El Lobo Del Mar

[Honour Bright]

An hour later......

Jack sighed as he walked down the companionway toward the cabin where he had unceremoniously thrown Honour and locked the door. He wondered how many projectiles were in there and how much crockery may be left.
"Honour? I'm opening the door now. So put anything breakable down and let's talk about this like the two civilized people that we are."

He cautiously opened the door. Honour sat on the bed, her face a mixture of relief and contrition when she saw him.

"Jack...Jack!" She sprang off the bed and then suddenly stopped.

"I--I'm so glad you aren't dead....I mean..."

Jack gave her a bemused look. "No one is dead, not even me. Or anyone on the other ship, for that matter. They got away."
"They outran you? I didn't think that was possible."
"It's not, ordinarily. When the ship listed so badly, it's because we had hit... something. A submerged shoal, a reef, hell, it could have been a whale for all I know. But everything is over. I ordered the men to break off and continue to the island instead. You got your wish."

"MY wish? My wish is to get off this God-forsaken vessel and get on with my life. But you saw fit to drag me back down to your world. I was doing just fine before you kidnapped me. I was happy, damn you! And you had to go mucking up my life!"

"Oh, happy, were you? And I wonder....does this happiness include a back-stabbing cur that I used to know?"
"What---what are you talking about?"

"You know damn well what I am talking about. You...and him. Tell me, did you run off together or did you happen to just conveniently meet up? Was it in Martinique? Or in Aruba?"

"Neither! I was in...."

"Where, Honour? Where were you?"

"That is none of your concern. Not anymore. And as soon as we open that chest, I fully expect a divorce."

She walked past him, her head held high.

He grabbed her arm roughly and spun her around.

"A divorce. So you can go back to him?"

"What do you care, Jack?"

Jack's eyes searched hers. "You don't know. You don't have any idea, do you?"
"About what? I'm not in any mood for riddles."
"How I tore the Caribbean apart looking for you? The number of favours I used up trying to find out where you'd gone?"
"And exactly what was at the top of your list? The key, or revenge? Both? Because it sure as hell wasn't me."
"All right, fine. I'll admit it. Yes, I wanted revenge. What man wouldn't? And of course I want the key. Without it, years of chasing down the treasure of a lifetime would be all for naught."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Just as I thought. The great Jack Wolfe's pride was wounded, so off he charged to settle the score."

"Oh, that's rich," Jack laughed bitterly. "And speaking of rich, just how much of my money did you throw at your darling Cade? Enough for another ship, maybe? That worthless mongrel has always found ways to get a woman to fund his enterprises. But I never figured on you being fool enough to try to buy his affections..."

Honour's eyes went wide at his accusation.
"You son of a--" she spat through clenched teeth, and her fist flew at Jack's face.

He caught her wrist before the blow could land. The two stared at each other, their eyes locked. Every bit of anger, every bit of hurt could be clearly read. No words were necessary.

Almost in unison, the two seemed about to launch into a fresh hail of insults and accusations. But instead, they found themselves instead locked in a deep, searching kiss.
The anger that burned within them had exploded into a fire of a very different kind.

Hungrily, they lost themselves in each other's embrace. Unlike their all too brief encounter the night before, this was different, something far more intense. There was no hesitancy between them. Honour's breath caught as Jack's hands explored her body, and at how good his kiss felt on her neck. She barely noticed as her chemise slipped from her shoulders and cascaded to the floor. All she knew was that her blood burned, the flames fanned by Jack's skilled and perfect touch.

Honour had always marveled at how he could make her feel. No other man had instinctively known just how she liked to be touched. No prompting, no coaching, he just... knew, somehow.

Moving in unison, as if they'd never been apart, they made their way to the bed. Jack continued the expert application of kisses as Honour began to unfasten his belt.
And that's when something from the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Jack looked up and saw his copy of the Kama Sutra on the shelf above the headboard. But what really caught his attention was what was used as a bookmark.

The key.

His Sun key.

His hand left Honour's body as he reached over to covertly lift it from the pages. As his hand tried to grasp it, he felt it slip and land with a clatter behind the headboard.

Honour's eyes flew open from the passion she had let herself be carried away.

"Jack....what was that?"

"What was what?"

"That...noise. Sounded like metal clanging...."

"That? Oh...well, the brass headboard banging against the wall, I would think. No matter, no one will hear it...."

He took his hands to her face and kissed her passionately.
"No...it was a one time noise and..."

"You don't hear it anymore, do you? Please, darling...."

She rolled over to look behind the headboard.

"Oh....OK, so we go for #45...."

"YOU BASTARD!"

She rolled back pushed Jack with her might as he landed on the floor.

She grabbed the coverlet and wrapped it around her. Her breath was coming in gasps as she tried to recover from the unspent passion.

"All this time, all this concern....and all you were after was that damn key?"

"Not true!"

"GET OUT! GET OUT THIS INSTANT!"

Jack struggled to his feet. She picked up a candleholder. The problem was, a candle was still burning in it. With hot wax.
Honour was standing there with it in her hands. The wax was beginning to puddle on the bottom. Jack quickly did a mental projectory of where that wax would be landing.
He backed up quickly. She took her hands and pushed on his chest with all her might. He flew out the door and hit the opposite wall in the companionway.
She slammed the door shut and locked it.

"Hey, my boots are still in there under the bed!"

He turned around to see Josiah standing at the end of the companionway.

Josiah had a bemused smile as he said, "Well, someone's been a busy boy!"
"Oh! Josiah, I wasn't expecting to see you there."
"I kind of figured as much."
"I was, ah, just getting dressed out here so as not to wake Honour. She always sleeps like a baby after, well, you know."
"Does she, now? Awfully considerate of ye to make sure she rests peaceful enough. I'm guessin' this means I'll be getting' my cabin back, since the two of ye mended fences, so to speak?"

"Ah, well, um, we didn't actually discuss the particulars, you see. We were a bit too involved with other things. We'll talk it out when she wakes up. And believe me, after what we just did, she'll be asleep for hours--"

Honour opened the door and hurled his boots out, hitting him in the back

"AND STAY OUT, YOU BLOODY BASTARD!"

Briggs stood there, a smirk on his face.

"Jack, you keep telling me you will teach me about women. But I still don't see the benefit in it. And by the way....you missed a button on your shirt."

Jack looked down and then at Josiah's retreating back.

"You know, Renee isn't any easier, pal."

"You say something, Jack?"

"Who, me? No. Not me. Not ever."

[The Doctor]

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.”

[The Doctor]

“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.

[The Doctor]

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.’

[The Doctor]

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 Doctor]

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.

[The Doctor]

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."

[Honour Bright]

Honour sat on the edge of the bed and scooted a chair out with her booted foot.
"Eli, have a seat. Let's parley."
Eli sat down, blood splattering the front of his shirt. He looked down and couldn't meet Honour's gaze.
"Look at me, Eli."
He raised his head. Tears welled in his eyes again.
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
'Almost two years younger than me', she thought. She took a cloth and dipped it in a basin of water and washed his face. "I don't want you to squirm. Take this like a man."

She took his nose and moved it a bit to straighten it out. He looked at her with gratitude.
"I guess I can have a straight nose when I swing."
She sat down in front of him. "Not necessarily. I heard you yell for Briggs and Jack Wolfe. If they hadn't found me when they did, heaven knows what would have happened. And for that I thank you."
Eli looked down and started to cry again. Almost inaudibly, he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Miss Bright."
She looked away, unable to meet the misery in his face. She said quietly, "It's Mrs. Wolfe."
He looked at her incredulously. She explained, "No one except Briggs and a a few others know but I married Jack under strange circumstances eighteen months ago. We've been...separated."
"You? And..and the captain?"

She nodded and laughed self-consciously. "Two souls that never should have been bound up with each other. But that is besides the point."
He wiped his eyes with his hands. She went to the armoire and gave him a shirt.
"Here. Jack may kill me for showing mercy to a mutineer. Eli, I can't promise anything. I really can't. I've seen Jack Wolfe in murderous rages before. And usually when I have, I've been the reason. He's not called 'Mad Jack' for nothing. But I am going to do my best to see you are spared. I am going to plead your case. I think setting you off in the next port and having you book passage back to Devonshire would be best for all concerned. Jack would never trust you and I don't think you are cut out for this life. I'll make sure you have enough coin and get a safe passage back to England."
He gave her a gratified smile. "Ye are an angel, Miss Bright."
She reached under the bed and withdrew a bottle of rum.
"I'll help you if you help me."
"How, Miss---Mrs. Wolfe?"
"Don't tell Jack I have this bottle!"


Jack knocked softly at Honour's cabin door. "I'm here for the boy, Honour. Please open up."
Honour rose up and opened the door.
Jack stepped into the room. Honour stood there in his shirt, her hair in a braid but coming down in tendrils around her face. She had on boots and the dirk in the shaft of the boot. Jack's shirt kept slipping off her shoulder. Self-consciously she hoisted it up. A dark bruise was on her left cheek.
"On your feet, Meredith."
Eli couldn't meet Jack's eyes. He kept his head down.
"Jack? May I speak to you in private?"
He nodded. He called up to the quarterdeck. "Briggs, I need you to watch the prisoner."

From above came, "All is clear here, Jack. We got them all. I'll be right down."

Jack led the way down to his cabin. He sat down in his chair and pushed the charts and maps aside. Reaching under the desk, he pulled a bottle of whiskey out.
"Can you use a drink, Honour?"
She said, "I've never needed one more than I do now, Jack."
He handed her a tankard and filled it generously. Jack looked tired and worn out after the evening's attempted mutiny.
"Sit down, Honour."
She sat down. "Jack, what do you intend to do with Eli Meredith? The poor boy is scared to death."
"I know, but he was a mutineer."
"He was coerced into it."
I had a feeling that was the way it was. I think I need to shackle him to the foremast until I decide what to do with him."
"Might I make a suggestion?"
"I'll listen to whatever you have to say. You proved your mettle when you shot Barton."
"He was about to kill you." She smiled slightly, "I wanted that privilege for myself."
He tried not to laugh. "Well, you scared me to death, I must admit. So what is your suggestion?"
"I think all of us could use a decent night's sleep. Could you shackle him to a bed in Briggs' room? That way Briggs can get some rest, Eli Meredith won't be out in the elements and I won't be worrying about if he's getting wet or if he's uncomfortable."
"You have a soft spot for him?"
"I see one frightened young man caught in a situation he didn't know what to do. When we get to a port, I say give him coin and let him book a passage back to England. I daresay Eli Meredith will never set foot off solid ground again."

Jack nodded. "You are as smart as you are beautiful, Mrs. Wolfe."
She coloured at that. If it was the compliment or the name change, she didn't know.
Honour stood up and headed towards the door.
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you realize this is the first time we have spoken civilly to each other?"
Her hand was on the doorknob as she said over her shoulder, "Let's not get too used to it."

Jack placed his hand over hers. "Honour, please, do not be so quick to leave."
Honour searched his eyes, and released the doorknob.
"You're forgetting your whiskey," Jack smiled. He topped it off and handed Honour her glass. "To be honest, I rather enjoy quiet conversation with you."
Honour blushed as she sipped her whiskey. "Jack, since when did you become a romantic? Even if I were inclined to believe you, and I don't, I'd always be the third woman in your life after the sea and your ship."

The whiskey combined with fatigue hit Jack harder than he'd expected. He could see the weariness in Honour's eyes, as well.
"Perhaps it's best if we both turn in, love. We've a busy day ahead of us tomorrow. There's a bit of nastiness to take care of at sunrise. You might want to stay below until I send someone for you. But before you go, let us have a final toast, darling. To our prosperity."

They clinked glasses, and drank deeply. Honour smiled as the whiskey began to warm her bones. "Very well. I'll wait for your word. Good night, Jack."
"Pleasant dream, Honour. Until tomorrow."

[Honour Bright]

The mutiny had taken everything out of Jack. He had sat on the edge of his bed while the days events whirled like a cyclone in his mind.
He took another deep drink from the bottle of whiskey, and the numbness he'd been looking for began to wash over him. He could finally relax. His wife and his ship were safe. His wife. How easy it had become to think of Honour as such, and not some necessary aggravation to endure and then abandon. As he relished the feel of more whiskey in his throat, he remembered when he first saw her that fateful day in Barbados. Wise beyond her years, and an untamable spitfire. Time had made her wiser, he thought, but her recklessness had become fiery determination and independence. He couldn't help but admire her, but at the same time, there was something more than that at play. He had finished off the last of the whiskey, and tried to carefully put the bottle down one of the two sea chests beside the bed. To his wonder, the bottle became two, and both of them past through one of the chests and bounced in perfect unison on the decking. He pulled at his clothes and nearly got hopelessly tangled in his shirt, but managed to free himself. The bed threatened to duplicate itself before his eyes as the bottle had, so he fell onto it before it could finish. In moments, he was sound asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Full of rum and the whiskey that Jack had generously filled a tankard with, Honour was feeling her way back to her cabin by holding onto the wall.
'Last time I ever party with two different kinds of spirits, ' she muttered to herself.
She knocked on her own cabin door and Briggs let her in.
"Briggs, how did THAT happen?"
"Sorry, Honour. He laid down and next thing I knew, he was snoring."

Honour looked over at the sleeping form of Eli Meredith. He was curled up in her bed on top of her coverlet.
She gently brushed the hair off his face and covered him with an extra quilt.
'Such a young kid,' she thought. Poor Eli was blackmailed into mutiny. He hadn't a clue on what he had been in for.
She turned to Briggs. "You're exhausted too, Briggs. I'll tell you what--I don't have the heart to wake Eli up so why not let him sleep here. We can lock the door from the inside and he can't get out. Besides, if he escaped, where is he going to go? I think Jack has his scared to death and he wouldn't dare try to spring Burgess. Not that he would anyways."
"You think that wise?"
"I'll take full responsibility for him, Briggs. You go back to your quarters. I would suggest you 'steal' a bottle of rum from Jack's secret cache--which is not so secret--and numb yourself into oblivion."
Briggs laughed lightly, "Like ye did, Miss Bright?"
She drew herself up and said, "He's in no better shape than I am, Briggs."
"Aye. Jack no doubt pounded the bottle pretty heavily himself. But if Eli is sleeping here, then where do you intend to sleep?"
She turned to hide her blush.
"I'll find a place."

Briggs took his leave. Honour looked at the sleeping lad. She tucked the blanket around him. She blew out the candle and locked the door.
Walking quietly down the companionway, she took her chances.
'What are you doing, Honour? Are you out of your mind?' she thought. But it was either that or sleep on the floor. And it was cold.

In his inebriated state, he left the door unlocked. She quietly slipped into the room.
The candle was almost burned down to the wick. She blew it out and kicked the whiskey bottle out of her way.
Crossing the room, she paused.
The moonlight cast its beams through the porthole, affording her just enough light to make out the sleeping form of her husband.
'Funny', she thought. 'I never really thought of him as my husband. We were a whirlwind waiting to die out.'

Jack was sprawled all over the bed. She drew her chemise tighter around her, standing there trying to decide if it was worth it. The dampness from the floor was beginning to seep through to her bare feet.
She carefully drew the quilt back. 'Seems to be a very small space. If I can just lie quietly...I don't need to sleep. Just get some rest...'

She slipped very quietly into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. All of a sudden, Jack rolled over and his arm fell across her body. She tried to slide down but she was pinned. She tried to lift his arm gently up but he seemed to grip a little tighter.
She sighed.
'Oh, well.....may as well make the best of a bad situation. At least he is warm.'
She snuggled closer.
'After all, he's bound to roll over again...'

It was her last thought before her eyes closed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Honour woke up with a start. It was still dark but instinctively she knew dawn was breaking. She looked over to the sleeping face of her husband.

He looked worn out. Whether from the past night's mutiny or the hell she had put him through in the last eighteen months, it was hard to tell. She gently touched his hair. So like their daughter's. And the determined tilt of her chin. A wave of guilt washed over her. Was she wrong to deny him the knowledge of his child?

Possibly. If the worst had happened and she had died that night, would he go searching for his child? Would he rip Zara away from the only family she had known? To be raised by him aboard a pirate ship?

No, best to keep the knowledge to herself. Megan had always said, 'I have never regretted keeping my mouth shut but have plenty of regrets from opening it.'

'The time isn't right,' she reasoned. 'I'll know. When the time is right, I'll know.'

Gently she lifted up Jack's arm from around her waist and quietly slipped out of bed. Jack frowned in his sleep. She walked over, kissed her fingertips and gently touched his face.

'Thank you, Jack. For the gift you never knew you gave me.'

As she took the key out of her pocket, she unlocked her cabin door. She was momentarily in a panic as there was no sign of Eli Meredith.

A note was pinned to the pillow.

The kid is with me.

~~Josiah Briggs

'Thank you, Briggs,' she said to herself. 'I owe you one.'

[The Doctor]

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 Bright]

He looked out to the shoreline of the island in the distance and smiled.
"Oi! Drop anchor here! Ready the longboat! I'll bring up the chest to be loaded. Master Briggs, you have command. I have business with my wife."
"Monkey business, no doubt," Briggs smirked.

Jack gave him a sour look. "No, this falls under 'mind your own business, smart arse. But if you are hell-bent on knowing, I am going to invite her to breakfast."

He knocked softly on the door.
"Honour? May I see you for a minute?"

She cautiously opened the door halfway.
"One minute or do I need to flip over an hour glass?" She stood there dressed casually in a simple blouse, skirt and waist cincher. Her feet were bare and her hair was in a braid over her shoulder.

"We're almost arriving at our destination, love. But before we go to our business end of this, I'd like to invite you in my quarters for breakfast."

She looked at him warily. "I'm not sure...."

She remembered the turn of events dinner the night before had taken and wasn't sure she was ready for another repeat of last night's performance.
"Not sure? About breakfast or being in my cabin?" he smiled.

She tossed the braid to her back.

"I'm not afraid of having a light spot of food with you, Captain Wolfe. I'll be there in a few minutes."

He rubbed his hand idly on the door post. "I look forward to it."

She closed the door. As he walked down the companionway, she opened the door and said, "I like my eggs scrambled, my bacon crisp and my coffee hot."

As he continued walking he said,"Right. Scrambled, crisp and hot. Just like your men."

The door opened with, "Shut it, Jack. I had a rough night!" and Jack laughed. "Same old Honour."

She huffed to herself, "Same old Jack." But she found herself smiling.

She walked over to the bookcase and removed the book of Japanese prints, removing the key from its hiding place. She turned it over a few times. It was spindly and of dark gold. She held it up to the light and examined it. 'Still ugly,' she thought. But it just might be the key to answer alot of loose ends in her life.

As Jack approached the great cabin, he noticed that the door was ajar. He silently cursed himself for not locking it before going topside. He drew the dagger from his belt, took a deep breath, and shoved the door open to confront the intruder.
There was his opponent, sitting leisurely in the middle of the room... taking a sunbath. The ship's cat, Puddin', looked at the ship's master for a moment, and yawned. Jack laughed, enjoying the momentary respite from the previous night's burdens.
He fetched the golden chest from its resting place and set it on the table. While it wasn't too heavy to lift and move, carrying it through the jungle unaided was out of the question. He retrieved Lafourche's journal from the writing desk, then rummaged around in his sea chest until he found a tarry cloth pouch. Inside it was the Moon key.
When Jack turned back to the table, he found that Little Puddin' had abandoned his ray of sunlight for a perch on the ornate chest. The sleek gray cat pawed playfully at the pouch, his jade eyes glittering at the prospect of a new toy. Jack smiled and stroked Little Puddin's neck,

"Well, we did it, Puddin'. We found her. Now if we play our cards right, she just might stick around." He gently lifted the cat off the chest and put it on the floor next to his bed, covering it with a blanket.

He heard a knock on his door and opening it, he found Honour standing there, a bit shyly.

"Am I too early?"

“Not at all, darling,” said Jack happily. “I was just going over exploration strategy with my top advisor.”
“The cat is your top exploration advisor? Next you’ll be telling me Henry Morgan’s navigator was a parrot.”
“Actually, it was a monkey with a fascination for magnets. Are you going to stand there all day? Come in and sit. We don’t bite.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” replied Honour as she stepped into the cabin. Puddin’ greeted her at the edge of the table and purred loudly as she scratched his neck.
“You’re safe for now. You know how I hate cold eggs. Though I’d be careful of that brute. He might viciously shed on you.”

They both chuckled as they became a bit more at ease around one another. Jack watched as she rubbed the cat, paying close attention to the thoughtful, faraway smile she had. He wanted to ask her if he put that smile on her face but he dared not spoil the moment. This was the most relaxed they had been around each other since the voyage began. That is, unless they had been even more comfortable together the night before...

“I want to thank you, Jack.”
“Whatever for, love?”
She turned and gave him a puzzled look. “For saving my life. Twice. That must be some sort of record.”
“Well, thank you for saving mine. Again.” He paused, a wistful smile playing at his lips. “Seems that no matter what, we’re always there for one another.”
“I never stopped to think about it, but I suppose you’re right.”
“Um, speaking of being there for one another... how was last night?”
Honour’s face clouded over. “A living hell, remember? Don’t tell me you enjoyed a moment of it.”
“No! Oh, no, of course not. Not one moment.” Befuddled, he paused and scratched his head. “A ‘living hell’, eh? I’ve never had it called that before...”
“Just how many mutinies have you put down, for heaven’s sake? Was that sport for you, like David being hunted by Saul?”
“Oh, the mutiny!”
“Yes, the mutiny. What did you think I was talking about?”
“Well, actually... I.... oh, blimey...” he finally sighed in frustration.
“Eloquently put.”
“Afterwards,” he blurted. “Later, after the mutiny was over. You... you came back here after we talked.”
“And?”
“What do you mean, and? And you got in bed with me, that’s the ‘and’ I’m talking about.”

Honour stifled a laugh. “Oh, that ‘and’! What of it?”
He stared at her, lost for words. “It had been a while, you know... since we’d shared a bed together. That sort of thing.”
“Oh, did I snore?”
“No, you didn’t snore.”
“Did you want to know if you snored?”
“Not really---”
“Because you did, just a little. I think it was the rum.”
“Honour, I.... Oh, bollocks. Never mind.”
“Wait, you wanted to know about... the other thing?”
Jack perked up a little. “I was driving at that, yes...”
She smirked and shook her head. “You quash a mutiny and save the lives of your wife and first mate, and you’re still worried about that? My, someone’s ego has gotten fragile! What are you looking for, Jack? Affirmation that the earth moved? I saw shooting stars?"

"Well....."

Honour buttered a biscuit casually.
"Maybe I would have."

"What do you mean, MAYBE? I've never once not put a smile on your face."

She reached for the marmalade and spooned it on the biscuit.

"Well, you can't get a coconut every time, Jack. Maybe if you didn't....."

"What? Maybe if I didn't WHAT?"

"Never mind."

"Never mind WHAT?"

"It's not important."

"Like hell it isn't."

"I guess you were extremely tired and when men get tired....oh, forget it."
"Forget WHAT?"

She popped a piece of biscuit in her mouth.
"Well, maybe you don't find me attractive anymore. But on the other hand, Jack, I seem to recall all you need is a place. It really doesn't matter. Really, it doesn't."

She looked at him and casually asked, "Have you made Bonita mad lately?"
"Bonita? What does Bonita have to do with any of...oh, no. No! Impossible!"

Honour raised an eyebrow. "It happens to the best of men, Jack. Even those in such good shape as you. I mean, age catches up with them and before they know it..."

He ran his fingers through his hair and looked stricken.

"....they fall asleep."

[Honour Bright]

"What?" He wadded up his napkin and threw it at Honour's face and it landed on her head. She giggled, "You were asleep. Eli Meredith stayed in my room. Briggs was guarding him while you and I were putting the hurts to that whiskey bottle. When I got back, Eli had fallen asleep on my bed. I didn't have the heart to wake him so I let him stay there. I locked the door from the outside and told Josiah to get some well-deserved sleep. I...I guessed you would be passed out and...."
"You could have woken me up."

Honour shrugged, "You needed your sleep more than you needed....you know."

An awkward silence.

Honour asked, "Is the problem...Burgess...is he gone?"

Jack sighed, "You won't be seeing him."

She leaned forward, "What of Eli's fate, Jack?"

"Before the...removal....I had a talk with him. You were right. He was forced into the mutiny. He's a scared kid. I think it would be best for him to book passage back to England. I'll supply the fare and some coins. He got this far, he can get himself back."

She looked thoughtful. "He was always so polite. Once I dropped my shawl and he hurried over and picked it up for me."

"Maybe he worshiped you from afar."

"No, he's a gentleman. Whoever his parents are, they taught him manners."

Jack pushed away from the table. "The island is in sight. I suppose I should see to the supplies and the longboat. In an hour, shall we say?"

"An hour will be fine."

He gently touched the tip of her nose with his finger.
"See you then."

She shut the door. Her heart was divided. While a part of her longed for the freedom and adventure Jack Wolfe could provide, she knew her heart was in Wales.

To a little girl with her mother's eyes and her father's dark curls.

A little bundle named Zara Wolfe.

Honour opened up the top chest drawer and pulled out a black velvet pouch. Reaching in, she pulled the small white box out and opened it.

Inside was a lock of chestnut brown hair tied with a pink ribbon. She tenderly stroked the curls.

And burst into tears.

This was a crossroad she was dreading, one she hoped she would never have to cross. She knew she would have to decide if she would let Jack Wolfe back into her life or if she was strong enough to cut the ties forever. She knew she could never give Zara up and she didn't know if Jack could accept the fact that he was a father.

'By the end of the week, ' she thought. 'By the end of the week I will make my decision.'

Zara was starting to crawl when she sailed off. 'So much lost time, little one. Mama will make up for it when I come home and we will never be parted again. Even if it means....even if it means giving up the one man I truly love with all my heart.'

"Honour? The longboat is almost ready. Twenty minutes tops."
Honour snapped out of her reverie. She hastily wiped the tears from her face and through the door, her muffled reply was heard.

"I'll be on deck in ten minutes, Jack."

"Alright. We are loading the chest now."

She blew her nose and washed her face. Changing into a pair of breeches and tall boots, she slipped a light shirt over her and picked up her scabbard, attaching it to her belt. She ran her finger lightly over the blade of her rapier, making sure it was sharp.

'You never know how many vicious palmettos you may run into.'

Palmettos being her euphemism for anything else sinister they may run into.

As she put her cavalier hat on her head, she thought, 'One last adventure, Jack Wolfe. One last adventure before I go back to being someone's mama. You'd better make this a memory to keep me warm on cold nights.'

She squared her shoulders, held her head high and climbed the steps onto a new adventure.

[Honour Bright]

The weather deck was abuzz with activity as final preparations of the longboat were being made. The chest, wrapped in a tarpaulin to disguise its true nature, was already secured for the secretive expedition, along with provisions and shelter for two in a large pack. Men traded speculation as to what might be afoot with the captain and his bride. All agreed upon one thing--no one could be certain when Jack Wolfe played his cards this close to the vest.

“We're almost done fittin' her out, Jack,” announced Briggs. “Can I be havin' a word with ye, private like?”
The two men stepped away for the core of activity.

“What's on your mind, Josiah?”
“I know what ye said, but it don't sit right with me, not one bit,” said the quartermaster grimly. “You and the lady, traipsin' through the jungle, just yerselves, and no hands to help stand watch? It's a hell of a risk.”

Jack gave his best reassuring smile.

“She's better with a blade than most of the men, and level-headed in a fight. Last night proved it. You and Honour are the only other souls that know about the chest, but she holds one of the keys and I need you here to keep order. One mutiny is quite enough. Besides, there's nothing but jungle out there. What could possibly happen?”

“A chest what belongs to a lost race, the knowledge of which already drove one man crazy and I'm none too sure about ye either, a map what tells ye where to look but naught as to what ye'll find, and there's ye two. Mischief and devilment in the makin'. I see yer point. What's to worry?”
“We'll be fine,” laughed Jack. “It's not like we'll be converting your quarters into a nursery on our return!”
“Like I said, mischief and devilment!” winked Briggs as he turned his attention to the boat crew.

“All right lads, ye've got her all fit and gussied, time to put her in! Hands to the lines, and heave on three!”

Jack turned to find Honour standing by the doorway, keeping well out of the way of the crew as they went about their tasks. Any commotion on deck made her uneasy, a lingering after effect of the ill-fated encounter with Mendoza. Though at times it felt like a lifetime ago, there were still nights she'd wake up in a full sweat with the din of the ship's guns ringing in her ears and the memory of her husband lying on the deck in his own blood...

She jumped, startled out of her thoughts by the touch of a gentle hand on her arm. There before her was Jack, healthy and whole, his expression a mixture of happiness and concern.

“Easy there! Are you all right, Honour? You seemed a thousand miles away.”
She blinked to get her bearings again, and returned his smile. “Yes, I'm fine. Just lost in thought.”
“Well, aren't you a vision! The hat's a nice touch. You always did look good in feathers. And what's this?” He pulled her rapier a few inches out of its scabbard, then let it drop back.

“For once it's an appropriate blade. I pity those trees already,” he teased.

Honour cocked her head and smiled at Jack from under the brim of her hat. “I have the Sun key with me as well. I take it you remembered the Moon key for my chest?”
“Your chest?” he laughed. “When did this happen, I wonder?”
“Community property,” she replied, playfully brushing him aside. “You do know the way to the beach, don't you?”
“Of course I do, my queen,” said Jack. “Your royal barge awaits!”

He jogged ahead of her and tossed a rope ladder over the side.

“I trust you can manage, or would you rather I go first and help you?”

Honour threw a leg over the rail and took the ladder, stopping long enough to stick her tongue out before climbing down. Jack looked back at Briggs, who simply shook his head and laughed.

"Yep, I see your point. Mischief and devilment, indeed!"

[The Doctor]

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 Doctor]

"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."

[Honour Bright]

Jack unfurled the map and looked up at the sun, taking his compass out.
"Are you looking to follow north?"
"No, I'm looking to see what the best direction to get a suntan would be."
She made a face at him. "I have NO idea why I let you talk me into this."
He rolled the map back up and said, "Because you find me charming? When this is all over, Honour, we need to have a long talk. About us. You and me. And where we go from here. We either stay together or we end it. I can't go on like this anymore."
She stood there silently, a million thoughts and a thousand regrets going through her mind.
Hesitantly, she started, "Jack, there's something..."
She stopped.
"Yes, Honour?"
"There's--there's no snakes here, are there?"
"Honour, this is the jungle. What do YOU think?"
"I think you'd better keep that cutlass handy. If you get bit, there is no way I am going to suck the poison out of you."

Jack slipped the harness around his arms and said, "I'd keep that rapier at the ready, love."
"Why? Are there natives around here?"
He laughed. "No, this island is deserted. The Carib residents deem this island as dedicated to the Ancients. Too
"Speaking of which, have you seen Bonita?"
"I surely did."
"And how is the voodoo queen of Castara Bay? Still tossing bones around and chanting fire and damnation at the mention of my name?"

Jack's thoughts turned to Bonita's words.

“Because dat golden haired child hold de t’ing you need! Bonita knew she would break Jack Wolfe’s heart. Did him listen to reason? No! Him were too much in love....Dere is somet’ing not of dis world about her, or wit’ her! Believe it!”

He looked over at Honour. She did hold the very thing he needed but it wasn't the key. It was her love. He realized in the last few days how much he missed her. How he had built a shell around himself and it cracked when he saw her crawling on her hands and knees out the tavern door to avoid him. How typically....Honour.

He shrugged. "Aside from the 'I tole you so' she didn't mention you. No, not at all."
Honour laughed at his imitation of Bonita's accent. "She hated me from the start. She was in love with you, you know."
He said, "I guess she was."
"You guess? Why do you think she hated me and called me a witch?"

“Dere are forces around dat girl even she do not understand!“

Jack looked into Honour's blue eyes, looking for anything that showed anything extraordinary. No, nothing there but the merriment that danced in her eyes that he fell in love with that night they stood before the magistrate and exchanged their vows. Both scarcely believing what they both had done in the morning's light and still they could not keep themselves apart.

"Jack? Jack?"
He drew himself back to the present and gave her his charming smile. "I always said you bewitched me, darling. Let's let it go at that."

After an hour of following Jack with her rapier held at the ready, she looked over and saw the largest thickest snake she ever saw. She jumped straight on Jack's shoulders, her knees wrapped around his ears. She grabbed his hat to hold on, smashing it down over his eyes as she was screaming and blindly hacking away.
"HON-HONOUR, STOP! STOP! I CAN'T SEE!"
"AAHHH! TAKE THAT! GET AWAY! WE AREN'T LUNCH!"
Jack finally flipped her over his head and she landed on her back.
"Are you out of your mind?"
She stood up, catching her breath. "I have no intention of becoming an anaconda's lunch!"
He pushed his hat back from his face and pointed to a large root wrapped around a trunk. It had slash marks all over it.
"For the love of God, woman! It's my palmetto tree all over again!"
Her rapier was stuck in the tree. She felt her face flaming in embarrassment.
"Well, it could have been a snake! He slithered off. That was it! He slithered off!"
Jack rolled his eyes and yanked her rapier out of the tree.
"Here. Sheath this before you lop my head off."

"Jack? Do you really know where you are going?"
"What, you think I can't find my way around land?"
She held out her hand. "Give me the map."
"No."
"Yes. We have passed that same 'snake' three times now."
"Oh, alright. I'll show you the map but let's eat first. And keep your hands off it till after lunch. I don't want you dropping mustard on X marks the spot."

He handed her some cheese and bread and a few pieces of fruit.
"Wine?"
"You do think of everything, Jack Wolfe."
As they sat there eating their lunch, he spread the map out over a large flat rock.
"See here...it is nothing but jungle."
She looked at it. "I wonder....."
"You wonder...what?"
"It looks a little squiggly there."
"Of course it is squiggly. It's a bunch of leaves. What else did you expect to find in a jungle? An oasis with sand all around it?"
"Here, have some more wine. You are getting cranky, Jack. You always hated to stop and ask for directions."
"That was only a rumour. And how did you hear about that?"
"Tavern talk in St Lawrence."
"Oh."

She reached for it and Jack grabbed it back. "Ah-ah-ah! It's mine!"
"Community property until death do us part. Hand it over. Oh, I'm not going to hurt your precious parchment!"
He sighed and handed it over. "Be careful of the creases."
" 'Be careful of the creases', he says. Of course I'll be careful of the creases!"
She held it sideways and then gave it back to him.
"Jack, I think you were looking at it sideways."
"Was not!"
"Was too!"
"Not!"
"Too!"

He stood there looking at it and Honour then gasped.
"Don't tell me you see hairy tarantulas now!"
"NO! I just saw something...wait a minute!"

She climbed up a tree.
"Honour, are you out of your mind? Get down right now!"
She shook her head. "Jack, I know what is wrong! Hold the map up in front of you!"
He held it up and she shouted excitedly. "It is just as I thought!"
"What?"
"Jack, it isn't a jungle....IT'S A MAZE!"

[The Doctor]

“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..."

[Honour Bright]

"What makes sense?"

"See what looks like a backward Z laying on its side?"

"Yes, but I thought it was someone with atrocious penmanship."

"When I was a young lad--don't give me that look, I was young once--my granddad Ian would take us hiking. Northern Scotland was full of old relics. And who settled in Scotland first?"

Honour shrugged. "I'm Welsh. What do we know about it?"

"The Romans came around the first century but didn't get as far as northern Scotland. However, the Vikings came from the north. In 793 A.D. the monastery at Lidnisfarne was sacked with Iona and the Isle of Skye being attacked the following year. Isle of Skye is where my grandparents live. I could go on and on about the history--it's the professor in me."

Honour stood there with her hands on her hips. "So you most likely have Viking blood in you?"

"I guess so."

"You mean to tell me some tall, blond-haired Viking ravished some sweet Pict girl and you are the end result of it?"

"I love the delicate way you phrase things, darling."

"Well, that explains the pillaging and the plundering and the forceful way you have of courting."

"So I come by this naturally. Alright, back to the history of this. Which has a point, I swear."

"Go ahead. As long as there won't be a quiz on it later."

"Grandad Ian pointed out the runes and taught Thomas and me the rune alphabet. It was called the Elder Futhark and the letter S looked like a backwards Z and was vertical."

She looked over his shoulder. "And we thought that was an S. For South."

"You see where I could make a mistake then."

She nodded.

He continued. "Now in Latin, the word for north is septentrio. I think someone took a rune letter and used the Latin word for north and abbreviated it. He made a riddle of it."

"Cheeky bastard!"

"Oh, and such language coming from a convent-bred girl!"

She smacked him on the head.

"So this whole thing is a mishmash of Nordic runes and Latin thrown in?"

He smoothed the map out. "Probably someone educated and well-versed in languages. Someone who traveled extensively."

He stared at the map, slowly shaking his head as the significance of what he saw from the treetop sank in. “It's incredible, Honour. The Ancients completely transformed this island into a gigantic maze! Imagine the effort it must have taken to do all this!” An unsettling gleam came into his eyes that Honour didn't care for. “If they went to all this trouble, the wealth this chest contains must be enormous!”

“It was terribly important to them, whatever it is,” she said as she looked over her shoulder at the gleaming gilt chest. 'All this, to protect whatever is in there?' she pondered. No, the maze had to be protecting much more, some larger secret. But what? “I'm starting to understand why LaFork...”

“LaFourche.”

“Whatever-- was going on about what mechanical geniuses they were.”

She hesitated a moment and hugged herself as if taken by a sudden chill.

“Jack, should we be doing this? It feels like... grave robbing.”

He left his seat on the rock and gently took her by the shoulders. “No, Honour, it's nothing like that at all,” he said reassuringly. “If we were truly grave robbing, we'd be here to pull the rings off dead Ancients' fingers. We are solving a riddle no one else has managed to crack. Nothing sinister, I promise.”

“But we are here to take their treasure.”

“Tut, tut! We're here to open a chest that I own, by the most prudent means possible. I'm merely protecting my investment.”

“I knew you'd find a way to rationalize this,” she chuckled. “And don't you mean our investment?”

He couldn't help but smile at the the impish look she gave him. “There's my girl! Now, according to the map, there's fresh water less than two hour's walk from here. That's where we'll stop and make camp. Ready?”

“Lead the way, captain!” she said cheerily. “But you get to take care of any more snakes!”

[The Doctor]

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.'

[The Doctor]

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 Bright]

The sun broke through the trees, replacing the moonlight. The cawing and chirping of the birds took the musical interlude of the night symphony to a new height.
Honour stretched out and reached out for Jack but he wasn't there. She sat upright and a wave of relief swept over her as she saw him coming up out of the lagoon, his hair wet. He shook it and sent droplets spattering into the air.
"Cooling off, Jack?"
He looked a bit guilty to her delight as he said, "Not at all. I just wanted to wash yesterday's dust off."
"It's wonderful in the water. I decided to go for a swim last night. The moon was beautiful. It was almost as if heaven was holding a crystal sphere in her hands."
He started, "I kn--I can imagine."
She hid her smile behind her hand.

Jack cleared out the campfire and opened up one of the knapsacks that carried the food provisions.
"What did the cook pack?" Honour asked.
"Oh, the usual. Biscuits. Some smoked meats. Cheese."
"What, no fruit?"
'Honour, we needed things that would last."
"Jack, we aren't going to be out here forever. You said overnight. So we find the altar, open the chest and then head back. Two overnights."

He offered her some cheese. She looked around and a smile broke out over her face.
"Wait right here."
"Honour, it isn't good for you to be wandering around out here. Remember there are snakes."
She held her finger up. "I'll be back in a minute. Count to sixty."
As he did so, she appeared when he was at fifty-nine. Her chest was misshapen and lumpy.
"What the HELL? Did you get an allergic reaction to a bee sting?"
She shifted her shirt out of her breeches and a half-dozen apples came tumbling out to the ground.
"Not only that, I found a beehive where there was some honey. I happened to have a container so I put it in there. Now we can sweeten the biscuits."

Jack handed her a biscuit.
"I don't have a spoon, Jack. But here..my fingers are clean!"
She dipped her finger into the jar and brought it out, drizzling the honey over the biscuit.
She slowly sucked the honey off her fingers.
"Mmmm! This is delicious! You know what I heard?"
"That it is fattening?"
"On the contrary. It reminded me of the tradition of the honeymoon. Did you know, Jack, in ancient times it was traditional to present the newlyweds with honey to help them enjoy their first sexual encounters and aid to procreate a child? The use of honey as an aphrodisiac is also mentioned in the Kama Sutra. Where it is said that honey spiced with nutmeg is said to heighten a...oh, look! A butterfly!"
Jack said, "Yeah, yeah, a butterfly. So...how do you know about the Kama Sutra?"
"Hmmm? Well, it is some sort of book, I guess. I've never even seen it."
"What part did you like best? The part where the monkey gets loose?"
"Don't be silly, Jack! There is no monkey in the book!"
"AHA! But how did you know?"
"I didn't. I mean, there wasn't a picture of a monkey in the..."
She found herself turning red.
"Well, I might have glanced at it."
"You never were much of a manual person, Honour. More of a hands-on type."
"Jack?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up."

Jack watched as she licked the biscuit crumbs off her lips.
"Mmm...that was so good!"
Jack just stared at her method of cleaning up. She caught his gaze.
"What? Did I forget a spot?"
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then sucked the crumbs off.
"Honour?"
"Yes, Jack?"
"Don't do that."
"I don't want to be a mess when we get to the altar. You never know what ancient gods you may run into and I want to look my best!"
She reached over and picked up an apple. She took a bite and said, "Oh my goodness! This is delicious!"
Jack grimaced. "And so goes the fall of man, Eve!"
She looked at him quizzically and then laughed.
"Oh! That wasn't what I was thinking. Remember the story of Paris and Helen of Troy?"
Jack laughed. "You forget, dear heart, that I was an Oxford scholar."
She sighed. "I always loved your bedtime stories, Jack!"

Jack rolled up the bedrolls and took down the canvas sailcloth as Honour gathered up the food and put it in the knapsack.
"How much longer till we get to the altar, Jack?"
He looked at the map and said, "Due west. About three hours."
She looked up at the sun. "Looks to be about eight hours so we had best be on our way. Maybe we can set up camp near here tonight. That lagoon was so refreshing and....AH! Jack! Get it off me!"
Jack reached over and plucked an emerald green beetle out of Honour's hair.
He crushed it in his hand and tasted it very quickly with his tongue.
"I've seen these before."
"What is it?"
"Some fly. From Spain."
"Oh. Well, isn't it out of its jurisdiction?"
"I think they can fly anywhere."
Jack scraped the beetle's little carcass into a piece of paper and slid it into his pocket.
"Why don't you just throw it out, Jack?"
"Oh....I don't know. A souvenir?"
Honour shook her head. "You save the strangest things...."

The provisions were packed and Jack and Honour headed towards the west.
"Oh, look, Jack! What lovely little flowers!"
Jack stopped and grinned. "Damiana. The Mayans and the Aztecs used it to make a tea."
"Was it good?"
"Oh...very good! Really good! It relaxes a person so they never want to get out of bed."
"Really! I should try that on nights I can't sleep."
Jack picked a few.
"I'll make a special tea for you tonight."
"Oh, Jack, sometimes you are so sweet!"
"Honour, you have no idea how accommodating I can be."

She squeezed his arm and said, "Isn't this all exciting?"
"Yes, love. And the best is yet to come!"

[The Doctor]

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…

[The Doctor]

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 Doctor]

“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.

[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.