" The men dispersed, returning to their duties. Jack watched them for a moment before turning to talk to Briggs. However, Briggs was in no state to talk. He stood there looking at his captain, with his hand over his mouth. Jack couldn't tell if he was hiding a smile or stifling an outburst of laughter. "Not you too," grumbled Jack. "I'll say this for Honour, she ain't lost a bit of fire." "No, no she hasn't," said Jack. In spite of the humiliation he'd just experienced, he couldn't help but feel a certain admiration for her. Once again, she proved herself his equal. No wonder he could never get over her. "I take it ye'll be findin' another shirt, Jack? Or is this a new fashion statement?" "Wise-arse. The ship is yours til I get back. With a new shirt." Briggs offered him Honour's knife. "Souvenir of your busy day?" "Keep the damned thing. I've quite done with it," muttered Jack as he stalked off.

"You wouldn't dare," she said defiantly. "Maybe. Maybe not. I might show mercy on you, for old time's sake. We'll pass close to an island used by an old... I wouldn't call him a friend, but a colleague. I could drop you off there and see if he'll eventually take you back to Barbados. But I have to warn you, he's not terribly fond of blondes. Not after one crippled his hands." Honour's face blanched. "That won't be necessary. I shall play by the rules as long as you live up to your end of the bargain." "You have my word." "As a pirate? HA!" "How about as someone who used to be your husband." "Not much better, Jack. But seeing as how I am a prisoner here, I have no choice." Jack leaned over. He took her chemise neckline and pulled her close to him. He slowly ran his finger across the swell of her dress. She felt her heart skip a beat. He leaned in close and she unconsciously closed her eyes and started to part her lips. He whispered, "I'll be taking this." He reached in and deftly removed her bodice dagger. Her eyes flew open. "And I'll be taking this too." He unsheathed her rapier. "Such lovely, shiny cutlery. Off to the armoury with it! You will get it back when this is all over. I prefer you vulnerable. In more ways than one." Jack took a step forward as she took one back. Back. Forward. Back. Forward. Until there was no more backing up since she hit the wall. He leaned forward. "Feeling a bit naked, love? No weapons to protect yourself with?" She found she couldn't tear her eyes away from his. Just like it was months ago. "And...and where am I to sleep? Certainly...oh, no. No! You intend to ravish me!" Jack opened his mouth to offer some pithy reply, but found he was beginning to lose himself in her ever so blue eyes, just as he had so many times before. He swallowed hard and put his hand up in between them as he collected his thoughts and figuratively established some space between himself and his wife. "As... tempting as that sounds, love, no. No, I promised you this would be a business transaction. For the sake of what good faith remains, I'll respect that. But for the time being, I'm going to put your toys in a safe place. You can have them back once we get to the island." He turned to walk to the door, but stopped and looked back at her. "That is, unless you really had your heart set on getting ravished, in which case I'd be more than happy..." His voiced trailed off as she began to glower at him. "I'll take that as a no. In that case, You can have Briggs' quarters. I suppose I should have asked him first, but I can take his yelling over yours." "Of course if you do find yourself all...bothered, I'll leave my door unlocked. "Besides, I'd rather you get used to being around me again. Nothing deflates a man's....ego more than you yelling out another captain's name when he's tupping you." He turned and walked out the door without so much as a backward glance at her. Inexplicably, she felt a solitary tear trail down her cheek. She wiped it with the back of her hand. She felt degraded. How dare Jack turn what wonderful thing that happens between a man and a woman into something cheap and shameful. She sat there, her fingers idly twisting the fringe on the coverlet. A feeling of worthlessness swept over her. But suddenly she felt an anger overtaking her humiliation. How dare he...how DARE he? If anyone knew about tawdry relationships, it was Jack Wolfe, equal opportunity debaucher.She reached into her boot and stood up. He's no better than me and to equate it to.....sheep. Sheep! Resolutely she strode over to the door, her hurt fueling every step. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jack took out his keys and opened the small door where weapons were kept. He unceremoniously dumped her weaponry where the rest was and locked it. Suddenly a sense of shame overcame him for using his barbs to humiliate Honour. He momentarily thought about going back to the cabin and apologising- in a roundabout way, of course- for his cutting remarks. But just then he heard the cabin door swing open and the sound of boot heels striking the deck. Angrily. 'No point in going back to offer an apology when she's on the way to demand one,' he thought. He locked the armoury door and quickly made his way to the weather deck. The more witnesses, the less likely she would be to make a big scene, he reasoned. Jack squinted as he stepped into the sunlight. "I didn't expect to see ye for at least another four hours," Briggs called from the quarterdeck. "Not bloody likely," laughed Jack. "Things are under control. We can leave it at that." "No crockery thrown this time?" "She's cooperating peaceably enough---" "BASTARD!!"

The sun rose over the sea like the Phoenix. Jack watched from the quarterdeck over his morning cup, and smiled at the promise of Honour bringing the Sun key. A lookout called from his post. "Cap'n! She's at the docks, but she's stopped! " "That figures. She always was a big tease," said Jack. Josiah snorted sharply. "Just take the key and be done with it!" Jack grabbed a rum bottle from behind the binnacle and took a deep tug. He walked down the steps to the gun deck and called out to the small form of his bride through the speaking trumpet. "Oi! You! The pretty blonde! Yeah, you, love! Don't be so shy, for you know I don't bite... too roughly! That's it! Come this way, or I shall voice more personal matters for all the good people of this town to hear!" Jack smiled as Honour grudgingly walked down the pier. "You said to meet you on the docks. Well, this is the docks and this is where I am standing. So get your arse down here, Captain Jack Wolfe. I'll not venture any further. This is neutral ground. You should be glad I made it down here at all, having met you here at this ungodly hour." "As you wish!" Jack called, and he laughed as he handed the speaking trumpet off to Josiah. Jack hung his justacorp on the binnacle, and strode down the deck to the gangplank, then to the dock. "How poetic is it, my lovely Honour, that you greet me with the Sun? I hope in more ways than one!" He took five casual steps forward. "Now, what is that on your lovely hip... a blade? I hoped we were over all that, darling." She took five steps back. "You think I have what you need and after you have it, you shall be done with me. How typical of you. I hand over the key and what assurance do I have that my back will be to your rudder in the next hour? And I don't mean floating face down. How can I trust you that I will still be alive an hour from now?" Jack took a step towards her and she made a motion to unsheath her rapier. "You know I can wield this with the best of them. After all, who taught me the finer points of thrust and parry?" "I remember those days love," he said, with an almost feral smile. "Quite the student you were. And how exciting the lessons! I wonder... how much do you remember? But I have no desire to search your lovely body for the Sun key. I take it you indeed have the item you so mightly protested not to have." Jack assumed a relaxed stance. "You can quit fondling that blade, love. We have business to attend to. I swear, upon pain of death, that you shall return to this very dock. You're more a liability to me dead than alive, love. And upon the completion of our business, you'll get that divorce you're so hot after." "I knew you could be reasonable in the end, Jack. You always were impressed by a woman with a blade even if you wouldn't admit it. It always got your blood hot. So let us negotiate and get this taken care of so I can go back to bed. IF--and this is a big IF--I decide to hand over the Sun Key, we split the treasure 50/50 and I regain my freedom from you. You promise to go right to the magistrate's and sign the papers and we part. If those are the terms, then yes. We have an accord." She extended her hand to Jack. Jack took her hand and rubbed the back of it gently. She withdrew her hand. "What do you think you are doing?" "Doing? Doing what?" She gave him a withering look. "I said I would look at this chest and then decide if it is worth my time and effort. I'll give you an hour. No more, no less." "Fair enough," he grinned. "Remember how much we could accomplish in an hour? Of course you were unclothed then...." "Shut it, Jack. Ancient history. Like the pyramids." She turned on her heel and walked resolutely down the dock. Tilting her head up towards El Lobo del Mar, she called out, "I'm not asking permission to come aboard, Briggs. I am telling you I am coming aboard. And not because I want to. It's because your captain requests the honour of my presence." Briggs stood at the gunwale as Honour climbed the gangway, Jack following closely behind. "Don't ye be concerned none about formalities, Honour," started Briggs. "If it were up to me--" He broke off when Jack began making quick gestures for him to be quiet. Honour paused and looked back at Jack, who gave her a suspiciously pleasant smile. She continued on the last few feet and stepped on to the deck. "You were saying, Josiah?" she asked. "It's been a long time, Honour. Welcome aboard." "I promise to make it brief, I assure you." "Aye, that much I figured. Ye remember the way to the captain's quarters?" Honour ignored the heat she felt in her cheeks. "I believe I do. And I'm sure my escort will make sure I don't get lost." "At your service," smiled Jack. "Shall we?" She stared for a moment at the door to the companionway and gave a resigned sigh. "I've come this far. Why not?" "Care to go all the way, love?" She whirled on him and he gave her an innocent look. "I meant all the way to my cabin. For Pete's sake, Honour, get your mind out of the gutter." Briggs stifled a laugh. "Jerk. I'll find my way." Jack reached over to the binnacle and took a swig of rum and watched appreciatively as Honour walked down the companionway. "What is in your mind, Jack? Let's just get the key and get her off this ship!" Jack framed his fingers and positioned them onto a picture of Honour's backside walking away. "Ah...she still has it! Hasn't gotten too broad in the beam!" He picked up a bottle of merlot from the binnacle and headed down following her. "If I am not out in an hour, Briggs, just don't come looking for me till around...oh, tomorrow morning." "Aye, Jack. A touching farewell to the lass or is that a thank you for the gift of a key?" Jack shrugged. "It remains to be seen but hell, I have to get some retribution. Oh...let's say....twenty-four chests of guilder's worth?" "Take more than twenty-four hours to make that up." Jack winked, "Not if you know how to use it right!"

Jack took her by the elbow and propelled her towards his table. Unceremoniously he gave her a push and she landed hard in the seat. Just as quick, he took his seat and placed a booted foot on each side of her, successfully blocking any exit until he said so. He crossed his arms and smiled disarmingly at her. "Now, isn't this better? Can I get you a whiskey?" She laughed bitterly, "No thank you. I haven't been able to stomach it since that night I became your bride." "Well, this is hardly the greeting I would have expected." "What did you expect? That I would throw myself in your arms and beg you to take me back?" 'Something like that. Yeah, that and a dose of humility on the side would be a nice touch." She leaned back and smiled. "What makes you think you haven't been replaced, Jack? In all aspects of my life. After all, we have been separated for quite a while." Jack smirked at his beloved and leaned towards her."Ah....replaced. Not quite the word I was thinking of." He tapped his chin, deep in thought. Then he snapped his fingers. "Substituted! That's the word! Substituted. A much better word. And so have you, but that is neither here nor there. Never replaced. Yes, we have been apart a long time. Far too long. But do you remember the time we spent in Castara? That poor tree? And those words of love we whispered to one another? Do they keep you warm on cold winter nights? You can't forget them, no matter how hard you try. I know it keeps me hot....WARM! I meant warm." "You're like Muir with a bone, only worse," she said with an exasperated roll of her brilliant blue eyes. "Do you intend to waste all ten minutes staggering down memory lane? Let me help you out here, Jack. All those words we spoke, all the... everything else..." She paused to shudder. "It all became meaningless when you drew that pistol and threatened to kill me in your drunken fit of jealous rage. I didn't do that. You did. Now, I've put all that behind me and moved on. That's what you need to do. Get over it and move on. I'm out of your life and you're out of mine, and I prefer it that way." Jack gave a resigned sigh. "I suppose you're right. I've been holding a candle for you all this time, and it's one more flame that should be extinguished." "Now you're talking some sense, Jack. We had our brief day in the sun, but that ended. Life goes on, and so should we." "I agree. But before we part ways for good, I have a question. More a request, actually." "And what is that?" Honour asked warily. "Since our marriage is over, as you've so clearly impressed upon me, then I suspect the sentimental keepsake we exchanged hold no value for you?" "What?" "Say, a certain brassy disc with all manner of spindly arms sticking out from its leering face? Remember it?" Honour's eyes narrowed. "I remember it. That was your sorry excuse for a wedding ring." "The hour was late and I had to improvise." "The hour was late, and you wanted in my bed." "Pot-a-to, po-tah-to. Do you still have it?" Honour looked steadily at Jack. "My, my...for a piece of jewelry that wasn't impressive in the first place, you seem to want it pretty badly. What makes you think I even have it? And if I did, why would I, in a fit of generosity, turn it back to you? I certainly wish I could remember what happened to it. It was so long ago. Why, it could be anywhere. In my room. At the bottom of the ocean. On the bosom of a noblewoman in England. Of course, it would have to be a very large woman. And kind of homely too..." Jack feigned a defeated posture for a moment, then smiled sardonically. "Well, good for you, love. You've bested ol' Jack at his own game. Nicely played." She sighed. "If you REALLY must know what happened to it, I gave it to a captain. He in turn sold it for me and gave me the profit. Didn't ask a percentage, either. Just did it as a favor to a friend. Well, if you want to find it, I daresay it could be on the chest of any high-classed noblewoman. I'd start looking in the Caribbean. Failing that, I'd start in Cornwall and work my way across the continent." She gave Jack a stern look. "Are we done here? I have shopping to do." Jack shook his head slowly and used his feet to pull her chair a little closer to the table. "I don't believe you. See, I remember how you get when you're cornered. You throw up all manner of possibilities and distractions in hopes you can confuse the other person with twisty-turny logic. Well, sunshine, it's not going to work this time. I want the trinket." "Read my lips. I don't HAVE it! But what if I told you I have something to offer that's far more impressive than that horrid bit of shine you're so fixated on?" "And what could that possibly be, my pet?" "This table." "What? What are you---" Honour grabbed hold of the table, gave it a quick twist so one of the legs was lined up with her estranged husband's crotch, and shoved hard. But Jack was quicker. "Darling you know how particular I am about the family jewels," his eyes glittering hard into hers. "I was rather hoping for a playful game of footsie, but I can see that's out of the question now. So back to the matter at hand..." "Jack, I don't have it, how many ways do I have to say it?" "Sweetness, the one thing I've come to learn about you is that the more you protest, the less believable you are. I'll admit, we both felt the thunder. But that bit of gold I gave you is far too large and ornate for you to have merely pawned off somewhere. What I'm offering is that there are two keys to a chest in my possession. I have one of them. I, in a moment of indiscretion, gave the other to you. Now, if you'd kindly accompany me aboard my ship, I'll tell you how I came upon the chest after our matrimony." "Jack, how stupid do you think I am? I board your ship, what is to stop you from pulling up anchor and I will be your bounded prisoner? Let's say I have the Sun pendant and I hand it over to you. What would stop you from pitching me overboard? I unloaded that amulet as soon as I could. I'll tell you the truth. If you really want it, it is in the coffers of St. Armand's Church. In exchange for a confession well-done. Can't remember the name of the town but it is between Barbados and Havana. THAT should give you something to occupy your time. Think of it as a treasure hunt! I know how you loved them!" She crossed her arms and gave him that look of defiance he had come to know all too well during their brief one-month encounter. "So you see--I am of no further use to you. I suggest we both go see the magistrate and end this travesty of a marriage. Then you can buy me that ale AT THE TAVERN and regale me with your little fairytale of how you came in possession of this so-called chest. IF you even have it!" Jack smirked, "You know what, love? I almost believed you for a moment. But knowing how your mind works, you're hoping I'll divulge more. Well, my sweet, I've learned a lesson or two since our last pairing. Foremost, I should never tell you too much. Secondly, you're better off not thinking that every single word out of my mouth is a lie. Only every other word. Every third word on a Sunday. So, when I tell you I have the chest in question, and the Moon key, I'm actually being honest with you. I only wish I'd known about the nature of the chest before I gave you that key. I need that key. It's a fair offer, love. Half the contents of the chest and your freedom to sweeten the deal." Honour leaned against the wall and ran her fingers through her hair, twisting the ends as was her manner when she was deep in thought. Jack knew this in their brief month together that this was a tell-tale sign that the wheels were turning in her mind. He grinned and leaned closer to her. She quickly whipped out her bodice dagger. He deftly took the dagger out her hand and flipped it over his shoulder. It clattered on the tile floor behind him. "Now let us say for the sake of argument I DO have that hideous key. Well, since you once promised me the moon...I prefer to deal with you for the moment on the grounds of mutual respect. But I have no assurance you won't pull that pistol on me once you have what you want. So....what assurance DO I have that I will be alive once the chest is opened? And make it fast because I have plans tonight." Jack smiled. "Yes, I promised you the Moon. But the Sun was all I had to give at the moment, much to my later dismay. Thank you for confirming that you still have it! I was beginning to get worried. You need assurances that I'll keep you alive? I'm willing to share half the contents of the chest and even if it is empty, you go on about doing whatever it is you do. You'll never hear from me again." "You have no assurances. I would need to think this over. I am not that foolish girl you married. I'm twenty-one now! And I have a new..." Jack raised his eyebrow. She continued, "Never mind. I'd have to see this chest before I make any decisions. Grant you, I am NOT saying I have the key. Or even know where it is. Now---a gentleman would retrieve my bodice dagger for me." "Retrieve your dagger? But of course!" Jack bowed , swept, and produced Honour's blade. "I see you've kept it as sharp as I taught you to. Well done." He gently returned the dagger to its scabbard, slipping it between her ample breasts into its sheath. "Now about that breast...I mean CHEST! " Meeting her eye to eye, he continued. "So, you wish to see the chest? It's in my cabin. Twelve hours. I'll meet you on the docks, and you bring the Sun. We open the chest together, in my cabin. And we share whatever wealth is contained within." Jack smiled broadly, and stole a kiss from her. "Twelve hours, love! And all this will be behind us! You know where to find me. And I'll be waiting for you."