Pirates of the Caribbean 1. Chapter 1

**The Voyages of the Dawn Chaser **

**_Voyage 2 - The water of life_**

_The players_

_Jack Sparrow_ – a pirate captain and a smart man, with a taste for rum, long hair, long words and even longer plans

_Elanor_ _Cavendish _– a ship's captain and a smart woman, with similar tastes - except that she'd rather have brandy

_Ariadne_ – a ship's ghost – well maybe – very smart but with no tastes at all

_Calypso _– a sea goddess with a weakness for pirates, a wicked sense of humour and no sense of fair play

_The Lady_ – herself

_Barbossa_ – a pirate captain and a hard man with a liking for big hats, and a fear of inescapable curses and impending doom

_Various crew_ – all of whom who had been loved by their mothers but possibly no one since

_The Navy_

_An Island Governor_

_The Spanish and others_

_A monkey_

_A parrot_

**Chapter 1 - An inopportune moment**

_In which Jack experiences the down side of meeting the future and Elanor decides to look for treasure  
_

"Think of them like little animals, like lice or fleas," Elanor had said as she tipped another foul tasting draught down his unwilling throat. "But in your blood not your hair."  
There had been only one reply to that and that was that he didn't want to bloody well think about them at all, and he was sure he didn't want them in his blood, or any other part of his body come to that. He wanted them to go away. Now.

For a moment he had wondered if she was going to stroke his fevered brow, that might have been worth the wretchedness, but all she had done was smile sympathetically and tell him that he would feel better in a few days. By this time the pain in his head was so bad again that all he had managed was a half growl of disgust at the suggestion, that hurt his throat, and relief when she left him alone to near darkness and the comfort of his bed.

It had started two days before. He had put the headache down to the brandy at first, not something he drank regularly, and never brandy like hers, and so it wasn't so surprising that his head had been a bit uncertain the following day. When his stomach protested at the sight of breakfast he had just thought it the consequences of having eaten so much more than he was used to and gone up on deck to let the wind blow away the aches of sleeping in a strange bed.

It was a pity that he hadn't been feeling his usual self given that he had known he would have a fight on his hands. He'd fired the opening salvo almost as soon as she joined him on deck.

"This strong room of yours, what does it hold then? Beside me effects that is?"  
That they were still there rankled more than a little, and she knew it.  
Elanor had raised her eyebrows but answered reasonably enough,  
"Nothing of much use here."  
"What kind of nothing needs a strong room?"  
She had come and stood in front of him, arms crossed, and stared at him suspiciously.  
"Why do you want to know Jack?"  
He was sitting on the deck with his back to the mast, and for the moment he couldn't find the energy to stand and face her, so he'd just tipped his head back and stared up at her instead,  
"Because we might need some........ goods, to help us get at the fountain."

That brought the frown he had been expecting.  
"Goods? What kind of goods?"  
He'd tried to think of a way to fob her off but his mind seemed less agile than was usual, to be struggling to find the necessary words in fact, so he'd ended up telling her more of the truth than he had intended too, well more than he had intended to tell her just yet.  
"Powder and shot to name two." He'd replied as easily as he could.  
"Powder and shot?" she had seemed confused for a moment and then his meaning dawned,  
"Pistols? Why would we need weapons Jack? You said that no one knows where this fountain is, so why do you think that we might have to fight for it, and with whom?"  
The aches in his joints were definitely getting worse and he winced as he wriggled under her scrutiny,  
"Well, you recall me mentioning the ship I lent, the one I took the chart as security for..."  
"I remember."  
"The person I loaned it to...well.....you see..... he's not always the most honourable of people, not even for a pirate."  
"Is that his approach to everyone, or just to you?" she said tartly.

Jack sighed and winced as the rise and fall of his own chest jolted his head,  
"Luv, I mean Elanor, if you knew just some of the stories about him you would realise that he is a most undesirable and undeserving of characters."  
"So why did you lend him your ship?"  
He thought about his reply for a moment, he was damned if he was telling her the truth of that story!  
"Let's just say a ..... mutual acquaintance was involved. But it may be that this miscreant will decide that he can find the fountain without the chart. Or...." how could put this, "he might even decide to try and renege on our.... arrangement and attempt to take the chart from me."

Elanor had just sighed in her turn and shook her head, setting the long, thick waves of her hair rippling in the sunlight. The sight inspired Jack with a desire to bury his fingers in that cascade, but she was frowning, not at all in the mood for such a suggestion, even assuming that he could find the wherewithal to follow it through, which, for the moment, he was forced to admit that he couldn't.  
"I knew it wasn't going to be as easy as you made out, and somehow I don't think you are telling me the truth now." She raised her hand as he opened his mouth to protest, "no don't bother yourself, I'm unlikely to believe whatever you tell me."  
She turned away,  
"It doesn't matter. I agreed to go after this fountain of yours because you were right about one thing, I can't just hang around waiting for the portal, or whatever it is, to open again. I need to keep on the move so I may as well follow your heading as any other."  
A thought seemed to strike her and sheturned back and looked at him with that narrow eyed look that he was coming to dislike,  
"This man wouldn't be in any way connected to that treasure you claim to have mislaid, would he?"

Jack cursed her sharpness, he couldn't recall mentioning Barbossa when he had told her of the loss of the treasure of Isle de Muerta and his plans for it, truth be told he couldn't quite remember now why he had said anything about that anyways, so there was a faint possibility that he had mentioned Barbossa in passing. He was, however, sure that he hadn't told her of shooting him, nor of the man's resurrection at the hands of Tia Dalma, just as he was sure that he hadn't told her of his own death. Davy Jones and Beckett had been enough, there were something better not said to such a new, and sharp eyed, acquaintance, whatever your agreement. He looked up at her wide eyed, before squinting as the light seemed to lance the back of his skull,  
"Now why would you think that?" he tried for his best drawl but missed it by a way.

Her narrow eyed stare persisted,  
"I don't know, but the possibility occurred to me."  
Jack sighed, not least at the weariness that seemed to be overtaking him just when he needed his wits about him,  
" Most distrustful of you. But I assure you that I am more sinned against than sinning.... at least where this other person is concerned, bloodthirsty wretch that he is. If he we cross his path in pursuit of the fountain it will not go well with us if we cannot defend ourselves."  
"Ariadne can defend the ship,"  
She had said it almost dismissively, making him wonder just what these defences were that she was so confident of them. He smiled slightly,  
"I'm delighted to hear it. But the fountain won't be on the ship now will it? Can your ghost come ashore with us, can she defend us, watch our backs, if there is the need to climb cliffs or descend into dark caves?"  
That just brought a deeper frown from her and Jack sighed at the look, wishing again that he had more energy,  
"We need more powder and shot than I have, and if you don't wish to turn to piracy," he raised is hand at the anticipated protest, "and I would not expect that you would, then we must, .... and I hate having to say this.... pay...... for what we need."  
He cast her a winsome smile,  
"and since you stripped me most thoroughly when you hauled me aboard, and sorted through my effects at your leisure, you will be aware that I was carrying little of anything in the way of ready currency."

She quirked and eyebrow at that and reached down a hand and flicked one of the ornaments plaited into his hair,  
"Other than a lot of silver and some rather valuable looking beads you mean? I do know what they are Jack."  
She smiled at his attempt at outrage,  
"But I take your point. To answer the question hovering on your tongue, no my strong room isn't stocked with suitably negotiable valuables. I carry some but it would be dangerous to try and liquidate them here, they would raise too much interest and far too many questions."  
She moved away from him chewing on her lip in thought,  
"But this treasure of yours, the one you lost, would any of that be easy to turn into ready funds?"

Jack tried to concentrate but it was getting harder by the minute, and he was uncomfortably aware that whatever was at the root of his weariness and pains it wasn't the brandy for they went well beyond any hangover he had ever known before. He nodded and wished he hadn't, his head felt ready to part company with his neck, he swallowed hard and tried to pull his fraying thoughts together,  
"Aye some of it. But it's beyond reach luv, the sea reclaimed it."  
She continued to frown but whatever it was that she was debating with herself it occupied her so much that she didn't notice his slip,  
"Perhaps, but perhaps not, there may be a way. Give me a bearing for this Isle de Muerta then I need to consult with Ariadne."

By this time Jack had been too tired to protest, all he wanted was to be left alone and in quiet to gather his strength. His accord with this woman was too new and untried to allow him to show her any weakness, yet at that moment he wasn't sure that he could have got to his feet if he tried. So he just sighed as if humouring her and gave her the bearing, not even watching as she disappeared in the direction of the hatch. With a sudden sense of relief at the silence he let his eyes slide closed, 'a little sleep out here with the sea and the sky for company and I'll be fine' he told himself.

***

But the aches and the weariness hadn't gone away, and by the time Elanor had finished her confabulations with this ghost of hers and joined him on deck again he had begun to wonder if their apparent accord of the evening before had been a ruse on her part to buy time to poison him. He could think of no other reason why so much of him should hurt the way it did, or why the light on the water seemed so painfully bright, or why the air felt so oppressively warm so early in the day and yet the wind felt icy cold.

"Are you alright?"  
He had looked up from his study of the sea to find her staring at him in a way that looked to be concerned.  
"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"  
He had responded almost before she had finished speaking. Strange as he might feel there was no reason to let her know of it, not when she might use it as an excuse to delay seeking the fountain.  
She had shrugged in apparent innocence,  
"You look rather pale and tired that's all."  
He'd smiled at that,  
"Why would I be tired luv?" he caught her look and corrected himself, "I mean Elanor. I'm a pirate remember, undisturbed sleep is a rare luxury in my profession. If the navy allows you it, the sea doesn't."  
"If you say so," was all she had said, but she had given him another strange look as she passed on her way to the helm.  
"I've checked the bearing and Ariadne thinks she knows where this treasure island of your was," she called back to him. "There may be a way to recover something but I won't know until we get closer."  
He just nodded and hoped that she would go back to her ghost and leave him alone.

She didn't of course, contrary wench, she descended to the deck again and came and sat beside him, her arm close against his own.  
" I've changed heading anyway. Ariadne reminded me that this fountain of your is likely to be hard to get to, we may well need rope and lights even if your unpleasant acquaintance stays away. There's no guarantee that this island is uninhabited either." She shot him an inquiring look, "Is there?"  
"No luv, no guarantee at all."  
She gave him another sideways look but made no protest at his choice of words.  
"Didn't think so, " she said, "which means we will need to find suitable equipment from somewhere. I'm reluctant to risk anything from the Chaser in the attempt, it's unlikely I could replace it, and, as you pointed out, I don't know how long I'm going to have to wait around here."  
"Agreed." was all he said, not even noticing the sudden anxiety in her face as she looked at him.

There was a moment or two of silence then he felt her hand on his arm and with an effort he turned his head and looked at her; she seemed to be watching him closely as if expecting something. he just smiled slightly at her and said nothing. After a moment she seemed to resolve some dispute with herself and got to her feet  
"I'll go and make a start on a list of what we'll need," was all she said.  
Jack stared up at her listlessly,  
"You do that, I'll just sit here and stay out of your ghosts way shall I? Wouldn't want to upset her again."  
That brought another of the sharp looks she seemed to excel at,  
"Whatever you want. I'll be back with the list and you can add what ever you think I've missed."  
There was a momentary pause,  
"You can read and write I suppose? Forgive me if the question seems crass or insulting, it isn't meant to be, but I'm not sure what skills to expect in an eighteenth century pirate."  
"Suppose you're not, " he replied mildly enough, "anymore than I know what I can expect from you," he summoned up another weary smile but was only too aware that it lacked the edge he would have hoped for.  
Still it brought a raised eyebrow,  
"Obviously." She replied  
Jack cursed silently knowing that he was losing this battle of wills and yet was unable to do anything about it,  
"I can read and write well enough." He let his head fall back against the mast, his eyes drifting across her face, "can do a lot of other things too, one day maybe I'll tell you about them, or show you."  
That brought a smile as she got to her feet,  
"We'll see."  
Then she left him.

He'd sat and watched the sea, unable to sleep, trying to find the energy to do something else but failing miserably. Misery was something he became more aware of as the morning passed, the heaviness in his limbs grew worse and his skin and scalp began to feel sore. He could only be grateful that he had nothing pressing to do for the moment. Elanor had returned with the beginnings of a list of possible items needed in pursuit of the fountain and handed it to him, along with some form of writing implement, but then she had left him to it. After ten minutes or so of struggling to think he had put it down on the deck and gone back to staring listlessly at the sea.

She had come back some time later to offer him coffee but he had simply shook his head and she had gone away without comment.

As the sun reached it zenith she had disappeared below decks, reappearing some time later and going aloft without a word to him. Jack found enough energy to turn and look her as she sat high above the deck with her back to him doing something unexplained with the topsail rigging. Whatever the task was she seemed quite at home up there and totally absorbed in her occupation. Her contentment irked him for some reason and he decided that he would go aloft and join her, reminding himself that it was high time that he learned a little of this strange vessel; knowing nothing of the ship he sailed on was unnerving. Decision made he got to his feet, then promptly sat down again as the deck seemed to swim before his eyes. Cursing he shook himself and tried to rub his eyes into behaving themselves, but the world refused to settle. Nor did his stomach and as its contortions increased he found himself crawling on hands and knees to the rail to vomit over the side. The spray was cold on his face and the light on the water was blinding but he remained where he was, crouched and shivering, one hand gripped desperately around the rail while the world span around him.

The world was still spinning when he felt her hand on his shoulder, then she was pulling him up and against her, his head falling into the curve of her shoulder, while her hand brushed his hair away from his face. He moved to push her away but he found that his strength was not longer equal to the task and that she had him held fast; his body was betraying him and there was nothing he could do to stop it, or her. He tensed as he saw the flash of something bright in her hand wondering for a second if she was planning on slitting his throat, 'a fine way for Captain Jack Sparrow to die' he thought bitterly, 'beat the devil and perish at the hands of a lass with the face of an angel.'

But she made no murderous move and though the bright object was slapped gently against the side of his neck there was no bite and no spill of blood. He could feel her arm behind him supporting him as she might a child and he fought the sudden and strange desire to collapse against her and hand the reins of his life over to her care. The fatigue he had felt in the dingy had caught up with him again, and in far greater measure than he was prepared for. Above him the sky seemed impossibly blue and the sun was bright, too bright, while the sound of the sea seemed drown all others out. For a moment he struggled to remember where he was, was it the locker, the Pearl or that god forsaken strip of land where Hector had abandoned him?

Then he felt a hand against his face, slapping him gently.  
'What did I do this time,' he though blearily, 'is this one I deserve or not?'  
"Jack, can you hear me." Another slap, "Jack listen to me, try and pay attention. You're ill, I need to get you below. Can you walk do you think, or do I need to carry you?"  
That made it through the haze that seemed to surround him, thoug he wasnt sure who he was talking to,  
"Carry me!" even to his own ears his voice sounded pitifully weak, "you couldn't luv."  
"Yes I could, but I know that you might not like it if I do. Can you stand? I'll help you." She raised her voice slightly, "Ariadne open all hatches and doors."

The arm behind him changed angle and he felt himself sit up, the pressure was gentle but the arm was strong and reassuring. Too strong to match the female voice., but he was too tired to care about that. With an effort he got his feet beneath him and struggled up. The world was spinning like the compass in the locker and the decks seemed to waiver and buckle into the distance, but her arm stayed behind him and he felt her hand grasp his waist as she tucked her shoulder under his. Then he was moving, the decks shifting and shimmering in the harsh light, only her arm around him keeping him on his feet. He didn't recall going through the hatch or down the steps. The next thing he was aware of was a room he hadn't seen before and collapsing onto another strange bed. Jack laughed to himself as she swung his legs up and settled him more comfortably; this was getting to be a habit.

She pushed his shirt sleeve up and he felt her fingers cool against his skin, then something tightened around his arm for a moment and he slid into sleep.

***

Now, two days later, he had to face the fact that she was right, he was ill and was likely to be so for some days yet. While he wasn't sure that he believed the how's or why's of it he couldn't avoid the what's. Between the sickness and the pain and the dizziness it was clear that he was not going to be on his feet before they reached Isle de Muerta.

She'd come and sat beside him at some time, he couldn't quite recall when, and explained that his blood was too hot because it was alive with things that hadn't been there before, things that were new to him, things that his body would kill or drive out in time. She smiled and told him that that the war between them produced this ague and the terrible weakness that went with it. The draughts she made him drink and the white pills she made him swallow were supposed to help his body win the war and to make him feel better while they fought.

He had no problems in accepting he was a battlefield, but if this was better then he couldn't imagine what worse would feel like.

***

"Will he live?"  
"There is no reason why he should not. The fever was undesirably high but it is declining and his blood culture shows nothing that the medication program I have provided cannot cope with. He is strong enough and, given the era he hails from, his body must be accustomed to infection."

Elanor was not disposed to be reassured though she couldn't be sure why, guilt she supposed, she seemed to have felt a lot of that since she arrived here.  
"Bloody hell Ariadne, I should have thought of it before! Why didn't I? This ship will be a culture plate of things he's not equipped to deal with."  
"You cannot hold yourself accountable for forgetting the vagaries of time travel, after all it is not what you would expect to have to cope with. That aside you are tired and your thought processes are affected by fatigue, you need a least one night of unbroken sleep. That should be possible while he is so incapacitated and no threat, take full advantage of the situation."  
"What about me? He will be alive with a few things I've not encountered too, and not only the crawly ones we have already dealt with."  
"Your inoculations and genetic history will take care of most of those. You might find yourself with a cold or a mild stomach upset but nothing worse than that. However the drugs you have provided for him will deal with most of the infections and other diseases he may carry."  
Ariadne paused for a moment then went on,  
"Do not allow yourself to be beguiled by him into guilt, he will come out of this episode much healthier in the long term than he went into it."  
Ariadne's tone was almost dry and Elanor wondered what exactly had been found in that blood culture, somehow she felt it intrusive to ask.  
"You are right of course. Hold our course for this treasure island of his and keep the scanners on full alert. Take evasive action where necessary and then bring us back on course when safe. Wake me if we come in range of anything likely to see us."  
"Very well."

She had retired to her cabin by way of his.

He was asleep, deeply and silently asleep. If he hadn't been so ill she might have assumed he had arranged himself with a view to dramatic effect, dark hair was spread across the pillow, just one long rope falling over his shoulder to lay against the whiteness of his borrowed shirt, his hands were limp at his sides. The shadows were back around his eyes, though this time no thanks to kohl. She picked up one of his hands and stared at the rings adorning it, for the moment they were the only real reminder of the strangeness of him.

What had she committed herself to in this search of his? Was she really going to find some lost and fabulous treasure on this sunken island, and what did she do if they did? If it was enough to buy him a ship would he retire to safety, as he had told her had been his plan, and leave her to her uncertain fate in this strange new world? She dropped his hand and rubbed her eyes, Ariadne was right, she was tired, too tired to be rational and this was a man who needed to be handled rationally.

With that reminder to herself she left him to his rest and went and sought her own.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Voyages of the Dawn Chaser ****_Voyage 2 - The water of life_**

**Chapter 2 Hello Beastie**

_In which Barbossa meets people of the past and Jack dreams of old enemies._

The faces were a new addition, and in many ways they were worse than the voices. He would see them in the timbers of the deck, the weave of the canvas and the shape of the clouds on the horizon, and there seemed to be no seeing past them. Some were smiling, others crying, yet more were twisted, mouths agape and screaming soundlessly at him, and all the while the whispering taunted him with words he couldn't quite hear. But those whispered words must surely relate to the faces, names maybe, places perhaps? But none were clear enough to be sure, just loud enough to be forever there, as the faces were coming to be. Barbossa didn't know whom they were, nor why they should come to plague him, but there was no ridding himself of them. At least not for the moment.

He remembered the stories of the Dutchman and the crew who became part of the ship and he shivered. Was this the Pearl's revenge on him for bringing the curse upon her, or for taking her first and greatest love and abandoning him? Twice. For Jack's love of the ship must be a powerful thing to cause him to make such a trade with Jones, and how could the ship not return such devotion? He had done nothing to steal her love away from Sparrow, confident that she would accept him as her master simply because he willed it to be so; was this his judgement for that neglect?

The faces had first appeared as the Pearl raced her way out of the Navy's sight. He had turned towards their disappearing pursuers to be met by the sight of the first of them, a young man with red hair and blue eyes, staring at him in the outline of the now distant sails. He'd cursed with the surprise of it and turned away, scanning the decks for prying eyes, but he'd been unobserved, except for Cotton who looked at him askance; but Cotton would tell no tales, and for once the parrot was not on his shoulder.

Little Jack had been frightened by his sudden curse and had taken to the ratlines, and it had taken many long minutes and several peanuts to tempt him down. But even as the monkey settled on his shoulder he had the sudden feeling of being watched and he had looked across the decks once more to meet Raggetti's one eye watching him with a calculation that unnerved him. Barbossa knew then that the one eyed sailor and his baleful friend would have to be lost somewhere soon.

Yet Raggetti and Pintel were not the only ones that bore watching and a man needed eyes in his back to be sure that he saw the plots before they found him. To pacify his disgruntled and argumentative crew a little he'd ordered an extra ration of rum once the navy was lost, while he had retreated to the cabin and the charts to make his plans, safe from prying eyes and unwelcome questions.

They were at least two days sailing from the point where they had found Sparrow's dingy and then another two or three days from the general area of the fountain. Five days, then, five days before he could act to secure his position. But Sparrow had three days head start on them assuming he had persuaded his rescuers to follow his inclinations, and that was by no means certain for he doubted that Sparrow would tell them the truth of his interest.

"Captain?"  
The voice was Marty's. Barbossa got slowly to his feet staring at the door in something he realised was close to fear, struggling to get a grip on himself he answered with roar,  
"Can't a man be getting a wink or two of sleep undisturbed! What be it that ye want now?"  
He crept closer to the locked doors easing the hilt of his cutlass from its scabbard as he did so.  
"We need a heading Captain. Our current course will take us in sight of the guns of the fort at Port Elizabeth. Having escaped the Navy so narrowly be it your intention to sail into their arms again?"

Barbossa swallowed hard on the bile rising in his throat, he was losing his grip on his fate and his crew, though the two might yet prove to be the same. Straightening his coat and clapping his hat to his head he drew himself up to his full height and threw open the door,  
"Aye matey ye be right. Tis not a time to be risking an unnecessary fight. We have treasure to seek."  
He strode out onto the deck, little Jack on his shoulder,  
"Mr Cotton, I have a new heading for you."

***

Jack knew that he had lost track of the days and nights, but that seemed less important than the pain that racked him, even with her evil draughts, and the dreams that plagued him. The Kracken and the locker were common visitors, as was Beckett and his brand; but there were others too, some so old he had thought that he had defeated them long ago.

There were strange creatures too, things that were no part of any mare visited him before, spiders that crawled from the bulkhead above him and fish that swum in the shadows, hovering on the edge of his vision and drifting between him and the cabin when he dared to open his eyes and look around. Not that he did that too often, for turning his head sent fireworks of agony through him.

The cabin was dim, and often the dreams would merge with the shadows of the real world to build landscapes on which danced monsters and the many versions of himself that he had come to know in the desert of Davy Jones hell. These last were some of the worst for though he ranted and railed at them they refused to quit him, instead they sat on his bed and climbed in his hair. He pulled at his braids in fury trying to dislodge them, but they hung fast to the beads, taunting him for losing the Dutchman and leaving them stranded.

There were times when Beckett joined them, sitting cross legged at the foot of the bed and smiling smugly,  
"It was just business Jack, nothing personal. Freedom? What is that? If history had been written differently they would have done no less to me; or to you Jack. But you stole them from me, you betrayed my interests. I was kind to you, took an interest in you, gave you a chance to be something more than the poor wretch that you were; and yet how did you repay me? By stealing from me, Jack. It took two voyages to make good those losses, another year and more of trying to recoup what you deprived me of, another year of patronage, of hurtful kindness and of being humiliated by lesser men. All because of you Jack, all because of you."  
"There're things a man can't do mate." Jack would protest each time, just as he had then.  
Becket would mock him bitterly at that,  
"A man, Jack? What is a man? Are you? Am I? How are we different? Miss Swann killed you did she not? Not a manly fate, would you say, to allow a chit of a spoiled girl to kill you? To allow her to sink the ship you risked so much to save. Jones must have laughed at that. Did you hear him laughing as you died Jack? Like they laughed at me, for my father, for who I wanted to be, and for trusting you. How you must hate her for that, hate her as much as I hated you. Do you understand now Jack, do you understand now what it is to hate?"

Beckett would crawl up the bed then to sit beside Jack's head; those dainty, white gentleman's hands of his stroking the ornaments amongst the sweat soaked braids. Jack could do nothing to stop him though he could smell the stench of the blood on those hands, a stench stretching back across the years, nor was it just blood, there was the smell of burning wood and of seared flesh too, of vomit and cordite and oil soaked canvas. Then Beckett would lean forward and whisper in his ear,  
"Or did she do you a good turn, was that it? Allowed you to go down with your beloved Pearl like a true captain. Took the decision you couldn't make. Was that it Jack? Did she make Captain's Sparrow's decision for him when Jack couldn't do it?"  
"No." Jack would protest but his other selves would laugh and shake their finger at him.

Yet these times were not the worst, for the moments of lucidity were more terrifying still, moments when he lay weak and helpless and wondered if he would die on this strange ship, never see the Pearl again, never find the fountain. At these moments he feared that he would end here in this little room, forgotten and without sight or sound of the seas.

Yet he was not alone, nor forgotten, and that was strange and frightening too. Sometimes he would awake with the terror of the dreams to find Elanor sitting by his side, watching him from the shadows with anxiety in her face. He wasn't sure whether the fear was for him or for whatever it was that he had shouted, or screamed, in his fever. The uncertainly of that produced an unaccustomed feeling of despair, there were so many things he did not wish to tell her and he could only wonder how many of them he had already betrayed.

His drifting thoughts tried for calm, 'she would only think them nightmares' he told himself, dreams fed by the fever produced by these little animals she had spoken of. And yet..... he could not be sure what this women who was being forced to accept the impossible by his presence might decide to believe. If only he could think..... If only he could guard his face and twist the words as he was used to doing, but the fever and it's companion weakness allowed him no such leverage or dignity.

There was strangeness in her care of him too, to be fevered was not unknown but to be so carefully cared for was. There was little enough to be read in her face but her hands were gentle, even when he complained as she stripped the sweat soaked shirt from him and pulled another into its place, and she did not curse him when he turned away from her potion spilling it in a great dark stain across the sheet. A new sheet was quickly produced, and when he cried out unawares with the pain of movement as she lifted him she apologised and moved him more slowly. He wasn't sure but he thought that there were times when she wiped his face and chest or held water to his parched lips, and he could vaguely recall her piling pillows behind his head and spooning soup into his mouth. No mother could have tended him more carefully. If he were honest he feared that care near as much as he feared the dreams, or rather he feared his greed for it; he could not allow her behind his guard for she had weapons enough already. Weapons! If he could get to his effects then maybe then he would not feel so unlike himself. Yet when he tried to raise himself from the bed his body refused to co-operate, his muscles turned to lead and his blood to water. If only he could think!

It was usually at this point that the dreams would claim him again.

Then suddenly the pain was waning and there were moments when he thought he had slept but not dreamt. Though when she appeared by his bed he thought that he might be dreaming, though granted it must be a dream of a different ilk.  
"You look better," she said. "Ariadne says the fever has pretty much broken and from now on you can expect to start feeling stronger. It will be slow for a day or two but the worst is over."  
Jack just laid back on the pillows and stared at her,  
"Nasty little creatures these bloody animals, as vindictive as this ghost of yours," he said as he tried to concentrate on her face, but that was proving difficult despite the languor.  
She didn't seem to notice and just smiled slightly,  
"Well you fell foul of rather a lot of them at once, and they are tougher and more aggressive in my world than they are in yours. But from now on you should have no problems, not with them anyway."

He watched as she crossed to the table and picked up whatever it was that was lying there, whatever it was didn't interest him, what she was wearing, or rather not wearing, did. Her skin had always been white but he didn't recall it having this silvery sheen before, and if was her skin then he was seeing rather more of it than he had so far. He tipped his head as she turned back towards him, letting his eyes drift down towards the deck, somehow expecting that this was a dream and that he would see that she had a tail not feet. But no, she had feet, nearly bare feet with ten long, straight, toes tipped with silvered nails. They were elegant feet and he rather liked the look of them, but then he rather liked the look of what they were supporting too. It had to be a dream, there could be no reason why she would be dressed in such a fashion except in his dreams. But if it was that kind of dream then why was she dressed at all?

She came back to the bedside and reached out to grasp his arm. Now he could see that she was, in fact, dressed, but in something so tight fitting that it seemed like another skin. As she pushed his shirt sleeve up he felt the surface of it, thick and smooth against his skin, it made the hairs on his arm stand on end. While he approved of the fit he could not feel the same about the absence of fastenings, how the devil did the woman get it on and off?

Elanor saw the lazy smile drifting around his mouth and the direction of his wandering eyes and she had a good idea about the direction of his thoughts. It was unimportant, she would explain later, and his illness would prevent him from trying anything he would regret, but it seemed that the man was incorrigible, a fact to be remembered for later. For the moment he remained an invalid and she had work to do. She picked up the hypo and put it against his arm, noting that his eyes drifted down to her hands which he watched with a detached interest,  
"This will help to rebuild your strength. But don't expect to be leaving that bed for another day or two, at least not for any length of time." she told him. "We should reach the location of this island of yours within the next couple of hours and I don't want to hang around there for long, so you will have to leave it to me."  
She saw the confusion in his face and wondered just how much to explain, as little as possible was probably best,  
"I'll take a quick look, see what can be reached, if anything can. We won't need much for the moment, the rest can stay where it is. Seems to me that the sea bed is as good as a vault, from what you've told me it's unlikely that anyone else is going to be raiding this particular piggy bank."

Jack frowned at her and wished she would talk a language he could understand, not that he thought he wanted to understand what piggy bank meant, he'd hauled Gibbs out of that sty on Tortuga too often to want any closer contact with pigs of any kind, unless they were bacon. His stomach rebelled at the thought but he struggled to sit up any way, what ever she was planning he had every intention of being a part of it.  
"I'm well enough now, these little beasties of yours seem to be losing the war. Can't see how you think to get at the treasure when I've told you that the sea has swallowed it, but I'll come up on deck and you can show me what you have in mind."  
He pushed the sheet back as he spoke and swung his feet over the edge of the bunk, discovering to his chagrin that his sea legs had deserted him,  
"Ah!" he exclaimed as his knees refused to support him and he toppled forward.

She caught him without effort, holding him by his shoulders and slightly clear of that fascinating, shining skin, much to his regret, and looked him over, then she pushed him back towards the bunk.  
"I don't think so," was all she said.  
Though he peered at her closely as she eased him back onto the bunk he could see neither humour nor gloating in her face, just a detached consideration. He could not understand why such reasonable conduct should annoy him quite so much, but annoy him it did. He wanted to push her away and swagger up to her pristine white decks to direct matters, but the little beasts still had him in their jaws and it was clear, even to himself, that that was not an option that was available to him, at least not for the moment.  
"I'll be back soon to tell you what I've found. Ariadne thinks that we might be able to recover something, but it remains to see if it will be enough. Until then just stay where you are, quietly if such a thing is possible for you. Just trust me."  
"Now why should I do that?" the words slipped out before he could reconsider them.  
However she didn't seem to take any offence,  
"Why not?" was all she said.  
He leant back against the pillows with more relief than he was going to let her see,  
"Where would you like me to begin darlin?"  
He managed something closer to his usual smile but he knew that it was still a pale attempt. She just shrugged and crossed to the door, turning back to narrow her eyes at him in one of her sharp looks,  
"Darlin falls into the same category a luv Jack, and if you don't want me to take a terrible revenge when next you need medicene I'd advise you resist the temptation to use either."  
But she smiled in an almost friendly way as she said it. She was gone before he could reply.

Jack settled himself more comfortably and smiled to himself,  
He might yet get to like this strange woman, for all her sharp words and insultingly amused looks. He just needed to keep reminding himself that, for all her very female appearance, she was neither whore nor high toned lady but a fellow captain. Still captain or not he needed to keep an eye on her, he would have a short rest, recupe his energy and then he would go and see what she was up to.

On that promise to himself he fell asleep.

***

He awoke with the nagging thought that there was something important that he had to do, and that he had to do it now. Treasure, it was something to do with treasure, not the fountain but treasure as in silver and gold. Lots of it.

Isle De Muerta, that was it! They were anchored where the Isle de Muerta had once been, before the sea had swallowed it and its precious hoard. Elanor! She had said something about recovering some of that hoard. In which case what was he doing in bed? Bugger. He was not letting her get at the treasure, at least not on her own. Assuming that she could of course, but now his head was starting to work again he was no longer sure that she wouldn't be able to. He could not know what she, her ill tempered ghost and this strange ship might be able to do. Bugger! Why was he not on deck? Why was he not watching her?

He threw of the covering and scrambled to his feet, then sank down again quickly. Oh, that was why. Jack squinted down at his traitorous lower limbs; his head was working again so why would they not do as they were instructed. Still such weakness was meant to be overcome.

Taking more care this time he got to his feet, and stood breathing deeply. He was still wearing the shirt and breeches she had provided, or at least some very like them, but he had no boots. Very well, barefoot might not be so dignified but it wouldn't be the first time he'd trod a deck with no shoes. She might think that depriving him of footwear would keep him here but she would find that he could rise above such trifles, he was Captain Sparrow, boots or no. He was going up on deck, she needn't think that he wouldn't or that he couldn't.

Carefully he crossed the room and opened the door. There was no sign of Elanor or her ghost but the passage to the deck steps seemed longer than he recalled it. Jack drew a deep breath and began to make his was towards the door, keeping one hand on the bulkhead as he went. The stairs were nearly his undoing, and once again he found himself thinking dark thoughts about the purpose of those draughts she had poured so assidoiusly down his throat. But, though he had to stop to recruit his strength at every level, he finally made it to the deck.

It was late afternoon judging by the position of the sun and the air was hot. The sea was gentle with no sign of the towering waves that had swallowed the island so voraciously all those months, maybe years, ago. The treasure was lost, he'd stood and watched it slip forever into legend, taking his escape with it. But that was in the past whatever Elanor had in mind she couldn't reclaim what was lost, but he needed to know what she was up to all the same.

He looked around him, the decks was as white as the desert of the locker and the light was golden, it had yet to take on the red tint of sunset. All was calm and quiet, he could hear the swish of the swell against the hull, the occasional groan of the anchor chain and the creak of canvas or rope, he didn't yet know this ship well enough to be sure which it was. But there was no human sound, nor ghostly sound come to that. There was no one at the helm but his memories f his last experience kept him where he was. This ghost of hers watched everywhere, or so she said, and he was not inclined to put that to the test for the moment. The lady herself was no where to be seen.

Frowning, he looked around him, noting the pristine condition of everything with approval and, it had to be admitted, some envy. It was a very fine ship. But it had a very fine captain, a very fine, but apparently missing, captain.  
"Elanor," he called out, "Where are you?" but there was no response.  
"Elanor, Captain Cavendish, where are you?" he tried again. Still no reply.  
He looked around him, but there was nothing to tell him where she might be. Had she gone below? But she had told him she would come down and tell him when she had done whatever it was that she had planned on doing, had she not? Why would she have lied when she had no need to do anything at all?

Jack wandered over to the rail and peered over his brows rising as he saw the small raft apparently tethered at the water line. Surely she had not taken a boat out? Or maybe she had. He scanned the ocean but could see nothing, just water as far as the eye could see. With a frown Jack stepped back towards the masts, and for the first time he wondered what would happen to him if she were lost. He did'nt know if he could sail this wonderful ship alone, or even if her ghost would let him. What, then, would he do if she were injured, or sick, as he had been, or, and this was not a nice idea, if she were killed. If the ship remained anchored here then sooner or later it would be found, which meant that he would be found, and this yardarm would be as good as any other to the navy if they found him. If other pirates found him then it was unlikely that they would just accept that he couldn't sail this ship, and they would want it which would mean they would try and persuade him to tell them how to sail it. The futile persuasion would not be pleasant. Either way he needed Elanor back.

"Elanor," he tried again, "Elanor, this isn't amusing darlin." He felt the anger rising with the fear, "where the hell are you woman?"  
Still no reply and now he could feel panic stirring, in desperation he raised his voice,  
"Oi, you, ghost. What's your name, Ariadne. Where is she? I need to know where she is." Still there was silence but for the sound of wind and the waves, Jack took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, "I said where is she ghost? Is she safe? Does she need help? I need to know. Savvy?"  
The ghost stayed stubbornly silent.

Gritting his teeth he searched the deck from prow to stern and found nothing. With a curse he headed for the door, trying to ignore the returning headache and the weariness that was creeping up on him again. She must have gone below for some reason, he would find her and make his feelings on the matter clear!

A new sound came from behind him, a sound like a whale blowing water. Then something was on the raft, setting the edge of it knocking against the hull, he heard the scrape of rope and a strange clanking noise like manacles being released. Drawing a steadying breath and thinking longingly of sword and pistol he ran back to the rail.

His eyes widened in horror at the sight of the creature hauling itself onto the raft and he looked wildly around for a weapon, any weapon, but the tidy decks offered nothing to defend either himself or the ship. He looked back down to the raft to see the creature looking up and he was hurled back in time, back to the deck of the Pearl and the dead black eyes above a gaping mouth ringed with tentacles.

He froze as the monster began to climb towards him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 Considering Allegiances**

_In which the crew discuss the nature of Jack and Jack faces another monster_

"Skulking, there be no other word for it. We be skulking." Pintel sounded disgusted.  
"Aye," Raggetti agreed, "Captain Barbossa seems powerfully disinclined to go anywhere else."  
"But why?" Marty asked, "We've seen na sign of Captain Jack, nor any ship he might be on. So why wait here? Why is t' Captain so sure that he will pass us by."

"Perhaps he's not, perhaps he can't think of anywhere else to go."  
Pintel stared closely at the man who'd spoken, one of those two daft buggers who'd appeared after the Dutchman went down, Murtogg and Mullroy or some such he thought their names to be, but he could never quite remember which was which. As they spent most of their time squabbling between theirselves it never mattered much.  
"Might be true, might not," he replied, "but skulking it be either way. I ask you is that a proper occupation for a pirate ship?"  
Raggetti shook his head solemnly,  
"Tis not. Captain Jack now, he never skulked; hid sometimes, ran away too, but never skulked."  
"Well hiding and running away they be piratey things to do, particularly when the Navy be chasing you, and there be more than one of them. But skulking! That be different." Pintel responded.  
"Well the Navy did chase us, and we ran away, so Captain Barbossa was being piratey then." That was the other one of the daft pair.  
"Yes," Pintel sounded exasperated, "but the Navy's not chasing us now, leastways not that I can see. So why are we anchored here? We be skulking I tell you!"

Marty squinted up at Pintel,  
"Might be right though, Captain got as far as he can and don't know where to go now. Without tat chart we are never going ta find the Fountain. Never mind what Barbossa say. We need Captain Jack, and now we've lost the fountain. Should never have left Captain Jack behind."  
Pintel turned on him in fury,  
"Well maybe you should have said something about it sooner, like afore we left him in Tortuga"  
Raggetti shrugged,  
"Barbossa said he had the chart, said Captain Jack wouldn't share it." He squinted at Pintel, "Might be that he wasn't telling the truth about that mind."  
Pintel rolled his eyes,  
"So now ye say it! Anyways we didn't fall over the edge of the world leaving Captain Jack, we fell over the edge because we was looking for him. Not the same at all."  
"But of we hadn't left him we wouldn't have had to go looking for him." Raggetti insisted,  
"That's true," Murtogg, or was it Mullroy, said.  
Pintel glared at the man to no apparent effect,  
"We didn't leave him, the Kracken ate him, there wasn't anything to leave!"  
"Missus Turner left him." Raggetti chipped in, "see. She caused it." He looked down his nose and pursed his lips, "leaving Captain Jack behind is a bad thing. Brings bad luck."

There was a moment of silence while they all thought about that, then the darker of the daft pair frowned at Raggetti,  
"You mean he's like one of those charm things they use to keep Old Hob at bay?"  
"Talisman." Raggetti supplied the word as he nodded seriously, "That's what he is, a talisman. When Captain Jack is around things work out, when he isn't then they don't and bad things happen."  
Pintel shook his head,  
"Don't know about that, some pretty bad things happened when he was around. Pearl went down for one."  
"But Captain Jack got her back, brought the Pearl and hisself back."  
"Back from where?" the darker of the duo asked,  
"The Locker." Pintel told him in a portentous tone,  
"Back from the seas of eternity." Raggetti added as he nodded his agreement.  
"You mean this ship has been on the other side? With dead people?" the dark one demanded.  
"Aye" Marty looked suddenly uncomfortable.  
"Now it's back, from the dead?" that was the fairer one.  
"Aye," Marty now looked distinctly uneasy. "Captain Jack got us back." He shot an uneasy glance towards the great cabin,  
"Not Captain Barbossa?" that was the dark one again.  
"Nay, he didn't see the way, couldn't navigate us even wit ta chart." Marty suddenly felt that he didn't want to remember that.  
"So we are on a ghost ship then?" the fair one, "if it's come back from the dead it must be."  
"On a ghost ship and without its talisman." The dark one sounded unhappy about the idea.  
Suddenly none of the others were happy about it either.

"Don't sound too healthy when you put it that way." Pintel muttered.  
Raggetti nodded,  
"Tempting providence you might say."  
Marty looked from one to the other then shrugged,  
"So what do we do? We could abandon Barbossa but tat whut nat change anything and at least he has some notion of where we need ta be."  
"We wait to find Captain Jack, that's what we do." Pintel declared, "then when we see this ship that Captain Barbossa is sure he's on then we roll out the canons, board her and steal him back, and we don't let him go ashore again until we've found this fountain."  
"Captain Jack is tricky, and he won't like being kept from going ashore." Raggetti objected.  
Pintel scowled,  
"If we bring him rum and wenches he'll be happy enough."  
"Not sure about that." Raggetti argued. "He misrepresents hisself does Captain Jack, misleads people, he's not drunk as often as he pretends to be, at least he wasn't until he had Jones on his back. Come to that he hasn't been drunk since." He shook his head, "Rum and wenches or no, he won't like being locked up."  
"That be true." Pintel granted, "but there be more of us, and if we take his sword and pistol there won't be anything he can do about it now will there?"

"Not sure we should upset him if he's the talisman." Murtogg or Mullroy said.  
Pintel scowled  
"Just cos he's one of these talis things don't mean that we can't keep him locked in his cabin now do it? Just that we can't hurt him and leave him behind! Anyway's once we've got to this fountain we can let him out."  
"And Barbossa?" Marty asked.  
Pintel grinned unpleasantly,  
"If Captain Jacks this talis thing then it's only right that he should decide what to do with Captain Barbossa."  
Raggetti nodded his agreement,  
"Only right it should be his responsibility. Nobeless oblige so to speak."  
Pintel grinned around  
" No call for anyone to be mad at us then. Eh?"

"So we wait for Captain Jack to arrive?" that was the fair one, who was looking confused again.  
"Aye we wait. Just as Captain Barbossa wanted." Pintel said.  
Marty looked towards the great cabin and spoke for them all,  
"Let hope he isn't too long in coming."

***

The dead black eye reflected back an image of himself, just as the corpse of the Kracken had. Whether the living beasts eyes had been so soulless he couldn't remember; but then he had had other things on his mind at the time, mainly not having anything on his mind. Dying in the hot rush had been easier than dying in cold blood. But he did remember the gaping mouth and the serried ranks of teeth; this ones mouth was far smaller, 'in keeping with it's overall size, its human size,' some part of his brain was trying to shout at him, and he couldn't see any teeth as yet. Not a Kracken then, not even an infant one, but Jones might have other servants in whatever watery hell Calypso had consigned him too. Somehow he didn't think that Jones had forgiven him, nor forgotten him, wherever he was. Who else would have sent such a thing?

The tentacles surrounding the creatures head glowed translucent in the sun and the sound of its breathing, harsh and heavy, seemed to be all that he could hear. The silvered skin shone like a thousand pearls in the hot light as the front limbs reached up and grasped the rail with webbed and suckered hands. For a moment he was frozen by memory and by fear, but as the horror got closer the hot rush pushed the weakness of illness away and he found his strength.

He backed away from the rail searching the deck closest with frantic eyes, but still there was no sign of a possible weapon. With a curse he ran for the helm shouting as he went,  
"Oi ghost, there's an intruder aboard, and Elanor's gone missing. I need a weapon!"  
As before he got no answer.  
Beneath the wheel there was a drawer, perhaps there was something he could use there, even one of those strange writing implements of hers would do, if he could bring himself to allow the creature close enough then it would be long enough to breach the eye if not the heart. It would take all his determination but if that was all there was to hand then that was what he would have to do.

He reached for the handle but by reflex his hand pulled back as he suddenly recalled what had happened the last time he had touched the wheel. A wave of despair ran through him, if this ghost laid him out again then there would be no one to stop this creature, unless by some miracle Elanor was below and not already dead or devoured. But if she came on deck as unprepared as he was then what chance would she have? He looked around him in desperation, then took a deep breath, all he could do was hope, so he raised his voice to address the air,  
"Ghost, I need a weapon. Don't kill me if I touch something I shouldn't."

Then it came to him in a flash, the ghost! She had said that this ghost would defend the ship, so if he could inveigle this creature into touching the wheel then the ghost would do to it what it had done to him! Then he might have a chance of overpowering it. Yes! In fact if he could push it back against the wheel as it recoiled the first time the ghost might even strike hard enough to kill it! If he could warn the ghost, make it understand, it might even do it the first time!  
"Ghost." He hissed more quietly lest he warn the approaching thing, "I don't know where the captain is, or if she is safe, but I have no weapon so you must stop this creature. I will try to manoeuvre it against the wheel, and then it is up to you. Kill or stun it, that's your choice but do something. If you won't do that then provide me with a weapon!"

Nothing happened.

The creature was on deck now, not so large looked at straight on, but powerful and with a humped back and long webbed feet. Something was clasped in one of its forelimbs and as it came forward across the deck it let it fall with a bang. Jack swallowed hard and tried not to look at the fallen object, a flash of gold as the sun hit it suddenly persuading him that if he did look he would see it be a human head, one swathed with silvered golden hair, and that there would be two more dead eyes looking at him, eyes that were neither blue nor green, yet both.

The creature was moving closer and Jack spun around seeking the best place to position himself to lead the creature into the ghost's painful embrace. He edged around to the side of the wheel, it was uncomfortably close, but for it to work he had to skim it by less than inches; he gritted his teeth preparing himself to withstand the shock of pain that he knew would come if he touched it. Now the creature would have to pass the wheel to get to him, and, whatever it was, he would surely have strength enough to push it across the short distance to make contact.

The creature was moving strangely as it came, slowly and clawing at its head as if being out of the water bothered it. The sound of its breathing got louder and harsher and Jack steeled himself for the feel of it, for the smell of it, knowing that every nerve was stretched to snapping point, yet knowing too that he had to do this because there was no one else who would. His whole life was encapsulated in this moment.

The creatures misshapen shadow fell across the wheel and he cast a last desperate look around, still seeking a weapon that might help him as. He barely noticed that the laboured breathing had stopped, deprived of both avenue of escape or weapon he drew a deep breath and prepared, one again, to do battle for his life.

"Jack. What the hell are you doing out of bed! "

***

Calypso had watched the Lady's captain, for that was how she thought of her, just as she thought of Jack as her captain, descend into the water with interest.

The manner of her dress had been strange, like a silver mermaid with fins instead of tail and her face replaced by that strange protruding mouth and the single black eye. She had frowned realising that this woman intended to dive down to the sea bed in pursuit of Witty Jack's lost treasure, for it had taken days of wearying work to put it out of his reach and she was not sure that she was willing to let it be placed back into his hands. True she no longer needed him a pirate, but he was her captain and he had thwarted her and, while she had no desire to see him dead, nor was she inclined to surrender him to a life of ease.

For a moment too she worried for this woman, for the water was deep, too deep for her purpose, and she did not think twas in the Lady's mind to have her perish here. Calypso sighed and prepared to save the woman from her folly, but first she would watch and see what more she might learn of her, for that might tell her more of the Lady's intentions.

The woman seemed quite unafraid as she slid backwards off the raft into the water and Calypso thinned her lips at the carelessness so readily displayed, then the expression eased and she stared in surprise as the woman pushed herself down towards the sea bed with little trouble and consummate grace. Her eyes widened as she saw the trail of bubbles begin to stir around her head, then smiled as she realised what was happening. Not a fish then, but a dolphin or a whale, carrying huge lungs of air down with her to allow her to breathe. What would witty Jack make of that when he knew of it!

The woman was deep now but was apparently unperturbed by the growing pressure of the water above her; she had clearly done this before. The light was fading but still she swam downwards towards even darker waters. Calypso watched as she reached the seabed and began to search, with unerring skill too, it was as if she knew where the items she sought were secreted. Some she left where they were, others, smaller and lighter she collected and pushed into a bag that had appeared at her waist. As she ranged across the seabed ropes of pearls, scattered gemstones and golden trinkets were scooped up, inspected by that single unblinking eye then stuffed into the bag. A small fortune was collected and Calypso debated with herself whether to allow this pillaging or if she should summon some other occupant of these waters, a ray or a shark maybe, to take them back and force the Lady's captain back to the surface and the world she belonged to.

At her thought several very large fish changed their course and headed in her direction.

She was still undecided about her course of action when another figure appeared in the gloom, The Lady herself, standing on the seabed, fan spread and jewelled smile flashing in the movement of the current.  
"Ah, sa that be the wayt of it. You would have me let her take her prize?"  
The Lady merely moved closer to her captain and dipped her head. Several miles away a large shoal of fish suddenly felt the urge to move into the path of the approaching predators.  
Calypso saw and smiled, inclining her own head in acceptance,  
"Very well Lady, so be it. I will let ya have ya way." Her voice sharpened, "but know that I could stop ya if I wished."  
The Lady merely inclined her head again though whether in agreement of dissent Calypso couldn't tell. She would take it as agreement and thanks on this occasion.

Side by side they watched the woman start towards the surface, moving confidently as if she were tethered to her ship. They watched as she clambered slowly onto her raft then looked up and started to move more swiftly. With a silent look they moved aboard the ship anchored above.

Jack was looking pale and thin and frightened, Calypso didn't think she had ever seen him look so afraid before. She turned and looked at the woman in her strange garb, seeing now though Jack's eyes, and exchanged another look with the Lady. One of these two captains was not going to come out of this well, how would their accord survive that?

Then Jack was at the wheel, calling to the ghost, demanding a weapon, and Elanor had dropped the bag onto the deck and was pulling at the covering on her head in frantic haste. Jack was easing himself behind the wheel and the woman was moving across the decks as quickly as her strange garb allowed. Now Calypso could see what Jack was about and knew that this ghost at least would know it too; she threw back her head and laughed as the Lady's smile flashed brighter,  
"Ah Lady you be a crafty one tis true. They get their prize and a little lesson too."  
She looked at where Jack was standing braced for the onslaught he so obviously expected,  
"Witty Jack," she cooed, though she knew he could not hear her, "the better part of you will win when the need is greatest, maybe she will trust you a little more now."

The woman was free of her head covering now and staring at Jack in astonished concern,  
"Jack. What the hell are you doing out of bed!" her voice was sharp with concern.  
Calypso exchanged another amused look with the Lady and then they left their captains to their argument.


	4. Chapter 4

**  
Chapter 4 - "Do you fear death?**"

_In which there is much thought of death and afterwards_

Jack had shown a stubborn streak and refused to go back to bed; she rather suspected this was a fundamental characteristic of the man and had given up trying to persuade him otherwise when what she had assumed was a brave face started to show a spark of real anger. That he was still weak showed in his slow and deliberate movement, and the sheen of sweat on his brow suggested that his recent exertions had brought back some small level of fever. But he was insistent that he was staying on deck.

The look on his face suggested that feared being anywhere else, not so impossible if he was feeling the fever creeping back and if her suspicions were correct. Were death to come for him it would be from the sea and he would want to see it coming.

He had sat himself down, back to the mast, as he had been the morning he first became ill, and refused any further medication. Instead he had asked for rum, pulled a comic face when she reminded him that she didn't carry any, and reluctantly accepted a glass of brandy instead. On this occasion she didn't bring the bottle, something he noticed immediately and looked balefully at her, a look she pretended not to see. She contented herself with coffee, sipping it as she, too, stared out at the falling sun.  
"I'm sorry for the scare, it must have looked strange to you."  
"That it did." There was a slight hint of accusation in his voice.  
She turned to look at his profile,  
"I would have explained but when I came down to the cabin you were asleep. I didn't want to wake you and I thought you would sleep longer than you did."  
"Sorry to disappoint you luv." The accompanying smile was brittle.  
She shrugged,  
"No disappointment, but if I'd realised you might wake and come looking for me I would have warned you."  
This time he shrugged but he said nothing more, just drank some brandy and went on staring at the sea.

Elanor took a deep swallow of her coffee and followed it with a deeper breath,  
"Aridane told me that you were prepared to fight for the ship, thank you for that."  
His set and distant expression told her that it was probably better not to mention Ariadne's comments about his concern for her too. As it was her words brought another shrug and that strange shake of the shoulders he used when uncertain or offended, this time she wasn't sure whichof the two it was,  
"No worries, my life at stake too." His voice was flat and cold.  
"Of course."  
He just nodded slightly and drank more brandy, the fingers of one hand toying aimlessly with a rope of the pearls she had recovered earlier. She waited a moment then she raised her coffee cup towards him,  
"Thanks anyway."  
He turned towards her at that and gave her a wide eyed look that she couldn't read, followed by another one of those complicated shrugs. Then, with a frown, he turned back towards the sea.

***

The Pearl and her crew were waiting, like a cat watching at a mouse hole and as close to a direct line between the wrecked dingy and the general area of the fountain, as her captain recalled it, as was possible and still avoid being sighted by the Navy as it returned to replace the EITC.

Several ships of the commercial fleet had passed them by, heading back towards the east, but none had come within canon range and it was likely that few of them yet knew the degree of the Pearl's involvement in the demise of Beckett, or cared. Beckett was dead and his mad ambitions and private hatreds would die with him. Which sober gentleman, or navy man looking for preferment, would care to tell the king that Beckett had sought to own the seas for himself? Or that he had made a pact with a myth to do it, and using an artefact that no landsman believed in any way?

As for the sailors, well, the few stories they had heard in Tortuga suggested that the tale going around was that Beckett had been killed by Davy Jones when he, Beckett, had tried to stab the heart and take the Dutchman for his own. Jack Sparrow was credited with overpowering Jones, a twist that brought a snarl to Barbossa's face. A few more tellings and any semblance of the truth would be lost. Just as the truth of the legend of Davy Jones himself soon would be, now that the Dutchman had returned to her duties on the seas beyond the map.

But they had been anchored here for three days now and there had been no sign of a ship that might have rescued Sparrow, and Barbossa could only cling to the hope that sooner or later it would come. That Sparrow might be dead he would not accept, if only because his face was not amongst the many now gathering around him. Yet if Sparrow were dead Barbossa was sure that he would be. Given that he was almost sure who the faces were now.

In the great cabin he poured over the charts, trying to determine how soon he could expect Jack to arrive. Little Jack sat on the edge of the chart table, scavenging the peanuts that seemed to appear wherever Barbossa was these days. In the grain of the table's timbers more faces formed, cried for his attention then faded, only to be replaced by new ones. The supply of them seemed to be unending.

He tried not to look at them, for seeing them fired him with a terrible need to remember who they were and how and when they had died; like an itch demanding to be scratched he found it increasingly hard not to remember and grieve when he could not. Not that it mattered for they all shared a common bond, they had died at his hand in one way or another, either at the end of blade or pistol, or in pursuit of his greed, or broken by the deaths of those whose lives he had claimed.

That last one had been the hardest to work out, but it had come to him in the end, sending him to sit at the bow, little Jack's skinny arms about his neck, his keening cries of distress echoed in Barbossa's own mind.

The crew were staying away from him. They jumped to obey his orders with all the readiness of the past, but he could feel the tension in them and he knew they were waiting. Knew too what they were waiting for, Jack Sparrow. When they found him and the chart then Barbossa knew that his course would be run, they would take Jack for captain and hand himself over to his old enemy. He had no doubts about what Jack would do with him, a side trip to a little island of their mutual acquaintance seemed the most likely outcome. Jack would no doubt deign to give him two pistols, one for little Jack, if only to demonstrate the difference between them. Barbossa found a little voice wondering how many of the faces would not be'troubling him if those differences had been less.

'If we find the fountain then I will not need to remember' he told himself. 'If I can escape going back to death then I'll not need to be a'remembering them, I will be beyond their reach and they will leave me in peace.'  
Then the laughter would ring in his head,  
"Peace Barbossa? Ya think to escape ta reckoning tat easily?" Calypso's voice would taunt him. "Ya cannot return fromt death, nat without bringing it with ya. Ya nat be alive Barbossa, yar merely nat dead. Look andt see."  
He would look down to see the skeletal hand upon the chart and curse, but all that would bring was more of her laughter.

Then the doubts would begin, if he was not alive then could the fountain of youth preserve him? If he was dead, yet in the world of the living, could he die here at all? What would it take to free him and hand back the mastery over his own fate he so craved. Life or death?

Yet all he could do was continue down the path he had set, find the charts and seek out the fountain. But as he watched the faces around him he wondered if, maybe, possibly, he wouldn't let Jack Sparrow live after all.

***

Jack had sat in silence for most of the evening, even when clouds obscured the stars and the wind rose he made no move. The rope of pearls lay tidily across his thighs and occasionally he would touch them as if seeking reassurance that they were still there. As Elanor went about her duties she would occasionally pass him but he did not speak, though sometimes she would turn to see him looking at her again with that wary and puzzled half frown. Each time he would turn away quickly, returning his gaze to the dark waters stretching around them.

Eventually she went below to confer with Ariadne about charts and winds and the days haul. The value of it, even here, caused her a moment's stunned disbelief. What the worth of the rest might be was a disturbing thought, but if she had to stay here it would seem that she could live like a queen, even allowing for Jack living like an emperor. It suddenly occurred to her that the thought might already have occurred to him, after all he knew what had been lost down there, and that maybe it caused him some disquiet too. If half his stories were true then who would he be once the struggle for bare survival was taken away from him?

But that was a thought for another time; it seemed there would be rain soon and he was not well enough yet for a wetting, though he had stood the exertions of the afternoon better than she might have expected. Even so she would have to persuade him to come below soon, and that might not be easy given that he had been staring at the sea as if it was the only real thing in his world, the only thing he might rely upon. Perhaps he felt that it was. For some reason the thought stirred the ever-present guilt and made her feel somehow sad for him.

As she locked the recovered treasure, there really was no other word for it, in the strong room her eyes fell upon his sword and pistol, and for a moment she flirted with the idea of returning them to him. But Ariadne's warnings came back to her, this was a violent time and place and he was a product of it, pirate or honourable man, she couldn't afford to trust anyone. Nor did she want to risk him getting hurt by Ariadne for drawing steel near her when something else he didn't understand happened. He was a clever man, more so than she first granted him perhaps, but he was caught in a bubble whose very existence must scare him; why wouldn't it, given that it terrified her!

No, his weapons would have to stay here; but she could return his clothes to him, maybe that would make him feel more himself again. They would be something familiar in this strange world, and perhaps they might form the opening for a conversation about the gaps in his earlier story. The fever had stripped the layers of evasion away and she had seen the truth of his impossible tale laid out before her in his unwary raving; that had been hard enough to see, but the rest...... She could not admit how much the rest had frightened her, not even to Ariadne. What it meant for him she could not imagine, but if she was to go hunting the fountain, or anywhere else, with this man, then she needed to understand the full scope of the scars he carried. Not to do so might kill them both.

Elanor returned to her own cabin and collected the coat. It still bore a few marks of heavy wear but it had been restored to something like its former elegance, the embroidery was repaired and the wide, swirling, skirts were neatly pressed. On a sudden impulse she slipped it on, feeling the weight of it settle on her shoulders as the broad skirts fell into their proper folds. She smiled as she smoothed the elaborate cuffs, 'never thought to see something like this so close, let alone put it on,' she thought, 'still doesn't seem real somehow'. Yet it was real enough, like its owner, just a reminder of the weirdness she had become bound up in.

Smiling to herself she pirouetted, a little self-consciously even in the privacy of her cabin, feeling the coat swish and swirl about her. She could see how easily it might be to think one's self the swashbuckling hero in such a garment, this coat seemed to be designed for pistols at dawn, swaggering strolls, gallant bows and flashing swords. Just how important was it to its owner's mask she found herself wondering, maybe she should have returned it to him before now. She had not thought enough about what it might signify for him given that he seemed to own little else in the world, she admitted to herself; that idea made her sigh, another harm she had caused him, something else to feel guilt for.

But she could make good that error now. She slid the coat from her shoulders, and, on a second thought, picked up the leather hat from its place on the chair. Then she returned to the deck.

***

Jack was sitting where had left him, though the cup beside him told her had gone below at least once in the time she had been gone. She crossed the deck to stand behind him, apparently unnoticed until she slid the coat around his shoulders.  
"It's going to be getting cold," she said, "a storm's on the way."  
He nodded and pulled the coat closer around him,  
"I know, I can see."  
"Sorry, of course you can. I'm not used to having another sailor aboard so forgive me for stating the obvious." As she spoke she dropped the hat onto his head.  
He reached up and grasped it as if it were a life raft on a empty sea, then he shot her a sideways glance, that frowning uncertain look she had seen before. She wondered, again, what it meant.

"We've done the best we can with your clothes, but I doubt they will ever be the same."  
Elanor knew she was talking for the sake of it, but he had retreated from her somehow and she knew that she had make some for of contact between them soon if they were to survive each other's company. In her own time and place it would have been hard enough, but here, and with a man whose life was so unfamiliar, it seemed all but impossible. Those sideways looks suggested that whatever fragile acceptance they had built before his illness had gone. All she could read in his face now was uncertainty, but occasionally she thought she saw hostility too and wondered if she should raised Ariadne's readiness status again. For the moment he was too tired and weak to consider mounting an attack, but he was recovering at impressive speed. The hint of desperation she sometimes caught in his eyes might well push him into doing something foolish sooner rather than later. Somehow she had to avoid that, she needed him and she was responsible for him, and somehow they had to find common ground. But at this moment she was damned if she could see what it might be.

Particularly if she was to talk to him of his death.

***

Jack looked down at the coat now draped around him, familiar but not the same as he had last seen it. The split seams had been mended, something he never seemed to get the time for, the buttons refastened and the broken and trailing threads neatly pulled in and secured. It had an unfamiliar smell too; the tang of salt and lamp oil and tar had gone along with the stains. The last time he had seen it this way was the day he had bought it from a somewhat distressed gentleman in Venice.

He gripped it tighter, it was his coat and yet not his coat, all his history wiped from it, another part of him lost. But perhaps that was no great loss. Pulling it closer around him he ran his fingers over the cuff, it would had taken effort to restore it in this way and the thought caused him some concern, for it made him wonder why she had bothered. There were so many 'why's' about this strange woman that he needed to resolve, and her care of him was one of the most pressing, for it unnerved him and made her so much harder predict. Why should she care for him, penniless flotsam that he was? She had enough to vex her without concerns for him.

During his hours of staring at the sea he had tried to put himself in her place and found it alarmingly hard to do. To have so much power and yet be so vulnerable was a conundrum he couldn't seem to resolve. How would he had treated her had their positions been reversed? He found that he couldn't answer that one either. Yes he could see why she might keep him alive, even why she might physick him when he became ill, but not see why she would care. He was her prisoner, or rather her hostage against the strange world she found herself in, that he understood; he was........her leverage in some ways. But her consideration for him was something apart from that. But what kind of caring it was he could not guess, for there was no loving in her approach to him, nor yet any desire that he could see, a disappointing reflection that one, and their acquaintance was too slight for friendship; yet still there was care, and he was forced to conclude that he had no model for it.

Which made her hard to read, even without the joker in the pack, this Ariadne of hers; this still unseen ghost whose opinion she valued so highly, and whose powers seemed to be unlimited. Jack shivered, telling himself that it was the wind growing colder as the storm approached.

He looked down at the rope of pearls still draped across his thigh, another uncertainty to vex him, for she had brought a fortune up from the sea bed with barely an effort. She had explained what she had done, and he thought he understood, but again the 'how's' eluded him, and he wondered what other inconceivable things she might be able to conceive of. But the pearls were themselves a part of his second problem, she could gather for them a fortune, and he was sure he could persuade her to share enough to give him a life of ease, so what did he do now? Did they still run the risk of chasing the fountain?

Of course they did.

But when he had eternity in his hand what, exactly, did he intend to do with it? When her door opened and she left, as she would, what was he going to do?

***

For a while they sat in silence, the swell breaking against the hull the only sound. Then Elanor felt him shift and looked back towards in him just in time to catch another strange and wary look before he looked away again. He appeared strained and tired, but she preferred having this conversation on deck where he could stare at the sea if he didn't wish to look at her.  
"We need to talk, you and I," she began  
"Do we now?" he sounded wary.  
"Yes."  
"Why is that?" Now he sounded hostile too.  
It seemed that attack was the only way forward, and it had best be as frontal as possible given his capacity for evasion,  
"Because I would like to know whether I hunting this fountain with a man, or an animated corpse."  
She felt him stiffen and continued before he could reply,  
"Not unreasonable in the circumstances, wouldn't you say?"

He looked at her then and a dark smile curled his mouth and lit his eyes, a smile that was cold at its heart,  
"You've had too much sun luv. Should have waited for my help." The smile widened and became more feral, "Or is it that breathing that underwater air curdles the mind?"  
She recognised the ploy and returned the smile easily,  
"Neither." She leant back a little allowing her shoulder to brush against his, he certainly felt alive, " You talked a lot in that fever Jack, about many things. But most often you talked of death, and of being dead. From personal experience."

He looked back out to sea his smile fading,  
"Dreams Elanor, just dreams. These strange little beasties of yours were to blame. Nothing more than that."  
She let the silence lengthen for a while, staring out at the sea too before replying.  
"Do you fear death?" she made it clear that she was quoting, "or is it just the locker and yourself that you fear Jack?"

He turned to stare at her, terror written large in his eyes but not showing in his face,  
"Dreams as I said luv, nothing more."  
Something in his voice hinted at the horror he was hiding. She shook her head slowly,  
"I don't think so. Nor does Ariadne and she's not given to superstition. You told me a lot, but you left bits out too didn't you? Oh you had no problem spinning tales of sea goddesses and cursed gold and compasses that don't point north, yet you couldn't bring yourself to talk about where your friends left you or where they came and rescued you from."  
He said nothing but the gulp of brandy he took seemed deeper and more desperate,  
"Let's recap what you told me Jack, shall we?"  
He was still now, totally still, but she could feel the tension in him, the desire to move, to run away.  
"As you wish darlin, can't stop you now can I." Now he started to get to his feet, "But if you will excuse me I see no profit in hearing it again and I'd rather find me bed."  
She reached out and grabbed his wrist and he flinched at the strength in her fingers,  
"Sensible idea, it's getting cold and we can talk in your cabin just as easily, I just thought you might feel more comfortable doing it on deck."

The look he threw her would have blistered varnish but she gave no quarter, knowing that if he escaped the questions now she would never get an answer from him. He made no further attempt to pull away.  
"You told me about the girl, Elizabeth wasn't it? About pulling her from the water, and saving her from undead pirates with her lad. You told me about that lad coming to look for you when she got herself into difficulties again, about him needing the heart of Davy Jones to trade for her safety with this Beckett. You told me how they betrayed and abandoned you, and about the swamp witch who was really a sea goddess and who bought your old enemy back from the dead because he was a pirate lords and she needed him, and about how they came to find you again because she actually needed nine pirate lords and you were the ninth. You told me about the plan to release the lad's pirate father from Davy Jones and to take the Flying Dutchman and beat Beckett and then sail the seas forever. You told me about the death of Jones and him killing the lad and you handing him the heart so that he could live, and you told me about the fountain that will give you back what you gave away to him."  
He smiled a false golden smile,  
"Said all that did I? Regular chatterbox I must have been that evening. But as I recall it I'd been drinking a fair bit of your wonderful brandy, powerful stuff it is too." The smile became a smirk, "can't always take a man seriously when he's in his cups luv."  
Elanor stared at him coolly,  
"Maybe. But I'm not a fool, nor am I a teenage girl Jack, and I know when a man is drunk and when he's not, and when he's embroidering things a little and when he's lying. As you yourself said, what is impossible in a world where there's a door in time and space."

That brought something close to a snarl into his smile and she saw his muscles tense as he prepared to get to his feet. But she held his gaze and he stayed where he was.  
"Even when I was forced to accept what you told me as some form of truth I still knew that there was a lot you weren't telling me. Some of what you didn't tell me I can guess at, the man the witch brought back was the man you shot there," she gestured towards the seas now hiding the treasure island, "and the lad came looking for you because they helped you escape at some point in the proceedings and he felt you owed him something, that compass of yours maybe. I can guess too that you told the lad that his father was on the Dutchman. But what you didn't tell me, and what I couldn't guess, was why they betrayed you or where they abandoned you. But I think I know now Jack, the betrayal and abandonment was your death, wasn't it?"  
He had stopping trying to rise now and was simply staring at her,  
" Whatever happened involved your death, and what happened then fired your desire to control the Dutchman and it feeds your desire for this fountain. Was your afterlife so terrible Jack? What did you do in life that made it so? Is that all you have left after all your tales, a fear of, and a need to escape, death?"  
She shook her head slightly,  
"You've lived with the probability of it all your life, do you fear death so much now that you will let it become your whole life?"  
His eyes were wide and black and his mouth twisted as if the brandy he swallowed with a gulp had become lemon juice,  
"You have no idea," was all he said.  
"Don't I?" she replied softly.

Now he tried to pull away again, and he was taken aback that he couldn't throw off her hand. He turned his eyes from hers to stare at her fingers clamped around his wrist as if they were sea monsters. Then he reached out and touched his fingers to hers, stroking the backs of them with a thoughtful expression,  
"So pretty yet so much strength" he muttered almost to himself, then he looked at her with hard and calculating eyes, "I'm not the only one whose been keeping secrets eh?"

She smiled at him,  
"I'll trade you some secrets Jack, your death for my strength. Fair exchange?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 Tortuga**

_in which Jack and Elanor strike a bargain and Gibbs goes visiting_

It would be fair to say that neither of them was in the best of tempers, just as it was also true that neither intended examining too closely why that might be the case. However both of them were also stood upon their dignity and being scrupulously careful not to appear to be blaming the other for the uneasy mood.

The conversation of the night before had been difficult for many reasons, not least the absence of words for some of what was involved, and the path back to their earlier fragile truce had been crawled rather than run. But in the end they had reached some form of acceptance of each other, even though caveats remained on both sides. Yet both of them knew that they hadn't shared anything close to the whole truth, the difference now was that they admitted it and accepted that each might have valid reasons for it being so. Given that neither of them expected the world to be perfect it was a workable situation - just about.

For the moment the Dawn Chaser was still anchored above the sunken treasure isle, though Elanor had no intention of diving again and Jack was still not well enough to try, despite his obvious desire to learn to do just that. The coughing fit that followed on from his first attempt to breath from a tank had persuaded him that there would be a better time to do it. There was no reason for them still be here and they would weigh anchor as soon as they could agree where they were going to go next, but that decision had opened a new source of conflict between them.

He'd slept long and deeply after their conversations and revelations of the evening before, but, as they sat over a light lunch in the galley, he still looked drained; not that his uncertain health was in any way affecting his attempts to get his own way.  
"We don't need a crew, Jack. I've already told you, Ariadne is all the crew I, that is, we, need," she frowned at him and hunched an inpatient shoulder.  
He looked at her steadily, knowing very well what was going on in her mind, and that in her place he would feel the same way. But that didn't change the facts,  
"No luv you don't need a crew, but if we are going looking for the fountain then we do need bodies, hands and feet, to help, to watch out backs, particularly to watch our backs. Wherever the fountain might be one thing you can be sure of it won't be safe, not to get too and not to escape from. We need people, people we can trust."  
He smiled slightly and shrugged a shoulder,  
"Well, as much as you, that is we, can trust anyone."

She didn't look convinced and he sighed and got to his feet moving to stand behind her, she didn't look at him and he hesitated for a moment before he slowly and carefully placed one hand lightly upon her shoulder.  
"Elanor, I know what you're thinking and if I stood where you do I'd be thinking the same, I admit it. This is a ship in a million, no sailor worth the name wouldn't want to sail her, and no pirate worth the name wouldn't try and take her. But I've no more desire for anyone to take her than you do."  
She looked up at that and he smiled again and let his voice take on a persuasive, purring note,  
"After all, it's not likely they'd leave me alive either. Now is it?"  
He let go of her shoulder and stepped away from her, his eyes dropping away from hers and his expression becoming serious,  
"So I'm not likely to ask you to take her anywhere where there may be danger of an attack now am I? But that doesn't change the fact that if we are going after the fountain," he raised a hand to ward off any comment she might make, "and I know you're not entirely convinced that that we should. But if we are then to get at it we may need help."

Elanor sighed again, there was something in what he said, much though it annoyed her to admit it. It was probably also true that he had no desire to see others try to take the Chaser. That didn't necessarily mean that she could trust him, or anyone else he involved in the business. However he had also been right when he said she couldn't just wait here for the doorway to open again, and she was no safer here than wherever it was he had in mind to go; they were in open sea and sooner or later another ship was going to chance upon them. When that happen she would have little choice but to defend herself, a course of action whose consequences she preferred not to think about for the moment. She nodded reluctantly,  
"Very well I will accept that I cannot stay here and wait, and that I might as well spend the time I must be here in helping you find this fountain of yours." Slowly she got to her feet and faced him,  
"But be in no doubt, I will not allow you, or anyone else, to try to take my ship, I would prefer not to attract attention to myself, which defending the ship most certainly would do, but I will do it if I have to do. You've seen a little of what Ariadne can do but there is a lot more." She locked eyes with the man who was so few inches away and gave a small smile. "I can do a fair bit myself too. You might be surprised."

Jack returned the smile but he did not step away, nor drop his own eyes,  
" Bravo love, I wouldn't expect anything else," he said softly, then he reached out and took her hand, holding it loosely between his own, "But there is a way, and a place where we might find whom and what we need without raising your hackles at all."  
She looked down at her hand for a moment but did not comment,  
He ignored the look and tilted his head slightly, his smile becoming warmer,  
"I know just the man we need and where to find him."  
Her eyebrows rose to her hairline,  
"Oh yes? And just who, and where, do you have in mind?"  
He dropped her hand and stepped away,  
"His name is Gibbs, I've sailed with him many a time. I may have mentioned him, good man, good pirate."  
"Good in this instance meaning..." she queried blandly.  
Jack's smile became a gold-flecked grin,  
"He will not try and take your ship," the smile became rueful, "in fact if he hears about this ghost of yours the problem will be getting him to stay onboard." He shook his head slightly, "powerfully superstitious man is Gibbs. Not sure which will bother him most though, a ship with a ghost or one with a woman captain."

"Gibbs? Yess you have mentioned him before. Did he not sail with Captain Swann, who was, as a recall it, a woman?"  
Jack gave a short crack of laughter,  
"That he did. You see why he might be wary then? Even if he were not a superstitious man, and that he most certainly is."  
Elanor thought back over what he had told her of Elizabeth Swann and swallowed an unexpected giggle,  
"You can reassure him that I have no desire for adventure and that I promise not to commit us to a war." She said solemnly.  
He grinned again,  
"Will take more than that to reassure Gibbs where a woman at sea is concerned."  
"He dislikes women?" she frowned at the thought.  
Jack laughed again,  
"No worries about that luv for he likes them well enough, just as he likes the sea; he just doesn't like the two at one time or in the same place. Don't understand it meself but he thinks the two together bring trouble, and Gibbs is not a man for such trouble if it can be avoided." His smile softened again, "As I said he's a good man, and perfect for current needs."

He turned away and sat back down at the table pouring himself more coffee,  
"You don't want to use anything from your ship on the venture, and I can see why you would not. So we need supplies." He looked at her over the top of his cup, " now that you have provided funds for us so handsomely there should be no worries about that. But you want to stay out of sight." He tapped the table with one heavily ringed finger, "and Gibbs is just the man to get us what we need without raising any suspicion.  
Elanor shrugged in resignation,  
"Very well. Let us find your Mr Gibbs, but I draw the line at that Jack, him and no one else."  
Something flickered at the back of his eyes but she couldn't be sure what,  
"Agreed" he said mildly.

"So are you sure that you know where this Mr Gibbs will be? How long is it scince you last saw him?"  
He gave one of those complicated shrugs of his,  
"I last saw him about two days before you and me collided."  
"Which makes it more than a week ago, if he's a sailor he could be anywhere by now."  
Jack shook his head, setting the trinkets in it chiming,  
"No, Gibbs will stay ashore for a while. As I said he's a superstitious man he will want.. certain people to get about their usual business before he goes back to sea."  
She narrowed her eyes at him,  
"This sea goddess of yours?"  
"Calypso? Maybe. There are others." He saw her look and hurried on, "No he'll stay a shore for a while, till his pockets are empty and there's no one else to spin a tale to for a drink."  
"How long will that be?"  
He shrugged again and got to his feet,  
"A month or so maybe, longer perhaps. Depends on what comes his way."

"Then we might as well get under way," she crossed to the door, "can you give me a heading or do I need to ask Ariadne?"  
He gave something that could only be described as a sweeping bow,  
"If your ghost promises not to attack me, then I will accompany you to the helm Captain Cavendish." He wriggled his eyebrows at her; "with your gracious permission she might even condescend to let me lay hands on this fine vessel's wheel, eh?"  
She found herself smiling almost against her will,  
"Maybe. But Ariadne has a will of her own and she might take some time to be convinced."  
The look of disappointment was a real as anything she had ever seen from him, his smile died but he just inclined his head,  
"I'm a very patient man Elanor."  
"I bet." The words slipped out without her meaning.  
Seeing another flash of something unreadable in his face, and being suddenly sure he was about to be truly outrageous, she hurried on  
"Where exactly are we going?"

He came closer, his expression all wide-eyed confidence, and his arm slid around her shoulder. A slight but mischievous smile curving his lips he dropped his voice to a confiding note,  
"Have you or Ariadne ever heard of the place called Tortuga?"  
She stared back at him expressionless,  
"Tortuga?"  
He nodded the smile widening,  
"Tortuga."

***

Gibbs had heard that Barbossa had been looking for him and decided it would be better not to be found. Given the state of his pockets, near empty, he decided to take the opportunity to visit a lady of his acquaintance, a lady who just happened to live some miles from the port. Barbossa could be cunning and persistent but he was not a patient man, and when he didn't find his prey quickly he was likely to give up and put back to sea in a rage. Gibbs did not want to be going with him.

With Jack gone Gibbs was feeling a little lost, it had been more than two years since he had last been truly alone and he found that he weathered it less well than he recalled doing so in the past. A man could only stay drunk as long as he had pennies in his pocket and his would soon run out. He knew he should invest some time in revisiting and rebuilding his web of contacts, look for opportunities to glean a coin or two, but with Barbossa sniffing around he could not risk being seen around the port. So instead he filled his flask, pushed a bottle into both pockets, and then set off in the early hours to make the four-hour walk to the cluster of farmsteads that were his preferred bolthole when his dockside troubles got too pressing.

He had arrived with the sun and by breakfast time was past he had his feet under Polly's table, a full belly and the unspoken promise of a bed to share. All that a man could wish for when the sea was not calling, and for the moment he was shutting his ears to that particular siren's song.

The day had been hot and steamy and he had not objected to spending much of it under the trees clearing the tangled undergrowth to make way for more grazing, Polly had a nice sideline in raising goats for the ships that used the free port. As the evening drew in he made himself useful repairing the floor of the still room that had provided a large part of her income since her husband's death, the smell of the herbs and potions she produced there seeming strange after the salt tang of the sea. As dusk deepened into night he sat at her table, her son and daughter at each side of him and talked and laughed and drank then talked again. Polly's children were grown, their father had been gone many a year and they had long since become accustomed to their mothers 'arrangements'; there was no awkwardness between them and, as long as he treated their mother well, he was welcome. If he ever treated her in any other way he would probably be lost to a shallow grave in the tangled undergrowth that bordered their field, but having no desire to treat Polly anything other than well he had no fear of them. He was fond of Polly and should any other man treat her harshly he would probably help them with the burial.

"So why be Barbossa looking for ye?" she asked as she passed him a bottle of the liquor she brewed in her other stillroom.  
Gibbs gave a sharp laugh,  
"I'd warrant it's not me he be looking for, I be just a means to an end in Barbossa's mind. Mark my words it's Jack he'll be looking for."  
"Jack Sparrow?" Polly's girl asked him. "He's not be seen here for a while."  
Her brother frowned at her,  
"And how would you be knowing that Sal? What's Jack Sparrow to an honest girl like you that you should know his comings and goings?"  
Sal cast her brother a saucy sister smile,  
"When Jack Sparrow's around everyone girl know it, honest or not. 'Tis impossible not to know when he's in Tortuga Ben, for the place fairly buzzes with rumours of his doings. Every fishwife and tavern maid is agog with stories of seeing him and with scandalous stories of the terrible things he's getting up to."

Gibbs frowned at her,  
"Now lass, if anyone tells you stories of him seeking the beds of honest girls then they are having ye on. Jack's one for an easy life and he steers clear of unnecessary trouble if he can. I don't deny he's had to run from the occasional husband but he's not got the inclination for courting the trouble brought by bedding an honest lass," he gave her a knowing smile, "nor rarely the time, if the truth be told."  
Polly laughed,  
"It's true they say he has a powerful way with the ladies, but whores be easier on a man's pocket in the long run and, from what you've said of him Josh, I doubt he has the taste for domesticity nor a gift for constancy."  
"Oh Jack's a wild spirit that be true, but he's a good man in his way."  
"Just a pirate." Ben said.  
Gibbs shot him an unusually stern look,  
"Aye he's that, but so are most men on this rock, and fair number of women too. Jack rarely means the harm he does, and if he isn't bowed down by grief with it when he learns of it, well the world is a hard place Ben, and Jack Sparrow has seen a mite more of that than many." Gibbs shifted uneasily in his chair, "nor does being an honest man, or an honourable man, mean that you can't inflict as much hurt as any pirate if life pushes in certain ways."

"So why does Barbossa think that you would know where Jack Sparrow is?"  
Polly stepped in to smooth any awkwardness that the comment might bring; her foresight in such matters was one reason her found her so comfortable to be with.  
"Well truth be that I've been crewing with Jack on the Black Pearl, with Barbossa too." He rolled his eyes, "can you imagine one ship with those two vying for captain?"  
He looked at the wall,  
"Three years and more it be, and we've been some strange places I tell 'ee, places I never thought or sought to see in this life. But that's over now. We made port a week ago and Jack was one of the last to come ashore, wouldn't go until I returned to the Pearl." He shot Polly a serious look, "knew Barbossa too well did Jack. Even so I don't think he expected him to do what he did, not given that he's been behaving strangely these last weeks, most unlike himself. Though the truth probably be that Jack didn't expect the crew to go along with it, not given Barbossa's past."  
"Go along with what?" Ben said.  
Gibbs buried his nose in his tankard,  
"Stole the Pearl again, while Jack was ashore. Spiked my drink he did, then dumped me on the quay and sailed away. Was near at the horizon before Jack found out."

"But why would he change his mind and come back looking for him," Sal asked.  
Gibbs smiled at her baffled look,  
"Jack be Jack that's why." He shook his head sadly, "Takes little on trust now does Jack, learned the hard way, hard enough never to forget. Certainly not where Barbossa be concerned. Knowing him I expect Jack took something ashore with him, something to give him some bargaining with Barbossa should he need it."  
"Barbossa's come looking for it then?" Polly asked and frowned when he nodded, "then you did right to put yourself out of his way." She shook her head, "Jack Sparrow might be a pirate but Barbossa? Well he's a bad man, truly bad."  
Ben leant across the table,  
"But I heard Barbossa was dead, Sparrow caught up with him and shot him."  
"Aye." Polly nodded, "I heard much the same. But then I heard that Barbossa was cursed too, so who can tell?"

Gibbs looked at the faces around him, and for the first time in many years wondered if the story should be told. But as the night wore on, and his belly rumbled its comfort at him, and the liquor flowed that caution seemed less important somehow. It turned into a long evening.

Finally, as they all prepared for sleep, he wandered out to stare at the starsl. For a time he let himself wonder about Miss Elizabeth, Mrs Turner now, about young Will sailing somewhere beyond the map, and the Commodore lost long before the final sword thrust. As he turned to go indoors and back to the comforts of shore he wondered where Jack was now.

***

The Chaser was heading towards Tortuga with scanners at full stretch. Avoiding the more familiar routes Aridane was drawing on every advantage they had to avoid the hazards that made these waters unfrequented and to keep them from being seen; but Elanor was still uneasy, the closer they got the harder it would be to stay so. The one saving grace was that Tortuga had only the single port but a coastline with many bays; that the one port was free port meant that few of these coves were ever used.

Jack was on deck, where he spent most of his time. He had spent the morning checking her list of suggested requirements, demanding to know why she wanted each item, then doubling the quantity and adding others. He seemed more at ease now, maybe because the fever had retreated and his strength showed some sign of returning. Whatever it was the gilded smile came more readily and there was a gradual relaxation of his posture that suggested he was finding his equilibrium again. He'd even accepted the lack of rum, though she had a feeling that he had plans to change that situation when they reached Tortuga.

But she still had the nagging doubts about how he would react if they were faced with danger. She had taken her concerns to the only one she could ask, Ariadne.

"So what do you think, will he survive it? Coming back from this locker that is?" she paced the control room as they talked.  
Ariadne sounded as if she would have sighed had that been possible.  
"I have no way of determining that. The psychology of those returning from the dead via the medium of tipping up a sailing ship is an unexplored and neglected area of research."  
Elanor turned and stared at the control panel, sometimes Aridane still took her by surprise,  
"True, so there isn't much in the data banks, But extrapolate from what you have, I'll accept the uncertainty of any conclusions," she said with a smile.  
"Very well. For someone who has had a series of what, in our time, we would consider traumatic experiences he appears to be in remarkably good condition, both physically and mentally. This may be because both his personality and the culture of this time and place is less introspective or self centred that our own. By this I mean that he is less likely than someone of our time to consider himself a victim of life or events, he will simply accept them for what they were and not ask himself much in the way of whys. However his experiences in this, I suppose we must call it, hell will have long-term effects on him. Certainly he seems to be more afraid of returning there than anything else."  
Elanor nodded,  
"I agree and that's what make me uncertain of him. I mean I'm one hundred percent behind him on discretion being the better part of valour, but there are times when running away is not an immediate option. What will he do then? It's obvious that he has a real fear of returning to there, even if he doesn't fear death as such. Will he run away or will he stand and fight when he shouldn't just to prove something to himself? Either one could be pretty fatal for all of us."

Ariadne was quiet for a moment, reviewing the voice log no doubt; so far Jack had not realised that just as Ariadne could see everywhere so could she hear everywhere. She didnt like to think what his reaction might be when he did.  
"If he can be believed, and on balance I think that more of what he has told you was truth than you might at first expect, he has faced many instances of possible death since his return to life, and more than one instance of hand to hand combat. His experiences of this locker do not appear to have been any problem for him on those occasions, and there is no reason to expect any further event to be any different."  
"Hmmm, you may be right. In fact I hope you are." Elanor thought for a moment, "So you think he tells more of the truth than I have assumed? That might be useful to know. I'll see what else I can get out of him as opportunity presents itself."  
"That would be wise, the more information I have about him the better I can assess his likely behaviour."  
Elanor had laughed at that,  
"I'm not convinced even another eighteenth century pirate would have much success at that. I think that keeping people off balance is one of his weapons, and that he deploys it as well as any sword."  
"You may well be right, but what would keep his fellows off balance and what will keep us off balance may not be the same."  
"We can only hope."

She had returned to the deck to find Jack lounging at the helm, watching the play of lights on the control screens with serious eyes. No doubt his fingers were itching to touch, but his wariness of Ariadne held him back. She moved to stand at his shoulder, carefully blocking his escape to the deck,  
"So how do you propose we find this man of yours without being seen?" she asked  
He smiled and shook his head slightly the beads clinking as he did so,  
"I told you love, Gibbs is reliable. I know where he'll be and he'll be easy enough to find."  
"So you say, but that still doesn't explain how you plan to get to him without being seen."

Jack stared at her for a long moment and then shrugged,  
"I told you Tortuga harbour isn't the only possible anchor point on the island. There is a small bay about five miles round the coast, nothing there to interest anyone but the couple of farmsteads." He smiled wryly, "nothing in them to attract pirates so nobody ever visits. Since smugglers and other bad eggs anchor openly in the harbour there is no cause for anyone to use the bay. The cliffs are not an easy climb but they can be climbed, if you know the right route."  
"And you know the right route?"  
"Let us say I have found it to be to my benefit to be familiar with them in the past."  
Now it was her turn to smile,  
"When being chased by creditors perhaps?"  
He gave a hurt look,  
"I can't imagine why you might think that luv," then he looked down at the deck and smiled slyly, " but it's true that I have had reason not to be seen by a husband or two in the past."  
She threw back her head and laughed,  
"I bet! More than two I wouldn't be surprised."

His smile became an unabashed grin,  
"Ah well, 'tis the lonely nature of a pirates life, when love eludes you a man must do what he can. "  
Her own smile showed her disbelief,  
"Love Jack? I'm surprised that the word doesn't burn your tongue. Somehow I doubt that it's love that you've looked for in this Tortuga."  
He sighed noisily and the smile faded to be replaced by a look composed equally of sorrow and reflection, a look that set her palms itching to slap his face. She settled for raising her brows at him. Catching her look he let his eyes slid away from hers and he sighed deeply,  
"'Tis true that love does not come high on the shopping list of the ladies of Tortuga. Their interest being more financial than faithful, if you take my meaning, and a wise man does not expect them to go against their natures."  
He smiled again,  
"But we digress. It's safe enough if we go by night. You can anchor in the bay, I'll row over, shimmy up the cliff and make my way to Gibbs. I'll bring him back and row out to you, we can be on our way before the sun comes up without the ship ever being seen. Savvy?"

Eleanor stared at him for a long moment then shrugged,  
"Very well, but why do I get the feeling that something is going to go wrong?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 - Diversions and excursions**

"Eee not be comin I tell you. Captain Jack be dead but Barbossa ain't goin' to admit it is ee? Not when it means the chart he promised us be lost. He'll keep us sittin' here till the last trump be sounded, or until the Navy catches us." Pintel was more truculent than usual.  
"Can't be sure of that." Raggetti said with a shake of his shaggy head. "Captain Jack he takes his time he does."  
He tapped Pintel's chest as it swelled with an indignant breath,  
"Look ow long he waited to get the Pearl back. But he came didn't he?"  
"Aye he came, but are ya sayin' that you be happy to go on lurking here for ten year?"  
Raggetti shook his head,  
"Not sayin' anything of the sort. 'Ceptin that Captain Jack might still come, just not immediately."

Pintel seemed like he would burst and his voice was hoarse with annoyance,  
"And I says he be dead! We found his boat smashed to smithereens didn't we? and now there be neither sight nor sound of him. What more proof be needed?" he looked around at the small group huddled around the water barrel.  
Raggetti shook his head again,  
"Earlier you says that he wasn't dead, and anyways I says that you're bein' previous. 'Tis not a for'night since we left him in Tortuga, could take him a while yet to find his way here."  
"And I say's why?" Pintel's voice rose threateningly.  
"Because he's going to have to inveigle whoever it was that picked him up to come here that's why. Captain Jack now he's good an inveigling but he's learned to be careful like, he's not going to be a'tellin whoever about this here fountain is he?"  
"Maybe he will, he needs a ship so maybe he will tell them, just like Barbossa told us." Pintel sounded elaborately patient.  
"Not Captain Jack" Raggetti disagreed, "he'll come up with a more tricky way." He nodded at the others solemnly, "mark my words Captain Jack will get whoever they are here without telling them."

"Unless he's dead "  
That was the thinner of the mad pair and he stiffened at Raggetti's glowering look,  
"Could be dead is all I'm saying," he said quickly, "I mean we don't know who rescued him," he took a half step back as Pintel rounded on him, " if someone did…. rescue him. I mean it could have been the navy, not even Captain Jack could talk his way around them, not if they know who he is."  
"That be true." Marty joined in, "navy might take him back to Port Royal and hang him. No one left there to save him any more. Not with Will and Miss Elizabeth gone."

The small huddle of men exchanged worried looks before the darker of the pair looked warily at Marty,  
"Maybe we should ask Captain Barbossa? After all he wants that chart pretty bad, he's not going to be very pleased if the navy gets a hold of it is he?"  
They all thought about that for a moment, then Raggetti shook his head,  
"Navy men not interested in old maps, 'tis making new ones that concerns them."  
"Aye," Marty nodded, "but that doesn't help us, even if they don't use it, 'cos nor can we if they have it."  
"That be true," Pintel looked towards the sea with narrowed eyes. "Even if they don't hang Captain Jack the chart still be lost to us if the Navy get it. Seems to me we need to be sure that they don't get it, and we ain't doing that sitting here!"  
"What be you proposing then?" Marty asked.  
"That we tell Barbossa, say we want to find out if the navy caught Captain Jack."

The daft pair looked at each other in obvious concern  
"And how would we be doing that?" the darker one asked.  
"We go where someone is likely to have heard." Pintel said slowly,  
Raggetti nodded,  
"Only one place likely. Tortuga. All sorts there, bound to be someone been lurking around the navy for one reason or another."  
He looked towards the cabin and grinned,  
"Whose goin' to ask him then?"

***

Dusk was turning to night as the Chaser slipped quietly into the bay, dropped anchor and furled sail.

They had been careful to avoid the main approaches to Tortuga, slipping slowly around the far side of the island; even so Elanor had not really believed that they would manage to go unseen until Ariadne confirmed their arrival at the planned anchor point. She didn't dare risk the forward lights for this side of the island was in total darkness and a light out to sea was unlikely to go unnoticed. Between them and the beach the sea was shadowed, the wave caps only infrequently illuminated by a moon that was playing a hide and seek with the growing cloud; that and the rising wind suggested that this calm would not hold for much longer.

"Storm's on the way Jack, are you sure that you want to go ahead with this?"  
"I'm sure. Sooner Gibbs can set about getting us the needful the sooner we can be on our way to the fountain."  
Jack was turned away from her, checking the coil of rope before putting it into the long boat, while he was willing to climb up the cliffs he couldn't be sure that Gibbs would be as willing to climb down them. She smiled at his back,  
"Immortality calling loud is it Jack?"  
"Aye has been for a while." He paused for a moment staring down at the boat, "seems whenever I get near to it William has been in the way."  
She thought the set of his shoulders changed and assumed that he was smiling that more cynical smile of his,  
"This time though he will be otherwise occupied, so no worries there."  
"You hope."  
He looked up at that and half turned towards her, his dark eyes were wide with an expression that she couldn't read in the dim light,  
"We both hope that Elanor, believe me, your origins won't change your fate if the Dutchman comes a callin'. No knowin' what eternity she would transport you too either."  
She felt a shiver run down her back,  
"I suppose not. Eternity alone doesn't sound much of an option."

A shadow passed across his face before he turned back to the coil of rope,  
"The farm that Gibbs repairs to when his pockets are to let is barely a quarter mile inland, you can see the gate from the edge of the cliff. By the time I get there the household will be bedding down for the night, but if I know Gibbs he'll take one last look at the sea before sleep, and that's when I plan on approaching him. With a little luck, and a kindly sea, he should be back snoring beside his Polly well before dawn."  
"Assuming that he is here?"  
"He'll be here. He won't be going back to sea yet awhile if I know my man, and he'll not go back to the port until he feels the urge to return to sea, or until he has business to take him there. A bed here is more welcoming than the sty."  
He looked back towards her with a flash of that gilded smile,  
"Though he'll not be hard to persuade, not if we put a shilling or two in his pocket. His Polly brews a fair ale so he says, but the chance of rum is a powerful persuader where Gibbs is concerned."  
"Just as long as he stays sober long enough to get what we need." Elanor knew that she sounded dubious and hoped he would take no offence.  
"He will, trust me on that. " The smile flashed again, "Though he may end up in that pig sty once he has."

He straightened up and settled his coat to sit more easily on his shoulders, the linen of his shirt pale in the moonlight. She thought that he still looked weary, but they both knew that he must be the one to do this. He looked at the boat and then back towards her, tilting his head and staring at her down the sharp, straight ridge of his nose.  
"So how do we get this boat into the water? Nothing as simple as lifting it over the side I presume?"  
Elanor smiled,  
"You can tip it over the side if you wish, heaven forbid that I should deny you such a simple pleasure Jack."  
He gave her a narrow eyed look,  
"What would you know about simple pleasures? Nothing about you is simple, nor less about this ship. As for pleasure…….. I've yet to see that you have any." He waved a beringed forefinger at her, "and you seem to have little difficulty in curtailing mine. You and your ghost between you."

Jack was almost sure that she bit her lip at that point, but her smile neither faded nor widened, instead she folded her arms and watched him carefully,  
"I'm sure you can find pleasure in all sorts of unlikely places, Jack. But for the moment let us keep our minds on the matter in hand. If you wish to flex your muscle then feel free to manhandle the boat over the side, however Ariadne can launch it for us if you wish, just as you guessed."  
She turned away to stare out at the shore, the cliffs were a mix of silver and shadow in the uncertain moonlight,  
"But make up your mind, delay any longer and the storm might arrive before the nights work is done."  
He stared at her back for a long moment wondering if she had said what he thought she had just said, or rather implied what he thought she had just implied, that there might be a moment when he could talk of pleasure with her. 'No' he thought, 'wishful thinking was all that was.' He'd been without company for too long if he thought that she might even consider coming down from whatever rarefied realm it was that she occupied. Still…….he could but hope. Sooner or later she would get tired of keeping him at arms length wouldn't she? Then….. But she was right, such thoughts were not for now, this was a moment for other matters.  
"Aye it's time I moved. Let your ghost do her magic then."  
She didn't reply to him but spoke to the sky,  
"Ariadne, launch the forward longboat."

Jack watched in awe as the ropes securing the longboat moved, the cradle rising above the level of the deck before swinging over the rail and lowering the boat to the sea. The cradle remained extended over the ocean for a moment then swung silently back into position on the deck.

He drew a deep breath and crossed to the rail, suddenly realising that this would be the first time he had left the ship since she had collided with him. Struck by a sudden doubt he found himself wondering if she would watch him sail towards the shore then up anchor and leave him, then came another uncomfortable moment as he wondered why that suddenly seemed to matter, for the chart was in his pocket and the compass was on his belt and she would be leaving him with the long boat. Was this her way of abandoning him? Her route to making good the damage she had done and leaving him to find his way as he had intended when he first left Tortuga? Why had the word abandon even entered his mind, for she owed him nothing? No more than he owed her. Was it just the knowledge of the treasure in her vault, his treasure, which made him so unwilling to risk her sailing away to the horizon as the Pearl had done? Jack swore silently at himself, what ailed him? Had her little beasties stolen his wits along with his secrets? Gibbs was on shore and if she disappeared what could it matter? The rope of pearls in his pocket, a bait to draw Gibbs out to this strange ship, would be enough to provide all that he needed for some time to come.

Yet the idea of her leaving him behind was in some way unpalatable, 'but then why shouldn't it be when this ship of hers offers so many advantages' he chided himself. But he knew it was more than that, cold and harsh though she could appear he had thought that he had found some measure of an accord with her, and there had been a companionable feeling to their dealings these last few days, even when the looks were sharp and the words were barbed. He had to admit he found some amusement in courting those sharp and barbed exchanges. Never let it be said that Captain Jack Sparrow couldn't wheedle his way around a woman, any woman. No she would not leave him.

"Jack?" she was looking at him again, "Something you've forgotten?"  
"What!" he snapped back from his own thoughts, "No! Just wondering about the weather, looks like it might be rough so I hope this boat of yours is up to it."  
"It is. The wood might look flimsy to you but it's stronger then it looks. Trust me on that."  
Jack just shrugged and avoided the obvious retort, then he crossed to the rail reassuring himself that he had the chart and compass as he went. Being left behind would be bad, but being left behind without those would be far worse.

Her voice came from above him as he descended the ladder that had been lowered over the side,  
"Take care Jack. I'd rather not have to mount a rescue mission."  
He shot her a frowning look and she smiled briefly, watching as he clambered into the boat and picked up the oars. As he pulled away towards the shore her voice drifted back to him on the rising wind,  
"Take care on those cliffs. Come back in one piece."

***

The pull to the shore was harder than he had expected and by the time he was hauling the boat up on to the sand Jack was hot and tired. Some part of his mind knew that he ached too, but he wasn't listening to that bit.

The warmth didn't last long even with his coat, for the wind was blowing strongly off the sea and it had an unusually chill edge to it given that it was still early in the evening. For a moment he shivered and wondered what Tia had in store for them. Above him the clouds had multiplied, becoming heavy bellied and fat, and the periods of moonlight were shortening with worrying rapidity; climbing these cliffs in moonlight was enough of a challenge, the idea of doing it in shadow was an uncomfortable thought. Still it had to be done, all he could do was hope that the rain held off. Yet he took a moment to stare back at the ship he had left, pushing away the memory of leaving another ship as he did so. The Dawn Chaser was white and lovely against the increasingly stormy sky, her decks glowing like a swathed pearl in the little light that there was. A white pearl, just as his was black. He would get his Pearl back, he had no doubt of it, but maybe he wouldn't just sail away and leave this elegant lady to her fate. Would not a black pearl and white one nestle easily and cosily together? Was it not only fitting that they should? Two exceptional ships, with their equally exceptional captains, soon to be immortal captains, what legends could they create together?

The thought raised his spirits as well as a swig of rum, driving away the melancholy that had dogged him all day. It put the fire back into his blood and sent a new surge of energy to his weary arms; with renewed determination he shrugged off his coat, pushed the chart into his sash, pulled the coil of rope from the boat and then strode up the narrow strip of beach. The wind was blowing the sand in whirling clouds and he narrowed his eyes against the blast, feeling the hard grains scrape his arms through his shirtsleeves as it whipped the linen and set it fluttering like a flag. It was not the night he would have chosen for this venture but the storm heading their way might not be alone, a whole string of them might be on the their way, was on their way if Elanor's ghost was to be believed, and he had no desire to delay as long as their passing might take.

He stood at the base of the cliff and stared upwards, the wall of rock looked higher and smoother than he recalled it and the distance to the first grassy outcrops and the network of small channels cut by the feet of goats, and the occasional adventurous sheep, looked to be further away than he was sure they had been last time he did this. But then last time he did this he hadn't just come back from the dead, fought a war or been trampled over by a ship from the future, to say nothing of being eaten alive by little animals, it was bound to make a difference. However that changed not a jot, the cliffs stood between him and Gibbs, and he needed Gibbs so the cliffs had to be climbed and that was the end of the matter.

Settling his sword more comfortably on his hip he squinted up at the wall of rock, his eyes narrowed as he studied what lay before him; a hand hold here and a foothold there he began to plan his route up the cliff. He pushed away his sudden doubt, when he had told her that he had climbed these cliffs it hasn't been the full truth of it, for though he had climbed then it had ever been up, only ever down, a fact that he had been careful not to mention; now he wondered if that had been entirely wise.

But it was too late now, he had said he would climb them and he would, could be no harder than climbing the Interceptor now could it? He was Jack Sparrow, of course he could do it, and anyway he thought he would rather die in the attempt than go back and tell the clever eyed Captain Cavendish that he had failed. The again maybe he would not, he didn't think that the locker could claim him if he died on land but he wasn't sure about that. So with gritted teeth he ignored the sand blast and the wind bite and swallowed hard, trying not to thunk about what he wouldn't give for a slug or two of rum. Not that that mattered either for he had none. 'Come on man' he told himself, 'can be no harder than launching yourself from Beckett's ship by canon.' With that spirit rousing comment he stretched to the first handhold, settled his boot onto the first foothold, and began to climb.

***

As the ground fell further away the wind grew stronger, pulling at his waistcoat and sash with a strength that nearly cost him his grip on more than one occasion. His hands were soon scraped and chilled and the times that he had to stop to allow the blood to find his fingertips again became more frequent. Hanging there between sand and sky brought back too many unpleasant memories and though he cursed and swore they would not let him be; he reminded himself many times that he was Jack Sparrow and he'd done more impossible things than climb a cliff, yet even so it took raw determination to push him upwards. Above him the flat grassy outcrops that promised some rest called invitingly to him, but they seemed no closer than they had when he stood below. More than one time he slipped, cramped fingers mistaking his hold or boot soles betrayed by wind and water weakened rock. Each cascade of falling stone reminded him that every step made retreat less possible and ascent so much the shorter. So he kept climbing, his hair whipped against the cliff like a flag and his shirt sleeves flapping like a landed fish's tail, the crack of the linen drowned put by the increasing roar of the wind.

Time seemed to stop with each movement taking an eternity and yet only a second. His ears were cold, his eyes were sore and his back ached from trying to lean into the cliff while the heat in his shoulders spoke only too loudly of jolt and jar as much as the weight of his body. Jack kept his eyes on the first of those grassy slopes and slowly he scrambled his way upwards.

***

On the shore line Calypso watched him with frowning brow and slitted eyes.  
"waat be him about now?" she asked herself, "drat the man for this be foolishness and I can do naught to help him, except…"  
The wind that had been blowing off the sea eased suddenly. She watched as he inched his way up the crumbling rock losing his footing her and scrabbling as a rock gave way beneath his hand there.  
"There be times witty Jack when that pigheaded courage of yourn tests a lady's best intentions." She muttered and winced as a particularly sudden loss of grip set him swinging one handed, sending a cascade of shattered rock tumbling to the sand.

Calypso turned towards the sea and the pale outline of the strange ship, its deck appearing around her as she thought of it,  
"What be ya about ta let him take this foolish course?" she muttered to the woman standing at the rail, "Do ya not know what drives him lady?"  
She stepped closer to the silent woman, seeing the strange little boat now knocking against the larger vessels side, taking in the weapons and the other unfamiliar objects lying on that strangely padded seat. She stared into the beautiful face turned towards the shore and smiled at the sight of the narrowed eyes and the frown between the fine-drawn brows,  
"Ha! Ya let him run but still ya hold the rope. Wiser ya maybe than I had thought, The Lady may indeed have chosen ya well. But ya rope may not be enough to save him if he falls, though I expect that ya know that."  
Calypso turned to stare back to the shore reaching out a hand to place it on the one gripped tight against the rail,  
"The Lady has a purpose for ya me tink, that be the case she not let him fall, but I wilt do what I can ta keep him safe. Witty Jack be hard work on occasion but he deserve a better fate tan to be food for the gulls on a little strip o' land."  
With that she stepped back on to the shoreline, leaving Elanor to wonder why her one hand was suddenly wet.

***

Jack was now half way up the cliff and his slowing movements showed her the weariness he was no doubt denying to himself. As Calypso watched he missed his footing, the shape of his shadow changing suddenly as he dropped to hang full length, anchored only to the cliff side by two narrow handholds. She cursed and the waves reared, the tide surging with unnatural vigour towards the beach. The wall of water swept passed her and up to the base of the cliff, and she cursed again for it might not be deep enough to save him if he fell, not in time. Turning her eyes upwards and back to the swinging figure she stilled the wind yet further, for any movement might pluck him from the cliff and hurl him down before the sea could provide a sufficient pillow. Above her Jack's scrabbling boots dislodged a fall of scree and then a sudden rain of pebble as a deep slice of weakened rock fell away leaving a crevasse in the cliff face more than a foot deep and three feet long. She smiled as Jack's boots found the security of the cleft and he slowly eased the strain from his over stretched shoulders.

Overhead the moon broke through heavy cloud shedding a pall of silver over the cliff, showing each ridge and outcrop in stark relief. On the deepening waters, covering the shore where, by the time of tide, sand should still show, the silver light glinted on the Lady's gemstone smile.

Calypso smiled and strolled across the lapping waves to stand beside her.

***

Jack reached the top of the cliff with labouring chest, aching hands, scratched boots and the determination never to do this again as long as he lived. Or at least to make sure that next time he was well and truly drunk before he started. Once or twice he had thought he would fall and break his back on the sand below, but on both occasions he had won through. Though the lack of rum must have done something to his eyesight for he was sure that as he rested on the first rocky outcrop he had looked down to see the sea washing around the base of the cliff, which was impossible given that the base of the cliff was well above the tide line. Rolling over he peered down the wall of rock he had just scaled, sure enough there was a strip of sand between the incoming tide and the cliff so his eyes must have been playing tricks. His need for rum must be greater than he thought; he could only hope that Gibbs would know where to set his hand on some.

Gibbs! He had no time to waste not if they were to make the tide back to the Chaser and get Gibbs back on the shore before dawn. With a moan he rolled over and clambered to his feet, then he straightened his clothing a little and resettled his sword before setting off across the short coarse grass towards the lane and the gate he knew he'd find.

The clouds had broken during his clamber up the cliff but now they loomed heavy and swollen again, and as he strode across the lane the first heavy drops were spattering in the dust. Jack swore to himself hoping that the weather would not prevent Gibbs from venturing for his last look at the sea of the day, the house was in front of him and he could see the glow of a candle in the lower casement so they were not yet abed.

He turned away from the path and pushed himself into the shadow of the boundary hedge, he had met Gibbs Pol once before and she was a fine woman, but clear eyed like Elanor and with a mind to be curious about his facinatin' self. Her daughter had given him the eye too, young though the wench had been then, and he had ho mind to find himself in that kind of hot water at the moment.

Hot water! The vision of the Chasers waterfall was suddenly before his eyes and he was taken with a most surprising urge to stand under it as soon as he could. His shirt had plastered to his back in the effort of climbing and had cooled to sit clammy against his shoulders, his cheek was scraped like his knuckles and his neck ached from looking up, comfortable he was not. Yet he would have to row to the ship and back before the sun rose. He hoped Gibbs would not be too long in coming.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - Reunions **

He'd let them have their way. Truth be told he had barely spoken in the time they had been in the great cabin, for the faces and the voices were slowly pushing the world of the living away from him, and seeing past them to the expressions and words of his crew seemed more effort than he could make.

Tired, he was so tired that he was unsure whether his hand or arm, or lips even, would obey him if he tried to move them. Never in his life had he been so tired, it was as if he had aged a hundred years in the days since they had left Sparrow behind at Tortuga, and the energy with which he had steered them through Calypso's maelstrom and fought the Dutchman's crew was just a distant memory. So he had sat in his chair before the charts and watched in stony silence as they set out their case. For himself he was content to sit and wait for Sparrow to arrive, he had no doubt that the man would pass this way in pursuit of the fountain eventually, but there was no denying that he had expected him to be here before now. Even so he was disinclined to venture far from here in pursuit of Sparrow for fear that he would forget how to return.

'Yet there was something in what they said', he thought. 'No sayin' that it weren't a navy ship that had pulled Sparrow from the wreck of that dingy. The admiral be dead 'twas true, at least so Mrs Turner had claimed, but there would be other admirals and commodores and captains a plenty coming to take his place, and none of them would turn their noses up at the chance of hanging Jack Sparrow. Certainly not now he'd struck so public an accord with the captain of the Dutchman.

For himself Barbossa would be happy to provide them with the rope if they would just hand that chart over to him first.

As Pintel set out their demands, Raggetti at his shoulder and a'polishin that new eye of his again, he sat and watched them, noting the speculation in Marty's eyes and the greed in his companions. But he was seeing them through a haze of other faces and hearing them through a babble of other voices and it was a struggle to separate one from t'other. Only little Jack, sat on his shoulder and crooning in his ear, seemed real any more. Finally he realised that they had fallen silent, that they were watching him closely, like sharks circling a wounded man. But he would not show blood yet and he slid his hand to his sword hilt drawing comfort and strength from the feel of the polished grip and the fit of it to his hand.

"Aye, it be true that the navy would love ta catch Jack Sparrow," he said, "and it be true that the navy be back in these waters so there is a possibility that he has fallen into their hands. But if that be the case then he be hung already."  
"Aye sir," Pintel's words were almost deferencial though his eyes betrayed that his thoughts were far from being so, "but if we knew that they had hung Captain Jack then we would know not to wait for him, and we could set about recovering the chart some other way."  
"Something more frontal so to speak," Raggetti smirked.  
Barbossa felt the threat of that smirk and his fingers tightened on the sword hilt, but he kept the feeling from his face and voice, and his smile still felt as if it had all the cunning of the past.

He pulled another nut from his pocket and fed it to Jack, allowing his finger to stroke the furry head as the sharp little teeth devoured the titbit with pleasure.  
"That be true mateys, that be true."  
He nodded as if considering their words carefully, though the truth was that he was finding it hard to hear his own words above the whispering voices.  
"Tortuga might, as ye suggest, harbour those who know what the navy has been about since their return, and if they have taken Sparrow. Seems that Jack is havin' more difficulties getting here than expected, maybe he has met his well deserved end after all. In which case ye be right that we need to take other measures."  
He forced himself to wait for a moment as if considering the possibilities, as if he were still truly captain; though he feared they all knew it were no longer so, and knew that he had no choices any more. Then he nodded solemnly,  
"Very well matey's set a course back to Tortuga."

The voices clamoured louder as they turned away and the faces clustering around him hid the knowing smiles and triumphant looks as they went; he didn't even hear them leave.

***

Gibbs had always been a reliable sort, predictable too, and to Jack's great relief this night was no different. Barely ten minutes after he had settled himself into the hedge to wait, as comfortably as possible with twigs and thorns at his back and tangling in his scarf and hair, a crunching of boots on the cinder path told him that Gibbs was coming. Even so Jack waited until the unmistakable shadow appeared in front of him, and he could be sure that the man wasn't accompanied, before he hissed at him,  
"Oy Gibbs you alone?"

A curse told him that Gibbs had heard him, and, after a moment of looking around, he came closer, leaning down to peer into the shadow,  
"Jack! Mother's love, that be you?"  
"Aye mate, and very uncomfortable I'm being too. What possesses the woman that she needs a hedge of thorns!"  
"Goats!" Gibbs said before he could stop himself, "and sheep, and maybe hens too," he finished with a shrug.  
Satisfied that no one else was preparing to join Gibbs on his after dinner stroll Jack edged himself out of the prickly cover and onto the path beside his friend, picking his clothes free of woody debris with finicky care.  
"Well why can't she keep something less adventurous, like…" he frowned and struggled to think of something unlikely to need thorny hedges to restrain it, but his knowledge of livestock failed him. Gibbs didn't seem to notice anyway, being more concerned with recent events than the hedge, he caught at his captain's arm  
"Jack, Barbossa be looking for you. Returned the day after he left you behind and seemed powerfully anxious to find you. In a foul mood he were too, near tore the town apart trin' to find where you had gone to. Looked for me too but I stayed out of his way, and you'd be best adoin' the same, leastways until you have a crew behind you."

Jack's smile glinted gold in the poor light,  
"Hector lookin' for me? Ah, well, there would be a reason for that."  
"So I thought," Gibbs nodded, "took something away from the Pearl with you when you came ashore I expect."  
The gold smile disappeared and Jack's mouth became prim, but his eyes danced as he stuck his hands into his sash.  
"A trifle, nothing more. Just a little leverage you might say, should it be needed."  
"Which knowin' Barbossa seemed likely." Gibbs nodded with a smile.  
Jack quirked his brows in amused agreement,  
"So it did, and so it proved. The Pearl will not go far, not while a certain item remains with me."  
"This item bein….?" Gibbs queried.  
"A chart, a very interesting chart."  
"Sao Fengs's chart?"  
Jack grinned again and waved an airy hand,  
"Since Sao Feng is not so regrettably deceased the ownership of said chart must be open to question. Must it not? As William was the one who near drowned for it, seems to me that he would have most claim. But since he profited from the stabbin' of Jones heart with help of my humble self, and is now Captaining the Dutchman at my expense, it seems to me that my claim to that chart is as good as Barbossa's. Even without him stealin' me ship. Though what got into the crew that they should listen to him….." he shook his head in apparent puzzlement.

While he had been speaking Gibbs had started to frown, now he cast a hurried look back to the house before catching Jack's arm and pulling him away from the gate and the cliff path.  
"Jack what brings ye here? I'm sure Polly will be welcomin' if you need a place to hide, and she and her kith would do you no harm, but have a care, no sayin' who else may be out and about. With Barbossa looking for you so particular there might be those that would be happy to trade with him."  
Jack just smiled,  
"Not here mate. Just you and me and the ….." he flapped a careless hand at the pale shapes dozing under the scrawny bushes, "… livestock. Everyone else is down where the rum is. Talking of rum don't happen to have any to hand do you? Ship that brought me here is noticably deficient in that matter."

Gibbs nodded and jerked his head towards the shadow of the outbuildings,  
"There's like to be a bottle or two in Pol's still room. Does this other captain not carry rum?"  
"No mate, a devotee of brandy as it happens, and doesn't carry much of that." He raised a warning finger as if to ward off any criticism of such lack of foresightedness, "there are reasons for that, good ones." He shook his head and sighed, "Though I never thought to hear myself say such a thing. Funny old world eh?"  
"Aye it be that alright."  
Jack's face was sombre as he looked at Gibbs,  
"More truth in that than either of us knew once knew mate."  
Gibbs gave a rueful nod and led the way to the stillroom in silence, both lost in thoughts of people and events come and gone.

***

Only when they were settled on sacks of cane with a bottle in their hand did he return to the most pressing of matters,  
"Having left Tortuga so precipitous like what is that brings you back so soon?"  
Jack took a swallow of rum, licked the drops from his moustache and grimaced his appreciation before raising his eyes to look at his friend without evasion,  
"I have a need of your services."  
"In what way?"  
Jack leaned back against the wall, the bottle cradled on his knee,  
"Well it occurred to me that while I am in possession of this aforementioned leverage it would only be sensible to make some use of it. Who knows when the opportunity will present itself again?"  
Gibbs frowned as he swallowed another swig of rum,  
"What is it that you be lookin for this time Jack?"  
"Nothin' less than the fountain of youth itself mate." He took another swig of rum, then flicked a hand, with finger raised in emphasis, in his companion's direction, "I told Barbossa that I would not be returning to the locker and nor shall I. So if I can't he havin' the Dutchman then another means of avoidance must be found. One that doesn't chain me on land." He shrugged, "this fountain seems as good as any other given that the chart shows its' restin' place."

Gibbs looked thoughtful for a moment before he slowly shook his head, a frown appearing between his eyes,  
"Jack, be careful. I recall that the last time you went lookin' for some supernatural artefact you ended up being left to die, and Barbossa wound up cursed."  
Jack frowned impatiently and flicked his hand again, this time in dismissal,  
"No more than his just rewards,"  
Gibbs drew a deep breath and nodded,  
"That be so, but you would have been cursed along with him if he hadn't mutinied."  
Jack waved his finger again but this time with a smile, he winked,  
"Ah yes, but I would not have been so foolish as to throw one of my crew overboard, nor would I have spent it all before I realised my mistake."  
Gibbs nodded his agreement at that but his frown didn't change,  
"That's so, but the lesson remains the same, such things are not meant for this world, nor for men. Mark my words Jack, it'll not be so simple as just sailing up to it and taking it, for if it was so why did Sao Feng's ancestors not do it?"  
Jack gave a twisted smile and took another deep swallow from the bottle,  
"I know that and be easy, I don't think that it will be, easy I mean, but that doesn't alter the facts that it is there for the taking if we can just find the way."

Recognising the look in Jack's eyes Gibbs sighed knowing that nothing he would say would change his captain's mind. If that were the case then Jack would need someone at his back. He swallowed another drink,  
"You be wantin' to find a ship and crew then? Not much in harbour when I left, not that would make such a journey. Might be weeks before somthin' suitable presents itself."  
Jack gave him a grin that was little short of triumphant,  
"I have a ship mate," he caught Gibbs look of surprise and his smile faded, "well…. Not have as such…. Not have as in having as you might say…nor owning…. Nor taking as such. But…. " an idea appeared to occur to him and he smiled brightly again, " having the use of, you could say, for the forseeable."  
"Havin the use of……" Gibbs was obviously puzzled.  
"Aye, havin' the use of. 'Tis a wonderful ship too," he raised his hand in a placatory gesture, "not the Pearl I grant you, but the next best thing."

"How come ye to be just havin' the use o' this ship?"  
Jack squirmed a little at that and took another gulp of rum before answering,  
"Well it has a captain, that is another captain… other than me that is." He saw Gibbs look of surprise and waved his hand dismissively again, "and there are reasons, good one's, why that captain cannot be displaced. But!" he raised his forefinger in triumph, "this captain has agreed to take part in this little venture provided that ….. they… get a chance at sharing the prize."  
"Fool is he then, this captain?" Gibbs smirked.  
An oddly evasive look drifted across Jack's face for a moment then was gone, lost in a rueful smile,  
"No, more's the pity, very much not a fool. But clever, Gibbs, and possessing some very fine…. Advantages."  
That brought another puzzled look to Gibbs face,  
"So what do you be needin' me for? Do you need more crew? Does not this clever captain have a crew?"  
"Oh aye the ship is fully crewed," that fleeting look came and went again, "but there are goods that are like to be needed, and I would welcome a pair of hands and a pistol at me back on the venture. One that I trust."

There was strange emphasis on the last words that sent Gibbs eyebrows into his hair, but Jack ignored the look instead indicating the squat homestead barely visible in the dark night beyond the still room door, "unless you have a mind to stay here for a little longer."  
Gibbs just shrugged,  
"Pol knows that I'll go if you need me. She knows too that Barbossa has taken the Pearl and be looking for ye. She has no likin' for Barbossa."  
"Good man." Jack smiled and there was something of a softness in that smile, "knew I could rely on you. Always have and you've never failed me. But I'll not be draggin' you from your cosy billet quite yet. T'will take some time to get what we need and I'd rather not hang around in Tortuga while you do it, no more should you. Barbossa may well be back and I'd rather pick the moment to face him than let him force it on me. Nor will the ….. other captain wish to keep the ship moored here. So the plan is that I take you aboard tonight, explain the plan and then bring you back at dawn. We sail away leaving you to do the necessary and we come back in a day or two to collect you and then we set off on our venture."

Gibbs spluttered on his rum,  
"Row out there tonight and back again? For why Jack."  
"Because this captain is not a fool and wants to see you before we reach any accord."  
"Jack, this sounds like trouble to me. Why not just wait a while, hide here, then scuttle down to Tortuga when we get word of something suitable in town."  
"Because we'll not find a better ship unless it's the Pearl, and I don't think she will be returning here just yet. Barbossa will be scouring the seas for me, and I know where he will be lookin' and it isn't here. I want the Pearl back and I'll not wait ten years this time. But it needs the opportune moment and this isn't it."  
Jack took another swallow of rum and rolled it around his mouth while he watched Gibbs in silence. Eventually he swallowed it and raised the bottle towards Gibbs,  
"Besides there another reason."  
"And that be…?" Gibbs asked.  
"This."  
Jack reached into his shirt and pulled out a rope of something, slowly he let it fall between his fingers, the coils of it swaying enticingly below his hands. Gibbs nearly dropped his bottle as he recognised the rope for what it was, a string of high lustre pearls.  
"Jack! Where did you find that? You didn't have it when you left here that I'll swear."  
"Isle De Muerta mate. Remember?"  
"But that was reclaimed by the sea!"  
"Aye," Jack swung the rope of pearls from side to side watching the candlelight shining on them with proprietary pride, "But there is a way. It's as I told you, this Captain is clever and this ship unusual."  
Gibbs reached out and touched the string of pearls his eyes widening in disbelief,  
"By all that's…." no exclamation seemed to be enough and he just shook his head in wonder.  
Jack nodded and squinted at the pearls between his fingers,  
"Imagine it, an eternity of youth and a seabed full of treasure to provide for any other needs. Eh?"  
In the candlelight Gibbs eyes gleamed and he took another swallow of rum. Then he got to his feet pinching out the candle  
"I'll tell Pol, I'll be back by dawn shall I?"

Jack knew that he was hooked.

***

The descent down the cliffs was less hair raising than the climb up. They had eased their way down to the grassy slopes then anchored the rope and clambered down the rest of the way. When Gibbs returned he would wait on the beach until the tide was fully out then walk around the headland to the shepherd's path that was accessible only at low tide; he would remove the rope as soon as he got the chance.

The strip of sand was already slightly wider than when Jack had arrived, signifying that the tide was on the turn, and, despite the increasingly heavy swell, the journey back to the Chaser seemed to take half the time of that the wearying row to the beach. Jack smiled and wondered how much of that was due to the enlivening effects of his first rum in days. But not his last, between them they had managed to bring a half dozen bottles down the cliff and those bottles were now nestled comfortably in the bottom of the boat. Not properly finished, it were true, and a little on the pale and weakly side, but rum none the less. Jack smiled as he admitted to himself that he was looking forward to introducing Elanor to one of the pleasures of his time; who knew maybe it would take a little of the starch from her sails.

In the bay the Dawn Chaser glowed pearl white in the occasional moon, riding the growing seas with no effort, sails tightly furled but with anchor chains taut. Gibbs stared at the ship as its lines became more easily discerned in the uncertain light and Jack could see his growing unease. Finally he could be silent no longer,  
"What strange manner of ship be this Jack? She's nothing I've seen the like of, and, though I'll grant you she be trim enough, she looks as if a harsh wind would break her."  
"She's stronger than she looks mate, but 'tis true she is strange and nothing like you or I have known. But she's fast, maybe even faster than the Pearl."  
Gibbs shot him a wary look,  
"And her Captain be as strange too?" When Jack said nothing but shot him one of those gilded grins of his, he shook his head, "Jack what trouble be ye courting now?"  
Jack said nothing but the grin widened.

With a feeling of trepidation he couldn't quite explain Gibbs followed Jack up the ladder that hung from the strange ship's side and on to the whitest decks he thought he had ever seen. Above him the triple masts were rigged in unfamiliar ways and the sails had a look, even in the moonless dark, that told him of their pristine condition. It looked like a toy built for some rich man's son to play with.

Yet there was something about the cut of her that warned him not to be forward with his conclusions, something that whispered that, like Jack's beloved Pearl, there might well be more to this lady than met the eye. Jack had seen his looks and ignored them, but as he looked up towards the helm Gibbs saw his shoulders tense and his eyebrows twitch and he wondered what was coming now. With a beckoning hand Jack strode up the deck towards that helm and figure who had been standing in the shadows detached itself and stepped towards them.  
"Ah Captain Cavendish there you are." Jack's voice was all easy bonhomie and he waived a languid hand towards Gibbs, "May I present Mr Gibbs."  
But there was something in his eyes that warned he was not as relaxed as he might first appear, that look remained as, with a swirl of coat tails and braids, he swirled to face Gibbs,  
"Mr Gibbs, meet the captain of this fine vessel, Captain Cavendish. Who has magnificently, I mean magnanimously, agreed to aid us on this venture."  
Despite the easy words the anxiety was now plain in his face to one who knew him well and Gibbs felt his belly turn.

At first Gibbs thought his eyes were deceiving him in the certain light, but as the figure came closer it was clear that they weren't and that the captain of this ship, so named by Jack, was a female. That was bad enough, but as she came closer still a light on the mast glowed brighter throwing her form and face clear of the shadow and he felt his heart turn like his stomach. As she came still closer a protest was squeezed from between his lips,  
"Jack!" he squeaked as he fought the urge to cross himself.  
His mind felt like a ripped sail flapping in the winds of his disbelief. Once, a long time ago when still in the navy, he had seen a holy painting, and in it a face so beautiful that no one looking upon it could doubt the grace of God. A holy messenger it had been, man or woman he had never been sure, but more glorious than sunrise on the Caribbean. Never from that day had he seen such a face again. Until now.

Now he was looking upon it once more. He could not tear his eyes from her and all he could do was wonder how even Jack Sparrow had managed to find a ship captained by an angel.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 - Misgivings**

Gibbs stared down and clutched the bottle of rum tighter, fixing his eyes on the familiar object and trying not to look at his surroundings. Wherever he might look there were only shiny reminders that he was no longer in the world that he understood; shiny and valuable no doubt, but he would have all the hounds of hell at his back before he would touch one of them. He gripped the bottle tighter knowing that he would also risk all of those creatures of hell, and more, to avoid offending the woman sitting on the other side of the table. He was more than a little worried that his trepidation would show in his face, but it was not only his fear of giving offence that kept his eyes from her. There was something about her that was almost hypnotic, something beyond the angelic face and the body that could bewitch a man, something that was in her eyes, something that drew you and terrified you at the same time. Something that, somehow, reminded him of Jack; and that was a thought better not explored.

Beside him Jack himself was talking, his voice a lazy and resonant drawl, most of his earlier anxiety apparently gone.  
"Three or four days seems' most like."  
Captain Cavendish, the woman that Jack almost casually, but not quite, called Elanor, with a temerity that sent a thrill of anxiety through Gibbs each time he did it, tilted her head at him and raised her brows in unspoken query. Jack shrugged and took another swig of his rum,  
"Would not be wise to acquire it all at the same time and in the same place. Might incite all sorts of questions," his slight smile became a grin, "particularly amongst those who know Mr Gibbs."  
A similar look drifted across the woman's beautiful face and Gibbs felt another shiver of something close to fear; Jack seemed almost unmoved by the sight, which was a cause for concern of itself.  
"Or those who might be looking for you Jack?" she said softly.  
Jack's grin remained unrepentant,  
"Or those who might be looking for me," he agreed equally softly.

Gibbs took a reflexive swallow of rum as the other two locked eyes for a moment, neither one's expression changing, but it was Jack who seemed to give way first, his smile fading and leaving his face still and serious,  
"Navy is still looking for me no doubt, given recent events I can expect nothing else, and even in Tortuga there are those who would trade with them if the price they offered was high enough." His voice was flat and matter of fact, he was attempting no appeal for sympathy or concern, it seemed Jack dealt with this woman captain on a more equal footing than most.  
Gibbs held his breath and snatched a look at her; she appeared to be considering that possibility in the same dispassionate manner. Finally she nodded, but slowly,  
"Mr Gibbs with a sudden fortune would almost certainly attract their attention," she said thoughtfully.  
"It would indeed." Jack agreed.  
"Then maybe four days is not enough. A week might be better, though where we are to lose ourselves for a week……." She shot Jack a strange and challenging look, her eyes drifting down to the rum bottle in his hands, "or are you planning to go ashore and wait with him?"

Jack shifted slightly in his chair, squaring his shoulders as if preparing to meet a challenge, and Gibbs felt his heart miss a beat, for there was suddenly an undercurrent between these two that made him wonder at the wisdom of being on the same ship with them.  
"It was not my intention, are you sayin' that you think it would be wise for me to do so?" Jack's voice had taken on a gravely purr, a sure sign that he was readying himself for a fight of some form.  
She tilted her head back and smiled another slow and gentle smile,  
"No, I'm not saying anything of the sort, but it crossed my mind that you might want to supervise the matter, and to take the opportunity for seeking more varied ….. " the smile became tinged with humour, "and …..accommodating.... company."  
Jack's eyes widened for a moment as if he were taken by surprise at the implication, and then he leaned back matching both her posture and her tone,  
"Now why would you think that?" the purr was almost cat like now and his eyes had a warning gleam.

Gibbs has seen that look before and he shivered, knowing what such moods had led the man into in the past.

She, as he found himself thinking of her, seemed unaware or unmoved by it, increasingly Gibbs thought that it was the latter, and she took a delicate sip from the glass of brandy before her without taking her eyes from Jack's,  
"Your recent experiences, your ….. illness…. must make you wish to take all that you can from life while you can, it's quite understandable," she replied calmly.  
The tone of her voice suddenly reminded Gibbs of Tia Dalma and his heart sank still further as wondered who this woman might be and what this illness she referred to was. Jack, however, seemed unaware of any similarity, his smile taking on a knife sharp edge,  
"Maybe. but I'll get by." He raised his bottle of rum to her in salute, "I'm not planin' on quitting life, as I told you."

Gibbs turned to stare at him in disbelief, Jack refusing the pleasures of Tortuga was both unexpected and unusual and he wondered if this woman had cast some form of spell upon his friend. But Jack seemed otherwise himself, only that wary look in his eyes to betray that anything uncommon might be going on.  
"If you 're sure?" was all she said mildly but there was a glint in her eyes too that suggested she was saying more than her words suggested.  
Jack tilted his head sideways and smiled a smile as mild as her words,  
"I'm sure."  
The honeyed edge in his voice brought another frown to Gibbs brow, but she just smiled again and he thought he caught a flash of something close to anger in Jack's eyes. He found himself wondering where he would stand if they came to out and out arguing, probably as far away as he could manage, he decided, getting between them would take a man both braver and more foolish than he.

But whatever it was they were sparring about they seemed to put aside in a moment and the next hour and more was spent in discussing needs and arguing when's. The glasses were filled several times but neither Jack nor she seemed much affected by the liquor they seemed to drink, not for the first time Gibbs suspected that Jack had watered the rum in the bottle clutched in his right hand. As for her… well it was just one more part of a puzzle that Gibbs didn't think he wanted to solve, in fact he didn't even want to think about it. Instead he concentrated on Jack who seemed strangely at ease with this woman, wondering what exactly it was that had changed about the man he thought he knew so well.

It took him a while to realise what seemed so unusual, and it puzzled him all the more when he did manage it, for Jack looked as unnaturally clean as she did, even his hair shone soft and glossy in the strange lights that lit this unsettling room. Now he came to notice it Jack's shirt was mended too, and his coat, only his sash had the usual faded look. Their words washed over him as he slipped into wondering how she had managed this and why she had bothered. He came to no real conclusion, just more unwelcome thoughts, so he gave up and concentrated on the familiar comfort of the burn of rum on his throat and its glow in his belly, trying not to speculate about what so unsettling a female might lead Jack, and thereby himself, into doing.

***

The sky was showing the first tell tales of dawn as they rowed back towards the bay. The details had been settled, mainly between the two of them, Gibbs had contented himself with leaving the wrangling to them and only throwing in a suggestion or two where it was unlikely to cause any argument.

For the first hundred yards or so there was no talk between them, Gibbs pulling on the oars while Jack sat silent and pensive, slightly turned and with his eyes fixed on the ship they were leaving. Finally they were far enough for Gibbs to risk asking the questions bubbling on his tongue,  
"Are ye sure about this Jack? It's a fine ship 'tis true, but strange, mightly strange."  
Jack gave a slightly sad smile and sighed,  
"I told you mate, it's from another country, a very far one," The smile faded and his face was suddenly closed and expressionless, "another one that's beyond the edges of the map," the pensive look begat a wider and gold flecked smile, "as is its captain."  
Gibbs rested on the oars for a moment and nodded,  
"Well the one would tend to follow the other 'tis true, but are ye sure Jack? She bothers me, and not only because she is a female and they are always bad luck at sea. But she is as strange as her ship."  
"I know that," his smile took on a devilish edge, "and she bothers me too mate, and in more way than one. Distrustful and disturbing female that she is."  
"Aye well she's not the first we've met, you and I."

Jack leaned back and stared at Gibbs with a cocked head and narrowed eyes,  
"You think her like Miss Swann, Mrs Turner that is?" there was a hint of challenge in his voice and eye.  
Gibbs thought about that for a moment,  
"No, not as such." He looked at Jack with lowered brows, "Though there be similarities in her determination to have her own way."  
Jack's smile became reflective,  
"Which of us does not strive for that eh? One way or another," he looked back towards the Chaser, "but she has her reasons mate, perhaps more pressing than 'lizabeth's. She's a pirate too o'course, though I'm not sure that she knows it." He frowned, "just like Elizabeth in that much."  
Gibbs was silent for a moment thinking about that, pulling strongly on the oars and staring at the sea,  
"Not sure that was true of Miss Elizabeth," he said eventually, "seems to me she just wanted Will. Much good that it has done her, father gone and husband gone, not much to show for her efforts."

Jack shifted in something that seemed like unease and he ran one finger over his moustache, but there was no expression in his voice and his eyes still remained fixed on the ship they were leaving,  
"More than she might have done mate, she had little chance of him any other ways."  
"Aye, I know. But for all that's she's done seem little enough reward, one day and then ten years alone."  
"Beckett was always bad news," Jack said still without expression in face or voice,  
"Aye that he was. Don't expect he'll be any better news in hell."  
Jack smiled at that, but a cold and shallow smile,  
"The likes of Beckett don't go to hell Mr Gibbs, that's reserved for others."  
"Like us you mean?"  
The smile widened in a flash of gold,  
"Like some of us," his voice was soft but there was a note that set Gibb's back hair on end. There were times when Jack Sparrow was not a comfortable person to be with, and this might yet prove to be one of them.  
"Aye," he said uncertainly and hurried to change the subject, "But Captain Cavendish now, she seems to be a woman with a lot of secrets," he shot Jack a guarded look but the other man's eyes were still fixed on the Chaser, or the sea, or maybe both, "I may be mistaken but it seems to me there is a likeness to Tia Dalma, about her in the way she talks."  
'Particularly to you' he added silently.

Jack seemed to consider that for a moment,  
"Mebbe, certainly they are both women with something to hide," he agreed.  
Gibbs nodded then shot his companion a sly half look,  
"Fine looking woman though. Too fine, truth be told, there's something unreal about her."  
"Aye that there is." Jack agreed with a warmer smile, " Cold though." He flicked another devilish glance towards Gibbs, "though there's no sayin' that she'd not warm up on better acquaintance. Only time'll show. Patience is the watchword with such as she, take that from me mate."

Gibbs frowned in sudden concern, Jack was ever one for taking risks, and never more so where the ladies were concerned, as his exchanges with the sea goddess had shown,  
"Take care Jack, there is something about this whole thing that worrits me."  
Jack shook his head sadly and let his eyes wander back to the now shrinking ship,  
"I know what you mean but the world has been turned upside down, nothing is the same as it was."  
Gibbs drew a deep breath  
"Aye that's true enough, 'tis hard to see where we go from here."  
"The fountain mate, the fountain."  
"Ay, but is this the right way to go about it? Fine ship though it may be." Gibbs mind came back to his original concern, "What is such as she doing sailing alone? Tell me that? What is this helper you mentioned that stays so well out of sight? Takes more than a fine lady and an invisible helper to sail a ship of that size any distance."  
Jack gave him one of those evasive looks he'd seen when they were aboard the ship,  
"No need to concern yourself with that. I'll be aboard and I can do anything that they cannot."  
"Mebbe, but there be more to this than meets the eye, mark my words."

Jack shot him a sideways look and hoped that he didn't realise how true that was. It had taken a lot of persuading to get Elanor to keep mum on the matter of her ghost.  
"Always is," he agreed. "But choices are a little thin at the moment, unless you have a mind to wait for Barbossa?"  
"Nay Jack, I'll sail with your mysterious lady rather than that."  
Jack laughed and looked out to the far horizon,  
"Wise of you Mr Gibbs, Calypso's not finished with Barbossa I'll be bound. Woman scorned's bad enough, woman decked in chains in the brig…. Well that's a hundred times worse, to my mind. Does nothing for her temper at all, I'd be thinkin'. Not surprising dear Hector's life has been a little wantin' if he doesn't know that."  
Gibbs nodded with a wry smile,  
"Seems a poor way to gain her thanks. Doubt that she has much regard for any of them involved," he felt a sudden chill as he recalled his own part in the matter.

Jack must have heard it in his voice for he looked back at him and shrugged,  
"She knows where the blame sits, I'm sure of that, and will extract her revenge accordingly. But she might not deal kindly with those who still sail with him."  
"Aye," he breathed, "there be that I suppose, and there seemed some bad blood twixt them from the start."  
Jack nodded,  
"Tia Dalma would not be to Hector's taste, too many secrets and too much power, even as a mortal. Hector believes in the simple things of life see, his sword and the strength of his arm, all else is trifle and dishonesty in his book." He shot Gibbs an amused look, "strange view of the world for a pirate but there it is."  
"He wouldn't take to Captain Cavendish then?"  
Jack's eyes narrowed in a look that Gibbs couldn't read,  
"That would certainly be the case. Don't think she'd much take to him either."  
Gibbs swallowed the obvious retort as the boat grounded in the soft sand of the shore.

Little more than five minutes later the longboat was pulling back out to sea in the direction of waiting ship, leaving Gibbs watching its leaving alone in the shallows. He squinted up at the dark shadowed cliffs now wrapped in shadow again, 'Jack must be weary' he reflected as he took in the height and slope of the cliff, ' hope he makes it back in one piece'. That thought in his mind he edged his way into a small cave in the cliff base to watch the longboat's return, not that he could do much if Jack went down.

Out in the bay the white ship waited for the returning long boat, and Gibbs couldn't help but wonder what would pass between the two of them when Jack returned, for he wasn't sure that the lady was committed to this venture in the way that Jack assumed. He felt the weight of the pearls sitting in his pocket and sighed, for he was certainly committed regardless of his reservations. True he could take the money and run but Jack knew he wouldn't do that, and Gibbs admitted that he was right. Nor was it because of what he might fear Jack would do, though when he came to think of it he wasn't sure what that might be. Though he didn't think much about it these days it was true that very little was known about Jack Sparrow before his fated search for the Aztec gold…..

Not that it mattered much, never had. Jack was his captain and he trusted him, at least as much as he trusted anyone, he'd go along with whatever Jack had in mind even if it meant the angel faced Captain Cavendish and her strange ship. But, as he watched the longboat fade into the backdrop of the sea he couldn't help but wish that Jack didn't have that honest streak of his.

***

The sun was just starting to wash the underbelly of the horizon gold as he reached the ship. She must have been waiting for him because he had barely reached the top of the ladder when her hand was extended to him; he took it without thought or comment.  
"So what did Mr Gibbs have to say once he was out of my ear shot?" she asked.  
Jack shrugged,  
"What would he say?"  
Elanor smiled,  
"I don't know but it was clear enough that he was very uneasy about it all. I see why you wanted me to keep Ariadne quiet, I get the impression that he found me disconcerting enough."  
"Aye that he did. Can't blame him for that. But he's a good man and he'll do his part."

Jack wearily stripped off his coat and dropped it and his hat onto a coil of rope and looked towards the shore. By now the tide would be retreating to allow Gibbs to make his way around to the cliff path, it was a stiff but unobstructed climb and by daylight he would be safely back with Polly. For a moment Jack wondered if maybe Gibbs had been right and he should have stayed too, holed up there, safe and out of sight until a suitable ship visited Tortuga. But then what ship could ever be more suitable than this one for seeking the fountain, other than the Pearl that was? The time would come when he would have to deal with Barbossa but that time wasn't yet, he was safer here even if his hostess was less accommodating in some ways than he might have wished. A memory of what welcome had been waiting on the dockside for him surfaced for a moment, but he pushed it away, there would be other times for that. For the moment he was so weary that even he thought of Giselle and Scarlet could stir no interest in him, more than anything he wanted to sleep.

Jack remembered Elanor's foul potions and wondered if maybe she had laced his rum with something. He shot her a half doubtful look before he recalled that she hadn't had the opportunity, even if she had the inclination. He repressed a smile, it was comforting to know that he had a couple of bottles of rum salted away for later enjoyment.

He gave a guilty start as he felt her hand on his arm and he looked around to see her smiling at him in what looked to be amusement, and something close to sympathy perhaps,  
"Two journey's to shore and a cliff climb in a night, no mean feat so close on a fever. But you must want some sleep. I'll take the watch there's no need for you to join me in it."  
He pulled away and gave her a sweeping bow, though he only kept his balance with an effort,  
"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, no worries luv. Can do more than that in a night." He attempted a suitably suggestive note but somehow missed it.  
"Hmmm, perhaps,"  
It didn't look as if she quite believed him and he was surprised to find that he felt no offence at that, perhaps more surprisingly nor did he feel any threat. In fact it was worrying to realise just how comfortable her humour was starting to feel, almost as comfortable as Gibbs occasional joshing. 'Caution', a little voice whispered, 'not a week on this strange ship yet and already there's a companionable feel to things.' Such companionship was to be desired with a man like Gibbs, who would stand at your back in a tight spot, 'twas an entirely different thing with a lass such as she. But those blue green eyes were watching him without malice and it was hard to feel anything other than the relief that someone at least would watch his back, even if she would use a ghost to do it.

He found himself smiling at her almost against his will,  
"Decided where we are goin' then have you? Since you don't want to wait around here."  
There was only curiosity in his voice and he let her turn him towards the below deck hatch without protest, her hand barely felt on his arm,  
"Ariadne has identified a suitable bay on a small unpopulated atoll about twenty miles north," she said, "we can anchor there for a day or so at least, it's well off the trade routes and the Navy is nowhere near, for the moment at least."

Jack nodded briefly,  
"They stay well away from Tortuga for the most part, I doubt that will change just yet what with the Interceptor and Dauntless lost."  
He stopped with his hand on the latch and stared back toward the island with a furrowed brow,  
"I'd hazard that they will stay clear until they have rebuilt their numbers in these waters. With Norrington and Governor Swann gone they have a lot of work to do before things can be as they were."  
"Norrington?" she looked at him with a slight frown.  
He nodded, turning to look at her curiously, for there had been surprise in her voice and a hint of something that sounded to be recognition too.  
"Yes Norrington, the late lamented Commodore, or Admiral as he was at his end, though from what 'lizabeth told Mr Gibbs I think he might prefer that we forgot about his service with Beckett."  
He noticed her frown and cocked an eyebrow at her,  
"What is it Elanor? I'm sure I mentioned the Commodore given that the ungrateful wretch wanted to hang me, even though I rescued the damsel he was of a mind to marry," he raised a finger at her in emphasis, " and that was before he knew she intended to have someone else."  
He looked at her more closely,  
"You are a long way from home, in more ways than one, so what is he to you that his name causes you to frown so?"

Her frown melted into a faint smile,  
"Nothing much and I'm sure you had mentioned the name I just didn't take any note of it."  
It was his turn to frown and he turned to face her, a half hearted challenge in his stance,  
"Nothing much of what? Out with it. Why does Norrington's name make you frown?"  
She released the latch and held the door for him,  
"Nothing much as I said. Just that one branch of my mother's family went by the name of Norrington, and earlier today Ariadne reminded me that more than one of them served in the Navy during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Odd co-incidence that you should mention someone of that name now."

Jack suppressed a shudder, for her reply causes a shiver of something he couldn't describe to run down his spine,  
"I see," he heard the hollow note in his own voice thought she seemed not to, "funny old world."  
She grinned at him without concern,  
"Ain't it just." She caught his arm and turned him around towards the stairs. " But I doubt they are connected, either in your world or mine. Now go and get some sleep."

Jack said nothing more and headed below with a whirl of half thought and speculation swirling through his mind. But fatigue was winning, for all his sudden unease, and he barely took the time to pull off his boots before collapsing onto what he now thought of as 'his' bunk. But as he slipped into sleep his reflections were dark and resigned; chance be damned, he saw the hand of Tia Dalma in this new revelation and his last waking thought was to wonder uneasily what she was up to now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 – Actions and alarms**

Jack awoke with a start and an unexpected, and overwhelming, desire to scratch.

Why this should be unexpected, when for most of his life scratching and waking had been synonymous, he wasn't quite sure, but he didn't like it, not now he didn't. Nor could he have explained, even to himself, why the small red bites on his neck and in his armpit and groin filled him with such outrage when they had been his companions for as long as he could remember, at least until very recently. But they did provoke outrage and quite a resentful outrage too. With a muttered curse he threw off the sheet tossing it to the deck and stamping on it thoroughly, before storming out of the cabin in a naked, and quite irrational, rage.

Only to collide with Elanor coming out from the waterfall room.

She stepped back quickly but looked at him calmly enough, eyebrows raised,  
"Problem?" was all she said.  
"I've been attacked!" he growled at her, his eyes drawn almost of their own accord to the loosely wrapped edges of her robe, despite his discomfort.  
She seemed confused by his comment, though not unduly alarmed,  
"Indeed? By whom? Ariadne says that everything is secure. There have been no nocturnal visitors, other than the one we invited."  
He dragged his gaze from the tantalising glimpses of her freshly washed flesh and frowned at her with angry and narrowed eyes, scratching irritably at his neck as he did so.  
"Then your ghost is wrong, I have been attacked," the frown became a glower in the face of her questioning look. "By yet another little beastie," he snapped.

Her eyes flickered at that, wandering over him in a curious, yet disappointingly dispassionate, way. She saw the cause of the scratching he was struggling not to do,  
"Ah. I see." She smiled slightly, "You can thank Mr Gibbs for that I expect." She shrugged, "I got visited by them too, if that is of any comfort to you."  
She crossed her arms and looked at him with her head tilted in enquiry,  
"But why the concern, you had them when you came aboard."  
He pouted and wagged a finger at her,  
"Mebbe," he narrowed his eyes again, "But that was when I thought that everyone had them. Seems that they don't and if you don't have to put up with their attentions then I don't see why I should."  
He finished the sentence with a glare as a renewed itch cried out for a fingernail.

She seemed amused at that,  
"Ah, I see. Yes I should have guessed from your clothes."  
"Guessed what?" he demanded suspiciously.  
"That you are not as careless of your appearance and physical comfort as it might appear at first glance. "  
His sense of outrage returned,  
"Not careless at all luv! Ships are not clean and tidy places and what has to be endured has to be, and 'tis also true that I prefer to travel with as little impediment as possible." He caught the gleam in her eyes and forestalled her likely remark as to why that might be with a raised finger, "but I'm not careless." The outrage gave way to a smirking smile and he leaned a little closer, "never that, I promise you."  
She didn't move but her smile widened,  
"I'll reserve judgement on that until I have more evidence on the subject."

For a moment they just stared at each other in silence, then Jack cursed and squirmed as a new bite was added to his tally. Elanor gave him a look of sympathy,  
"What is clear is that you are a man who adapts quickly to his environment Captain Sparrow, the shower is all yours. Just don't be too long, we need to make plans and there is no need to drown the beasts, the soap will deal with them."  
She stepped back to give him access to the door without the need to squeeze past her, suppressing another smile as a hint of regret passed across his face, and blinking with gentle malice,  
"How we are going to deal with this situation when Mr Gibbs comes aboard, given that they are nomadic little creatures, is something I will leave you to think about."  
That brought raised brows and then a frown as he disappeared into the shower, leaving Elanor to reflect on the dilemma she had just handed to him, and his likely mental contortions about it, with some considerable amusement.

***

They had dropped anchor by the time Jack stepped out onto the deck, and the ship was sitting calm and patient in the deep blue waters of a secluded bay, in the distance he could see the white shores of a small island and above him birds wheeled as they prepared to dive for fish on the inshore reefs. Elanor was still at the helm and buried in one of the strange and esoteric tasks that crewing this vessel seemed to involve. As he watched her he decided that, with several days of time on their hands, and since she was unlikely to spend much time on frivolities, or being friendly, there was no reason that she shouldn't start to initiate him into those mysteries, no reason at all.

He opened his mouth to say as much but it seemed that she had an agenda of her own and one she had every intention of airing before they got any further; she launched her attack without even looking up.  
"How did you meet Mr Gibbs?"  
Jack just stared at her for a long moment, waiting until raised her head and met his eyes,  
"Does it matter 'lanor? You've seen him for yourself, as honest as a man of his luck and station can be; at least to those he thinks of as his own, and fortunately he views me in such a light." He leant a little towards her, "You, now, he has some reservations with, and who can blame him for he's never seen your like, nor this ship's, not even in seas beyond the map." He straightened again, "But the lure of treasure and the fountain will reel him in, and loyalty and even handedness will see that he does right by us." He frowned in sudden thought, "just as long as we don't expect him not to do right by himself by doin'…. Right by us." He blinked at her and waved an emphatic hand, "If you take my meaning."  
She shrugged and dropped her eyes back to her task,  
"I think so, and I'd expect nothing else of him. But I'd like to know more of this 'thinking you his own' business, so I ask you again how did you meet him?"

Jack sighed heavily and looked down at the deck, then he shrugged in recognition of her right to ask,  
"In Tortuga, I was looking for a crew."  
"When was this?"  
"More than ten years ago, but even then Gibbs knew where to find the best sailors," he frowned and gave that a moments more thought, "sometimes the only sailors. A free port isn't a place where those who have any choices stay for long."  
She regarded him steadily for a moment then nodded, though it was obvious she hadn't finished with the subject. Nor had she and, as he moved to turn away, she was worrying at it again,  
"And where had he come from? Or perhaps more importantly, given the risks we may be preparing to run, why had he stayed there?"  
He stared at the sea for a moment while he mentally tipped her a salute; she never missed the point did she? Saved him a lot of effort, maybe that was why he was beginning to like her, which was a dangerous thing for him to allow to happen given what had followed the last time he had been so unwise. But she was captain of this ship and so deserved her answer for that, if no other, reason. He turned back to face her,  
"He'd come from his majesty's navy by way of a court martial for drunkenness," he cast her a droll and dry look from under raised brows, "which is no an easy thing to achieve believe me."  
She dipped her head in acknowledgement,  
"And?" was all she said.

Jack shrugged,  
"He stayed because there was no where else for him to go, at least not where the rum was so easily obtained that is."  
She frowned at him,  
"So he's over fond of his rum? That doesn't sound so good from our point of view."  
Jack smiled a softly wicked smile,  
"How can a man be over fond of his rum? Rum is good." The smile died, and he looked up towards the cloudless sky with a sigh "and sometimes it's the only thing he can rely on." He forced the thoughts that threatened to surface away and turned another half smile in her direction. "It's of no concern 'lanor, rum or no he'll not let us down. Drunk or sober he's a good man to have at your back."  
She was watching him with those all seeing eyes and with a look that was perhaps more thoughtful and kinder than was comfortable. He shrugged with elaborate unconcern,  
" No worries Captain, anyways he doesn't drink as much as he used to either. Just enough."  
The kind look didn't fade but something overlaid it, something too close to understanding to be tolerated; but then it was gone and the narrow eyed, cynical laughter was back,  
"To wear down his common sense you mean?" she said dryly.  
He just grinned at that, suddenly glad for the more familiar mood, and gave her a wide eyed stare  
"Now why would you think that?"

She shook her head with a faint chuckle and then was suddenly narrow eyed and serious again,  
"So he wasn't always a pirate?"  
Jack sighed at her persistence, but short of going below, or diving over the side, it was clear there was little he could do to avoid it. As he had no intention of granting her that level of victory he hitched one hip onto the chart table at the side of the helm, crossed his arms over his chest, and shrugged carelessly, though he had an uncomfortable feeling that he knew what her intended bearing was,  
"Few men are. Most start as something else but life sets their feet on the path sooner or later."  
"In your case was it sooner or later?" She shot him a searching look, "were you a pirate when you first met Mr Gibbs?"  
He suppressed another sigh; he had been right about her heading, inquisitive wench that she was. He shrugged again, elaborately careless,  
"More an adventurer you might say, though it's true I already had the brand."  
"How did that come about?"  
He looked past her and towards the sea for a moment, then sent a bright smile in her direction,  
"Ah well luv your world may be different, maybe a man can choose what he wants to be, or a woman too, but here…….., well here it seems that it's all about destiny."

She watched him carefully as his smile died and he stared out towards the sea again, eyes distant and his expression suddenly sombre,  
"I was born a pirate, but I had no taste for it. So I set out to make my way in the world in paths other than those I was born to." His expression twisted, "As nothing more than an honest man no less. Believe that if you can, but I'd not blame you if it seems too fantastical. But so it was, an honest man no more nor less." A bitter smile lit his eyes, "My excuse for that is that I was too young and stuffed full of dreams and notions. They cost me all that I had and more."  
He sighed and looked back at her with another shivering shrug , as if shaking the memory away,  
"But when the fates set the heading for you the best a man can do is hold a steady course, you have to follow where their winds lead. I wanted the sea and freedom." He smiled again but it seemed to her that it was sad rather than angry or bitter, "And it seems that the price of having it was the piracy I was born to."  
"How so?" she asked mildly,  
He looked back at her and his smile became slow and cynical, the flash of gold that came with it somehow highlighting the bright hardness of his words despite the softness of his tone,  
"Let's just say that the malice of man cannot always be fathomed, and that no good deed goes unpunished."

A sudden chill entered her blood as she saw the dark and grief laced expression in his eyes, and she wondered how much she really wanted to know. For a moment she was truly afraid what he might say, and of how much power his experience might have to finally rip apart her own tattered and moth eaten veil of innocence, and with it her remaining belief in the world; and if she thought the price was worth paying for understanding him.

But the choice was not hers to make it seemed, for it was immediately obvious that this was all he intended to say on the subject of his youth. The disturbing and dark expression faded from his eyes and his face softened, then he turned that beautiful, depreciating, yet coaxing, smile that she had come to realise was one of his most potent weapons, upon her,  
"Don't get me wrong love, I wouldn't undo any of it." The smile died and an unsettled and wary expression drifted across his face, "Well not much of it, that is to say some of it I would happily seen undone."  
He gave himself another shake, the ornaments in his hair shivering, as some memory darkened his eyes again for a moment. Then that darkness was in turn chased away by another of those smiles,  
"Pirate I am; seems I always was. If that's what Calypso demands as her price then so be it. I'm not going to deny her."  
"Price for what Jack?" now she was curious, and glad to be pulling away from the darker waters that instinct told her that they had just circled.  
He turned away with that strange twisting shrug of his shoulders he affected and waved one hand towards the sea,  
"That, luv, the only thing there really is."

Elanor was quiet for a moment, looking at him with uncertainty,  
"Then why the fountain?"  
"Do you not know?"  
The darkness was back in his eyes and she decided that she knew enough, for the moment at least.  
"Yes, " she said her voice as soft and silken as his, "Maybe I do at that."

He did not reply and he turned away from her to stare back towards the horizon. She waited for a moment the returned to her task

***

The week at anchor passed easily enough; by unspoken agreement there was no more discussion about the past or the motivations of the present, just hard work, uneasy conversation during shared meals and exhausted sleep. The skies stayed blue and the seas calm but other than a single excursion to the tiny island in search of fresh fruit and fish they remain on board doing as much as they could to prepare for whatever might face them in the weeks ahead.

Elanor was still keeping him well away from Ariadne but she had given way on other things and was teaching him the basics of running the Dawn Chaser by hand. In turn he gave her some lessons in the use of a sword, as well as a rapid education in the history and geography of the area as he knew of it. What little time remained he spent reading anything he could get his hands on, then subjecting her to a barrage of questions on the same. By the time they were preparing to return to Tortuga Elanor was glad of her lengthy and varied education, and even more curious about his past life.

He learned quickly, mastering the intricacies of the rigging with little effort, and accepting with silent nods her assurances that the strangeness he mentioned had a purpose. But though she was glad of that it only increased her unease. As always there was only one source of advice,  
"He learns too quickly." she told Ariadne.  
"Define too quickly, in the context of the current situation that is," came the dispassionate reply.  
"I don't know. Somehow he gives the impression that he's little more than a barely literate fool who has just managed to pick up a few clever words here and there, but when it comes to it he understand too much too quickly, and he has no difficulties at all in following convoluted arguments or in knowing just which question to ask." She rubbed a hand over her neck where the sea wind had driven salt into her hair line,  
"Maybe it's just about survival and surviving but I'm not sure."

"More than just a trick," Ariadne replied, "he seems able to speak several languages quite competently. Including Latin which he appears to both speak and read."  
"Latin?" she demanded, "Well that's just showing off!"  
"Maybe for you, but the historical data banks indicate that a working knowledge of Latin would have been required for any boy of this, or any comparable era, to be considered educated. However the lower ranks of society would have found little use for it."  
"Most couldn't read at all and he can certainly do that. But Latin? That suggests that his education is wider than just reading and writing, which in turn indicates that his past is somewhat less plebeian than he tries to infer. But an educated man becoming a pirate? Is that likely?"  
"It would not have been unique. A younger son perhaps, sent out to make his fortune in the east, one who went astray and was cut off."  
"But he claims to have been born a pirate."  
"Then the son or grandson of a younger son, one whose father has educated him in the traditions of a family they are now disowned by."  
Elanor though of that for a moment,  
"Curioser and curioser as they say. Though I had noticed than when he forgets his pirate speak his speech patterns are those of an educated person rather than a fisherman."

"But is this of any relevance?" Ariadne queried, "provided he can do what is required of him his education, and his station in this life, or lack of it, is of little importance. He seems more than competent to do the tasks you require of him."  
"True. But it's one more reason to keep an eye on him, and another good reason to keep him away from you."  
"That is certainly a valid point, though if he is to stay aboard he is going to have to get to know of me eventually."  
"But not now, not until I understand him better, for the moment you had better stay a ghost in his mind. I am finding it hard to decide just how far I can trust him."  
"Good sense would suggest only as far as you need to."  
There was silence for a moment, and then Elanor sighed  
"I know, but it gets tiring living in such close proximity to someone you don't understand and can't trust."  
"Possibly, we must hope that he finds the same." Ariadne replied,  
Elanor sighed again and ran her fingers though her hair with a rueful smile,  
"Wishful thinking Ariadne, I get the impression that he has had a lot more practice at it than I have, and that worries me as much as anything else."  
"All the more reason to keep him at arms length."  
Elanor's smile became more rueful yet,  
"I suppose so."

'And that is another totally different source of fatigue.' she thought to herself, but that was not something that Ariadne would understand. At least she hoped not.

***

The calm weather was breaking as they weighed anchor and headed back towards Tortuga, timing their arrival for several hours after dark when the largely respectable occupants of this part of the island would have sought their beds. The storms were spawning and growing in the deep ocean but had not come ashore yet, and the waters of the bay were calm as the Dawn Chaser slipped round the headland and dropped anchor at the same point as before. The clouds were racing in though, and the moon was shrouded, sending the cliffs once more into shadow, so it seemed unlikely that they would be seen from shore; however Elanor was more concerned about the expected light. They had agreed with Mr Gibbs that they would not launch the longboat until he had signalled them all was quiet, and that it was safe him to lower the rope down the cliff for Jack to climb.

So far there had been no signal and as the time ticked apply the tension on the deck rose. The would-be climber was seated astride the rail at the prow, fortifying himself against the coming ordeal with a bottle of rum liberated from its hiding place in the rope locker. Elanor made no comment but fetched the brandy from the galley and set a glass of it close to her hand as she watched the shore, willing the light to appear. It didn't.

In the end she knew that it had to be said and she crossed the deck to join him,  
" He's not coming," she said.  
"He'll be there," Jack didn't look at her as he replied,  
She struggled to keep hold of her temper knowing that nerves were to blame for the surge of anger,  
" How can you be so sure? He should have signalled by now."  
Now he looked around at her  
" I told you, he's a good man, good pirate."  
She nodded wearily,  
" Yes, I remember, but I also recall that he's one with a weakness for rum, he could be drunk somewhere."  
Jack shook his head, trinkets shining and looked back towards the shore taking another swig from his bottle,  
"Not Gibbs, drunk or sober he won't let us down."

He took another, deeper, swallow and hoped he was right.

But half an hour passed and still there was no signal. Elanor had returned to the helm, refilled her glass and turned her attentions to the scanners. It was as she feared, there was no sign of anyone on the headland. She raised her voice to be heard over the hiss if the swell,  
"He's not there Jack, he's not coming."  
With a sigh towards the sky Jack dismounted from the rail and strode across the deck, coming to stand beside her, rum bottle in hand. He stared down at the displays, then waved towards them with the bottle,  
"That what your little lookouts's say is it?"  
"Yes, there's no one on the headland, no one at all."  
Jack squinted at the display in obvious displeasure,  
"Your ghost's little helpers could be wrong, could they not?"  
She drew a deep breath and kept her voice calm,  
"No Jack they couldn't, at this distance they can see the heat from a cat, they wouldn't miss a man."  
He seemed to think about that then he took another swallow of rum,  
"He'll be there," he said again.  
Elanor took a smaller drink from her glass and then another steadying breath,  
"It's three hours passed the time we agree. Even allowing for the fact that Mr Gibbs has no time piece it's unlikely he would have missed us by this much, and there is still no one at around up there at all."  
She pointed to the traces on the display,  
"Look, these are the remnants of tonight's cooking fires, these are the buildings and their occupants, you can see for yourself that there is no one outside of the buildings. If Mr Gibbs is there then either he's asleep, drunk, or drugged. None of which are good possibilities from our point of view."

Jack took another deep swallow of rum, his knuckles white and tight in the deck light, then he sighed and considered the detectors as he swallowed it.  
"Then something has gone wrong, Gibbs would be there if he could."  
"Maybe, but we did leave him with a small fortune in his pocket." She raised a placatory hand before he could reply to that, " though I confess I'd be surprised if he absconded with it." She smiled at him grimly, "Though he may have drunk himself to death."  
He shook his head,  
"He'll not have done that, nor will he have played me false, not without good cause. Yes he may have drunk some, knew that he would, but he'll do what he undertook to do. If he's not there then there is a reason for it, and it's unlikely to be good news for him."

Elanor looked at him closely for a moment then took another swallow from her own glass; this was going to be difficult.  
"So what do we do now? If he's got caught then someone is going to want to know why he was carrying so much money. I doubt he told them anything about us, and even if he has who's going to believe him? At least at the moment while no one seen the ship."  
Jack stared out towards the horizon for a moment,  
"Gibbs knows better than to be caught, and anyway there is no unlikely to try to catch him on Tortuga."  
'Unless Barbossa had returned' he thought to himself, but he wasn't sharing that idea with her.  
She nodded,  
"But someone may have noticed his unexpected wealth, even though we warned him to be careful."  
Jack thought about that for a moment then he nodded,  
"Ay, they might," he looked towards her, "only one way to know."  
She nodded again,  
"One of us has to go and find out, unless we give up this idea of the fountain and rethink our plans completely."

Jack stared at her in silence for a second or two and then he turned towards the horizon and the black cliffs and the obvious lack of signal light; he shook his head slowly,  
"Any man that falls behind gets left behind," he breathed the words so faintly she could barely catch them.  
"What was that?"  
"Pirate code, any man who falls behind gets left behind." He smiled at her faintly,"when you live outside the law you can't risk the ship, the crew, for one man; get caught and everyone hangs, no gain in that."  
She thought about that for a moment then shrugged wearily,  
"I suppose it makes a kind of sense, harsh though."  
"Pirate life is harsh 'lanor, as I said no sense in risking all for one man, everyone knows what getting left behind means."  
There was an undertone that made her ask,  
"You ever been left behind Jack?"  
"Aye, I've been left behind, more than once." his face was closed and distant, "never complained about it, nor held anyone to blame, 'tis the code and we all live by it."

She waited for him to say more but he remained silent, the bottle of rum swinging loosely in his hand, the shadow of unshared experiences hanging between them. Eventually she broke the mood,  
"So do we leave Mr Gibbs behind?"  
"We don't know that he's fallen behind," the distant expression was lost in a cold smile and his voice became soft, "besides we need him. Rather we need to know what happened to him."  
Eleanor shrugged wearily,  
"That's true unless we plan to rethink things completely." She rubbed her forehead and took another swig of brandy, "even then I'd be more comfortable knowing what happened to him."  
Jack nodded slowly in agreement,  
"So would I luv, so would I. Navy'll be looking for me, few others too." He looked back towards the shore, "lower the longboat."

She took another swig of brandy and stared at him through narrowed eyes,  
"I can't wait to hear Jack, it will be light before you know anything at all and I won't stay anchored here in daylight."  
He turned and came to stand in front of her, so close they were almost nose to nose, she didn't give way but met his eyes steadily. He smiled but there was no humour in it, nor softness, and his eyes were black and bleak, then he leant back a little, looking at her down the bridge of his nose, tension in every line of him,  
"No more than what I'd expect, no less than I'd do meself. Captain must look to the safety of the ship." he said easily.  
But there was a fire in his eyes, and something close to sorrow that she couldn't place.

She nodded  
"So what's your plan?" she said.  
He grimaced and took a step back, and another swig of rum, his mouth twisting in something she couldn't read, then he flipped his hand towards the shore,  
"Gibbs said his Polly would do me no harm, have to put it to the test won't I? Pay her a visit and see what she knows. With luck he'll be there, sick or drunk. If not….. well then she'll know when he left and when he planned to return."  
He turned and put the run bottle down on the chart table and began to shrug on his coat,  
"Give me a day to see how the land lies, return tomorrow at the same time and follow the plan. I'll signal you from the shoreline to let you know I'm on my way back."  
He pulled his baldric over his head, then stopped and pointed a finger at her,  
"If you don't see the signal then bring no one on board, let your ghost do her worst."  
She nodded, neither of them need to say more on that subject.

"Will you make it up the cliffs?" she asked instead.  
He grinned in mocking delight,  
"I'm Jack Sparrow, course I will."  
But she couldn't help but see the dislike of the idea in his face.

As he started the climb down the ladder she caught at his arm,  
"If there is no light tomorrow Jack, do you expect me to come looking for you?"  
He froze for a moment his face turned down towards the boat, then he looked at her with serious eyes,  
" You do what seems best to you, but I'll not condemn you if you keep to the code."  
"I'm no pirate Jack," she protested.  
"Are you not?" he said and shrugged, "then you do whatever seems right by you."  
"As you would?"  
His smile flashed gold,  
"As I would."

Then he turned and climbed rapidly down to the waiting boat and took up oars without another look in her direction.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 : Visitor **

The climb up the cliffs was no easier than the first time, but this time gnawing anxiety drove Jack upwards and the rum kept his blood pumping and the fears and aches at a distance. He fared the better too for using the route he had taken before, finding the marks of his previous passing easier to spot than he had expected in the poor light. Even so his knees and knuckles were scraped again, and his shoulders protesting vigorously, by the time he made the top.

Once sprawled safely on the cliff top he rolled over to stare at the sky and paused to take a few minutes to regain his breath as well as to roundly curse the man responsible for the need. Around him the night was losing its grip to the first fingertips of dawn and day's animals were beginning to stir as the hunters sought their dens and burrows. Jack would have given much to be seeking his bunk, his eyes were hot and tired from searching the cliffs for finger holds and his chest was tight from the heavy load placed upon his lungs. But the need to move was pressing and he knew it; he must find out why Gibbs had not shown, the navy was one thing Barbossa was quite another. It would not suit him to have his erstwhile mate and fellow captain to locate Mr Gibbs, and hence himself, just yet, wouldn't suit him at all.

The hot rush that followed that thought sent new energy to his muscles and got him to his feet.

Elanor's ghost and her little helpers had been right, there was no one stirring on the cliff path and the homesteads were all still shrouded in darkness. It would not be long before the cooking fires were kindled and the first chores of the day began but for the moment the tiny hamlet was still wrapped in sleep. He stood for a moment longer breathing in the scent on the warm wind, rain was on it's way and that meant the storms were heading inland, even if Elanor returned tomorrow there was no certainty he would be able to reach her. Assuming she returned, a likelihood that there remained some doubt about. For the first time he wondered if his baiting of her, and the not so subtle invitations, made it more or less likely that she would abandon him, for it was all too easy to forget where she hailed from and the consequences that might be associated with that. He'd misjudged his man before by overlooking the importance of their past, he might not survive misjudging this woman in a similar way.

But there was nothing to be done about that, for the moment he must carry out what they had agreed. He settled his sword more comfortably on his hip and his pistol more securely in his sash and then he slipped across the road and over the gate.

***

Polly awoke with first full light of day, turning over and throwing out her arm into a bed that was still cold and empty. He was not back then. She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, he had planned to be back by yesterday morning but she hadn't worried much until night fell and he still wasn't returned. Josh was a good man in many ways but not one to rely on, and she wouldn't be concerned even now if she hadn't known that he had planned to meet with Jack Sparrow before dawn today. But he wouldn't let Captain Sparrow down if he could avoid it, certainly not now.

She stumbled from her bed and pulled on a gown, listening to the silence of the house, an absence of sound that drove away the faint hope that he had already risen, frowning as she tied her apron around her. Few people knew how much store Josh set by the man he called his captain, and it was likely that she was the only one who knew the full truth of it. Knowing what she knew she couldn't see that Josh would have been waylaid by rum and wenches when he had Captain Sparrow's gold in his pockets and his purpose to fulfil. Certainly not when he had rum and a warm bed here. She did not expect fidelity from him, no more than he expected it from her, but with no need to spin a tale for his pleasures, and the possibility of a voyage before him, he would have returned at the appointed time if he could. So all was not well with him.

Polly stifled a moment of panic, there was nought she could do to help him and if he was gone for good she had best get used to it, but she sent up a silent prayer that if Jack Sparrow came visiting he would prove to be the man Josh spoke of.

Out in the yard she drew water from the pump and dashed the remnants of sleep from her eyes. Already Sal was up and about collecting eggs, and the sounds from the goat sheds told her that Ben was milking; with a sigh she filled the water bucket and went indoors to stoke the fire, Josh had replenished her stock of tea earlier in the week and this morning of all mornings she needed a cup before she began cooking breakfast.

She had barely set the cup to her lips when Sally sidled in looking around her as if she had never seen the room before, peering in corners like a wary bird. After a moment she crept forward as if afraid to be heard and set the morning's eggs on the table with exaggerated concern, then she caught her mothers eye and jerked her head towards the door without a word. Polly stared at her in astonishment,  
"Lord love ye girl what be ye about, creeping around in such a way?"  
Sally frowned at her then pointed towards the door, still silent. Polly looked her over with narrow eyes noting the brightness of her eyes and flush in her cheek,  
"Are ye sick girl? Ye were well enough last night, what have ye been doing?"  
Her daughter rolled her eyes and frowned again before jerking her head in the direction of the door as she herself began to creep back towards it.  
"Sal enough of this nonsense!" Polly's tone was sharp, "I've enough to worry me as it be without you turning queer. Josh is not back as he promised and the lord only knows what I'll say should Jack Sparrow come looking for him. Thwarting a pirate lord not be healthy and I can only hope Josh has told us right about him, if not then it won't go well if he turns up here."

The mention of Captain Sparrow seemed to increase her daughter's queerness for her the red in here cheeks deepened and her eyes gleamed. She reached to pull her mother towards her as she edged towards the door.  
"Sally!" he mother snapped as she pulled her arm away, "are ye wits gone begging? Leave off this nonsense girl and tell me what it is that ails ye."  
The girl sighed in exasperation and moved close to her mother, leaning her head to whisper in her ear,  
"He's here," she hissed excitedly, "Captain Jack Sparrow, he's here!"

Polly looked at her for a moment then sighed, that was all she needed, Sal enamoured of a pirate lord! She looked more closely at the excited face and flushed cheeks and her heart flipped as she remembered some of the stories about him. 'How long had he been here' she wondered wearily 'and where had Sal spent the night?' She had been too tired when she sought her own bed to be sure that the girl had been on her own pallet all the time. 'Legend or not Jack Sparrow would be a dead pirate lord if her daughter had taken any harm from him' she promised herself, and Josh could say what he liked about it. If it were true o'course.  
"Here? Don't be daft girl, why would Jack Sparrow be here?" Though she knew well enough why he might be.  
Sally looked at her with round eyes,  
"'Tis as you said, seems Mr Gibbs did not make their meeting and Captain Sparrow has come to find out why." She giggled, "But he means us no harm I'm sure, he's friendly enough."

Polly thought dark thought about how friendly he might have been but go no chance to say anything for Sally was drawing her towards the door,  
"He's just like Mr Gibbs told us, Ma, the hair and the beard and the clothes. A real pirate lord, but he has such a smile, and beautiful eyes, Ma, eyes no man has a right too, and he looks to be kind."  
"Kind!" Polly shorted, "he's a pirate girl, and has been for a while at least, just you remember that. Where is he?"  
"The stillroom."  
"Ha, drunk is he?"  
"No, he seems sober enough."  
Which was of itself a cause for some concern in Polly's mind. Men and rum went together in her experience and if Jack Sparrow was forswearing the liquor in front of him then it could only be because he was expecting trouble.  
"You stay here, I'll go and talk to him," she said grimly  
Sally caught at her mother's hand,  
"You won't give him away will you Ma?"  
"Give him away? Don't be daft girl, who'd I give him away too even if I had a mind to? Which I don't, not as long as he does right by us and by Josh. No, you set to with breakfast, I'll be back presently."  
With that she wiped her hands on her apron and strode out towards the stillroom.

***

He was there right enough, seated on a barrel in the shadows and with his pistol cocked and pointed at the door. He slowly got to his feet as she entered, finger on the trigger, hand as steady as any she'd ever seen. He looked at her with narrow eyes,  
"Lass said she's fetch her Mum. You Gibb's Polly then?"  
His voice had a depth to it that she hadn't expected, and a gravely note that spoke of fatigue and wariness. But the edge was there, just as Josh had said, and the cadence that told her something was being held back or hidden.  
"Ay, I'm Polly," she said as she took another step in and closed the door behind her. "My girl says you claim to be Jack Sparrow."  
A flash of white and gold in the shadow told her that he had smiled,  
"No luv, I didn't claim I was Jack Sparrow, I am Jack Sparrow."

There was a brash bravado in the words that should have been ridiculous, but the tone of his voice was something else entirely and she reminded herself that Josh wasn't no fool, whatever else he might be, he knew how to hold a crew together and that meant that he knew men, and Jack Sparrow, if this were he, was his captain.  
She nodded warily,  
"Ay, ye might be at that. If ye are then there is no need for that pistol for there is none who'll stand agin ye here. For Josh's sake if naught else."  
For a moment longer the unnerving trace of white and gold stayed visible in the shadows, then it was gone and there was a click and the pistol disappeared too.  
"So Gibbs said. In which case." he sauntered forward, "you've nothing to fear from me."

Her first sight of him was a surprise, for she had thought her daughter's raptures the product of too many stories and a young girl's lust for infatuation, but, as he stepped into the sun just beginning to slant through the window, she saw that she had done Sal some disservice. It flashed through her mind that it would not be wise for him to stay, not for Sal's peace, nor indeed for her own if the truth be told. Jack Sparrow was indeed a man to turn a young girl's head, and a woman's too if to came to that. He was not a big man but he was a mite taller and wider than either her son Ben or her long gone husband and what she could see of him beneath the broad skirted coat and wide sash suggested that he was of a sailors build, lean and tightly muscled. Less common was the hint of grace about him, something that suggested that for all his sway and expansive gesture he could move fast and to some purpose should he need to; something, too, that suggested that he would hold his own against those with more obvious strength. His tan spoke of days spent in wind as well as sun, and the sword and pistol seemed so much a part of him that she was sure he more than knew how to use them. A pirate then quite possibly, but not Jack Sparrow for sure. Though her doubts died as he came closer.

His face was the thing she would remember, for he looked like no man she knew. Josh had talked of him often but she had never believed the half of it, seems she had been wrong in that. Sal had said nothing less than the truth about his eyes, and the face, framed by a mass of hair as long and heavy looking as any she had ever seen, held back by scarf and hat and decked with beads and silver, belonged more to a rich child's story book or a picture in a penny pamphlet than the sweat and grinding toil of life on Tortuga. Standing as he was, half in shadow, he looked like something from another world.

But it was more than that, for even in the shadows there was an uncommon quickness in his look and she didn't think she had ever seen anyone who was so aware of what was going on around him, nor one so obviously alive. As she looked him over, caught the slight twitch of his lips beneath the carefully trimmed moustache, she decided that more of the tales about him were likely to be true than she had ever had idea of when Josh spoke of them, and that Captain Sparrow couldn't be held entirely to blame if they were. It was easy to see how he would appear to a Tortuga whore inured, to entertaining much less attractive and exotic goods for her bread and board, or to a young and impressionable lass be she ever so respectable. No, it was certainly better that he didn't stay long.

Then he smiled again and she better understood Sal's anxiety for him, for with the threat gone the smile was both warm and disarming. Josh had always said that Jack Sparrow had a charm that passed most others and it seemed that on this occasion too he had told no less than the truth.

He came forward with the rolling gait of someone unused to surfaces that remained still, and placed his hands upon her shoulder. Long fingered hands unmarked by tar or lampblack, fingers decked with rings. She felt the heat of him through the fabric of her dress and was taken by a moments urge to grip those long fingers and plead with him that he make things, so obviously gone wrong, right. But she said nothing, just looked up into dark eyes and a strangely serious smile,  
"Missing is he?"  
There was no accusation in the voice and she thought she saw some sympathy in his eyes. He watched her a moment then shrugged slightly, the movement setting the ornaments in his hair shivering,  
"No need to say it luv, he wouldn't have failed if it had been in his power not to do so. How long has he been gone?"  
"He went the day afore yesterday, to collect some grapples he'd not been able to collect. He should have been back at first light yesterday, but I wasn't mithered when he didn't arrive, thought he was sleeping the rum off somewhere if the truth be told. Though there was no need for him to go to the tavern when he had two fine kegs of rum here." She gestured towards the casks sitting in the far corner. "Still you know Josh, I thought he'd found someone to spin a yarn with and got carried away."

Jack Sparrow smiled knowingly at that,  
"I know luv, irregular lot us pirates, no sayin' when we'll get distracted. Past prayin' for we are." He shot her a frowning look, "But he's still not back?"  
She shook her head,  
"No, by sundown I was beginning to wonder, but I knew he needed to be careful and thought that maybe he'd seen someone he wanted to avoid and would lay low until dark before makin' his way back here. I knew he had arranged to meet you, for he told me when he began hidin' things in my barn, so I just went on waitin'. Then when he wasn't here by the tide turn I went to bed sure that he would have gone to meet you first and would bring you back with him before leavin'. But this mornin' he's not been here, and now you say he missed you, so where is he gone I ask you?"  
He let go of her shoulders and stepped back obviously lost in thought.  
"He went to the town though, you are sure of that?"  
"Ay. He went to town right enough, my son Ben took a couple of goats down to the quay, merchantman bound for the northern colonies they were destined for, and Josh went with him. He left him outside the chandlers in cock alley."  
The dark eyes were narrowed in frowning consideration, she'd heard many a tale of the madness of Jack Sparrow but there was nothing of madness or the fool in man in front of her,  
"Oh. I'd best talk to this Ben of yours," he said.  
She nodded,  
"Though he'll tell you no more, nor no different." She looked towards the house, "Sal will have breakfast ready, and you'll think the better for a full stomach I'll be bound. As I told you sir, none of mine will cause you harm."  
She twisted her hand in her apron, but replied calmly enough.  
His smile was charm itself and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks,  
"Polly you're as fine a woman as ever Gibbs said you were, and breakfast would be most welcome." He swept a bow towards the door, "lead on."

***

Jack Sparrow had eaten a hearty breakfast then asked, with disarming politeness she noticed, for a bed.  
"Not fussy about where luv, bale of straw will do, just somewhere I can close my eyes for an hour or so." His smile widened slightly, "It's been a long night, and tomorrow might be a longer one."  
There was a hint of something in his voice that caused her swallow hard before she got to her feet and nodded,  
"Best stay out of sight, none here would betray you but who's to say who might come up the path when many people have business here. The barn where Josh has been storing the things he bought in town seems best place, for none will have reason to go there."  
He nodded and followed her out of the door and across the yard, the fowl running clucking from under his boots. She noted that he looked at them with a slightly puzzled air, as if not sure why he should be wading through a river of birds, but he said nothing though he brushed a stray feather from his braids with a faint air of pained disbelief. Polly found herself suppressing a smile at the gesture.

In the dark of the barn the air was sweet with the smell of straw and drying herbs and meat. Stacked in stall in the far corner were the items Josh had bought from town, apparently at Captain Jack's behest. Polly watched as he cast a professional seeming eye over the ropes and nets before picking up one of the two brace of pistols sitting on a barrel of rum and checking it over with practised fingers.  
"It was all here except for the grapples and a couple of small cannon so he said."  
The man beside her nodded,  
"Ay it seems to be. Hope he was careful about where he got it."  
"He was at that, and careful how much he paid, said it would set tongues waggin' if he seemed to be too flush."  
"And so it would, particularly if he wasn't frittering that flushness in the taverns. But he'd know that and take sensible measures to avoid it." He stroked his lip thoughtfully, "Just as long as he didn't take measures too often and too vigorously. Might have invited unwelcome attentions if that be the case."  
She shook her head,  
"No, he avoid the taverns where he was best known and he was middlin' sober when he returned at night."  
He just nodded and she knew he wanted her elsewhere,  
"Ben will take you to the outskirts of town the afternoon he's some tools to collect from the smithy."She nodded to the pile of straw in the opposite corner of the small enclosure,  
"This be comfortable enough for ye captain?"

He gave it a cursory look and smiled at her,  
"Fine luv, wake me at midday. But be careful how you do it though, we pirate's can draw dangerous conclusions if someone lays hand on us while we sleep, and Mr Gibbs would not take kindly if in my awakening I caused you... alarm."  
She wondered if he knew how much alarm him just being here might cause her,  
"Aye. I know. Josh could be pretty ready with his knife if woken suddenly."  
Jack Sparrow raised his brows and gave a reminiscent smirk,  
"Ay, I recall. Though I was never sure that it was me or the pigs who were his target."  
Polly gave a small chuckle at that, for she had no illusions about Josh and his doings in the town, then she left Captain Sparrow to what ever it was that he intended to do.

***

The sun was an hour past it high point when Polly crossed the yard to wake the visitor. It had been hard keeping Sal away from him, and the girl had certainly crept in to peek at him once between her chores for she informed her mother that he 'looked ever so nice when he were sleepin' just like an innocent babe'. Her mother's snort had told her what she thought of that, but she was glad that he had seemed content to sleep alone, it would have been too easy for him to while the time away with a little dalliance, or something more. Meaningless enough to him, of course, but maybe not so meaningless to Sal.

She rubbed her eyes as she thought about it; it would be hard keeping the girl quiet about her close encounter with so romantic a figure as it were, heaven forbid that she should have a better tale to tell. But quiet she must stay, for Polly did not want Barbossa, or any other one of that ilk coming asking questions, certainly not while Josh was not here. Though it seemed that she might be having visitors after all.  
"Someone may come looking for me before I get back. Not sayin' that they will mind, just that they might," he had said as she handed him a pot of small ale.  
She shook out his coat while he drank, looking at him uncertainly. There was a slight smile around his mouth and a look in his eye that made her uneasy, but she had to ask,  
"And if he does? What should I say?"  
The smile became wider,  
"He's a she, Polly luv, but not like yourself, as comfortable as a sea urchin she is, not an easy woman at all. But you can tell her where I've gone if she wants to know, and that I'll be back as soon as I've located Mr Gibbs." The smile became uncertain, "Of course she may not come," now the smile was a frown, his lips turning downward at the corners at some unwelcome thought, "No telling, not for sure."  
Polly looked at him warily, unsure why she was struck by the notion that he wanted this woman to come rather badly, knowing that she wasn't at all sure that the idea of telling some strange woman about this business appealed to her, least not the sort of woman who was likely to come after Jack Sparrow,  
"Should I send her after you?"

He looked at her and grinned again, and took another swallow of his ale,  
"No sendin' her anywhere luv, she'll do what she thinks best."  
Polly's eyebrows rose at that,  
"Pirate is she?"  
His smile took on a wicked edge as he raised the ale pot in salute,  
"That's all a matter of perspective, as I'm sure she'd agree," he said, then he tipped back his head emptied the pot at a gulp. "But she's no desire to rub shoulder with the kings navy, nor such as Barbossa, if that's what you're askin' me."  
"So how will I recognise her?"  
His expression became faintly disgusted and he flicked an irritated hand,  
"Ha! She's not what you'd call missable. You'll probably think you are imagining her, or that the day if judgement has come, if she turns up. Looks like an angel," he explained and flicked his hand again, and this time an eyebrow too, "A very clean and polished angel no less."  
" The captain Josh mentioned?" she was surprised for she had assumed that the woman he had spoken of was the product of rum or a little garnishing of the tale.  
Sparrow's smile became both reflective and amused as he put down the empty ale pot and pulled on his baldric  
"Ah, spoke about her did? Well I suppose she is too good to omit. Yes that's the one." He shot her a warning look, "Tread easy around her Polly, for Gibbs sake, for she's not a domesticated creature and our fortunes rest on her for the moment," he shrugged, "until I recover the Pearl at least."

He'd not explained what he meant by that but followed her out to the cart in silence.

Ben had grumbled at her instructions to take their visitor with him to the town, two or more hours in the company of a pirate, any pirate, was not to his taste. He stopped moaning when the man himself arrived, he replied to the nod of recognition with a wary eyes tip of his head, but something about the pirate closed his mouth .  
"I'll settle myself in the back shall I? Wouldn't want to risk being seen in your company, might bring your mum questions she would rather not have, savvy?"  
Ben had seemed a little mollified by that and once his passenger was settled in the cart he handed him a couple of sacks,  
"In case we should meet anyone on the road," was all he offered as reason.  
Polly passed over a bottle of something that might or might not have been rum,  
"Not my best, but it will wash the dust away. Ben, you know where to leave Captain Sparrow," she said stepping back again. "Take care the pair of you."  
Jack Sparrow just grinned a gilded grin at her and settled down, keeping the bottle close to his side and tipping his hat over his face. It appeared he intended to sleep again. With a nod to his mother and sister Ben slapped the reins and they set off towards the town.

***

Elanor headed back toward Tortuga as the light began to fail, it was some hours short of sunset but it was clear that a storm was coming and Aridane had been in no doubt as to the severity of it. If she didn't make the bay before the storm arrived it would be too risky to do so given the shallow waters around the headlands.

But luck was not with her and though the driving rain and darkening skies presented her with little problem the scanners warnings did, she was not the only ship heading for the shelter of that bay.  
"What is it Ariadne?"  
"There is not enough information, but it appears large enough to be a naval vessel."  
"How close will we pass?"  
"Within sight in good weather, in reduced visibility that is not clear. It appears to be headed to the same bay, seeking a place to ride out the storm no doubt."  
"Can we ride it out at sea?"  
"Yes, though it won't be comfortable it is not a severe as some we have already sailed through."  
"But it's heading for that bay?"  
"Its current heading will take it there."  
"So storm or no if we rendezvous with Jack then they will see us." she said flatly.  
She thought about that for a moment, then cursed,  
"We can't risk it can we." It wasn't a question.

As always Ariadne was the voice of reason.  
"Captain Sparrow may not expect us when the weather closes in, and if he heads for the shore as he intended then he will see this other vessel and know that we cannot meet him."  
"True. But I don't like missing him, not when we have no way of contacting him and finding out what is going on. Who knows what he'll get up to if he thinks we have abandoned him."  
"He certainly knows more of us than is comfortable in the circumstances, no doubt he would be willing to trade that information for his life."  
"I'd not expect anything more than that of anyone Ariadne."  
She could almost feel the shrug in the air, and then Aridane went on as impassively as ever,  
"Then the best we can hope for is that he makes the rendezvous as planned and sees why were are not there. If this woman of Mr Gibbs has not betrayed him immediately then there is no reason to assume that he will not be safe there for a day or two, certainly long enough for the storms to pass and this unknown ship to be on its way. Scanners indicate that the worst of the storms should have blown passed within thirty six hours"

Elanor considered that for a moment then sighed; Ariadne was right as ever, if they risked the bay they risked more trouble, and it would not help Jack if the British Navy decided to chase them around the Atlantic, certainly not if he got himself into trouble in the meantime. Somehow she was more than half inclined to believe that was just what he was going to do. If they stayed close but out of sight then they could be back quickly once the danger was passed, all she could do was hope that Jack would keep faith and be patient; the patience she had no problem with, but the keeping faith seemed less certain. But there was nothing else that she could reasonably do.  
"Very well, find us a safe anchorage as close as can be managed. Let's just hope the weather takes a turn for the better soon.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 - Unexpected sightings**

At the outskirts of the town Ben halted the cart and the pirate, as he thought of him, hopped out and with a grin and a nod disappeared into the shadows in a patch of scrub. Ben flapped the reins and drove on, hoping that this was the end of it and that their disturbing visitor would not be returning. Certainly not before Gibbs was back, for he doubted that he would be able to defend his mother and sister should the pirate decide to become unfriendly, not without the older man's help.

True he had been pleasant enough, but he was a pirate after all and who could know what might cause a change in his mood? Gibbs had always talked well of Jack Sparrow, but if the man who had just faded from view was the man in Gibbs tales then he was every bit as dangerous as those storied had hinted. Some of those same stories suggested that he was also capricious and fey, someone whose behaviour could not be judged or guaranteed by a normal man's. How could any of them feel safe with him around when even Gibbs spoke of his strangeness? No it was better that he didn't return. With a muttered prayer that this should be the case Ben forgot about the pirate and returned the real business of life.

Jack himself was blithely unaware of the dark thoughts revolving in his young driver's head, being more interesting in how quickly he could find news of Mr Gibbs, and how they were going to get out of town and back to Polly's when he did find him. He did not find the idea of a four hour walk, for such it was likely to be, at all attractive, certainly not when Elanor might be waiting for him in the bay. Though a look at the dark clouds building on the horizon made it yet more likely that she would not make their meeting as planned.

With a sigh he pushed the thought aside, that issue could wait until more pressing business had been attended to, like how he was going to find out about Gibbs without attracting over much attention to himself. The free port was one place where he rarely gave any thought to being seen or recognised and far too many people here would know him for current comfort, even from a distance.

Which was why he had taken the sack from the cart.

Crouching behind the bushes he stripped off his coat and hat and folded them into the sack, his waistcoat followed, then one of his belts, his baldric and sword. Shaking the sack to settle its contents, he tore a strip from the frayed top edge and bound his hair back, retying his scarf so that it covered his whole head, before unwinding his sash and fastening it around the neck of the sack. Standing up he pushed his pistol into his belt, along with the dagger from his boot, and slung the sack over his shoulder before stepping back onto the road. As long as no one wanted to see what it was he was carrying he should pass unseen and without difficulty.

This part of the town was as respectable as anything could be on this island. Widely spaced the large houses of merchants had gardens and compounds bounded by low hedges, Jack passed each one quickly, but not too quickly, keeping his head down and his sense alert, for this was unfamiliar territory. The occasional comely maidservant beating rugs on a hedge or bringing in the laundry drew his eye from the road, and even without his usual accruements he was rewarded by the occasional appraising look and several saucy smiles. He contented himself with matching smile for smile and moving on for the sun was falling and lingering here was not an idea to be entertained, however fair the face, not if he was to find out what he wanted and be on his way back to the cove before morning.

It was not long before the larger house gave way to the smaller homes of shopkeepers and artisans and the gardens and pretty maidservants disappeared to be replaced by dour faced men and weary looking wives. These, in turn, were soon replaced by small shops and workshops, and then by the hovels and flop houses that catered for the more respectable of the free town's poor. Here the buildings were flimsy and malformed, not yet the rotten and grimy doss houses or slatternly huts of the poorest parts of the port but already leaning together across narrow pavements and crowding around malodorous courtyards, the mouths of the alleys that ran down to the quay just visible in the deepening shadows.

As the road crossed another leading up from the quay Jack sighted the first of the many taverns that catered to the daily needs of the small traders and shop owners. For a moment he paused then he set down the sack, and, with a sigh, wiped a dirty hand across his eyes. The air was cloying and slow, already heavy with the rain that was on its way. His shirt was damp, clinging around his armpits and back and chafing at his neck; sweat slicked his skin and ran down his shoulders and chest, and worse still his throat was so dry it felt to be cracking. He looked longingly at the tavern doorway, shadowed and cool looking in the late afternoon heat, more than anything he wanted a drink. But the red ball of the sun was already low on the roof tops and he knew that daylight would soon be gone, if he was to make his target before lock up then he needed to keep moving. With one last look at the beckoning tavern sign he hoisted the sack once more and stepped off the road into the alley that ran behind the inn.

***

Elanor had been on deck watching the clouds building when Ariadne called to her,  
"There is another ship on the scanner. On its current course it will pass close to the headland."  
"Show me."  
The helm display lit and she studied the image carefully and with a sudden feeling of inevitability,  
"It looks to be heading out to sea, but surely the signs of bad weather will be obvious enough now?" she commented after a moment.  
"Yes, and its course has changed slightly in the last half hour, it was heading to deep water but now it seems to be hugging shallower seas, presumably to stay close to sanctuary should the weather become a danger."  
"Where has it come from?"  
"That is not certain, but backwards projections suggest that the port at Tortuga is a strong possibility."  
"What type of ship?"  
"Unknown, smaller than the one currently anchored in the bay where we left Captain Sparrow, but larger than most of the other ships within range."  
"Navy?"  
"Again unknown. It appears to be armed, probably with cannon, but has a crew of only fifteen or so."  
"So likely not Navy. Pirate?"  
"Again that is possible, or it might be a merchantman."  
"Will it see us?"  
"Possibly, it is equally possible that it will change course and decide to anchor here to see out the weather."

Elanor sighed,  
"I am beginning to feel persecuted Ariadne. How Jack lives like this, ducking and diving all the time escapes me!"  
"It may well be our fate for some time to come." Ariadne stated calmly,  
"So get used to it, I know, there's no need to remind me."  
"I did not remind you."  
"Not in so many words, but the inference was there; maybe you are spending too much time observing Jack."  
"You wish me to stop observing him?"  
"Oh no, go on as before." Elanor grinned at the sky; "I know that he finds it a most irritating check upon some of his activities, which is no doubt good for his soul."  
"I would not wish to be intrusive if that is not your intention."  
"But it is my intention Ariadne, Jack unchecked could get... inconvenient, and I wouldn't want to have to lock him up again. Better that he feels......inhibited."  
"Captain Sparrow does not appear to be at all inhibited."  
"No, I know. He looks to be all 'what you see is what you get', but you and I know better don't we?"  
"We certainly have cause to suspect that he is not quite so much of an open book as he would wish to appear, however the data available is far short of certainty."

Elanor rubbed her eyes,  
"If we had a full observational history of the man I still expect we would not have enough data for certainty on that count. But he is not our problem for the moment, take us out and round to the next bay, unless you have reason to suspect they are going to follow us there."  
"There is no reason that they should."  
"True, but what's that got to say to anything? There is no reason we should be here at all, but we are. No reason that I should believe that anything that Jack bloody Sparrow has told me ahas even nodding acquaintance with the truth, but for some reason I do, and so we are playing hide and seek in the middle of the Caribbean waiting for him to climb down the cliffs. All bets on probability are off Ariadne, nothing makes sense any longer. But as you have so cogently pointed out going with the flow is all that is left to us."  
She looked up and towards the horizon suddenly concerned but with a surge of hope,  
"Unless this storm is a sign that the portal is about to open again?"  
"There is no reason to believe that is the case, this appears to be a normal weather event with no associated abnormalities."  
"Oh. But as you said earlier we don't know what they would look like."  
"That is the case, therefore chasing them, or waiting for them would seem to be futile."  
Elanor sighed,  
"I know. So take us round to the next bay."  
"Very well."

The Chaser was under way when Ariadne spoke to her again,  
"The ship has changed course, it is now projected to be heading for this position."  
"Will we be clear in time?"  
"We should be, but it is moving much more quickly than would be predicted from earlier observations. It has the wind full astern and has all canvas optimally deployed but even so its speed is significantly greater than previous vessels tracked in similar circumstances."  
"What is different about it then?"  
"There is no information, however we need to move quickly if we are to be sure to avoid them."  
"Very well, do we have enough power if we need it?"  
"Yes, all cells are fully charged."  
"Then put the screws online, you have the comm. Ariadne, use them if you need to but get us clear before we are sighted."

***

Cock alley was not an alley in the usual Tortuga sense, in that it was wider than a man's shoulders and not in constant shadow; nor did walls or the backs of dilapidated huts border it. Though once it had been no different to the maze of alleys around the quay and dock areas its importance to many of the town's residents, having the cockpit at one end and the livestock market at the other, had caused it to be widened at the height of the buccaneer days. Even the poorest of the town's occupants did not wish to live just a flimsy wall from the drunken crowds making their way somewhere else after a night of blood and betting. Now it was half way to respectability, a small street in which rag dealers, lodging houses and a better class brothel or two brushed shoulders with the cheaper chandlers, candle makers and cook shops as they struggled to climb the rickety ladder to prosperity.

Jack had rarely done business here, he preferred to promise to pay more when refitting the Pearl, even if he would then try and avoid payment; and the ladies of his acquaintance would talk disparagingly about the women who worked in these faded rooms. But he had, on occasion, had call to use the chandler that Polly had spoken of.

The shop was at the top of the end of the alley, close to a main thoroughfare and was run by a weasley faced man with a lisp if he recalled correctly, one who had a knack of finding things the more respectable members of his trade would not supply. Though it was unclear why Gibbs would have come here for something as ordinary as grapples; one reason why Jack was being cautious, that and the fact that he wasn't completely sure that he didn't owe the lisping gent money.

He reached the shop just as the brothels opened their doors and the occupants of the lodging houses began to trickle back from their day of not so gainful employment, however to his annoyance the chandlers remained open for trade. Jack cursed quietly and looked around for a suitable vantage point, then cursed again as he realised his choice was between a brothel, where a skinny Madame and her protectors were already taking up residence on the door, and a cook shop whose pastries had a decidedly bilious look. Jack had spent much of his adult life at sea and had eaten more than one meal that would have sent a softer stomach to its maker, but as he eyed the yellow pies, the grey gravy leaking from their seams in a cold slurry that looked as if it had spent time in the bilges, he wondered if he would survive this encounter. Even so he had no choice and he entered the shop, slapped down a penny and took the sad excuse for a meal he was handed without a shudder. His shudderless state was only sustained by willpower as he took his first, and he hoped his only, bite. With a hurried gulp he handed over another half penny for a pot of watery ale with a sour smell that boded ill for its taste.

His presence accounted for he positioned himself at the door, sipping from the ale while apparently watching the world go by.

The ale pot was somehow empty and the pie crumbled in the dust of the road before the chandler came out to close and fasten the shutters. Pausing only to slap the tankard back on the makeshift counter he hurried out and across the street.

***

They were safe around the headland when the other ship slipped into the bay. The storm was still some way off but Ariadne reported that the newcomer had dropped anchor and furled canvas and obviously intended to stay where she was for some time. Not for the first time Elanor cursed the lack of sat comms, for in this time and place she would be unable to see the other ship unless she physically went and looked, and she found that she was most anxious to see it. Even at this distance Ariadne could not tell her why this one had come upon them so quickly and, in a world that must be treated as hostile, that must be cause for concern. For an hour or more she alternated pacing the deck with studying the data banks and the scans. In end none of it satisfied her.

"I'm going to take a look."  
"That would not be wise."  
"Why not? They are not likely to see us. Unless they carry scanners too and that seems somewhat unlikely." A sudden thought hit her, "unless they are another one like us, another interloper in time or place they don't belong. Which is a most disturbing thought you must admit."  
Ariadne sounded thoughtful,  
"It is, the possibility had occurred to me but I had discounted it on the basis of the scan. However it is also possible I have not given sufficient weight to the hypothesis that it is from another variant of this time line, if that were to be the case then it might not be transparent to our scans."  
"But it will be to human eyes."  
"Indeed. But you need to take great care, if you were to be trapped the only way that I could help you would be to destroy that ship with all the consequences that might follow."  
"I have no intention of being trapped, for which I read you really mean caught. I'll stay in touch, if they show any signs of moving, or even launching a boat, then let me know, and fast."  
"Very well, but I do advise extreme caution." Araidne paused for a moment, then said dispassionately. "I would draw your attention to the fact that air tanks are fully primed."  
Elanor nodded slowly,  
"Yes that would be sensible I suppose, we saw Jack's reaction to it, if they saw me they would just think me some strange sort of fish." She sent a sardonic smile towards the helm, "sneaky, Ariadne, maybe you have spent too much time observing Captain Sparrow, he seems to be rubbing off on you."

'Though perhaps I should be more concerned with him rubbing off on me', she thought a few minutes later as she strapped on her weight belt, 'what the hell am I doing?'

***

"I be lookin' for a man called Gibbs."

The weasly faced man squinted at him over his shoulder but went on putting up the shutters."  
"And why d'ye reckon I'd know of any such man."  
"Was told ya do an' that he was seen here a few days ago."  
"Was you? And who said that?"  
Jack shrugged and put on his best drunken fool drawl,  
"Dunno 'is name, geezer what passed thro' on his way up country to visit his ol mum so he said. Got chattin' over a pot or two we did, a day or so back, an I tol him I was done with slavin' for the ole wom'n and wanted to seek me fortune at sea."  
The weasly man grunted,  
"Not much fortune to be had there these days, if the stories be true."  
Jack wondered what the stories he mentioned were but kept his mind on his story; he let an eager note slide into his voice,  
"More than there be scrabblin in the dirt and flies I'll be bound, more than breakin me back when all I've got to show for it is calluses and the bruises from another kickin'."  
That brought another grunt,  
"Sea's not an easy place to live so they tell me. Captains be hard task masters and they carry no slackers."  
"Can't be no harder than labouring on a hand to mouth farmstead for a vicious ol' biddy and her bully boy sons."

The man slid the last catch into place and turned to give him a hard land appraising look. Jack had expected no less and had already taken care not to seem a threat, shrinking in on himself and letting his head droop, his eyes lowered. After a moments stare the chandler seemed satisfied with what he saw.  
"Mebbe not, couldn't say. But why ye be looking for this man Gibbs?"  
Jack shrugged a little, still keeping his eyes on the floor,  
"This geezer he tol me that this here Gibbs knew the all captains passin' through the port see, said he'd likely know of those takin' on crew. Did as much for hisself once."  
"Ever sailed afor'?" the man did indeed lisp.  
Jack shrugged again, mouth drooping but smiling in his minds eye, the story rolling out before him,  
"When I was a lad, gave it up for a lass but she left me for a blacksmith's apprentice takin' the chile and everything with her."  
He heard the man grunt again. 'Careful' he warned himself, 'this one's not for romance, stick to the every day,' he shrugged,  
"said that I were drunk too often and would amount to nothin' and that she could get a better life elsewhere."  
He felt the man's eyes on him and stayed quiet letting his shoulders slump as if in disappointment and defeat.

The chandler grunted again, he'd heard the tale before from many a would be sailor,  
"Well, it's your look out if you think the sea offers a better life, sailors are no less free with their boots I'm thinkin', and the sea tells no tales if you fail to make the grade."  
"Know that, but I recon' I'll not make old bones where I am, might as well make a push to get away while I've no broken ones to hold me back."  
The man was silent for a little while longer then he shrugged and turned away,  
"The man Gibbs might be able to find you a berth, tis true enough, though no sayin on what type of ship, but if ye be that determined to get away ye'll not care I'll be thinkin'."  
"No sir." Jack let eagerness and gratitude seep into his voice.  
The man turned and closed the shop door pulling a lock from his pocket, Jack heard a key grate,  
"This Gibbs, he was here a day or so ago. Last I saw of him he was headin' down towards the quay, he didn't mention where he was goin' but there had been talk of a ship in, an unexpected ship, and it may be he was planning on meetin that."  
"A ship that might take me sir?"  
"Couldn't say, but as I say that'll not be botherin ye."  
"No, a chance to get away is all I'm looking for."  
"Then you'd best find Gibbs, I'd try the rope maker at the fish sheds, can't tell ye moren that."  
With that he turned and walked away.

Jack watched him go with a faint smile, then, careful to keep his weary and dejected posture, he shouldered the sack and headed down towards the mud flats.

***

Elanor surfaced in a small cave to the side of the bay they had just quit. Here the water was deep but the swell was slight, the fury of the waves dissipated on the fingers of rock stretching out into the bay. Slowly she paddled her way around to the lip of the cave being careful to stay in the lee of the wet, weed covered black rocks, there was no sense in risking being seen if she didn't have to. Finally she reached her objective, a small overhang that gave her sight of the bay without risk of being seen.

The ship that had displaced them was clear to see, sitting at anchor with sails furled. The sight of it, dark and elegant against a thunderous sky, stirred something evasive in her memory and she stared for several minutes before she understood why it seemed familiar.  
"Well, well," she said to herself, "Jack's Pearl unless I'm very much mistaken. Now what are you doing here? Co-incidence or not? Probably not."  
She watched for a moment longer then decided, she levelled her camera and committed the ship to Ariadne's memory. Though there was no one to hear her she spoke softly,  
"Ariadne, I'm coming back, file the picture with the scans then locate every mention of the Black Pearl from the voice log and compare them. I'm almost certain this is Jack's missing ship but some confirmation wouldn't go amiss, given that he's been less forthcoming about her peculiarities if it is she. It looks to be quiet, no sign of life that I can make out at all from this distance but I don't think I'll risk going closer. Keep an eye on it until I'm back with you, and let me know immediately if anything changes."  
"Very well, but it would be advisable to return quickly, the storm is almost here."  
'Well at least that should keep their heads down', she consoled herself as she began the swim back to safety.

***

Jack stood in the shadows of fish wharfe and looked across the inlet towards the smoke sheds. Even at this distance the smell of rotting fish offal was on the air and the gulls were still wheeling overhead on the look for scraps not washed out on the tide. The mud flats were not a proper place for a pirate, being the resting places of the older fishing ships and the small boats of traders, and Jack had rarely found himself there. Come to think of it he had only ever been here when looking for Gibbs, for there was a sty or two on the landward side that had occasionally provided the man with a bed when the tavern sties were otherwise occupied. If Gibbs had truly gone to ground then it was likely that it would be here, whatever the reason for it.

But this was a tight knit community, an enclave within the free port where even pirates would tread carefully if they didn't want to be gutted like the fish. Jack knew he would have to be alert whatever guise he adopted for they would know he was not one of their own. 'Hmm,' he thought, 'best stay out of sight as long as possible.' He scanned the scene for the least populated route, wrinkling his nose as he realised it lay past the midden, then hefted the sack and slipped into deeper shade.

Jack was approaching the bridge that crossed the inlet when he caught the sound of soft voices off to his side, voices that sounded as if they didn't want to be heard. Which was good enough reason to want to hear in Jack's book, for anyone around here this time in the evening might well have knowledge of Gibbs. He crouched down in the shadow of a patch of stunted mangrove trees, his hand straying down to his boot as if easing some unwelcome presence there. The voices stayed low and he could not make out the words, though one voice might just have been Gibb's. After a moment or two more the voices faded and the faint sounds of boots on sand replaced them as the whisperers moved away; Jack cursed as he realised one of them was heading his way. He cast a quick look around him before vaulting up into the branches just above his head, pulling the sack after him, hoping the passer by would look around but not up.

Nor did he, but for a moment as he peered around the man's face was thrown into stark relief and Jack drew back into the salt crusted leaves with a frown, for it was not Gibbs and yet he knew the face from somewhere. As the man paused for a moment longer Jack watched him, searching for some other point of familiarity, but it was only as he strode away, back towards the town that Jack finally realised where he had seen him realisation deepened his frown.

When he was sure that all was safe he slid to the ground and stared after the departed man, 'and what are you doin' here?' he mused for a moment, 'Not good news for someone whatever it is,' then he reached up, pulling the sack down from the branches, and slipped over the bridge towards his goal.


	12. Chapter 12

**  
Chapter 12 Encounters in the dark**

Jack had never been in the smoke sheds. It was true that he rather enjoyed a smoked fish pie when one was on offer but he had never felt the need to see how the stuff of the dish was produced, being content to leave that to the cook. Now faced with the inside of one he wondered if he would feel the same way about the pie ever again.

The sheds were little more than high raftered huts, the gaps in the planking lined with leaf and rag, the timbers themselves stained dark by the smoke of years. Well a few years any way, smoke sheds tended to have a somewhat limited life in a port where rum was as common as holy water in a church. Though in this shed the hooks that hung from the rafters were empty and the ashes of the fires were cold; hot as the air inside was it had nothing to do with a fire and it looked as if it had been some time since anything at all had been smoked here. Even so the planking reeked of fish, raw and cooked, and atmosphere was a thick with the ghosts of past smoking and dusty with the remains of ash and fish scales. This last seemed to hang and shimmer in the hot air.

Jack had never taken to the tobacco pipe himself, it ruined the taste of rum in his opinion, and the feel of smoke in his lungs was unwelcome. Half a dozen paces took him across the hearth and to the far side of the hut, there he pressed against the wall opposite the door, as he pushed himself back into the shadows he hoped that he wouldn't have to wait too long.

Outside the evening was drawing in, he could hear the night insects starting up their singing in the scrub behind the mudflats and he could picture the flares and lanterns being lit. He was thirsty and hungry but there was nothing he could do to remedy it, all he could do was wait. Time passed slowly, the cloying heat drawing the water from him as once is had dried the fish; he could feel the sweat trickling down his neck and chest, even his thighs were damp and sticky, his breeches chafing him as he shifted to ease the cramps in his calves and back. He felt like he was being suffocated by a wet blanket. Outside the air had been heavy but in here it seemed almost to sleepy to leave his lungs, and he knew what that meant, the storm was nearly upon them. It was not long before the rattling of the rafters told him of the rising wind, yet it did nothing to ease the cloying heat.

Then came the first patter of rain, the disarming advance guard of the furies on their way. The far off whisper of the sea changed and he could imagine the sight of the waves as they grew in height and strength. The front edge of the storm had arrived and Jack cursed wondering if it would scupper his plans, and how long he should wait before abandoning this course. Almost as he thought it, and without warning, the door opened and the wind stirred the stifling air a little as a man entered shaking raindrops from his hat. That done to his satisfaction he crossed to the cold hearth, bending to rake the ash, tutting and muttering under his breath as he realised that they were cold.

In the darkness Jack drew his pistol from his belt and cocked it without moving forward, but he made no attempt to silence it and the click of the hammer being drawn back was loud in the quiet. The man heard, as Jack had intended that he should, and stiffened, moving his hands away from his sides as he slowly straightened up.  
"Nothin' here for nobody," he said slowly, peering into the shadow, "hut's empty as ye can see and I've naught but a farthing in me pocket, and if ye wan' tat then ya only need ta say so. No need to waste ya shaat."  
Jack stayed where he was, pistol levelled, guessed at, but unseen, by the man before him,  
"No interest in your coin of the realm mate," he said easily, "information now, that's a different currency. That I am interested in."  
"Aye, can see that it might be." The man said warily, still keeping his hands well away from his body, "not sayin' that I can help with tat either. Will if I can tha'. What be ya wantin' to know?"  
"A man called Gibbs, came down here yesterday." Jack let his voice harden a little, "want to know who he saw and where he went."

The man by the hearth seemed to consider that for a moment,  
"Nat sure about any Gibbs but ther' waas a man here yesterday, not a smoker, nor a fisher."  
"A stranger then?" Jack prompted him.  
"Yes and no."  
Jack didn't bother to hide his impatience,  
"'Twas one or the other man! Which was it?" he stayed in the shadows with the pistol just an outline in the gloom.  
The other man looked down at the floor as if thinking,  
"As I said, yes and no. Don't know him, but have seen him afore."  
"Recently?"  
"Na, naat for some time now I come to tink af it." The gleam of the whites of the man's eyes told Jack that he had as he looked up towards again. "Must have bin somewhere else for a while, " he nodded slowly to himself, "somewhere that addled his head I'm tinkin'."  
"Why's that?" Jack tensed knowing from the very slight change in the man's voice that something important was coming,  
"A'cos he kept on about up not being up but something else. Made na sense ta me. W'aat else can up be but up? As I said addled in the head where ever he'd been."

The man watched the deeper shadow on the edge of the hut as he spoke, saw the flash of white and gold and was nearly sure; even so he waited, still keeping his hands in the sight of the man with the probably loaded pistol.  
"Ah, I see." The hidden man's voice took on a silky note, "Talking about up being down was he?"  
Now he was sure but he did what he had been told to anyway,  
"Tat might have been it, make no sense now do it? Any more than what he said about sunset."  
"Being sunrise." The man in the shadows said gently.  
Now he was sure and he relaxed a little, though he knew the danger wasn't entirley passed. He inclined his head in recognition,  
"Captain Sparra, he said ya might come lookin', make no sense ta me but he said ya would know what it meant."

"Aye I know." Jack eased his hand and let the pistol drop a little but left it cocked, a fact the man in the centre of the hut was aware of.  
"Na danger ta ya Captain Sparra, nat from me. This Gibbs he paid me ta pass his message on, said he'd have another shillin' for me next time he was in port if I did what he said without tellin' anyone."  
Jack smiled again but did not move forward and he levelled the pistol.  
"Price on me head's somewhat larger than a shillin' mate, and it seems that people are seekin me even here. So the pistol stays where it is. Savvy?"  
The man chuckled softly,  
"Aye that I do, though ya must know I'd not live long enough ta spend even a shillin' if I sold ya. If Gibbs didn't get me there are others that would." He cast a sly look across the hut, "even the Captain of the Flyin' Dutchman maybe."  
Jack grunted,  
"Gibbs right enough. Been telling tales has he?"  
"Ay that he has, though he didn't need ta, ya right others be lookin' too, be tellin tales too."  
"Are they now? Who might these others be?"  
"Some sailed with the pirate fleet, some sailed with Beckett. Recently another, but ah don't know who he is."

Jack nodded slightly,  
"Mebbe I do. So what did Gibbs want you to tell me?"  
"That the black ship has been back, though she didn't dock. Still looking but not findin'. An' about the man askin'questions."  
Jack frowned at that,  
"Oh. Why?"  
"He did nat say."  
"What else did he say then?"  
"That he was goin' to see what he could find out. There be a man he knew at the Mermaid, he was goin to meet him yesterday, afore he went to meet ya. Tol me ta tell ya if ya came looking afore he gat back."  
"Anything else?"  
"Na."  
"Well now you've told me, so turn around and put your hands against that beam," Jack indicated a low-slung timber on the far side of the hut.  
The man smiled slowly and did as he was told without protest, keeping his back turned as Jack slipped out of the door and into the darkness and the arriving storm.

***

The first storm blew for six hours.

The worst of the weather passed them by however, only the milder winds making landfall here. Yet even in the shelter of the bay the seas were running high and strong, setting the Black Pearl's decks creaking in protest as she rose and tossed with the waves, and the masts whipped and the yards groaned though the sails were furled tight. Below decks the crew played dice, told each other stories, and sang, glad that they had made harbour before the winds could tear the canvas from the yards or the waves tip them to an untimely meeting with the Dutchman. Somehow knowledge of the Dutchman's captain did not reduce the fear of it, for the image of being plucked from the sea's beyond the map by William Turner was all the clearer for their knowing of him.

In the great cabin Barbossa heard the wind with no great interest, they were safe enough here for the moment and its noise could not drown out the voices that surrounded him, nor could the failing light dim the faces that hovered everywhere he turned. Rest was his enemy, and sleep his undoing, and neither were welcome now. He could shoulder his way passed the ghosts when danger threatened, when Pintel and Raggetti came with their creeping and humble voices at odds with their shark eyed look, or when the weather forced a change of course, but once the danger was turned away then the dead would claim him again. Then, in their eyes and voices, he would relive every casual and unnecessary death that had littered his life, and the horror that had gone with it. Sleep was worst of all, for then it seemed that he wandered the after life, feeling the pain and watching the black waters of his sins seeping out to pollute the world he had once walked.

Yet, despite all of that, through all of it, some other part of him sneered and cursed at them and at him. This part was uncaring and unmoved by the misery he had set in train, or the blood he had spilled; that part wanted only to be free to be its own master and to drink deep on the pleasures that his power could bring him. That part he still thought of as himself, even though he could no longer remember the man he had been before the curse. Hour upon hour, day after day, these two parts of him raged at each other, neither winning nor ever looking like to, while the whispering voices and the faces with their accusing or pleading eyes surrounded him. Leaving him as tortured ands starving as ever he had been during the days of the Aztec curse. Jack Sparrow had never spoken of his visions in the locker but Barbossa could not help but wonder now how much similarity their hells might share, or how great was Jack's own need to avoid returning to whatever it was he had seen there. For himself there was little doubt how far he would go to win the race to the fountain, it would be to whatever would win it, however many more faces and voices it caused to had no choice, for that part of him that still would not mourn was also determined never to have to.

As the winds faded and swell eased the crew became restless, after hours of being contained below it was clear that they were anxious to get above. Barbossa knew that he should put their itchy feet to good use while there was opportunity, for another storm was bearing down upon them and the respite could not last long. They must be fed, and as it would be unwise to relight the fires below just ye,t a trip to the shore seemed the best and the safest option, for the crew had been loud in their protests at leaving Tortuga unsupplied. As the clouds broke for the first time in more than a day he issued orders for a shore party to collect water and whatever the small isle offered in way of victuals.

He watched the first boat away, taking Pintel and Raggetti but leaving others whose thoughts were also edging towards mutiny, and knew that he would not go ashore himself, for he no longer dared to leave the Pearl, and not only for fear of what the crew might do in his absence.

***

The storm emptied the streets of Tortuga in a way, and with the speed, that not even a full-blown attack by the Navy would have managed. The rain arrived in sheets that shredded leaves and flattened bushes in minutes, the petals of shattered flowers joining the filth and rubbish floating in the overrun kennels that soon spilt across the streets. Taverns battened their shutters tight and the whorehouses locked their doors as the rain extinguished the street flares and the clouds blotted out all trace of moon or stars, deepening the shadows to an all-enveloping black.

Jack was half way to the Mermaid when the worst of the weather arrived. The streets were soon awash, and he was glad that he couldn't see what the objects were that occasionally bumped his boots as he splashed through what had been a dusty track only minutes before. This was not a part of the town that he knew well, being too close to the butchers of the shambles for his nose's liking, or his stomach's, and the shops and houses faced onto the narrow street with neither doorway nor overhang to provide shelter. He cursed and dipped his head, striding into the rain and wishing for his hat, the sack now a wet bolster against his back and his hands slippery on the sash rope that closed it. It seemed an age, and his sweat-dampened shirt was soaked and plastered to his shoulder and chest, before he found some sliver of shelter by a pawnbroker's window.

Bracing his back against the casement he pulled the sash from the neck of the sack, cursing as the wet material resisted being loosened. When it was finally open he balanced the sack on his thigh and pulled out his hat and clapped it to his head pulling it forward to shelter his eyes, next came his coat, and he threw it across his shoulder while he retrieved his belt, baldric and sword. He buckled on the belt, grimacing as it tightened around the wet linen of his shirt, then stuffed the sash and the sack into it as he shrugged himself into his coat and settled his sword at his hip; only enemies would be abroad in such weather and he could no longer risk being without it. The sash could wait until he had more time and the sack he draped over his shoulders as further protection against the downpour before he stepped back into the street.

The Mermaid was barely a street away but both sack and coat were soaked by the time he was looking up at its flaking sign, washed clean and glistening as if new painted in the falling rain. From behind the shutters candlelight flickered but the door was locked, and, with a weary sigh, Jack slipped around the corner to the yard behind and scrambled over the surrounding wall.

In the yard the darkness was complete as Jack edged himself into the corner of the wall by the back door and settled down for some more waiting.

***

Ariadne woke Elanor with unexpected news long before she was done with sleeping.  
"The Navy ship is on the move, it looks to be attempting to run before the next storm arrives, presumably hoping to make home port, or a more hospitable one, before the weather catches them."  
"Will they make it?" she asked trying to drag her head up from the pillow.  
"That depends upon where they are going and at present that is not clear."  
"But they have upped anchor?" her brain felt like it was stuffed with feathers,  
"Yes, and are already leaving the bay where we left Captain Sparrow."  
With a sigh she rubbed eyes that still felt like hot coals.  
"Are there any other ships in the vicinity?"  
"Only the one anchored in the next bay."  
She shook her head in an attempt to clear it and considered that.  
"And with the break in the weather they may decide to go ashore, and if they were to do so they might see us," she thought out loud. "If we leave now can we make the rendezvous before the next storm arrives?"  
"Possibly, though we may need to risk powered sailing to do so. However the Dawn Chaser can weather the approaching storm without any real danger, and even sailing under canvas we will be close enough to Tortuga to be able to take refuge should we need to. The full force of this storm has not yet arrived there but it should be passing by the time we make the bay."

Elanor thought about that for a moment, weighing the risks of another, as yet undetected, vessel also seeking shelter in that bay against whatever might result from losing sight of Jack for a further day or more. The proximity of the ship that was probably the Black Pearl was also concerning her, what little he had told her of the man she assumed was its current Captain was not reassuring. Caution won.

With a sigh she threw off the sheet and swung her feet to the deck, rubbing the remains of sleep from her eyes as she did so, her bed would have to wait until they were in open sea,  
"Best we find Jack before he can do something risky. Weigh anchor and get us under way, stick to canvas for the moment." She yawned and stretched, "let's hope he's found Mr Gibbs and the supplies, all this cat and mouse is playing havoc with my sleep."  
"It is your opinion that he is likely to do something risky?" Araidne asked.  
Elanor gave a short laugh,  
"He's a pirate Ariadne, he lives his life dodging noose wielding enemies and the swords of fair weather friends. I'm not even sure that I know what he would consider to be risky." She blinked wearily, "But I don't think I want to find out, at least not at the moment when he is out of range and I can't do anything to prevent it."  
"But if he were get involved in anything dangerous it would not be our responsibility."  
"Wouldn't it? I brought up that treasure from its nice safe resting place on the sea bed and gave him ideas."  
"His conversation made it clear that he already had such ideas."  
Elanor shrugged as she got to her feet,  
"That maybe true but I gave him the hope of achieving them."  
"My assessment is that Captain Sparrow is quite capable of such hope without your intervention."  
"Perhaps. I suppose the truth of it is that I saved his life and the superstitions are right, having done that I am responsible. At least until he tells me otherwise."

"Would Captain Sparrow feel so obliged were your roles reversed?" Ariadne asked.  
"I don't know. Probably not." Elanor stopped short as some of Jack's stories flitted though her mind, "Then again maybe I'm wrong in that. Perhaps that's what it was all the time, perhaps that's the answer."  
"The answer to what?" Ariadne sounded almost curious.  
"Ms Swann."  
Elanor reached for her shirt without being aware of doing so, her mind lost in speculations,  
"I had wondered what the relationship between them was, why he seemed so willing to help and protect her. Not to say why he put up with so much from her without tossing her overboard." She buttoned her shirt with a smile, "if he's told half the truth of it I'm not at all sure I would have been so forbearing; and I'm dammed sure that she would have spent much of her time under lock and key if she had behaved so on my ship. She sounds to have been a spoiled little madam, at least as he tells of her, so why not just consign her to the devil?"  
"That might be nothing more to it than the obvious."  
"That he had ambitions to slip into her bed?" She shrugged, "I suppose that is the most obvious answer, but somehow I don't think so, any more than I think that Jack's as obvious as he would have the world believe. He had opportunity enough and doesn't seem to have pressed the matter. I don't doubt that if she had offered at the right time he wouldn't have refused, but why pussy foot around her in such a way? He had enough time to seduce her without ever doing much about it, at least if what he has told us about their adventures is true."

She paused in her dressing for a moment, head cocked in thought,  
"I'd wondered if he had a sister or a daughter somewhere that she reminded him of."  
A wicked grin settled on her face for a moment,  
"I've saved the daughter idea for if he ever really tries to get under my skin, somehow I don't think he'll like it!"  
" I can well appreciate that he might not." Ariadne sounded almost conspiratorial.  
Elanor smiled at the thought of Jack's likely response for a moment longer, then she shrugged again and reached for her trousers,  
"But as I said I might have been missing the point, it may be that having saved her life he felt responsible for her in some way, just as I feel some responsibility for him."  
She paused for a moment as she pulled them on,  
"I'm still not clear about why he saved her in the first place," she said eventually, the expression in her face and voice considering, "seems more than a little risky given that mark on his arm."  
"Perhaps he thought that gratitude would prevent them from looking for a reason to hang her saviour," Ariadne said dryly, "and that their relief might translate into more concrete and pecuniary expressions of thanks."

Elanor grunted as she tightened her belt,  
"Something else he learned the hard way then. Never to trust to the humanity of the self righteous, it's always negotiable, not to say conditional. Not something we would need to learn eh?"  
"Indeed." Ariadne seemed to almost hurry away from the remark, "Do you expect Captain Sparrow to be waiting for us?"  
"Hope, but not expect. It depends on what happened to Mr Gibbs I imagine."  
"And if he is not waiting for us tomorrow night? What do you intend to do?"  
Elanor thought about that as she reached for her deck shoes,  
"I'm not sure," she said eventually, "but I'm damn sure that I'm not climbing those bloody cliffs!"

***

The maid arrived what seemed to be an eternity later, rushing out into the yard with a slop pail and heading into the darkness as fast as the slippery cobbles would allow. Jack barely thought about it before he followed her.

One the far side of the yard was a gate and he could just see the white of the girl's apron though the wet gloom as she opened the lock and slipped away down the alley that ran behind it. Moving more slowly Jack followed her, hope rising for he thought he knew where she was headed. He was right, for at the end was a small cluster of low buildings from which came the chatter of hens and the grunts of what could only be pigs. The girl entered what he took to be a sty and he heard the sound of the bucket being emptied.

Crouching down, he waited until she came out and turned to latch the sty; as the latch dropped home he stood and grasped her wrist his other hand covering her mouth and her squeak of surprise. He leaned forward and spoke quietly into her ear,  
"Need a word lass, preferably somewhere drier than here. Savvy?"  
She froze for a moment then nodded her understanding, jerking her head in the direction of another alley running away from the sties. He frowned and his hand on her wrist tightened, until her mouth moved a little beneath his fingers and he eased the pressure,  
"Barn." She muttered quickly, "down there. Master stores the barley for brewin'. We can go there. Can't be long though, master will come looking for me."  
Jack uncovered her mouth and eased his grip on her wrist, looking more closely at the face peering up at him, sighing at what he saw; twelve if she were a day, just his luck. He smiled at her,  
"Word I said lass, and word I meant. Information is all I'm looking to take from you. But this barn will do well enough."  
She nodded and he let her move in front of him, leading the way down past the livestock to a passage barely wider than his shoulders and dripped on by over hanging trees. The girl was obviously nervous for all her offer of a moment before for she fumbled with the door clattering the lock in a manner that made him wince,  
"Easy girl," he chastised her, "If I wanted the world to know my business I'd have hammered on the front door."  
"I'm sorry sir, but they're so wet things slip through me fingers."  
Feeling the sodden weight of his coat on his shoulders Jack could only grunt acceptance of that, reaching around her to push the door open, indicating that she should go first, staring into the darkess behind them for a moment before following her in. As he eased the door girl reached for a lantern and a flint, Jack moved quickly, catching at her wrist before she could light it,  
"No need for that, I'll not be here long."  
He pushed gently into the barn releasing her as he did so.  
"No need for a alarm missy, just a question or two."  
She nodded and retreated further into the shadows sinking down onto a bale of something, her back to the door.

Jack moved around to face her, seeing the apprehension in her eyes, even though her face was in shadow. With a sigh he pulled off his hat and shook the drops from it, keeping his hand away from sword or pistol and hoping the innocent action would ease her anxiety enough for him to get a straight answer quickly, but she didn't wait to be asked,  
"Don't know nothin' sir," she gulped. "Not about anythin'. Please don' hurt me sir, I'm a good girl, I've done nothin' on me mother's life I haven't. I'll do what you want but jus' don' hurt me." She finished this astonishing speech by bursting into noisy tears.  
Jack was appalled. Not least by the noise such a small person could make with so little provocation. He took a step away from her, looking at her as uncertainly as if she were a canon about to explode,  
"Didn't say you had did I?" he said in what he hoped was a soothing manner, but that had no effect and if anything her tears got louder. He frowned and made a patting gesture towards her shoulder, careful not to touch her, "No need for the wailing and gnashing of teeth girl. All I want is to ask if you've seen a man I'm looking for hereabouts."  
"Don't know anythin' 'bout any man sir," she said her wails increasing in volume again.

Jack closed his hands into fists, shut his eyes for a moment then swore under his breath struggling to keep his calm, in desperation he put one hand to his lips and patted the air between them with his other,  
"Shhh, for heavens sake! Not as if I'm asking for the answer to the riddle of life! Just if you have seen a man. Name of Gibbs, sailor he is. Has he been seen around here?"  
She gulped and shook her head,  
"No sir, no man name of Gibbs I've seen around here. Please don' hurt me sir."  
Jack stared at her, his frown deepening at the injustice of the plea,  
"Hurt! I have been very careful not to hurt you miss. Have I threatened you? No I have not, neither sword nor pistol have I touched." He narrowed his eyes and pointed an accusing finger at her, "Not even as much as loosened me belt now have I? Why would I hurt you? Or do anything to one of your undersized and whelp like persuasion."  
Still began wailing again, and, anger taking over, Jack's frown deepened further as he took a step closer and growled at her,  
" Stow that noise missy, now, for there is no call for it."  
The girl cast him a nervous look and fell silent with another gulp. After a moment of near silence in she just stared at him with wide eyes, and in which all that could be heard was the beating of rain on the roof. Jack relaxed a little, letting his pent up breath out with a soft hiss,  
"That's better, don't need to invite the whole neighbourhood to hear our business now do we?"  
The girl dropped her eyes to the floor and shook her head. Jack smiled at the top of her head brightly,  
"Glad we have an accord on the matter. Now all I want to know is if a man called Gibbs has been looking for someone around these premises."

There was a rustle and Jack saw the girl's eyes shut, her hands clasping tightly together in her lap, he swung around just in time to catch sight of a familiar face, but with an unfamiliar expression, looming out from the shadows behind him. He frowned,  
"Where the hell.." Was all he managed to say before something heavy collided with his head and the darkness became absolute.


	13. Chapter 13

**  
Chapter 13 - Third Parties **

_In which people are found, things are seen, and a rubicon is faced and crossed._

"Old Hob's stalking Barbossa close, at least," he looked warily around him as if the man himself would suddenly appear on the sand beside him despite their leaving him behind on the Pearl, " seems so to me."

Raggetti looked across at the man he was almost sure was called Murtogg and shrugged,  
"Not shoutin' no more though."  
"No, not shoutin, not doin nothing else either." Pintel spat a shred of nutshell towards the fire, "not findin' Captain Jack and that chart, not goin' after plunder, not doin' nothing."  
Raggetti nodded,  
"Seems paralysed he does."  
Pintel spat more shell into the fire with a grimace,  
"Not even eatin', after all those years of the curse when we starved, he's not even eatin'."  
"Not doing much for our eating either." The one probably called Mullroy chipped in, "I mean what was the harm in us provisioning at Tortuga?"  
Raggetti smirked at him,  
"Captain Jack was the harm. Barbossa wants to find him, but don't want him to find us."  
"Why?" the man persisted with a puzzled look, " Seems to me that he'd be found either way."  
Raggetti's smirk became a grin,  
"Ay, but the finding might not have the outcome Barbossa wants."  
Pintel nodded and grinned at his friend,  
"Might not indeed." He shot a look at Mullroy, "tricky is Captain Jack, finding him be one thing, but as Raggetti says, bein' found by him be another."

"So when are we goin' to find him." Marty chipped in but looking across towards the Pearl riding at anchor, her bulk shrunk by the expanse of sea and sky behind her. "Sea's a big place, how we goin' ta find him? No sign at sea and no sign on land. Could be dead, or worse, maybe Calypso chose ta claim him for herself now tat Jones be gone."  
"Barbossa don't think so." Pintel growled. "Nor do we, do we?" He shot a belligerent look around him.  
Mullroy and Murtogg exchanged looks and buried their noses in their mugs, when Pintel got that note in his voice they preferred not to argue with him. Marty had no such qualms,  
"Maybe, maybe nat. Barbossa now he need to believe that Captain Jack be alive, or his chance of escaping whatever Calypso has in mind for him be gan."  
"Same for us." Raggetti said sombrely, "She'll not forgive us our part in it I'm thinking." He shook his head sadly, "Might not be sendin' us mad but she'll not forget."  
"So ya better believe that Captain Jack is alive and in possession of that chart," Pintel growled in Marty's direction.  
The second party of men on the further side of the fire shot nervous and curious looks in their direction at the tone, but Marty didn't seem to be impressed by the implied threat.  
"Even if he is nat certain that he'll be able ta find the fountain nat even that t'will save us from her if he do." He drawled as he chewed on a morsel of roasted nut.

Pintel seemed to swell for a moment, then, when it looked as if he might explode, he hissed through gritted teeth,  
"Right! Think what ya likes, just as long as we find him, 'cos mark my words Barbossa is goin' to be no use to man nor beast before much longer. What he's seein' not be natural and it'll turn him madder than ever Jack Sparrow was afore much longer."  
With a snarl he heaved himself to his feet,  
"I'm goin for a walk, see if there be aught else than nuts to eat on this here island." He threw the remains of his nut onto the sand, "See's enough 'o nuts on the Pearl, though I'd have sworn we took none on board."  
"Maybe we'll find another Kraken," Raggetti snickered as he got to his feet too.  
Pintel turned on him in apparent fury,  
"There be only one Kraken and it be dead, we seen it."  
Raggetti seemed unmoved,  
"Might not be. Might be more, must be more for there to be one in the first place. I've noticed that too, about the nuts. Where they comin' from do ya think?"  
"More than one Kraken! It's a mythical creature why would there be more than one? Mythicals don't need more than one, don't need ma and pa, that's what being mythical means."  
"Does not."  
"Does so I tell ya."

They were still bickering about the mythical Kraken as they faded from Marty's earshot. He shot a look towards the silent Mutrogg and Mullroy, at least he thought those were their names, and shook his head,  
"nat only Barbossa tat be mad, them Aztecs they knew how to curse real well, "  
He gave a feral grin at the sight of their nervous faces before concentrating once more on his nut.

***

It was white; everywhere was white, as white and dry as bone. There was no sea, nor sky, nor anything other than the black timbers of the beached Pearl to show that any colour than white existed.

No wind, either. Nothing to take him away, nothing to drive him out of the past and towards the future, nothing to carry him beyond the reach of the pain and the grief. The Pearl's sails were furled and always would be now, for there was no longer any wind nor current to carry her to safety. She was lost. He had tried to buy her freedom but it seemed that it was chained to his own, and so she was lost. Just as he was.

It was hot too, hot as hell. Which was probably only to be expected. Though hell should not be white. But then this was not hell, this was the locker and that was something else entirely. No fallen angel had made this place, no sliver of the divine, just the vengeful spirit of a bitter man, and that was far worse, as he had already realised.

He was lying on his back, the sand dry as dust beneath him and the shadow of the Pearl high above. He could hear the voices, words he couldn't quite catch echoing across the endless sands. It was his own voice he had thought at first, though if he concentrated he could hear others, people long dead and gone, people whose lives and deaths had made him what he was. Particularly their deaths. But their voices were soft and distant and the ones that echoed around his head were all his own, just as the deaths were all his now. The blood on his sword was his own, and the dying face in his mind's eye was his own face; he understood now as he hadn't before, understood that he had killed himself in his attempts to escape Jones and was now doomed to do so for ever. That part of him that so wanted to live so much that it would wield his sword upon himself was strong, and it would destroy everything else he was until he was left with nothing else at all, Barbossa in all but name.  
"Will not!" Some other voice whispered urgently. "That part is back where it belongs now, you know it and you can deal with it. It has always been there, nothing is changed, keep it caged like the sea devil that it is but use it when you must, without it you would be dead a hundred times over. Or the drunken fool you so often play at. You need it just as you need the others."  
He was too tired to think about that and far too tired to argue. Not for the first time he wished for rum.

The sweat was running down his face now and soaking his shirt; strange that the sweat should be so cold when his shirt clung to him with such heated and clammy affection. The voices had faded and the world had moved a little, for now the Pearl's shadow loomed darker above him, casting the white glare into red tinged shadow. He could hear the clattering of the crab claws as they bore her away from him and towards the distant sea of the dead. Tia Dalma would be waiting for them there, with the souls of those he had sacrificed, waiting for the Dutchman to take them away, leaving him alone forever on these bleached bone sands. He struggled to rise but a lead weight lay on his head and an anchor sat across his arms and he could not move. He flailed his hands in anguish, struggling to free himself from the combined weight so that he might stand and chase the Pearl to the eternal sea, crying out as they cracked his bone and sank him deeper into the sand.

The voices had come down to one now, urgent and demanding, and he tried again to turn away from it. But the weight held him fast and the voice took no notice of his protests,  
"Jack!"  
The sound of crab claws was almost deafening but through it he could still hear that voice, pleading and demanding by turns, and he tried to raise his hands again to shut his ears so that he would not hear it's importunities.  
" Jack! Jack!"  
The voice seemed familiar now, but it was not his own., even so there was anxiety in the tone and a hint of something that sounded guilty,  
"Mother's love Jack, wake up man."  
"Easy now, he'll come to. T'was a fair crack he got but he's not dead yet."  
That stopped his struggles for that voice was not known.  
"Let him be a moment for I think that he hears us."  
The weight of the anchor on his chest shifted and then was removed. Jack lay still wondering what this hell had in store for him now. He could still hear the clattering of claws but the sound was changing direction, coming from above him now not from beside him as before, and the slithering of sand had become more like the rustle of leaves of some shore side palm. The sweat was plastering his hair to his neck and running down his face and running down his cheeks like tears, but the chill of it seemed wrong in so hot a place.  
"Captain Sparrow, can you heard me?" the unknown voice came again.  
He felt himself frown and then heard a groan and a curse in a voice he recognised as his own.  
The stranger seemed to have heard it too, for he spoke again though this time it seemed that he spoke to someone else,  
"Take that lamp away girl, for his head will ache fit to burst and his temper will feel no better, the last thing he needs is that in his eyes,"

The sands hissed as they shifted again and then the bright light of the locker's desert faded, the shadow of the Pearl deepening above him. Jack felt a surge of panic at the thought of losing sight of his ship and in desperation he reached out to towards the shadow only to feel his wrist restrained,  
"Easy man. No need for anger, was an honest mistake."  
For a moment the realisation that he was no longer alone blinded him to the meaning of the words, then understanding dawned, Jones made no mistake so if mistakes had been made then this was not the locker. Warily he opened his eyes only to close them on a wave of pain, but he had seen enough, for one of the faces staring down at him was that of Gibbs. Memory came back and he looked around him again, eyes narrowed against a suddenly recalled outrage as much as the pain,  
"You hit me!"

***

The argument about the Kraken lasted long enough to take them out of sight of the fires and the men clustered around them. The speculation about Barbossa's strange behaviour took them to the headland, and their plans for when they found Jack Sparrow took them towards the next bay.

"Where do you think he's gone then?" Raggetti asked as they scrambled over the carpet of rocks littering this part of the beach.  
"Don't know. Never a man to do what you expect is Captain Jack." Pintel responded, frowning in fury as his foot slid on a particularly treacherous skin of weed and ended up in a small rock pool.  
Raggetti nodded,  
"'Tis true that is. Always thought he'd do what was best for him, but he didn't at the end. Unsettling that is."  
Pintel grabbed hold of his friend's arm and shook his dripping foot in disgust,  
"That were poppet and William's fault. Captain Jack, he never seemed to able to be a real pirate when they were about."  
Raggetti appeared to think about that for a moment, then he shook his head,  
"Gave Will to Davy Jones though."  
"Not for real he didn't, tried to get him back didn't he?" Pintel put his foot down gingerly then frowned out towards the horizon, "never seemed happy with that choice. Barbossa now, he wouldn't have given it a moments more thought. Not then," he shrugged, "no sayin' what he'd do now."  
He pitched a casual rock at a wandering crab that seemed to be looking at them, and was glad he missed as he remembered the sea goddess and her familiars. They resumed their clambering.

As they rounded the headland Raggetti stopped so suddenly that Pintel, being careful to avoid another soaked foot or the nip of an irritated crab familiar, collided with him . He opened his mouth to shout but changed his mind as his eyes followed Raggetti's pointing finger to the ship that was sailing out across the bay and towards the next curtain of rock. Pintel drew in a ragged breath as he met Raggetti's startled eye then they both turned back to stare at a sight near as strange as any they had encountered. Eyes narrowed against the bright backdrop of the sky, they scanned the white hull and billowing sail with experienced eyes,  
"Stap me," Pintel breathed as they watched it skip across the shallow water, "what be that?"  
"Ship."  
He drew a deep and exasperated breath but his eyes didn't leave the unknown ship,  
"I can see that," he growled, "fine looking vessel it be too, but neither pirate nor Navy mark my words. So what is it?"  
"Fast whatever it is."  
For a moment they both watched it as it surged across the waters, sails trim and elegant in the rising wind. Both noted the absence of men in the rigging but determinedly ignored the observation.  
"Aye it looks to be." Pintel felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, "the Dutchman do ye think?"  
Raggetti shook his head,  
"Dutchman doesn't sail livin' waters any more." He narrowed his eyes in consideration, "Dutchman's bigger," he said eventually, "anyways no reason why it should look like that."  
"Aye." Pintel wasn't reassured but he wasn't about to say so. "Calypso then?"  
"Don't see no crabs. Anyways, why'd she be neein' a ship at all?"  
"True enough, but who else would be sailin' hereabouts in a ship that don't look right?"  
They fell silent for a moment thinking about that, then looked at each other with raised brows,  
"Captain Jack!" they said together and without another word turned back towards the shore party.

***

Jack had known better days, had known better years now he came to think of it. But then he had also known worse, and for that reason alone he was holding on to his temper with the same resolution that he was holding on to the rum bottle, one little slip and both were liable to get away from him to no good outcome. Outside the storm was still letting rip and Jack knew and understood its mood well.

It helped a little that Gibbs was looking every bit as bad as he was feeling, though not much. Jack couldn't see the state of his own face but it couldn't be worse than Gibbs, for the man looked as if he had argued over sty rights with a particularly belligerent pig. Blood still stained his whiskers and his cheek bone sported a fine crop of red and purple, his eye was swollen and darkening to black and the grizzled hair falling over his brow didn't hide the swelling or the graze that puckered his brow. A grubby rag was tied cross ways around his head its edges stiffened with more blood and dirt. No Gibbs had certainly known better days.

That did not change the fact that the man had hit him, or if he hadn't then he had set him up to be hit, neither of which was friendly given that Jack had come looking to save him from just such injuries. Well it was one reason he had come looking for him at least.  
"I'm sorry Jack, I wasn't quite in my right mind if you take my meanin'"  
"Don't rightly know that I do mate." Jack ground out as another shaft of pain pushed its way through his skull.  
"Well I was a bit groggy you might say, and not seein' clearly. Too many people askin' questions about me for my likin' even afore I got ambushed, askin' about you too."  
"So I heard from your friend in the smoke huts."  
"Abel. Ay I thought you'd find him or that he'd find you and I set him to warn you. Good man Abel, for all he's a mite addled by the fish smoke."  
"So you knew I'd come looking here. Why then did you hit me?"  
"Aye, I hoped you'd come, but as I said, I was befuddled."  
Jack squinted across at him noticing for the first time that the bits of him that were not bruised were pale,  
"Thought I told you to be careful."  
"Aye and that I were. T'were all goin' nicely to plan until this third party turned up and started flashing coin around. Then the Pearl came back and Barbossa set his dogs askin' questions. Seems he thought you might have been caught by the Navy, that idea seemed to stir them up somthin' wicked."  
Jack grimaced and took another swig of rum, none of this was sounding good.  
"And? Why would Barbossa think that?" he prompted.  
Gibbs shrugged  
"No sayin' since he didn't come ashore himself, nor dock the Pearl, they came ashore in a boat and I thought that a mite strange so I set to watchin' her from the flats. Then she left again. Thought that was it done. Was on my way back to the chandlers when I got set upon, not sure who by. Sampson here and his pot man were about and came to my aid, thrashed the lights out of whoever it were and brought me back here. Head all swim it were and I've bin sleepin' nigh on ever since. Came to meself not long a'fore you arrived and was dozin' agin behind them bales when you arrived. All I saw was shadow askin' questions of the lass."

Jack sighed and took another swig of his rum,  
"Fine mess this is. That Polly of yours will have me blood, and our fellow captain might well decide to up anchor and leave us to it."  
He looked across at the white haired man who'd provided the rum and sent the girl about her business when he had first come to.  
"What's your part in this?"  
The man looked at him for a moment in silence then at a nod from Gibbs he shrugged,  
"Josh and me go way back, navy days and before. I'd not stand by and see him so inconvenienced. He'll see me right when he can, and I trust him when he says that you will too."  
Jack looked at him for a moment then nodded,  
"Good man. More rum would be a start. Might soften this hammer in me head."  
The landlord exchanged a look with Gibbs, then rose with a nod and left. Jack got up, swaying for a moment, then he went and stood beside the open door, watching the rain falling like Elanor's waterfall; when he was sure that the man was out of earshot he turned and looked towards Gibbs with a frown,  
" So what do we know about this third part that's so interested in me doins'?"

Gibbs took a swallow of rum and shrugged,  
"Little enough. He arrived here bout three days ago, day afore the Pearl, and he must have come from inland because no ship put in for him to have come ashore from. He's three others with him, though 'tis not clear if he picked them up here or brought them here. Seems mightily eager to find you, though not so eager to say why. Tells a lot of stories, claims to know you but won't say how."  
Jack started to nod then thought better of it,  
"Well if it's the gent I saw down near the smoke shed then his claim to acquaintance is a little weak, though I've met him right enough." He shot Gibbs a hard look despite the pain it stirred behind his eyes, "and not in auspicious circumstances. If it's the man I think it is then he's been known to keep some very undesirable company."  
"Do he now? Who might that undesirable party be?"  
Jack looked back towards the inn but the alley was empty, the landlord was still elsewhere, he took another swig of rum before he answered,  
"Beckett. Well, Beckett second, the late lamented Commodore to begin with."  
There was a sound of spluttering, and Jack turned to look at Gibbs with a half smile.  
"Norrington and Beckett are ye sure?" Gibbs was wide eyed with shock, for he had never thought to hear those names again.  
Jack's eyes returned to the alley, fingers playing thoughtfully with a bead in his beard is mind going back over events he knew that he would rather forget,  
"Ay. Sure enough. Saw him on the Dauntless when we went after Barbossa, all shiny wig and polished braid, he was, Navy through and through. Didn't seem to be the flog and hanging type though, got more than one sympathetic look from him truth be told. But he was there with Beckett on the Endeavour when Sao Feng so kindly arranged that visit to me old friend, all tricked out in a new and fancy company uniform but it was the same man. Not sure of his name though, Greaves, or Graves or some such I think."

Gibbs frowned in surprise,  
"Navy man then?"  
"Would seem so, was then at least; which makes his presence in Tortuga all the more interesting wouldn't you say?"  
"Aye that I would."  
"Wonder what it was that he wanted me for."  
Gibbs snorted,  
"Tis clear enough to me, to take up where Norrington left off. Make his name in hanging ye."  
Jack frowned into the darkness,  
"Maybe, then again maybe not. Navy man is here and Barbossa comes back thinking that the navy might have taken me? Co-incidence or not?"  
Gibbs considered that,  
"I'd say not."  
"Yet how would Barbossa know? Unless he's had a run in with the Navy, and it put them into his mind."  
"Or someone else did."  
Jack nodded slowly,  
"Or someone else did. More than possible, though less than clear why she should."  
He stretched his stiff neck and sighed,  
"But then little of this is clear." he muttered too low for Gibbs to hear.

There was a sound of splashing and the outline of the landlord appeared through the rain, Jack turned and went back to his seat on the straw bales, he waved the bottle in Gibbs direction,  
"That can wait. Third party is gone and Elanor may be waiting. Time to think about getting back to meet her. We've an appointment with a fountain to keep."

***

The Navy ship, if that was what it had been, was gone by the time the Dawn Chaser arrived back at the entrance to their target bay on Tortuga. The scanners told them that its course was probably Jamaica but no more than that. Not that Elanor cared, just that they were gone and far enough for her not to need to worry about being sighted.

The worst of the storm was over now, at least here, and the winds had veered west leaving this bay choppy but nothing that presented any problems; her only real concern was that fishing boats might be putting to sea now that things were calmer. Jack had told her that this was not a bay frequented by fishing vessels because the currents tended to draw the shoals further west towards the main port and the cliffs made landing a catch here a wearying business. While she was sure that he knew his business she was still uneasy being this close to inhabited land, though there was another storm at their back and that might keep people occupied.

It had been early evening when they dropped anchor and she had not expected any sign of Jack or Gibbs, but as the night crawled by it was clear that no signal was coming.  
"So what do I do now?" she demanded of Ariadne.  
"I cannot make that decision. Captain Sparrow would look for us if he were here to do so and therefore it seems clear that he is not here. The options are straightforward, either we leave and abandon him and his quest or we wait until tomorrow and see if he seeks us then, or you must risk going ashore and discovering why he is not here and if he is expected to return."  
Elanor sighed,  
"In other words, crunch time."  
"You could put it that way. Certainly we have reached a point where you must decide how much trust you intend to put in Captain Sparrow and how much you are committed to this search of his."  
"If I abandon him what else do I do?"  
"That is a separate but related issue. If you leave him here then you must survive alone in this place until we can escape it. All the earlier considerations we discussed still hold true if that is your choice, for practical purposes we know little about this time and we cannot even be sure that it is a direct forerunner of our own. If it is not then the history banks may prove to be misleading or worse, and we have not learned enough to reduce that possibility to any great degree. Captain Sparrow has the advantage of knowing this world intimately and being very practised at surviving within it. On the other hand he appears to be a risk taker,seems to be driven by his recent experiences, whatever they may have been, and he understands little of the consequences of us being found and possibly does not care. That brings its own dangers. Leave him and we may die, or worse, as a result. But go after him and the same may follow."

"Analysis of the relative outcomes Ariadne?"  
"It depends upon how careful you are in finding him and the degree to which you are willing to restrain him if you find him and he stays aboard."  
"I see." She replied wearily,  
"That does not factor in your emotional reaction to leaving him of course," Ariadne went on blandly, " nor your reaction to the loss of the one person who may understand the pressures you are facing, and will face for as long as we remain here. While I can assist with the stresses you faced on the original voyage this situation has passed well beyond that and I can no longer consider myself competent to be the only balancing factor."  
Elanor thought about that for a moment.  
"I hadn't considered that, but you are right of course. The guardianship of my sanity has passed beyond anything that was envisaged when I began this." She gave a mirthless laugh, "seems I really do need Jack as much as he needs me. Just don't ever let him discover that. So I go looking for him?"  
"That is your decision, however I can take care of the ship and make sure it is undiscovered provided that you are not away too long."  
She rubbed her head wearily,  
"Very well, so I go and find out what the hell is going on. But I'm still not climbing those cliffs. Find that path Ariadne, and let me know how soon I can get at it."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14 Gathering Storm**

" Ma, come quick."  
Sally burst into the kitchen with a bang of the door that shook the floor boards and the table and set the dough bowls rattling. Her mother turned from her bread making with a worried frown,  
"Sal, I've better things to do than run after your every whim, and you've better things to be doin' than takin' the door off its hinges."  
She looked out side and nodded towards the sky where the sun was slowly losing its battle with the advancing cloud, grey clouds for the moment but she knew that much darker ones were already massing out at sea.  
"'Nother storm is on its way, and I wants all the chores done with afore it arrives. All the fowl need bringing in and penning, goats too, stillrooms need to be secured as well and all the drin' herbs brought under cover. When you've done that help your brother with the shutters. Now get about your business girl and leave me to mine."

"But Ma ya must come, to the still room, now."  
She saw her mother's chest rise as she drew a breath sufficient to express her displeasure and hurried on,  
"She's here, that other captain that Mr Gibbs told us of. The one from that strange ship."  
Still her mother stood and stared at her as if she were daft.  
"The one with Captain Sparrow." She breathed excitedly, putting all the persuasiveness she possessed into her voice,.For some reason she didn't understand the woman captain's wishes mattered, just as his had done.  
"She wants to talk to you but she won't come closer to the house until she has."

Polly felt her stomach twist and she turned away from her daughter's pleading eyes looking down down at her dough as she wondered what to do. Bad enough that Josh had not returned, worse still that Jack Sparrow had not, but now it seemed as if things had taken yet another turn for the bad. How was she to explain to this second visitor? A woman that even Josh found unnerving, and him a man used to Jack Sparrow and full of stories of the strange and macabre. She remembered, too ,what Captain Sparrow had said and her mouth fell dry, a woman that even he had felt some uncertainty about. Was it more bad news that had brought her here? Yet, as the first shock passed, her trepidation was largely replaced by curiosity, a feeling that increased as she looked back at her daughter's face. For though Sal looked excited there was a hesitancy that she had not shown when it had been Jack Sparrow's arrival that she was announcing.

Slowly Polly wiped her hands on her apron. What manner of woman would chose to sail with the pirate? What manner of woman would cause a pirate like Jack Sparrow to speak of her in such terms? There were many tales of female pirates but Polly had never met one nor heard of anyone else who had, other than that other woman who had sailed with Sparrow when he went after Barbossa, certainly she had never seen another one in Tortuga. There were women who had sailed with pirates through no choice of their own o'course and she had pitied them for it, though no one had ever suggested such black conduct of Jack Sparrow. Even that governor's daughter Josh spoke of so fondly had not truly been a pirate ,for she had not chosen the path that led to Jack Sparrow and his Pearl. Yet it had still led her to her death. Captain Sparrow was not a safe person to know, whatever else he might be. But it seemed that this woman had made her choices freely, no star crossed lover she be, but a woman with a ship and a mind of her own. A woman who was lending her ship to Captain Sparrow's interests for all the dangers; Polly suddenly found that she was eager to see her even knowing that the meeting might lead to tears.

As she crossed the yard she looked up at the clouds darkening above her and wondered whether they were a portent or not.

***

"A white ship ye say?"  
Barbossa sounded more alive, more himself, than he had done in days and Marty cast Pintel a wondering look.  
"Ay sir," Pintel was carefully respectful, "hard to judge how big, but not small, three masts she had and a fair head of canvas. Near on the Pearl's size seemed to me."  
"Low though," Raggeti added, "sat low'rn the Pearl in the water."  
Pintel frowned then nodded eagerly in Barbossa's direction,  
"Aye that she did, and she was fast, not careful at all, she were movin' as if the ship herself knew the depth of water and what lay below the surface."  
"That she were," Raggetti agreed.

"Any sign of her Capt'n."  
Barbossa was sitting back in his chair and stroking his beard in a gesture they hadn't seen for a while.  
"No sign of anyone." Raggetti put in before Pintel could speak.  
Barbossa looked towards them with narrowed eyes,  
"None at all?"  
Pintel sent a glare in Raggetti's direction, he had hoped not to have to speak of that yet, but now it couldn't be avoided,  
"None we could see from the shore Capt'n. No one in the riggin' that is, couldn't see the decks, too far away."  
"Eerie she were," Raggetti cut in again. "All white and shining, like she were from another world."  
That stilled Barbossa's hand,  
"A ghost ship do ye think?" he seemed a little disturbed by the idea, but then which of them wouldn't be after recent experience,  
"Can't say Cpt'n" Pintel hurried on "but it weren't the Dutchman. nor Navy either, nor any pirate I've ever seen."  
The monkey jumped up from the table and onto Barbossa's shoulder turning his head to grin malevolently at Pintel as if he understood the words.

Barbossa stretched a forefinger to scratch the little head; his smile was a humourless baring of teeth but the most familiar expression they had seen on his face in a while,  
"Strange co-incidence would ye not say gentlemen? Jack goes missing with me chart and this strange ship appears. Maybe Jack's help is a little more otherworldly than expected eh?"  
"Aye" they all agreed.  
He went on stroking the monkey's head as if it were the most important thing in his world,  
"No reason for such a vessel to be here, matey's. Beckett be dead and gone, Calypso be free and the Dutchman back on the eternal sea." He nodded to himself, and gave a half laugh laced with bitterness "If there be another eldritch presence in these waters then its been brought here by Jack Sparrow, mark my words."

"Sa we go looking for it?" Marty asked elaborately casual.

Barbossa was quiet for a moment, concentrating on the feel of the monkey's fur beneath his fingers, trying to ignore the voices still screaming around him and the faces hovering on the edges of his vision. But the rage the news of the ship had stirred in him was holding them at bay, for the moment at least. Calypso was behind this, he was sure of it. She had sent whatever this demon ship was to aid Jack Sparrow and help him steal the fountain from them. Her hatred of the Pirate Lords remained and she would damn them all for Jones treachery had merely sealed their fates. Only Jack would be spared, for it had been his hand that had despatched the traitor to her judgement. For that if nothing else she would take his part, he knew it to be so for she had told him. But he could say nothing of that to the crew, for their loyalty was already stretched thinner than his sanity. He must get to Jack before his enemy found the fountain and he must do it while he could still retain enough of himself to command the men around him. There was no choice.  
"Aye. That we do."

His eyes strayed to the chart upon the table and desperation took him in its grip again. Where was this white ship headed? What was it that Pintel had said?  
"You say she were headed towards Tortuga ?"  
"Aye she were that, at least in the general direction," Raggetti replied.  
Barbossa nodded with a certainty he didn't feel and got to his feet, his hands wrapped around his pistol butt as little Jack shrieked his apparent agreement  
"Then gentlemen that be our direction too, I doubt she be as fast as the Pearl in open sea, we'll catch up with her soon enough. To ya stations now and get us underway, there be no more time to lose if she's not ta get away from us."

***

The woman was sat on the same barrel as the last uninvited visitor had chosen and Polly was not surprised when she saw the pistol that was being levelled at her in the same way, though some part of her was taken aback that the hand that gripped it was as steady as Jack Sparrow's had been. This visitor was sat in shadow, just as he had been, and rose as Polly closed the door just as he had done, and in the dim light she looked to be little more than a shaving or two off his height. Polly could feel her presence even at this distance and in the poor light and her unease increased.

Like him she spoke first,  
"Are you Polly?"  
The voice was not what she had been expecting, not raucous or harsh at all, but low pitched and beautiful, a voice that invited you to come closer and trust its owner. The words were each clearly marked without a hint of drawl or laziness, the woman was obviously educated and some long forgotten part of Polly's brain whispered 'lady' to her, though she had never met a high born lady in her life. Even so the voice was casting its spell and she found herself regarding the shadow of its owner with respect,  
"Aye, I'm Polly ma'am," she heard herself say.  
The woman nodded and might have smiled, she couldn't be sure.  
"Captain Cavendish will do. Miss, if that is too much of a mouthful."  
Polly nodded,  
"Whatever you says Captain." She moved slowly a little further away from the door, "Captain Sparrow said you might call, but I not be sure what help I can give ye."  
Once again she thought the woman might have smiled but her beautiful voice was dry when she replied,  
"Did he now? Why does that not surprise me?"  
Polly thought she heard a faint sigh,  
"What exactly did he say?"  
"Just tha' ye might come, not that he was sure. If ye did I was to tell ye all that had happened and ye would decide what was best to do."  
Polly shot the shadow a sly look,  
"I got a feelin' that he hoped ye'd come, but was afreared to be certain of it. Makes me wonda what kind of woman that ye be that Jack Sparrow should be so uncertain."  
Now she was sure the woman smiled,  
"A careful one Polly, a careful one, and one that has a ship of her own."  
Polly smiled back and nodded sagely,  
"Aye that would put ye in a singular position right enough."

The shadow seemed to tilt her head as if in thought about that,  
"It does indeed." the smile was now clear in her voice.  
Polly inclined her head towards the pistol, still level and steady,  
"No need for that Captain, as I told Jack Sparrow, none here wishes ye any harm."  
"Yet he hasn't come back."  
The smile was still there in the voice but so was a hint of a threat, and Polly reminded herself that the woman opposite her was no farm girl or portside whore, but one of a much more dangerous persuasion,  
"None of our doin' Captain." She strove to sound calm when in truth her heart was racing, "he left for the town with my son to find Josh, I expected them back yesterday but so far there has been no sign. I hope it's the storm that's delayed them, but my Ben tells me that other things may have gone wrong."  
The woman sighed,  
"I thought that they might have done." For a moment she seemed to turn in on herself as if reviewing some internal argument, the pistol still visible and steady, then the pistol disappeared and she sighed again,  
"You had better tell me all about it."

***

The Intrepid wasn't the fastest ship on the seas nor was she the most formidable, but she was one of the most reliable of the Fleet's workhorses and so unlikely to attract excessive attention, which was why she had been assigned. Even the Admiralty was uncertain about the degree to which they wanted be openly associated with the current venture, though few would deny the importance of the mission in private. Groves understood this but it didn't make him any easier with his part in it. Not for the first time he wondered if he were being tricked again and what he could do to be sure. As always the answer seemed to be that he couldn't.

For the hundredth time he wished that James Norrington had survived.

As he stared out towards the horizon, feeling the stiffness of the parchment sheets in his shirt crackle as he extended his arm along the rail, he wondered yet again what the Commodore would have made of it. He closed his eyes, recalling his last discussions with the man himself, remembering the look in his eyes as he spoke of Beckett, the suspicion and something close to hatred in his voice, the hesitant fingers stroking the hilt of the sword he had seemed almost afraid of. Groves wondered if he might not have agreed with it after all.

Groves knew that he personally had been more fortunate than he had any right to expect, many of the crew of the Endeavour had perished in that final broadside and he was on of the few who had survived the dive into the sea. One of the very few who had been picked up his own side too, most of the others had been pulled aboard the pirates, some to their deaths, others to be held at Shipwreck as hostages against future attack. More than one of the fleeing fleet, running scared before the sight of the Flying Dutchman and the death of their commander, had been taken for that purpose too. Even more than this good fortune was his masters willingness to excuse his part in Beckett's actions , written off as inexperience; maybe his defence of his fallen commander had played some part in that, though it had not been his reason for doing so, for their Lordships liked their officers loyal. But he wished he could be sure that was their reason.

"What now?" the quiet, calm, voice of Captain Hathaway came from close behind him.  
"We try somewhere else sir. My orders are quite clear I must find Jack Sparrow whatever effort that may require."  
"Our orders Lieutenant, our orders." The voice was mildly rebuking.  
"Yes sir, of course."  
Groves reminded himself once more that it was unlikely that he had been turned loose without some watch upon him, whatever the exigencies of the need.  
"You are quite sure that he wasn't there?"  
Hathaway kept his voice low, as if to ensure they were not overheard, and Groves willingly followed his lead,  
"Not in the town sir, at least I could find no trace of him. His man Gibbs would have been of some help, we thought we had located him but our questions must have alerted other parties to the possible profit and they went looking for him too. Whatever the cause he dropped out of sight, perhaps at Sparrow's instructions. Gibbs was once in the navy but what loyalties he has now seem to be reserved for Jack Sparrow."  
The other man seemed a little surprised,  
"Which may tell us something about the man we seek," he said thoughtfully.  
Groves nodded,  
"Indeed, Sparrow is not the usual run of Caribbean pirates it's true."

Hathaway pursed his lips,  
"Might he not have been hiding away from the port? Was there no sign of him on your journey to and from the town?"  
"No, but then we were careful not to attract attention to a our presence, in the town we could hide amongst those who come and go but elsewhere we would be noticed simply by being strangers."  
"So he may have a hide out somewhere else on the island?"  
Groves shook his head,  
"It seems unlikely from what we know of him, but then Jack Sparrow is .. Jack Sparrow, so who can say with certainty?" he smiled slightly, "but he is not the most inconspicuous of characters."  
The captain nodded,  
"So I have heard. Except when he wants to be that is. I've been told all of the stories too Lieutenant. "  
Groves nodded and smiled at a sudden memory,  
"Commodore Norrington said he was the best pirate he'd ever seen."  
Hathaway's eyebrows rose,  
"Indeed, and he would have seen a few. Certainly more than I have and so I will defer to his judgement. But while this Sparrow carries the highest bounty he is not the most fearsome of pirates by all account, even though his charge sheet is lengthy. Not one I'd put all this effort into hanging. However I assume it is not his hanging that their Lordships want from the matter?"  
Groves felt the weight of the documents in his shirt,  
"No sir, they do not. We must seek to prevent his death if at all possible. For the moment at least."  
The other man nodded as if not surprised,  
"Hmmm, and I must not ask what it is that they do want from this best of pirates." He raised a placatory hand, "that was not a question Groves for I have already been well schooled in the answer."

Hathaway stared out to the growing mass of cloud,  
"You were chosen for this business because you know most about him? Or because of your service with James Norrington?"  
Groves shuffled, suddenly uncomfortable, wondering what the rest of the crew made of this strange order and his part in it, and how much this man knew of Norrington' and his fate.  
"I have seen him sir, Sparrow that is, and seen something of what he is capable of, I claim no more than that."  
The captain nodded silently his eyes still fixed on the signs of the growing storm,  
"We are sure that his ship left him behind?" he said eventually.  
"Yes sir."  
Captain Hathaway nodded again,  
"The stories say that he waited ten years to reclaim the Black Pearl. If we could capture her, would it be enough to draw him out of hiding do you think?"  
Groves looked towards his companion with a sudden smile,  
"It might sir, indeed it might."  
Hathaway drummed thoughtful fingers on the rail, apparently lost in his own thoughts again,  
"There is another storm on the way," he said with no apparent consequence, "there seems to be more of them than is usual of late."  
Groves recalled the maelstrom and suppressed a shudder, that such a storm to break with no warning still baffled him,  
"So it would seem sir."  
Hathaway watched the sky for a little longer, his fingers still beating a tattoo on the rail; finally he turned around,  
"Then I suggest to you Mr Groves, that as we can't find the man we invest a little time in finding the ship. It is after all a somewhat bigger target."

For a moment the shade of James Norrington rose up before Grove's eyes, and he was suddenly convinced that the Commodore would have approved of this captain.  
"Ay sir," was all he said.  
For a moment there was silence then Hathaway nodded to Groves, his brow thoughtful and his eyes hooded, and then he strode away.

***

The morning brought the lull before the second storm and no chance of slipping away unseen. Jack had fretted at the lack of progress but resigned himself and reflected that Elanor may well have been prevented from returning by the storm, if so she might be on her way back only now. With any luck the approaching bad weather would persuade her it was safe to remain in the bay and await his return. If she did not? Well there was nothing that he could do to change it, all he could do was return with Gibbs to Polly's farmstead and hope that she returned. If she didn't then he would have to think again. Though thought was a little painful for the moment for his sleep had been disturbed both by the pain in his head and dreams of the locker.

"Ben may come to town today," Gibbs had said as he pushed a mug of small ale into Jack's hand, "He'll want to be back home before the weather worsens again so he'll come early I'm thinking. Abel will keep a watch for him at the quay and send him here when he arrives."  
Jack shook his head then grimaced as it protested, he hurriedly swallowed a fortifying swig of ale,  
"There's not likely to be anyone putting to sea with more heavy weather on the way, so why would he come?" he said, "No reason for him to do so, not when he was only here a two days ago."  
The weariness in his voice betrayed that he had not slept well and Gibbs shot him a guilty look as he sighed,  
"Aye, that be true I suppose. Unless Pol sends him looking for us."  
"Ah but will she?"  
"Women be powerfully curious creatures, Jack, you know that. She'll want to be knowin' what's agoin' on I'm thinkin'"  
"Though true enough in the general I'm not sure about the particular of that, at least not this particular particular." Jack warily shook his head again as that sentence made it past the fug swirling around his brain, "But I hope you are right in this particular.....particular because I've no taste for a four hour walk in a storm."

Gibbs goggled at him in consternation,  
"Nay Jack, that's not to be thought of. Third parties may be gone but are you sure of that? Then there are those whose curiosity has been aroused, so to speak, not a good time to be out in the open."  
"Mebbe, but we need to collect those grapples and get back to the bay. Elanor may not wait forever. But best not in daylight, as you say, too many people around who might be interested in our doings. We'll wait till nightfall then review our options."  
He waved his mug in Gibbs direction,  
"We need those grapples though before we leave."  
Gibbs nodded and finsihed his own ale at a gulp,  
"Aye, I've arranged with Sampson that the potman will collect them when he fetches the new barrels. Can't borrow the cart though so we'll need to acquire one from somewhere. Sampson may have some ideas about where there may be one lyin' around for the borrowin'.  
Jack emptied his mug and flapped a hand,  
"I'll leave it in your capable hands shall I?"  
Then he stretched himself out on a bale in the shadows, pulled his hat over his eyes and prepared to catch up on his sleep,  
"Aye, I'll be about it then," Gibbs replied with a smile.  
"Uh huh," Jack settled himself more comfortably, "wake me at sun down."

***

Ben had protested to no avail, Captain Cavendish had listened to Polly's story, thought for a moment, sighed and announced her intention to go to town herself. Which involved Ben in taking the cart there, a prospect he found nearly as unwelcome as taking the pirate had been. Two hours with this unsettling woman was not to his taste, with a storm coming too, but she seemed determined to do it though he was unclear as to why,  
"God only knows what the pair of them have got themselves into. I'd rather go and find out now than hang around waiting to be told," was her only explanation.

Polly looked at her with disquiet, for there was no way she could see that this woman could enter the town without causing a riot. She cast her a doubtful look,  
"How do ye plan to hide yerself ma'am?"  
"Hide myself? " the woman seemed not to have considered that, "do I need to?"  
Polly swallowed hard and wondered how to say it without causing an offence she was most concerned to avoid. Jack Sparrow had spoken no less than the truth about her and even with his warning Polly had found her first sight of the woman in the light something she was unlikely to ever forget. Others might try to do more than just gawp.  
"Well you are like to attract a degree of unwelcome attention," she said carefully, "female pirates not being that plentiful you see, and female captains even less so."

The woman smiled ruefully.  
"Yes of course, stupid of me. Do you have any clothes that I might borrow?" She frowned, "How would a woman wishing to pass unnoticed normally disguise herself?"  
Polly drew a deep breath, and let her glance flick quickly over the tall figure with its long and elegant neck and sweeping curves, she sighed again,  
"Well, she might dress as a lad, but it be hard to see how you would manage that, no disrespect meant ma'am." She added hurriedly.  
Captain Cavendish looked down at herself for a moment and then smiled a slightly wicked smile.  
"Point taken. Not a boy then. So what manner of woman would I need to be to pass unnoticed? A whore maybe?"  
Polly was shocked by the casualness with which she said it but that was fast replaced by concern, she could not be certain what effect this woman would have on the occupants of a tavern tap room dressed as such, but she was sure it would involve bloodshed somewhere along the line. Ben laughed from the corner and said what was in his mother's mind,  
"I think not ma'am. You'd cause many a fight and certainly not pass unnoticed."  
The captains brows rose, but she shrugged,  
"I will be guided by you on that, though I'm not sure I understand why. What then do you suggest?"

Polly looked at her doubtfully, and with some despair. Nothing they could do would hide this woman, even if they had posses suitable garments she would still draw every eye in Tortuga towards her simply by breathing. Jack Sparrow had called her a polished angel and he had spoken no less than the truth. Beautiful did not describe her and yet it was the only word there was, but it was a beauty that was terrifying and not meant for living flesh. A beauty that might inspire fear or hatred or worship no less often than it awakened lust. Her face seemed not only to be too perfect to be real but to be designed to inspire awe, as if an artist had sought for the most perfect form that he could imagine then made it more so. Everything about her spoke of the same inhuman perfection, the flawless skin had the sheen of silk, the wide blue green eyes with their almond shape and upward slant were large and clear, her mouth so wonderfully formed with lips the colour of early berries below a nose as straight and chiselled as ever she had seen on a female face. The planes of that face were strong but agreeably balanced, shaped so that no flaw could be seen however long and hard you looked.

Nor did the wonder stop with her face, for the rest of her was no less impressive. Though her curves were strongly female there was a hint of strength and hardness about her body that warned you to tread warily around her, hinted that her strength might be as formidable as her beauty. She was taller than most with long legs and shoulders wide enough to balance that swan neck and the swell of her breast. When she moved the play of skin spoke of muscle below the velvet covering and of power contained with grace. The silver gilt hair was thick as a thorn thicket, she wor it braided around her head and it looked to be as long as Sparrow's own. Polly had never seen her like, and Captain Sparrow had been right she might indeed be taken for an angel; when she smiled showing white and even teeth there was a hint of something that suggested a fallen angel might well be possible.

As she had every other minute since she had first set eyes on her Polly wondered what Jack Sparrow made of her and she of him. For there was no denying that Captain Sparrow had more than his fair share of something close to beauty and if ever a woman matched him then this was she. Which gave Polly an idea, though the temerity of it shook her,  
"Don't hide." She said quickly ignoring the stares of her children and the raised brows of the captain, "You can't, so don't try."  
The woman tilted her head and regarded with curiosity,  
"Oh? What are you suggesting then?"  
She seemed unconcerned enough, which gave Polly the courage to go on,  
"We can give you a shirt and a hat, let down and tie back your hair, and that will have to do. Don't mention your ship or your name but look for Jack Sparrow openly. There are many stories about Captain Sparrow, legends ye might say. Seems to me that a lady such as yourself would make a fitting addition to them. Folks will draw their own conclusions and they will persuade themselves more surely than anything you try to do."

Captain Cavendish seemed to think about that for a moment, then that wicked edged smile returned,  
"Never explain and never excuse," she said softly. "Appear from no where and disappear again, another mystery to add to the lists."  
"Aye."  
The smile widened,  
"I like it." She cast Polly an approving look, "Does Mr Gibbs know the devious side of you Polly, I wonder?"  
Polly found herself grinning back,  
"I wouldn't know ma'am, but I'd think not."  
The woman threw back her head and laughed, an infectious and attractive sound.  
"Wise woman." The smile became cat like, "I wonder what Jack will make of my addition to his legend."  
Polly cast her a sly glance,  
" I've no doubt he'll not object, and no more doubt that he will help the good folks of the town towards the most suitable explanation of your lookin' for him."

The captain looked her inscrutably for a moment, something flickering through her eyes that set Polly's nerves on end, then the look faded, laughter flamed in her eyes and she grinned,  
"I'll have to see what I can do help him with that."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15 A Day in Tortuga**

The cart arrived at the dockside as the sun started to sink towards the darker clouds of the west, and just as the first warning winds of the second storm began to shake the trees and rattle the windows and doors of the more makeshift hovels. Ben heaved a sign of relief, thankful that they had arrived before the worst of the weather, but that feeling was destined to be short lived. Elanor had spent the last mile or so lounging in the back of the cart and keeping her head down, but now she rose and vaulted to the uneven cobbles with easy grace. Immediately Ben felt the attention of passers-by turn towards them. His mother had been right when she had said that there was no way of hiding his passenger. Her height alone drew attention and her long legs were straight and strong; that, and her clear and unblemished skin, made it clear to any one who looked that she came from a line of some pedigree.

The shirt she was now wearing was his, its worn greyness like a hundred others seen about the town, but, though it flapped around her more loosely than the silk of her own garment, it still couldn't deny the femaleness of her. Not when every breath of wind seemed to conspire to draw attention to the fac; not even with the borrowed threadbare jacket trying to hold it down. The reddening sun flamed on her hair, tied in a bundle near thick as three fingers and falling way down her back, and set a halo of sparks dancing around her head. The failing rays of day slanted low, skimming her cheekbones, shadowing her throat and tingeing the pale and perfect skin rosy. In truth she shrieked of wealth and ease and all those things that the residents of Tortuga could only imagine, but that they would covet too.

Yet it was that same air, along with the pistol and the knife visible in her belt and the cudgel that Ben withdrew from the hay around his feet, which also kept them at a distance and their voices lowered. Whoever she was it was clear to all who saw her that she represented trouble; the occupants of the Tortuga dockside had seen that often enough to have no difficulties in recognising it.

It was a child that drew close first, a girl child by its dress but that was by no means sure given the thinness of its frame and the grime that coated it. She, if that was indeed what it was, held up clasped hands in the time honoured posture of the beggar and Ben tensed remembering the pearls that Gibbs had brought back from this woman's ship, and the diamonds she had removed from her ears before they set out. Any sign of such largesse here would probably result in clandestine, and probably unpleasant, death of both of them within the hour despite her aura of power.

To hius releif Captain Cavendish seemed to have no trouble in recognising the request but also more sense than to open her purse in so public a place, instead she drew one of the farthings she had borrowed from his mother from her pocket and spun it in the air.  
"I will pay for what I've come in search of," she said softly to the child, "and will reward all those who can lead me any way towards my goal."  
The child's eyes brightened at the sight of the coin and the little figure raised its hands higher in mute appeal,but said nothing.

A grimy woman came from behind them to stand beside the child, her apron hanging limp and unwashed over the tattered skirts, kilted to her knee and showing bare legs marked by scars and bruises of varying ages. Even at this distance Ben could smell the unmistakable stink of fish offal on her and knew her to be one of the gutters from the smoke sheds. She stood arms akimbo beside the child he assumed to be her own,  
"An wat would such a fine besom as yersel be looking for hereabouts?" Her voice was a strange and disturbing mix of threatening growl and beggar's whine.

Ben felt the fear bite and he gripped his cudgel more tightly, for Captain Cavendish said nothing, seeming almost shocked, staring from the woman to the child with a frown between her brows. Then she seemed to shake herself; taking a deep breath and drawing up to her full height she looked down into the woman's red rimmed eyes without fear and yet also without offence. Whatever was in that look it did its work for the woman stepped back half a pace, her arms falling to her side and the glare disappearing from her eyes; her voice became more hesitant yet also tinged with something that sounded close to hope.  
"If it please yer mam, I'll do what I can ta be of service t' ya."

The captain looked at her steadily for a moment longer then nodded before she raised her head and let her eyes wander over the people who were appearing at doorways all around them. Ben saw more than one of the small crowd cross themselves and he looked down to reassure himself that the machete still lay on the seat. Something he couldn't read flashed through the captain's face, though surprise was some part of it, and maybe horror, then the expression was gone and her face was as serene as the angel she looked to be. She turned her eyes back towards the woman in front of her,  
"A man, I'm looking for a man."

Ben's heart sank for he could imagine the response that those words, from such as her, was likely to bring. Nor was he mistaken,  
"Aren't we all lovey," came a shrill female voice from the shadows, "but ye'll not find one here about. Leastways if ya do then tell us," she indicated another shadow behind her, "an' we'll share him with ya."  
That sally brought a laugh or two sure enough, but they sounded uneasy, and the bawdy invitations, of which he had expected a plenty, were few and far between.

Captain Cavendish smiled towards the women, the speaker was now lounging in the doorway, and she inclined her head towards them,  
"I thank you for the offer madam," somehow she managed to match her tone to theirs, for all her voice and accent was so different, "but I am looking for a very particular man, one that I seem to have misplaced," she looked back to the woman still standing in front of her, "and, as I said, I'm willing to pay to find him."

"How'd ya lose him then?"  
The woman from the doorway was not giving up on the exchange. She had edged out of the shadows and in the light her red wig and low cut bodice shouted her profession, but she sounded good natured enough,  
"Slipped away in the night did he? Shame. Not uncommon mind. Known a few like that mesel', rotten bastards that they be, and poor memories they have too, for they always forget to leave the coin."  
If she had thought to shock then she missed her mark for the captain's smile held genuine amusement and she just nodded as if in agreement,  
"Or of failing eyesight, for they left tin when the service deserved gold maybe?" she said sympathetically.  
The woman gave a crack of laughter and pointed a battered fan in Elanor's direction,  
"Aye I've known a few of those too. If it's one such as that ya' be looking for I'd advise ya ta leave him where he is madam and get ya home, for he's not worth it."  
Elanor nodded again,  
"If he is one such as that I'd agree with you, but I've no reason to believe that he is. Unless you can tell me different?"  
She looked around her, briefly meeting the eyes of a few before moving on, then back to woman and child near to her,  
"I'm looking for Captain Jack Sparrow," she said calmly," and I'm willing to pay to find him."

A general sigh arose from the onlookers and more than one person gave a knowing smile; the woman in the red wig snapped her fan and gave a short wry laugh.  
"Jack Sparra! Should a guessed! Who else would one such as ya be lookin' for here? Heard he'd taken to keeping company with fine ladies, though much good tha' it seems to have done him. Know him well do ya?"

Elanor looked back towards the whore with a smile,  
"Well enough, we've..... matters to discuss and, as I said, I've misplaced him. Someone told me he might be here. "  
The whore shrugged and regarded her with something close to pity,  
"Ay well, as I said afore, ye'd not be the first fancy lady that Jack Sparra has had business with," the emphasis she laid on the word betrayed her meaning, "but he's not be seen in near a month. Plenty of others looking for him too." She frowned in sudden suspicion, "be they anything ta do with ya business?"

Elanor shook her head, and gave her most angelic smile. Ben saw the frowns and muttered comments that the expression caused, and the way many people drew back a little, and he gripped the cudgel tighter. But no one offered any threat; and though the captain rested her hands on her belt in a suggestive manner she continued the conversation amiably enough, apparently unconcerned.  
"Most emphatically not. In fact warning him of them is one part of my reason in seeking for him." She shot the woman a direct look, "our relations were cordial enough when we last saw each other," let them make of that what they would, " but he missed our meeting and matters are such that I need to find him quickly."  
She saw the woman's eyes flicker to her waist and smiled again,  
"But I assure you that he will have no reluctance to be found once he knows that I am looking."

The fishwife spoke up again,  
"If Jack Sparra be here then Gibbs would know,"  
She looked towards Elanor with a burst of hope and Ben had no problems in reading her thoughts, a small coin from the captain would be a days food and rum for her and her child, and if she could do anything to claim it then she would.  
"I know those ta' will know where he be, if he be in town mam." She said. "I'll go and ask if ya but tell me as where ta find ya when I knows."  
Elanor looked around her with wide eyed interest, but Ben was now sure she was not near as green to the ways of the world as she might at first have appeared, and he was not surprised when she settled herself on the tail of the cart and pulled a bottle of his mothers' providing from the straw,  
"I'll be here till sundown," she said then looked towards the darkening cloud, "weather permitting," she added with a slight smile.  
The fishwife dipped her head and grabbed the child's hand before she hurried away.

The whore seemed disinclined to offer further help, though Ben was sure that she and her companions knew more of the missing pirate than they were admitting, but they continued to look at Captain Cavendish with curious eyes and he wondered if they would offer her the hospitality of their house while she waited. But the woman in the red wig seemed to change her mind and, with a casual nod and swaying hips, she disappeared back in doors, shepherding those still in the shadows before her. At their leaving others began to drift away too and slowly the small crowd thinned until just the occasional lounging man could be seen dallying in the tavern doorways. But Ben could feel the hidden eyes watching them from all sides and so he gripped his cudgel all the tighter and hoped that Jack Sparrow was found before nightfall.

***

The rising wind thwarted Jack's intention to sleep until sundown, that and Gibbs return with a mug of ale.  
"Got the grapples," he grunted as he passed the mug over to a sleepy eyed Jack, "but the cart might be a problem."  
"Oh, why?" Jack grimaced as he took a swig of ale and wondered if it were the Mermaids usual brew, if it were then it might account for why he had never been a customer.  
Gibbs shrugged,  
" 'Nother storm comin' everything's locked and barred."  
Jack gave a gold flecked smile, though his eyes seemed strained,  
"Locks are for picking mate."  
"Aye that may be the case in the usual way, but not in the dark and ragin wind and rain, and that what looks to be a headin' our way." Gibbs frowned, "By nightfall the front edge should be on us and it'll be a powerfully unpleasant night. Storms at sea are one thing, storms on land..... well they be another."

Gibbs watched as Jack took another half hearted swig of ale then shrugged,  
"That's as maybe, but I want to be away from this pit before morn." He frowned down into his ale, "So we climb the gate if need be, not the first time, no reason to believe it will be the last. The weather might yet prove to be our friend, it should keep everyone behind doors and cover any necessary noise."  
That seemed to be all he was going to say on the matter. Gibbs tried again,  
"Cart I have in mind is kept down near the market, no one around there after dark. Owner will be dead drunk by sundown and the mule is stabled close by. No taverns nor bawdy houses there, odd shack or two but people there know when to look the other way. Could wait till tomorrow. No need for all that walkin' in the rain."  
Jack said nothing for a moment but then he gave one of those complicated shrugs that could indicate either disagreement or irritation, or both. Finally he shook his head,  
"Tonight."

Gibbs pursed his lips in consideration of that then ambled across and sat down beside him,  
"Why tonight 'specially. If Captain Cavendish is comin' back at all then she'll wait for us. If not? Well then we can leave the goods at Pol's and bide our time until a suitable ship docks. We've still funds enough to provision and find a crew, we can hole up at Pol's with no one the wiser."  
That brought a more emphatic shake of Jack's head,  
"No. We go tonight. Elanor will be there I'm, sure of it, well nearly sure of it, and we need to be off this rock as soon as it can be managed."  
"What be the hurry Jack? Tis more than concern that the lady won't wait. The fountain not be goin' anywhere and nor is Barbossa while you have the chart. So what is it that's in your mind?"  
That brought him a sharp look quickly followed by a sigh and flick of an impatient hand,  
"If the navy is here then I don't want to be, savvy? That man Graves or Groves or ... whatever.. is bad news for someone mate, not keen that it's me." Jack frowned, "But it's me he's looking for and I don't want him finding me. Not even here in Tortuga."

For a moment Gibbs thought about that, then he swallowed the last of his ale and leaned closer to Jack as if afraid of being overheard,  
"You know why he be looking don't you? You know what it is that he wants and it's not just your hangin' is it?"  
Jack smiled slowly,  
"Most certainly not. I don't think he wants my death at all, not yet at least. In fact I'd hazard that preventing my death is well up his list of concerns at this moment in time."  
He stared out towards the open barn door and the failing light and the fallen leaves already dancing feverishly in the alley, he sighed deeply,  
"Thought it might occur," he said reflectively, "but didn't think it would be so soon. Not sure why it is so soon either but it's inconvenient to be sure, and that makes me certain that not being found is to be desired. Not until things are more.. settled."

Gibbs stared at him in frustration, it made his head ache when Jack became cryptic, well more cryptic than usual. There was no point in asking him to explain, for any further explanation would be more confusing still, and possibly by intention. So he contented himself with rolling his eyes, and nodding,  
"Suppose you know your business best."  
To his surprise Jack responded to that with a solemn and weary look,  
"Not only my business mate, that's part of the difficulty. Wish it were, then there would be no worries."  
He waved his mug,  
" Watch yourself Mr Gibbs for you might well be of interest to them too, and not knowin' what there is to be known is not likely to be protection against their misunderstanding of what there is to be known and who might know it..... if you take my meaning."  
"Aye sir," Gibbs said seriously, though in truth he had no idea what it was that Jack was talking about.  
"They can't get at Teague," Jack said softly as if Gibbs hadn't spoken, "and I think that Calypso will deal with Barbossa, though he knows only a part of it. But you Mr Gibbs, they might well reason that you know too."  
"Aye they might at that." Gibbs agreed, though he had no more understanding of what his captain was talking about than he had when they started. "So we go tonight?"

Jack stood up and reached for his coat and hat,  
"So we go tonight, sooner we're at sea better for all concerned," he said.  
He shrugged on his baldric and settled his sword on his hip then carefully placed his hat on his head at the right angle,  
"In the meantime I need something to wash the taste of that ale away and fortify me against the coming exertions. Rum would be good."  
With that he strode out of the door and turned towards the tavern.

***

The sun was well down towards the horizon, though hidden by piles of black tinged cloud, before the fish wife returned with her child, and a bedraggled looking man, in tow.  
"This be Able" she said, "He knows the man Gibbs well and 'as news of him an' Captain Sparra."  
She looked towards Elanor with a mix of fear and hope, anxious for the promised coin but only too aware that there might only be payment for one. Clearly Able had not shared his knowledge with her, a fact that Elanor found more reassuring than the man's appearance. But she had no desire for the woman to become privy to whatever it was that he knew and there was little doubt that payment was all that would send her on her way, though paying both of them might make her appear an easy mark. Still that risk would have to be run, so she reached into her pocket and pulled out three pennies for the woman and a farthing for the child  
"I said I would pay for information whatever it was and so I will," she said as she dropped them into the dirty hands stretching out towards her.  
The woman grabbed the coins before her benefactor could change her mind, bobbed her head and scurried away before Abel could protest at her payment and demand it for himself.

When she was gone out of earshot Elanor turned to the man she had named Abel,  
"So you know Mr Gibbs?"  
"Aye that I do mam. We shared a bottle few day or so ago, he tole me that Jack Sparra might come looking for him."  
The man shot her a curious sideways glance,  
"Expect you'd be that high steppin' lady he tole me about too?"  
Elanor cursed silently and wondered what Gibbs drunken meandering had betrayed,  
"I might be," she replied calmly enough maintaining her serene expression despite her irritation.  
The man gave a silent laugh, the thin shoulders shaking with apparent mirth,  
"You are sure enough. Thought that he be spinnin' a yarn for he be good at that and fond of taking about fanciful folk and their doin's. Nat tat he said a lat, only tat he hoped Jack Sparra knew what he was about to be throwin' his hat into ya ring. Didn't make sense t'time, do now right enough. Powerful trouble for a man you might be I'm thinkin'." He doffed his greasy hat towards her with ironic civility and gave a small bow accompanied by a sly smile, "with respect mam."

She smiled but didn't rise to the offered bait,  
"Did Jack come looking?"  
"Aye that he did, two days ago. Me did as Gibbs asked." Abel's eyes slid to her pocket and his brows rose in expectation.  
Elanor dropped one hand into the same pocket and jingled some coins. Ben appeared at Abel's shoulder with his cudgel in clear view, Abel's brows rose further at the gesture,  
"Na need for unpleasantness mam, Gibbs mentioned that if aught went wrong it might be this fine young man or even yersel' that came looking next and that I was do as I were bid. That I will."  
Elanor smiled again,  
"I promised payment, do as you were bid and it's yours, " she drew out three shillings, letting him see them before she palmed them, then she pulled another shilling from her other pocket, "and keep this between ourselves."  
The man reached out his hand and Elanor's smile widened to one Jack himself would have been proud of, she spoke softly,  
"But cheat me, betray me, or Jack, and I'll take all of it back and as much again in your hide. You will not see me coming, but come I will."

To her surprise Abel just nodded in apparent approval,  
"As I said, powerful trouble. No fear lady, Gibbs is as close to friend as I call any man and Jack Spaara, well crossin' him would not go well."  
She held out the coins,  
"So where did you send him?"

***

Jack had the look of a man well settled for the night, for he had a pot of rum in one hand and the waist of the serving girl in the other. He'd been flirting without pause for more than two hours now, the gold in his smile and the light in his eyes drawing every woman in the place to him like a moth to a flame. Their hands too, for it seemed that they couldn't pass without touching him, the beads in his hair, the rings on his hands, the long braids trailing down his back, the ends of his scarf, all were visited by venturesome fingers. The more determined of them leant into his shoulder as they refilled his cup, bending round him to better show off the mounds of their breasts and the swell of their hips.

Gibbs buried his smile in his tankard; no doubt Jack had more than one offer on the table, for the Mermaid was not the usual haunt of pirate captains, certainly not those who had been the subject of more than one street corner ballad and many a news sheet. A pirate lord was as close to royalty as these girls would ever see, or bed, and they intended to make the most of the opportunity, for the story of it would obtain them credit for many a long day. Sampson kept the rum coming for the same reason, though Gibbs wondered just how much of it Jack was actually drinking.

But though he smiled and smirked and wrapped his arm around the occasional waist Jack was being more than usually restrained. His fingers might stroke the hand that poured the rum but they stayed on the table and ventured no further, he might pull a maid onto his knee for a casual caress as she played with his hair, but his wanderings took him no where that wasn't already on show; and though he smiled at the words whispered towards his ear and returned the looks of open admiration with a slow burning gaze that seemed to speak of desire and promise, he remained at the table and his eyes continually flitted back towards the door. If Gibbs had been in any doubt of his determination to leave that evening his skilful evasions of the offers of a trip up the stairs betrayed his impatience to be gone.

That, or something else that Gibbs really did not want to speculate upon.

As the wind rose and the rain started to beat against the shutters Jack lazily disengaged from the particularly venturesome brunette sprawled across his lap with a graceful smile and lingering kiss on her neck,  
"Ladies it seems I must make my apologies. Cuts me to the quick it does to have to leave such entrancing company but the sea calls and I have matters that must be settled by dawn." His face settled into a picture of soft eyed regret, "Pity me for the poor deprived wretch I am, driven out into the storm rather than the harbour of your undeniable charms, but a captain's duties are onerous and I must be about mine."  
The wails and protests that started up all around him brought another glinting smile to Jack's face, but he rose, picked up his hat from the table and swept a bow the like of which the ladies of the Mermaid were unlikely to have seen before. With a quirk of his eyebrows towards Gibbs he began his saunter towards the door, taking affectionate leave of every serving wench in the place, and few of the comelier customers, as he went.

To Gibbs his exit seemed to take forever, as at every swaggering step he took he was draped around by another set of female arms, pouted at, smiled at, stroked, petted and generally given the impression that their survival was dependent upon his promise of return. Promises that Jack gave freely, each one accompanied by a caress and a hot-eyed smile. Gibbs would once have wondered how the man managed it, now he knew better, Jack would recall each one of these promises and might even take everyone one of them up if the chance presented itself; much to the annoyance of the more up market ladies of the town who counted him their own. In the years that he'd known him Jack's energy and enthusiasm had never shown signs of flagging, and, judging by the reception he so often received, nor did his stamina. Watching him as he made his parade towards the door Gibbs wondered where it came from and what was going on behind those smiling eyes as he played this well known game to the hilt. He might never return here but they would always remember him and hope that he would. To Gibbs it seemed to be a kind of magic.

Finally they were at the door, Gibbs going first to check the coat was clear. The brunette pushed her way forward to pull Jack to her, demanding the embrace she had not wrung from him all evening, he obliged her this time, not hurrying it but not removing his one hand from the latch either. Then he put her away from him and, as she was still apparently catching her breath, he flashed another smile and slid out into the night.

***

Elanor arrived at the Mermaid not ten minutes after Jack had left, but it had taken her twice as long again to get the information that she wanted, though some part of that delay had been taken up by her own fascinated horror at the tap room and its occupants. The girls were no older than those she had seen by quay but they were plainer, less brightly dressed and painted and the grime on them was more obvious. Though most appeared to be serving women she knew that their duties would often extend well beyond pouring drinks, and that probably accounted for the worn and weary look about them. Female customers were few and those that she could see had the same look of weary resignation overlaid by a rum fuelled humour. The men at the scattered tables had the appearance of deckhands and market labourers, strong and surly looking, with a smattering of small traders and apprentices taking their only meal of the day, the contents of each plate looking to be the same as the next, a kind of stew and dumplings. She could only guess what they had made of Jack, and meeting the envious eyes of the dark haired girl she first sought information from she thought it better not to speculate.

The response to her in this stuffy poorly lit room was much as it had been a quay, but she felt more malice here, and more threat, and she was glad that Ben remained at her shoulder.  
"Jack Sparrow, I know he's been here for I was directed here by a friend of Mr Gibbs. I need to find them, both of them"  
Some of the hostility disappeared at the mention of his name but the resentful glances continued and she got no information until the landlord returned.

Sampson saw her as soon as he re-entered the taproom, for Gibbs descriptions had been both vivid and accurate, far more so then he would ever have believed. She was all that he had said she was and was as out of place in this place as a lily on a slurry pit. But by his judgement Gibbs had been right when he said she was no soft mark either and Sampson took a moment to wonder what business she and Jack Sparrow were cooking up, and whether his friend knew what it was he might be getting himself involved in. But then Gibbs had sailed with Jack Sparrow before would know well the dangers the man could bring, yet this woman might be a different matter, and he wanted her out of his house as soon as it could be managed.

He frowned at the cluster of girls glaring at her from a corner and sent them back about their business with a jerk of his head before he crossed to where she was sitting , her back carefully faced towards the wall. He cast a quick look at the young man standing at shoulder but though the sentry frowned at his approach he made no move.  
"Ye be looking for Jack Sparrow I hear?"  
"Yes, I was told to ask for him here. By Able."  
He nodded knowing that she offered the name as proof of her identity and good intention.  
"Aye so I thought" he looked passed her to the young man still stiff and suspicious, "You'll be Ben. Brought the cart have ye? Ye can save them a deal of trouble if ye have"  
Ben stared at him for a moment then nodded.  
"Good. Then we had best be on our way or we may miss them."  
The woman stared at him for a moment with wide green eyes before she cast a short look up at the man behind her. Sampson knew what was going through her mind,  
"Be your choice lady, I'll lead ye to them if ye chose to trust me, but only ye can decide if its wise or no."

Moments later they were stepping out into the worsening night.

***

The rain was not quite the torrent it would become but it soaked them quickly enough and by the time they made the market place they were wet through, only Sampson shrouded in oilskins could make any claim to be comfortable. The heavy drops spattered in the kennel in the middle of the street, raising the dust before turning it to mud, splashing the legs of the mule as it trudged on. The wind had strengthened again, drowning out the sound of the mule's hooves and the wheel's groans, around them the trees could be seen bending and swaying in the rough land that bordered the road. Doors and windows were already shuttered and everywhere was dark, for there was no moon and the force of the wind had soon extinguished the few lamps and candles. Occasionally the sound of a child's wailing would be heard as they passed a door, and once or twice the stamp of cattle hooves caused the mule to flick her ears as they passed by a stable or barn.

The wind also drowned out the sound of footsteps, and heavy breathing and the rasp of steel on steel and so there was no warning before they came upon the fight.

In the darkness the figures were hard to determine and even more difficult count, only the swing of a coat betraying the identity of one of the participants.

Elanor had just time to think 'what has he got himself into now' before she found herself following Ben and Sampson in jumping to the ground and heading towards the melee.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 Politics**

No amount of swashbuckling cinematic adventures or bodice ripping yarns could prepare a person for a sword and knife fight in a Tortuga alley. In the dark and wind the business had a surreal element that obscured, but could not disguise, the basic brutality and nastiness of it. If Elanor had ever doubted what a sword was really for she would never do so again.

No finesse here, no graceful stepping or elegant twirl, there was no room for it, and certainly there was no time or breath to spare for witty words. Just the rasp and gasp of heavy and desperate breathing and the scrape of steel on steel, all interspersed with the duller thud of flesh on flesh as a fist connected with head or forearm. The lack of light ruled out pistols and made it hard to judge how many attackers there were, but it was clear from the start that Jack and Gibbs, she assumed it was Gibbs, were outnumbered. Only the fact that Jack Sparrow was a clever man who fought to live, and was more than passably good with the long carving knife in his hand, and the fact that the attackers apparently did not want him dead, had kept him and his companion alive at all. Whether that state of affairs would have continued if help had not arrived when they did would never be known, but it was clear from the beginning that the attackers desire to preserve Jack did not, necessarily, extend to the rest of them.

As Elanor pulled her sword from its' sheath some part of her mind shrieked its' disbelief at her action and migrated to a point several feet above her head to watch the proceedings from greater safety. She would always remember that fight as an onlooker in the dreams that came later but she could not fight it as one and survive, and by the time the business was over she was breathing hard and her own blade was red and slippery.

The cobbles were already slicked with rain, now blood was added to it, for Mr Gibbs, at least, was bleeding from a slash across the forearm. But judging by his position, half obscured by his captain and defended by Jack's energetic blade, that was a recent occurrence. As Ben weighted in with his cudgel there was a sickening crunch and a fallen body was added to the hazards, at which point Gibbs transferred his knife to his other hand and re-entered the fray with a roar. Ben continued to lay about him as much as the confined space allowed, cudgel in one hand and machete in the other, while Sampson produced a long bladed knife from his belt and relieved Elanor of hers as he passed. Yet even with the three new arrivals the attackers seemed to be greater in number, or maybe it was that others appeared from the shadows, she was never sure.

Still the reduction of the odds, how ever slight, enraged the assailants and the curses flowed freely on the wind. Some other detached part of Elanor's brain noted in passing that most were not in English.

For her own part she was glad of the fencing lessons of her girlhood but more so for Jack's tutoring, and yet more grateful still that he had not played the gentleman in that but had fought her to win even when she was a novice on her own decks. What she lacked in skill, and that was a lot, she made up for in stamina and that most invaluable of commodities, surprise. Her womanhood was clear enough even in the dark and her assailants judged her by that, to their cost. The curse of surprise as an attacker struck at her only to be parried by an arm as strong as his own brought a smile to her face, and gave her the time to thrust forward with a power that drove him quickly back, taking his knife from his hand and wrenching his shoulder. He shouted something to his companions but if they heard they didn't believe it for the sword that engaged her next made the same mistake and suffered the same penalty.

Elanor found her senses sharpening, every sound and flicker of a hand or blade etched into her mind with an intensity she had rarely known before. It was getting hot now, the sweat running down the faces of all those involved, grips became less certain and the wind whipped sweat soaked hair across eyes straining to watch the shadow of steel in the dim light. It was only a minute or so since they joined the fight but it seemed as if hours had passed, long hours when the only thing that mattered were the flickering tongues of steel around her.

She had neither time nor energy to wonder how the others were doing, or even if they were still on their feet, but at some point she realised that Jack had fought his way around the attackers and was now at her back, and for the first time she thought how exposed her inexperience might leave her against a better schooled blade. She cursed silently, determined that she would not allow Jack to risk himself or his friends to defend her impulsive action. Taking hold of herself and her temper she concentrated and tried to calm her racing senses, striving to discipline herself and to read the intentions of the men opposing them rather than rely on her speed of reaction. She still had the advantage of energy and unexpected strength and she used them with greater care now, watching the opposing blades with catlike intensity, blocking their wilder thrusts and only lunging when they were exposed and she was not. This greater calculation served her better than raw adrenaline had, causing uncertainty as well as surprise in the men attacking her.

But just when it seemed they might prevail a shout went up and more shadows appeared at the top of the alley, three more at least and maybe more. She heard Jack curse and recognised the truth of it, they were not going to fight their way out of this.

"Elanor, get towards that wall," he hissed as he thrust towards a grinning face sending it spinning backward then down towards the floor. "We can hold them long enough for you get over it and away."  
"No." was all she spared the time to say.  
"Do as you are told woman for god's sake. They don't want me dead but they will have no use for you, at least none I'd wish upon you." His sword pushed back another man as he spoke.  
"No."  
He almost spat at her, cat like in his frustrated rage as he sent a knife clattering to the ground.  
"No point to it at all," he hissed 'Tis not your fight. Get out of it, Gibbs and Sampson will follow you and get you away."  
She smiled grimly and turned to dodge the knife her opponent had suddenly produced, slashing across his hand as she did so,  
"I decide what's my fight Captain Sparrow. I'm not a pirate, I don't follow your code."  
"Code be dammed. Makes no sense for you stay," he panted, "anyways who'll get me out if they take you too? They'll not harm me yet, and we can't hold them all luv, take the others and go."

She backed closer towards him feeling the heat of him through the threadbare clothes.  
"No. But you're right we can't win, at least not like this."  
She parried another knife thrust tipping its owner off balance and closing with him to drive her knee into his groin, the hilt of her sword following it deep into his crotch as he doubled over, the full force of her arm behind it. She didn't even hear the scream as he collapsed for a hand grasped her hair and pulled her head around, the pain setting a red wash of fury over her eyes. Without thought her teeth found the wrist and tore mercilessly into tendon, vein and muscle, the blood washing down her throat as she brought her sword hilt up to contact with the hand's owner's chin.

"Can we get them all in front of us? Let them put us at bay?" she gasped.  
Jack must have cast a look around him even as he fought off the next advancing blade,  
"Mebbe, would it help?"  
"Yes."  
She thrust forward at the man approaching, her blade sliding under his, driving it up and him off balance, her knee again doing a job he didn't expect, at least not with such force and ferocity. Jack raised his voice,  
"Back against the wall Mr Gibbs, surrender is the only option."  
"Jack!" a familiar voice gasped in protest,  
"Now Mr Gibbs, no arguing!"  
Jack eased himself around to face the new comers, his back to the wall. As Gibbs, Sampson, and finally Ben, joined them he pulled Elanor to his side, his shoulder slightly forward of her, then he lowered his sword and spread his arms with a wide smile and said something in a language Elanor didn't understand.

For a moment it seemed that the men facing them were taken aback, then relieved, then elated, and slowly and warily they were surrounded by dipping swords and grinning faces.  
"Look down." Elanor hissed quietly as she edged forward of Jack, her hands dropping to her waist.  
The taser cleared her belt without anyone noticing the movement, then there was a brief spat, a sudden bright light, and the surrounding grins convulsed, the wearers falling to the ground, shrieking with the pain. They stayed there, rolling around with their hands clasped to their heads in disorientated agony.  
"Bloody hell!" Jack whispered quietly.  
Elanor slid the taser back inside her belt and turned to face him with a wry smile as she flipped a hand in brief salute,  
"Pleased to be of help Captain Sparrow," she drawled with hidden glee.  
He looked back at her for a moment, his smile flickering uncertainly in the dim light, before he turned away to look towards the writhing bodies,  
"Help? Bloody hell Captain Cavendish," he said with a wider smile.

Sampson put his hand on Jack's arm, avoiding looking at the woman at his side,  
"Time we was gone," he muttered, "might yet be more of 'em."  
"Aye" Jack agreed and turned to look anxiously at Gibbs who was propped against the wall and breathing heavily.  
"Aye Captain," Gibbs echoed breathlessly, accepting the arm of a shaken looking Ben without comment.  
Jack nodded.  
"To the cart then, we'll drop Mr Sampson on our way." He shot the innkeeper a wary look, "better to arrange to be elsewhere tonight in case others some looking.' Your lasses cover for you will they?"  
"Aye, they know I came after you," was all Sampson said.  
Jack smiled and waved his hand towards the cart.

As they moved away he came close to Elanor and pointed a grazed finger at her,  
"You and I, we need a word."  
"You and I?" she said with a smile.  
"Yes" he hissed impatiently, "You and I. Us." He wriggled his fingers in the direction of her belt, "About.. Things." He narrowed his eyes at her, "Interesting.... Things."  
Elanor smiled her angel's smile at him.  
"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I don't want to." She saw his frown and inclined her head gracefully. "But if I don't want to talk about it just console yourself with thinking about what these men are going to say to their masters, and what I've just done for your legend. Added a whole new and enthralling chapter I should think. Captain Jack Sparrow and his companion, the warrior angel complete with her flaming sword."  
With that she eased passed him and stepped nonchalantly over the stunned bodies on her way the cart.

A pace ort two away she stopped and spoke without turning,  
"Oh, and by the way Jack, if I ever get on my high moral horse about the way you live and your attitude to life just say Tortuga to me will you?"  
Then she walked on.

Jack watched her go with a growing and appreciative smile.

***

"What was that 'lanor? Those men in the alley, they dead?"  
"No they aren't dead."  
"Thought not."  
He was silent for a moment his face serious and frowning.  
"So out with it, what is it?"

They had left Sampson to a card game at another ex-navy man's house and headed out of the town as quickly as the mule and the weather would allow. Gibbs travelled up front with Ben, one of Jack's pistols in his lap, while Jack and Elanor sat on damp straw watching the road and their backs, as far as was possible given the lack of moon and stars. Luck had certainly been with them for though the slash to Gibbs arm was nasty, and Ben had taken a glancing blow to the shoulder and a small nick to his earlobe, they were largely undamaged. At least so she had thought until she realised that Jack was not comfortable at all, and not because of some worry or annoyance. Somewhere he was hurting, and it wasn't doing much for his temper, but he wasn't about to tell her where just yet. For herself she was suffering the unavoidable comedown from the adrenaline high and the early protests of muscle and joint at such unaccustomed exercise, and was not in the mood for his tetchy cross examination.

"Does it matter? Did the job that's all that counts."  
He considered that in silence for a while, his frown deepening,  
"Something like what your ghost did to me eh?" he said eventually.  
"Sort of."  
He indicated her belt with an unusually retrained wave of his finger,  
"Carry it all the time do you?"  
"Yes," she looked at him with wide and serious eyes, "and others like it."  
"Ah." He paused and stared back at the road, "Only since you hauled me out of the water or before?"  
She sighed wearily,  
"Before."  
"Oh." He cast her a sideways look, "Why? Before I mean?"  
"I told you, my world is not utopia, it has it's own threats."  
"Hmmm," he fell silent for a moment, "accounts for a few things I suppose. But what is it?"  
Elanor sighed knowing how persistent Jack could be and recognising the signs that this was one of those times. She turned her eyes to the road,  
"You ever seen a man struck by lightening?"  
He thought about that then nodded, the movement sending a cascade of rain from the brim of his hat to his already soaked breeches.  
"Once, long time ago."  
"Well you've just seen it again."  
"Ah."

He caught hold of her as the cart bumped over a deeper than usual hole in the track that served as a road and she thought she heard him draw a sudden and uncomfortable breath. As if realising that he betrayed something he didn't wish to he took up where he had left off.  
"Having lightning tamed and on your belt must come in useful. But can you use it at will?"  
"Nearly."  
"Hmmm. Your ghost, she can do the same?"  
"Something similar," she turned back to face him but kept her voice flat and without expression, "but more damaging. Hers can be lethal should defending the Chaser require it. Ariadne could send a ship of this time down to the seabed with a single well placed bolt. She could sink them before they had time to roll out their guns."

Jack drew a deep and shuddering sigh,  
"Bloody hell," he said quietly. "Should have told me luv, see now why you are so wary of being seen or caught. One sight of that and you'd have no peace, every ship on the seas would be givin' chase."  
Elanor shrugged,  
"Think I don't know that Jack? If I'm forced into a fight then either the Chaser goes down, and me with her, or I have to kill everything and everyone around me. Bear that in mind when planning your adventures will you?"  
Jack stared up at the sky in resignation.  
"Bugger, " he said eventually, "Seems I need me Pearl back sooner than I thought."

Nothing was said for a long time after that.

***

The Black Pearl had searched for a sign of the strange white ship but not found one. However her crew could not blame their captain for that for it was clear that the fault lay, once again, with his majesty's navy.

The ship appeared on their stern half way towards Tortuga but showed no inclination to engage them. That was not surprising of itself, given that she was both smaller and more lightly armed than the Pearl, but her appearance sent a shiver of apprehension through the crew and a wave of rage through Barbossa for the navy was rarely seen this close to Tortuga. It seemed another sign of the way the world was changing, and it was to the taste of none of them.

Barbossa played it cautious for once, keeping the guns hidden and the colours lowered, for he was still not convinced that Calypso wasn't at the back of the plethora of naval activity there seemed to have been since he had abandoned Jack.  
"Be strange the amount of his majesty's ship be about these days, do ye not think lads?" he said to Pintel and Raggetti as they followed him down the decks.  
"Not usual 'tis true, not this close to Tortuga," Raggetti replied seriously.  
Pintel eyed Barbossa closely, but his captain seemed more like himself than he had seen him for a while, so he kept his tone respectful,  
"Aye capt'n. Hadn't used to be so many of them, not this far from the trade route," he said. "What do ye think be bringing them?"

Barbossa rubbed his chin for a moment, in his own mind he was sure it was something to do with Beckett, and probably Sparrow too, though he could not have explained why, but some internal caution warned him it might not be wise to say so. Instead he contented himself with a small world weary smile  
"New Gov'nor perhaps, anxious to make a name for hisself. Worlds a'changin' lads. Best get used to it. We won the battle, but the war, well that's still undecided."  
With that he raised his glass to his eye, scanning the decks for hostile activity. For the moment there was none, which increased rather than reduced his anxiety, for the world was indeed changing if a navy ship was not willing to try and take the Pearl. Becoming right strange if her captain truly wanted to watch rather than exchange fire.

He looked up at her prow, reading her name and trying to recall if he had come across her before, wondering if any of the ghosts that were drifting around the decks, mingling with his crew, had met their end on the Intrepid. He shook himself and snapped the glass closed, he was getting so used the ghostly presences he would start giving them orders if he wasn't careful. Clasping his hands on his sword hilt he stood at the rail and watched and waited.

***

"Do you plan to board her Sir?" Groves asked Hathaway, his tone as close to disbelief as he thought it wise to risk.  
"Why not?" Was Hathaway's easy response. "They have the advantage of speed but we have advantage of numbers." He shot Groves an enquiring look, "if Sparrow isn't on that ship then who is likely to be her Captain? William Turner?"  
Groves frowned in concentration,  
"Perhaps, but it isn't clear sir. It's known that Turner boarded the Dutchman but unclear when he returned. The Black Pearl did not take part in any rearguard action against the EITC armada, nor did she take on survivors from the Endeavour. That may be why Sparrow lost command, a refusal on his part to take hostages."  
"Why would a pirate do that?" Hathaway mused.  
"Jack Sparrow is something of a law unto himself sir." Groves frown deepened, "But I would have thought that William Turner would have been of the same mind, though it is true that he betrayed Sparrow and the others to gain command of the Black Pearl before he knew of Sao Fengs treachery."  
Hathaway grunted,  
"Wouldn't have thought that a blacksmith's apprentice would have had it in him. But then nor would I have thought that Swann would have affianced his daughter to one likely to do it."  
Groves gave a small smile,  
"Turner had spent some time under the tutelage of Sparrow sir, that might have changed things."  
Hathaway grunted again,  
"Got some respect for Sparrow haven't you Mr Groves? Why is that?"

Groves stood stiff and uneasy as he replied,  
"I've seen him take a ship of the line without letting a drop of blood sir. I've seen him escape captivity by firing himself from the decks with a cannon, disabling the ship in the process sir, again without drawing a weapon. I sailed with Commodore Norrington, the navy's best sir, but Sparrow out sailed him. Yes, I have some respect for Jack Sparrow, just as the Commodore did in the end."  
Hathaway nodded,  
"Well I've seen the Admiralty briefing on him, and the letters of marque, a strange man it seems. I'd not say you, or the Commodore, were wrong. But if he is not here then that still leaves us with the question of who is captain of that ship. if not Turner."  
" The word in port is that Turner is dead." Groves said.

The captain sighed, and rubbed his eyes wearily,  
"Like Weatherby Swann and his daughter. I met him once you know, a while ago now, he was a good man and I hear that his daughter was a lovely girl; if a little headstrong in her choice of husband. Beckett must have lost his wits to trust that madman Mercer."  
Groves swallowed hard at that, folding back the words that sprang to his lips through gritted teeth, knowing that there was no point in saying them and a lot of danger.  
"Indeed sir, " he said as levelly as he could manage. "But there were also stories in Tortuga that the Black Pearl was being captained by Hector Barbossa, and he most certainly is dead. It might be Sao Feng, though Jones maintained that he was dead too."  
Groves cursed himself knowing that he should not have mentioned Jones, but Hathaway seemed unconcerned.  
"Well pirates are given to changing their names and taking other peoples, all part of this lordship business isn't it? So it might be anyone, we will have to wait and see. Pity that, for I'd like to be better prepared. Still the offer of a pardon and another ship should be enough. Send the signal Mr Groves and let's get this business underway."

"Are we truly offering that sir. To Sparrow I might see why but to this unknown captain? Is that wise?" Groves ventured.  
"So it seems Mr Groves, though I understand your concerns. The world is becoming a strange and complicated place it would appear."  
"One that requires we trade with pirates sir?"  
Hathaway gave a sad half smile that suddenly reminded Groves of James Norrington in those last days before he set off after Sparrow and disaster,  
"No Mr Groves, one that requires even the navy to engage in politics, or so our masters tell us."  
Then he strode away leaving Groves to wonder yet again just what it was that he didn't know.

***

The navy ship paced them for a while then came closer, just outside of cannon range, and signalled them of their captain's desire for words with the Pearl's captain and with the instruction to heave to, drop anchor and prepare to be boarded. Barbossa considered the fluttering flags for a moment, then turned to Marty with something like his old sly grin,  
"Signal that I'm disinclined to acquiesce to their request, then prepare to bring us about."  
Marty grinned and did as he was bid.

On the deck of the Intrepid Groves watched through his glass as the replying flags were raised, and somehow he wasn't surprised at the gambit. Nor was he much more surprised when the wind seemed to suddenly change and the Pearl came about, billowing full canvas and abandoning her course for Tortuga and heading for the open sea.

With a strange feeling of inevitability he watched Captain Hathaway shake his head, squint disbelievingly at the skies, and give the order to pursue.

***

In a secluded bay up the coast from the port of Tortuga, the white ship sat serenely at anchor, unseen and undisturbed by the stormy seas that kept all other vessels anchored near the shore, or the winds that drove the occupants of the bay behind closed doors. As the Dawn Chaser waited for her captain to return Ariadne watched the world around them, including the two ships as they manoeuvred. The sudden and unexpected change in wind and the subsequent flight of the Black Pearl were marked for discussion with her captain, another strangeness to add to her growing log of strangeness.

The large vessel anchored on the other side of the island was less easy to watch, given the high ground at the centre of the island, but her presence was noted, and the seas beyond her marked for observation. Ariadne might have to wait to discover who or what this vessel might be, but patience was one of Ariadne's greatest virtues.

***

Polly was not a demonstrative woman and the closest she came to exclamation about the battered nature of the little party was a scolding comment to Ben about a tear in his coat and a shake of her head at the sight of the gash on Gibbs arm and the fading bruises on his face. She came and inspected Elanor too, but seemed content enough with what she saw. Jack she stared at with narrow eyes and frowned, but accepted it with a sigh when he brushed her concern away and announced his intention to check on the Chaser's presence in the bay.

Elanor knew from the look he cast in her direction that he expected her to follow him.

Satisfied that the ship was where Elanor had told him it would be he meandered his way back from the cliff top and slipped into the still room without a word, with Elanor close behind him. Once in he settled down on a barrel and helped himself to a bottle of liquor.  
"We need to be underway as soon as we can," he said as soon as the first gulp of whatever it was in the bottle had been swallowed. "Only safe place is at sea."  
Elanor reached across and removed the bottle from his hand and took a swallow, gasping slightly as the raw spirit burned its way down her throat,  
"You drink this by choice!" she demanded hoarsely.  
"Not usually," Jack replied as he took the bottle back, "but it's all that seems to be to hand at the moment." He raised the bottle towards her, "here's to you and your little lightening bolts." He took another swig but grimaced as he swallowed it. "Seems you make a habit of savin' the day."  
"Not really. Could have got you all killed. I'm no swordsman, I should have kept out of the way. Don't know what got into me."  
Jack took another drink then passed her the bottle again,  
"You did well enough. Not much call for skill in a fight like that, just sheer determination and evil." He grinned at her, "seemed to me that you didn't do bad at that."  
Elanor huffed at the look but took another swig from the bottle before she passed it back.

"Who were they Jack and what were they after? Don't tell me you were careless enough to flash the treasure around?" She gave him a long considering look, "I'd say that Mr Gibbs has been in more than one fight since I last saw him, was he the careless one, after all the warnings?"  
Jack shook his head, his hair still dripping water into his coat.  
"No. Pilfering was not what they had in mind."  
"You said they didn't want to kill you, but they seemed pretty murderous to me."  
Jack thought about that for a moment,  
"Well they wouldn't have minded cutting me a little, but basically they wanted me in one piece and able, if not willing, to talk."  
"Talk? About what? Who were they?"  
Jack gave a rueful smile,  
"His majesty's navy."  
"I thought you said that Tortuga was a free port?"  
"Was and is." He pointed an emphatic finger, "That's why they didn't sail their fine vessel into the docks and send armed soldiers out to look for me. Why they had to do it on the sly and catch me in a back alley." He took another swig from the bottle, "Don't know who told them where to find me though. Must have been one of Sampson's customers." He grinned, "No doubt he'll find out which one."  
Elanor suppressed a shudder, she would not wish to be in that persons place when he did,  
"Maybe they just kept a watch on the place and followed you when you left," she said.  
"Mebbe. But 'tis over and done. Soon as this swell eases we'll head out to your fine lady and be on our way."

Elanor took the bottle from him and shook her head,  
"We go nowhere until you tell me who they were and what they wanted. If it wasn't the treasure what was it? The chart? Do they know about that?"  
Jack stared blankly at the door for a moment,  
"Bugger!" he swore eventually. "No, they can't do! Though.." He shook himself, "No they can't know, it can't be that." He reached for the bottle again and took a hurried swallow.  
"Then what is it, why were they after you and why did they want you alive?" Elanor persisted.

Jack looked at her under his lashes his brow contracted and his mouth twisting in indecision, finally he sighed wearily,  
"Politics. It's about politics."  
"Politics?" Elanor echoed disbelievingly, "a back alley fight and it was about politics?"  
"Aye. Politics."  
"How? Why?"  
Jack shifted uneasily and looked towards the door as if afraid of being overheard, he edged closer and leaned forward,  
"Well. You see it's like this. There is this ...thing. Certain people would like to know where this... thing is, and some of these certain people. well.. they think that I know where this... thing is to be found. They would like for me to tell them So... they would like to catch me and persuade me to tell them." He finished with a rush.  
Elanor stared at him for a moment,  
"A thing?" she said eventually, "What thing?"  
Jack frowned,  
"Just a ...thing."

Elanor thought about that for a moment,  
"The certain people you mentioned being the navy?"  
"Oh,... yes. The Navy."  
"So it was navy men in that alley?"  
"Hmmm.. yes."  
"But that wasn't English they were cursing in."  
"Ah. Well spotted, no it wasn't."  
"So...?"  
"I said his majesty's navy, didn't say which majesty."  
"No you didn't did you, I should have noticed that. So who were they?"  
"Them? Spanish."  
"So the Spanish navy want you to tell them where this thing is?"  
"Seems so."  
"Not the British navy?"  
Jack looked morose,  
"Well, probably them too."  
Elanor sat back and stared at him,  
"So its not just politics, its international politics! Oh wonderful! Let me guess, the British navy not only want this thing they don't want the Spanish to have it and visa versa."  
Jack took a deeper swig and nodded sorrowfully,  
"Seems like to be the case." He cast her a sideways glance, "If the French or Portuguese have found out about it then they will want to have it too. Or to prevent any one of the others having it."

Elanor took the bottle from him again and drank deeply,  
"And here was I thinking that finding the fountain of youth just might present some problems. Now it seems that if we go after it we'll have the half the navies of Europe on our tails at the same time!"  
"When we go for it luv, not if, we had an accord." Jack flipped a careless hand and tried to disguise the wince the movement brought. " Anyways we're safer at sea, your ghost can keep an eye on them all and make sure we dodge them."  
"Really!"  
Elanor sighed at the hurt look that earned her.  
"Alright Jack, I'll keep to our accord on one condition, that you tell me what this..... thing is."  
Jack stared at her for a moment then shrugged,  
"I told you already, you just didn't believe me. Why would you believe me now?"  
"An ambush in an alley seems a good reason to me."  
He gave a short soft laugh at that,  
"Ah. Well I'll tell you then. What it is but not where it is. That'd not be safe."  
Elanor rolled her eyes at that,  
"What is around you? Alright just tell me what it is that's at the heart of all this politics."

Jack shot her a suprised look then he got up and opened the door, looking out into the dark rain swept night to be sure they were alone and unheard. With a sigh he came back and settled himself down again and took another swig from the bottle,  
"Not sure, could be wrong. Didn't think they'd find out, or work it out, but it seems they have. That or someone has been talkin' and someone else has been believin' '"  
He caught her angry look and shrugged,  
"Control of the seas Elanor. That's what it's about. Control of the seas, and the whereabouts of the heart of Davy Jones."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 Recollections**

In the end they had spent the rest of the night at Polly's house waiting for the last of the storm to subside and the tide to turn. It had not been an entirely comfortable experience, for after they returned from what had been an all too brief discussion of Davy Jones and politics Elanor had been aware that their every move was being watched surreptitiously; though the motives for the scrutiny varied with the watcher.

Sally had interrupted their still room conversation, bursting through the door just after Jack's comment about Davy Jones ostensibly to see what they wished to eat but in reality to find out just what it was that Captain Sparrow was up to in the dark with another woman. Though she had found them sitting on separate barrels, and on opposite sides of the still, the envy in the girl's eyes was clear enough; and it remained a constant of her expression whenever she looked at Elanor, even when they returned to the house. If Jack saw it he was too preoccupied with other things to pay much attention, though he smiled prettily enough when the girl set herself next to him at the table and he flirted in a wary way that earned a grateful look from both Gibbs and Polly and half hearted shrug of sympathy from Ben.

Elanor suppressed a sigh and stoically accepted the envy and the resentment that went with it. She had never been lovelorn, nor dazzled, even when she was Sally's age, and she had little understanding of, or patience for, such conduct. However she had some sympathy for the girls plight and so she pretended not to notice, for she knew enough about the life that Sally faced to understand how someone so apparently romantic as Jack would be a welcome diversion from the tedium. Her forbearance won a look of relieved gratitude from the girl's mother and a look of wary approval from her brother.

Gibbs reason for watching them were no doubt of a different order, just as Ben's now were; having been in the fight with them she had taken on a different perspective in their minds. But while her participation made her a comrade worthy of respect the tasar had made her both an object of curiosity, and something close to superstitious dread, and Gibbs had been in awe enough of her before. But now an element of pragmatic acceptance had been added into the mix, that eased things a little and on more than one occasion he had referred to her as captain rather than ma'am. Ben seemed to be struggling to resolve the conflicts between her female desirability, her other worldly looks and her strength, but in the end seemed to decide to follow Gibbs lead.

Of them all Polly looks were the hardest to cope with, for there seemed to be an assumption of a connection between Elanor and Jack that made it all the more difficult. As did her obvious approval of whatever it was she was imagining lay at the heart of their relationship, and an apparent willingness to foster it. As the night wore on and the tale of recent events was told, that intention seemed to have strengthened and on several occasions Elanor wondered what she would say if Polly came out and offered the pair of them her bed, which she hinted she was wishful to do and which took all of Elanor's diplomatic skill to avoid. She suspected that some buried spark of romance still existed in Polly's pragmatic soul and that it was stirred to wakefulness by Jack's easy smile and gentle words; but perhaps it was no more than a desire to steer him away from her own, obviously star struck, daughter.

Jack himself was no help at all of course, and it seemed to Elanor he was well aware of Polly's speculation. His reaction to Polly's glances was a secret smile and the half amused, half speculative looks he sent in her own direction. As it got later he seemed to become mischievously intent on fostering the impression, his eyes taking on a soulful and caressing look whenever he spoke to her, his fingers straying to touch hers more often and longer than necessary when he passed her food or a glass. As they sat and talked he would smile at her whenever she spoke and lean towards her when he replied. What he would say were the offer of the bed and some privacy to be made she didn't want to think about.

When he left the room to relieve himself he passed close to her and stooped down to speak into her ear so quietly that no one else would have heard the words, his lips almost touching her skin, so close that his moustache tickled her neck and his hair fell across her shoulder to lie against her own.  
"No mention of the Spanish eh? Steer Gibbs away if it seems he's like to say anything,"  
Innocuous words in the circumstances, but his hand came to rest on her shoulder as he spoke, his fingers splaying out across her collar bone, his index finger stroking small circles against her borrowed shirt. Elanor was about to shrug his hand away with a dismissive remark when she caught sight of Ben's eyes fixed on his sister as she watched Jack's performance, and it occurred to Elanor that Sally's attention might make things a little difficult for Gibbs, and that Jack might know it. With that in mind she gave him the benefit of the doubt and just tilted her head and smiled at him, replying in the same low tones,  
"I agree, but I don't know him well so don't get side tracked out there."  
"We're in accord then," Jack's answering smile would have seemed to an observer to be pure delight, and he spoke slightly louder this time, the words just audible to those around, "as always."

As he straightened up and removed his hand from her shoulder the backs of his fingers trailed briefly across her neck. Polly watched the performance with a satisfied look while Gibbs seemed uncertain what to make of it. Sally on the other hand glowered at her. Elanor smiled a small and meaningless smile,  
"Hmmm." was all she said, but she resolved that he would pay for this playacting at some time in the future. Irrespective of possible his concern for Gibbs comfort. Particularly if Polly offered them her bed.

But whether Gibbs said something, or if her uncertainty about this female captain who wasn't a pirate made Polly hesitate, the offer was not made, at least not in any manner explicit enough to require rebuff. If this disappointed Jack he gave no sign of it. Instead he and she left Polly and her family to their usual arrangements, of which Gibbs formed a part, and headed for the comfort of the straw bales in the small barn. The little play Jack had enacted was not mentioned between them and the flirtatiousness of the fireside was abandoned as soon as they stepped out into the night.  
"We've a few hours yet before the tide turns, might as well wait until then to return to the ship." Jack said as he stared out from the barn and across the cliffs towards the shadow of the The Dawn Chaser, still waiting at anchor. The clouds were showing some signs of breaking now and the moon was peering through the occasional tear,  
"But not too long. Not many fishermen here to see us, but there are one or two who fish in the shallow water. Best be gone from the bay by the time they come down to check on the damage." He looked towards her, "you left your boat in the same place as I left mine?"  
"Yes, they should be fine, provided they haven't been found. Yours was still there when I arrived, so let's hope our luck has held."  
He nodded,  
"Best to make sure though. If they are gone then we will need to find a boat from somewhere else," His teeth flashed white and gold in the dim light of the single smoky candle Polly had been able to provide for them, "and that's best done in the dark while others sleep."  
With that he blew out the candle and headed back towards the barn door, his sweeping gesture as he reached it showing that he had no doubt that she was coming too.

***

The Black Pearl had vanished over the horizon as the Intrepid got underway and once again Groves stood and watched as a captain cursed at her turn of speed. As he watched the black sails disappear, casually wondering how it was that she was so fast, he attended to his own duties. After this encounter Hathaway would want to know more about the pirate ship and Groves set about recalling everything any one had ever told him about it, in particular what little James Norrington had told him. But most of what Norrington had told him Groves knew could never be repeated, not to Hathaway at least, that much had already been made very clear to him.

Norrington and he had had little enough to say to each other when the then Commodore had returned, even less after his elevation to Admiral; the chasm between their ranks keeping them about different duties and at separate locations for much of the time. Their first, and only official, meeting had been short and formal; the admiral had been assessing his new role and wanted to know of Beckett and his actions in the months before he had returned. It had taken place at the fort and Groves had been as open as he dared, but he had seen the wooden look come over his superiors face, a look he knew well from the past, and deduced that James Norrington did not like what he heard. From then on the Admiral had avoided anyone who had known him as Commodore.

Their second and last meeting had been less formal, and the man had been a stranger for more reasons than his rank.

It had been unexpected; Groves had been one of the officers in a roundup party, rousting recalcitrant sailors out of the taverns and bawdy houses on the night before they set sail from Port Royale. In a one particularly grubby grog hole he had caught sight of Norrington's profile in the shadows, and, after a moment of shock, he had steered the other officers away from that particular corner and hustled them back into the street as soon as he could. He'd made an excuse two hostelries on and gone back to find Norrington still seated in the shadows with a pot of grog in front of him and a bleak expression in his eyes.  
"I wondered if you had seen me?" Was all he said as Groves had sat down beside him.  
"Yes Sir. Not the place I would expect to have found you I confess, but no doubt you have your reasons. However I must advise you that it might be unwise to remain here any longer. Beckett will no doubt send his own roundup parties out and I do not think it would politic for them to find you here."

Norrington's response had been to take a deep swig from his pot, and as he ran the liquor around his mouth his expression became pensive,  
"Reasons Mr Groves?" he said eventually raising his drink in mocking salute, "other than being a rumpot deck hand that takes orders from pirates you mean?"  
Groves had been shocked into silence as Norrington had looked around him with despair,  
"I thought I had found my way back to being more than that, but it seems that Jack Sparrow was as good a judge of a man as he was a pirate."  
"Sparrow?" Groves remembered how taken aback by Norrington's mention of the name he had been.  
"Yes Mr Groves," the pensive tone became tinged with bitter irony, "I have recently had the honour of sailing under the command of Captain Jack Sparrow no less." He stared down into the mug, "and a salutatory experience it proved to be."  
Norrington closed his eyes briefly and shook his head,  
"The Black Pearl is a remarkable ship, Mr Groves, take that from one who knows her better than he ever thought to. Fast and effective, and better armed than many pirates; a fine ship it must be said. I'd be sad to see her go to the bottom."  
He took another swallow of grog.  
" As for her Captain it seems that he truly is the best pirate I've ever seen, and maybe a wiser man than either you or I. Worrying though that thought might be."  
He looked up, his eyes fixed on some horizon other than the smoke stained wall,  
"He was a better sailor and a better captain than I expected him to be too. In other circumstances he might have made a better Admiral than I."  
Groves had looked down at the pot of grog and wondered just how many his admiral had drunk that evening.

Norrington caught the look and smiled wryly,  
"I'm not near as drunk as I wish to be Mr Groves." He looked back to the wall again, "I never will be."  
Groves had said nothing to that. What could there be to say? But he wondered, not for the first time, how much of the alteration in Norrington was the result of his loss of Elizabeth Swann. Yet his next comment seemed to belie that and every other possibility Groves might ever have considered.  
"Have you ever wondered how you would behave if the mainstays of your life were to be removed from you?" Norrington mused, "If fortune were no longer to smile on you and you were to lose all that you held important, all that you held dear? Have you ever wondered what you might do? Would you still remain a good man? What might you become if you were to find yourself deprived of your planned course in life?"

Groves had stared at him for a moment then shaken his head,  
"No sir I can't truthfully say that I have. Good men are rewarded by God, if one does what if right and lawful, then a man can always hold his head up."  
Norrington sighed,  
"Well said Mr Groves, and once I would have thought the same and nothing more. But then I had never thought much about it either. Yet I have learned very quickly that those mainstays are all too easily removed, and that sometimes we discover that without those props we are not what we thought ourselves to be: that sometimes we are nothing at all."  
His lack of comprehension must have shown in is face for Norrington smiled at him, that rare 'sweeping all before him' smile that few had seen even in his commodore days,  
"I am not mad I assure you Mr Groves, it is merely that I have discovered that, for many of us, what we are is defined by the trappings and nothing more; and the discovery of it has been painful."

Groves recalled shaking his head at that,  
"Sir, I know what you are and it has nothing to do with the trappings. You are fine man and a good officer."  
He had struggled with the next words but Norrington's obvious grief for something lost had somehow made the words possible,  
"Losing the Dauntless would have been a blow, I know that. Particularly after losing the Interceptor too. The loss of so many souls with her, so many good men, must have been hard. But you were only doing your duty and all fighting men know the risks. You have nothing to blame yourself for. Resigning your commission was never necessary and the men were glad to see you back safe. I don't know how you came to be sailing under Sparrow's command but you are an honourable man you can have nothing to be ashamed of."  
"Do I not?" Norrington had sounded wearier than Groves had ever heard a man.  
"No sir. You do not. You treat yourself too harshly, you are a fine officer."  
Norrington snorted his disgust at that,  
" Then why is it that twice I left it that pirate to save Miss Swann, Mr Groves, tell me that?"

Groves had floundered at the unexpected challenge, struggling for the right words. Norrington took the time to drink more grog, then, seeing Groves's continuing confusion, he smiled bitterly,  
"He took the Interceptor from under my nose and he out sailed me more than once. I thought it was all Sparrow's fault but I was wrong, the fault lay in me, it was just that fortune had never shown it to me before."  
" Sir!" Groves protest had been more instinctive than thought through and he had hesitated again, struggling to know what to say.  
But this conversation was already so odd, so far from any thing he had ever expected to exchange with James Norrington that a little more impertinence had seemed unimportant at the time, so he had drawn a deep breath and ploughed on into the storm he feared might be waiting,  
"Even the loss of Miss Swann's hand in marriage will eventually be a source of comfort for you sir, for you did the honest and generous thing. A lesser man would have held her to her word and not worried for her happiness."

Norrington had laughed at that, a laugh with a racking note that had puzzled Groves until he saw the tears on his admiral's face and known that it was half crying, then he stared unable to believe the evidence of his own eyes. Norrington ignored his look of shock even if he had seen it,  
"Let her go. Oh I did that! You can never know just how far I let her go. Pray God that her father never finds out. Pray that no one ever does. I wanted my life back and so I let her go to her death. I betrayed her to her death. Hardly noble was it? Judas betrayed for eight pieces of silver, would you say the gold braid on my uniform was worth as much Mr Groves? God knows it weighs far more than eight bags of silver, weighs more than all of the pirate gold on the Spanish main and I can't give it back, I can never give it back. Each day I put it on it weighs the heavier and will go on doing so, if I fell overboard it would pull me down so far that even Jones would never find me."  
His head fell forward into his hands, desperation written in the bowed shoulders and the fingers that writhed in the unpowdered hair.  
"As for that bloody sword, if I were the man I thought I was, I'd push it into Beckett's heart. If I were Turner I would. But I'm not, it seems I'm just a rumpot deck hand that takes orders from pirates."  
He looked up at Groves and the haunted expression and stricken eyes,  
"I just have to hope that Sparrow will even the score, for it's beyond me to do so. And that realisation Mr Groves is more bitter than poison."

"But Sir." Groves had protested, "Beckett is about the King's business. Clearing piracy from the seas once and for all. Surely that is an objective you are proud to be a part of, after all, sir, you dedicated your career to it. It's true that he's chosen a strange way to do it, and the hangings without trial make the men uneasy, and I'm as surprised as you that Davy Jones really exists, but the ends must justify the means. Why else would the Admiralty have agreed to it?"  
Norrington straightened in his chair suddenly looking all naval officer again,  
"Why indeed Mr Groves, why indeed. Though why the King would send Beckett about this business, when he could have sent the letters of marque to the governor, is less clear."  
Groves remembered how confused he had been both by Norrington's words and by the sudden change in him,  
"But the Governor let Sparrow escape sir, and his daughter is under sentence of death for abetting that escape; and what do you mean by letters of Marque?"  
"Beckett had letters of marque, intended for Sparrow in return for finding the chest. Don't you think that odd?"  
"Sir?"  
" Letters of marque Mr Groves. A pardon." Norrington drawled, more himself than he had been for a while, "I have yet to hear it explained why the Governor and his daughter, or I for that matter, would be found guilty of a crime against the crown for letting Sparrow go free while at the same time the king is issuing letters of marque, pardoning him for his crimes."

Groves remembered the sick dread those words had engendered in him even though he had not understood what Norrington was trying to say.

The Admiral had got to his feet then with barely a stagger, and his eyes had narrowed in calculation, no sign of drunkenness in them,  
"Something is not what it should be Mr Groves. But I'm not yet sure what it is that is wrong. Beckett keeps me at arms length but he may be less wary of you."  
He straightened his plain dark coat and brushed a speck from his breeches,  
"I will name you his navy attaché. Stay close to him Mr Groves; gain his acceptance if not his trust, for the Governor's sake and for mine. For I fear this business may yet take us to depths we do not expect to plumb."  
H e had nodded just the once, almost a salute when Groves looked back on it, then he had strode out into the night.

They had set sail the next day and Groves had never spoken to Admiral Norrington again.

"She's fast." The words came from behind him pulling Groves back to the present.  
"Aye sir she is. Admiral Norrington warned me of it before the flotilla set sail but he couldn't tell me how or why. He did say that Sparrow was a fine sailor and a good captain who got the best out of his ship., but the secrets of why she is so fast we didn't discover."  
"Not even Beckett?"  
"No sir, we didn't hold onto the Black Pearl long enough to sail her. Turner and Sparrow saw to that." He watched the horizon, where there was no sign of a black sail, "it's almost as if she were built for some special purpose by something other than men."  
He caught Hathaway's strange look and recollected himself,  
"Sorry sir."  
Hathaway just smiled,  
"No need Mr Groves, that ship has done enough strange things for it to be a not unreasonable supposition." His voice took on a mocking note, "After the experiences with Davy Jones I don't think the navy would court martial a man for being a little fanciful."  
"No sir."  
From the look on his face it seemed as if Hathaway would say more, but the cry from the lookout ended the conversation.

***

"About the heart of Davy Jones?" Elanor said quietly, "You mentioned that before, when you had the fever. But I got the impression from your raving that it had been destroyed, replaced by someone else's, so why then would a navy, any navy, be interested."  
They were sitting on the cliff top looking out towards the Dawn Chaser, below them in the hidden channel the long boats rocked and bobbed in safety.

Jack sighed and sprawled out on the springy turf, staring up at the thinning cloud.  
"It was destroyed, killed, stabbed, whatever you want to name it. But the navy don't know that. They know that the Dutchman survived the maelstrom, leastways it seems that they do. Know too that the Dutchman aided the Pearl in destroying the Endeavour."  
Jack raised an explanatory finger,  
"So they know that the captain of the Dutchman threw his lot in with the pirates in the end from which they will deduce ......what?"  
Elanor considered that,  
"Beckett only commanded Jones by controlling the heart, soooo...... they will assume that the pirates now have control of the heart?" she hazarded.  
"A pot of rum for the captain over there," Jack laughed and propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes unreadable in the dim light, "Aye that's what they must think. But only the Pearl engaged the Dutchman around the maelstrom, the others stood off like Beckett's fleet and waited the outcome. So....?" he waved a finger at her encouraging her to finish the sentence,  
She took up the challenge with a shrug,  
"So it must be someone who was on the Black Pearl who took it, or had it, or knows where it is, and they threatened Jones just as Beckett had done. Jones then changed side because of those threats."  
"Aye. That's how they will reason." He sat up, "Now they know that there were two people of note on the Pearl at the time, myself being one of them. Both of whom already knew of the heart and its hold on Jones. There was a third person they may suspect was there but they can't know for certain, the only ones who do know are the two they are seeking and two dead men.  
"The dead men being Beckett and ....?" she prompted.

Jack shot her a sideways look, and hesitated. Then suddenly he sat straighter, and looked at her very directly, all humour dying from his voice and face,  
"Why did you come looking for me?" the words were hard and his body suddenly taut.  
"What?" she was taken aback by the switch of topic.  
"Why did you follow me to Tortuga."  
She blinked at him,  
"I don't really know. Because you didn't make the rendezvous? Because Polly was afraid that you and Gibbs were in trouble? Because I didn't know what the hell was going on, stuck here or out there on the ocean with no word or other fall back plan? Take your pick."  
"Not because you thought I might sell you and your fine ship?" His voice was liquid steel.  
"No." She responded easily.  
"Not because you wanted these back?" he pulled a rope of pearls and a small bag of coin from inside his coat and dropped then to the ground with a thud that seemed to echo across the cliff top.  
Elanor stared at them for a moment before looking back to him, surprised by his grim expression.  
"No. Why would I? Plenty more where those came from if I wanted them, some of them already in my strong room."  
She thought his eyes narrowed a little but she couldn't be sure, then he reached into his coat again pulling out the chart and tossing it down beside the pearls,  
"For this then, the chance of immortality." His voice was harsh, and yet there was another note she couldn't quite read, but which felt close to fear.  
She shrugged,  
"Assuming that's what it is. Me, I'm not convinced; as you know very well, " she said evenly. Then she smiled, "Why would I come for that Jack?" She locked gaze with him, "Think I'm a fool do you, that I'd take the risk of you losing it overboard, or spilling rum on it? I did what you would have done in my place, I made a copy before I gave it back to you."

She saw his chest rise in a deep intake of breath, and a faint smile hovered for a moment on his lips.  
"Then why did you come after me?"  
Elanor was worried by the sudden intensity she felt in him and she turned her eyes away to the darkness of the sea so that she wouldn't have to watch his reaction,  
"You said you could trust Gibbs because he saw you as his own. Maybe I do too. Maybe I felt responsible for you, maybe I didn't like the idea of the pair of you dying in some back alley for a small fortune I put into your hands. Then again perhaps I was lonely Jack, just me against the world. Maybe I didn't like that idea, who can say? I can't. Wish I could, but I can't." She gave a small weary laugh, "Who knows, maybe I just missed you."  
She tossed her head, the wind ruffling the fall of her hair as she did so,  
"Unlikely I'll grant you, but then so is the heart of Davy Jones so who knows."

Later she would date the change in his attitude towards her to that conversation.

At that moment she was just aware that suddenly he relaxed.  
"I disagree luv, it's highly likely," he sat forward resting his hands on his knees, the smile reappearing on his mouth and in his eyes, "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow after all."  
"So you are." She was grateful for the sudden easing of tension between them. "As I said, unlikely, but who knows, strange things happen at sea."  
She looked towards him again,  
"So the navy don't know that Jones is dead. They want the control over the heart, and hence Jones, just as Beckett had, and they think you know where it is." She frowned in sudden thought, "bit odd them trusting it to Beckett wasn't it? I mean he was in it for the profit, what's to stop him demanding a cut from all trade if he got control of the seas? Or even more than that?"  
Jack grinned his approval,  
"Nothing. Nothing at all. Very likely outcome in fact, knowin' Beckett; even not knowin him." The grin became sly, "he revelled in becoming Lord Beckett so 'Lizabeth said, fair turned her fathers stomach given that he'd known our Cutler when he was little more than a clerk of a superior kind in some merchant line. Ambition was his middle name though, always was."  
He gave her a speculative sideways look,  
"That being the case well nothing to stop him demanding the crown itself in the end, now was there?" he said softly.

Elanor considered that for a moment,  
"No. From which we deduce that either they didn't believe he could do what he claimed, or they didnt know how he was going to do it, other than it involved you," she said slowly, "or they didn't know anything about it at all. Which do you think it was?"  
"Don't know and it doesn't matter, not now that he is dead. But I'd plump for a combination of two and three. The navy not being what you might say, open minded in their approach to a thing. Mass hangings without benefit of judge or clergy to get the song sung, effective maybe but it don't sound much like their stiff backed lordships," his expression became far away and bleak, "but it has very much the ring of Cutler bloody Beckett. People were always just things to be traded to him."  
"But why do they think you know where the heart is now?"  
"Because it was me Beckett came looking for and because it was the Pearl beside the Dutchman in the maelstrom." He looked away, "those on the Endevaor would have seen me leave her too. Had to do it in a rather sudden and public manner, wish it hadn't been that way, but it was."

She nodded,  
"So you were on board during the fighting and you were seen to leave alive. So they deduce you did a deal with Jones in some way. Makes sense." She shot him a quick look, "and you were the only one seen to leave alive? No one else?"  
He was silent for a moment,  
"No, there was someone else with me, they can't know who it was but there are those might suspect." He sighed and played with a blade of grass, "one of whom was in Tortuga just before your good self arrived, and he was looking for me."  
"So they might be looking for that person too? Who was it? Mr Gibbs?"  
Jack drew another deep breath, his eyes still fixed on the dark grass,  
"No, Gibbs stayed on the Pearl."  
She saw his hesitation and shrugged,  
"No need to tell me if you don't want to, there is no need for me to know."  
She was about to go on and talk of avoiding the navy when he spoke again,  
"Elizabeth. It was Elizabeth Swann."

There was something about the way he said it that caught at her curiosity. She went and sat down beside him watching in silence as he pulled at the grass.  
"You mentioned her before. She married this William Turner didn't she, so where was he?" she said after a moment more of silent grass abuse.  
Jack just nodded. Elanor stared at him her mind working through what he had been just been telling her,  
"So where was he when all this was happening? When you told me your story you said that he was in that battle with Davy Jones too? So where did you leave him?"  
Jack drew another deep breath and looked up at her his eyes sombre and shadowed,  
"On the Dutchman. Jones was killed, but he got William first. Dutchman must have a captain it seems, so we had to leave young William behind."  
His words were easy enough but the ghost of something terrible was visible in his face, even in the dim light. Elanor drew a deep breath of her own and stared up at the sky,  
"Oh, I see. At least I think I do. And to think I considered my world strange!"  
There was silence between them for a moment, then finally she turned to him again,  
"We've an hour yet before we need to wake Gibbs and get under way. So tell me about Elizabeth Swann."

Jack watched her for a moment something uncertain in his face, then he smiled again looking down at the grass before he spoke softly and with a trace of sadness,  
"Elizabeth Swann is dead."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 Getting under way**

They were not alone

The Spanish ship was twice the size of the Intrepid and there was no denying that the sight of her billowing canvas appearing on the horizon, and the view of her serried ranks of gun ports as she came into glass range, produced anxiety in both the officers and the crew. Britain and Spain might not be technically at war, but it was very much a technicality, and no one had any doubts that the Spanish captain would be looking for any excuse to engage. Yet that assumption proved to be wrong for the larger ship appeared strangely disinclined to close on them, while being clearly interested in their actions and concerns.  
"They know then, and they think that we know where Sparrow is." Hathaway muttered to himself as he watched the Spanish ship tack to pace them. "That, or they have come to the same conclusion as ourselves and are searching for the Black Pearl too."  
Groves didn't comment, but anxiously watched the ship though his glass.

The captain stared at the new arrival for a moment longer then turned, speaking low so that only Groves, the officer closest to him could hear.  
"But how much do they know? Were there any sign of them in Tortuga?"  
"No sir," Groves replied in similarly low tones, "But if the Governor's suspicions are correct then they would have gone to some lengths to not to be seen by us. But we heard no rumours of their presence."  
Captain Hathaway gave a small laugh,  
" But then the occupants of Tortuga would not pass on such information, not if they thought to make double the bribes by not doing so."  
"True sir."

Hathaway stared at the horizon beyond the Spaniard and chewed his lip for a moment,  
"We will have to abandon our pursuit of the Black Pearl for a while. A pity but their Lordships would have my hide if I led the Spanish in any way at all towards Sparrow."  
With a sigh he raised his voice slightly,  
"Change course Mr Barron, steer for Isle de Palo, we'll take on fresh water." He dropped his voice again, "that's as good a reason for us to be here as we are likely to find. Let's just hope they follow us; it would be most unfortunate if they found the Black Pearl before we do."  
He chewed his lip again,  
"I wish we knew who was her captain at this moment, not knowing who is at her helm makes predicting her actions somewhat difficult."  
Groves nodded,  
"Aye sir."  
That earned him a hard look,  
"You are sure you don't know who her captain is?"  
Groves met his captain's eyes levelly,  
"No sir. But it's not Sparrow, I am sure of that."  
Hathaway looked at him for a moment then turned his eyes back to the sea,  
"Does anyone else know about this business?"  
"That's a question no one can answer sir. At least no one except Sparrow." Groves said. " Lord Beckett called him a skilled adversary, and coming from him that was a rare compliment."

Hathaway considered that in silence for a moment then he gave Groves a wry smile,  
"A pirate who a schemer like Beckett thought a worthy opponent? Dear me Mr Groves, it would appear that their lordships somewhat underestimated the problem we face." He nodded towards the following ship, "Keep a watch on that Spaniard and let me know if she turns away."  
With that he sauntered away towards the helm.  
Groves watched his retreating back for a while then opened his spyglass and did as instructed,  
"Indeed they have sir, but then they never met Jack Sparrow," he muttered.

The crab that had suddenly appeared by his right foot skittered away into the shelter of a coil of rope as he shifted his weight. Once hidden it slowly it opened and closed its claws several times, eyes flicking from Groves towards the sea. No one took any notice of it for the clicks of its claws were only audible to the two other crabs currently hiding in the shadow of the wheel. Out at sea the same number of crabs repeated the performance as they watched the galleon's crew and listened to the muttered conversations of the captain and helmsman.

In the waters around the two ships a goddess looked out through the crab's eyes and wondered what the Lady was about now. The temptation to anger was pressing for seas were hers again and she would not surrender them, not for anyone. She could take these ships and men, but they would just send more and she would find no answers in the sinking of them. For the moment she would trust to the Lady and her captain, and to witty Jack.

***

They spent the last hour before the tide turned loading the long boats with Gibbs purchases of the last week. Ben brought it to the cliff path in the cart, the mules hooves wrapped in sacking to avoid making any noise, but it was many a backbreaking journey up and down the steep slope before everything was loaded and they were ready to leave.

By this time the last of the storm clouds were gone and the first lightening of dawn could be seen and there had been no time for lengthy goodbyes, even had anyone been so inclined. Gibbs had exchanged a few quiet words with Polly, a gold coin or two changing hands as they did so, while Ben had touched a finger to a forelock in both Jack's and Elanor's direction and wished them God speed. Sally had flung herself at Jack, grasping him around his neck and demanding that he be careful; Jack had responded with a laugh and a squeeze of her waist before kissing her lightly. Then he had swept her a bow, disengaging himself in the process and swaggered down the path, coat skirts swinging and his scarf ends fluttering in the still gusty wind. With a roll of her eyes and a nod to Ben and his mother Elanor followed after him.

At the base of the cliff the two boats waited, bobbing on a lively swell. Dawn's hold on the skies was growing and the first rays of the rising sun were slanting over the water, though in the shadow of the overhang the sea still appeared dark and cold looking. To her surprise Jack had strode away from her with a wave of his hand in the direction of the closest of the longboats, steering Gibbs into the other and clambering in after him. She shrugged and wondered briefly what it was he wanted to say to the man out of her earshot, or whether he wanted to see how she would fare with a boat on her own. Either way she was glad enough of the time alone and a chance to think.

The pull to the ship was not easy, for it had been sometime since she had rowed a loaded long boat and the strains of the last twenty-four hours were beginning to make themselves felt. The only consolation for her aching muscle and sore eyes was that the two men must have been feeling even worse; Jack certainly had had no sleep this night.

As she rowed she thought about their conversation on the cliff. The idea that at least two nations were on Jack's tail was not comforting, and she couldn't console herself with the idea that they would soon give up. The politics of the situation were not lost on one who came from a world well used to an arms race, and there could be little doubt that in the minds of those involved that that was what this was. That Jack should be in the middle of it did not surprise her over much, even though she found the nature of the arms at stake still a little hard to believe. Elanor wished that she was sure that she had reached the bottom of Jack's shifting stories, for, though they remained the same in essence each time he told them to her, there was no denying that crucial details seemed to appear and disappear like a stage ghost. Elanor was aware of a very powerful desire to consult Ariadne and her never changing logic.

As the shore retreated and they left what passed for normal life behind, as she finally embarked on the true start of their search for this fountain, her doubts were growing, and not least about how well Jack would survive the searching. This business about the heart had reminded her just how much trauma he already had buried beneath the swagger. She looked across at the other long boat, its two oarsmen making good time despite the fact that it was loaded with the heavier items for their cache of supplies, and wondered what exactly it was that Jack was saying to Gibbs.

Elanor knew that if it came to a showdown between Jack and her then Gibbs would stand at Jack's back without hesitation and that didn't worry her, npt while she knew that Ariadne would stand at hers. But she rather liked Mr Gibbs and his strange mix of stolid and stalwart pragmatism and superstition, and she would not like to have to harm him. Certainly she would not like to be the one responsible for making it impossible for him to return to Tortuga. She narrowed her eyes in the direction of man at the front of the boat, his mass of hair lifting and shifting in the wind, scarf ends streaming behind him, and wondered what it was that he was cooking up at the moment.

***

Jack occupied the journey to the Dawn Chaser in cross examining Gibbs about what had happened to him in Tortuga, and then explaining a little more of the situation as he assessed it. Horror had dawned unabashed in Gibbs face as Jack spoke, for Gibbs had once served in the navy and the consequences were not lost on him.  
"Spanish! Lord love us Jack what have you got yourself into this time?"

Jack sighed in mild annoyance and looked up towards the silver pink clouds, wondering, and not for the first time, why it was that everyone saw his hand in anything undesirable; when it was clear to anyone with a jot of sense that most people were more than capable of getting themselves into the mire without any help from him at all.  
"Nothing! 'Tis all Beckett's doing. I would have been quite content to use the heart to save me life and the Pearl. Not me that wanted to control the seas mate. Never been that interested in power meself."  
Gibbs had considered that then nodded,  
"Aye I suppose that be true. But how did the Spanish get to be caught up in this? Navy I can understand, with all those ships that Beckett commandeered, well 'twas clear as a new morn in summer that someone was bound to find out what it was all about. Sailors and soldiers being curious persons, as they are."  
Jack nodded in return, but sombre faced,  
"Just as Elizabeth's father did." He pulled savagely hard on his oar for a stroke or two, "Beckett no doubt intended the same fate to befall any one who asked too many questions. At least once he had carried the day he did. But he didn't carry it, and yet someone who survived the wreck of the Endeavour knew and reported back to their lordships of the admiralty," he nodded towards Gibbs, "and brought the navy down on us."  
He rested on his oars for a moment, his brow creased in thought,  
"Though its unusual for them to react with such speed," he shrugged and resumed rowing, "but it would seem that there was a least one other person who knew and somehow they encountered the Spanish."

He cast a look behind him to see how much distance remained to be covered, then looked back at Gibbs with a frown,  
"Maybe a pirate, one of Sao Feng's lot perhaps. Probably bartered the knowledge for their lives; can't blame them for that. But if the Spanish know then they won't want leave it to the British to take the prize, now will they? There's no love lost there."  
Gibbs shook his head,  
"Aye that be true enough. But what could they know Jack? What's to know? About the heart? That what you be thinking? But if they know that then they must know that Jones is dead. So why the bother? Young Will now, he's not Jones, he'll not go a'huntin ships for them."  
A set look came into Jack's face, a cold and hostile look that Gibbs had rarely seen there for Jack was a forgiving kind of cove, too much so for his own good in the past. But maybe not this time, an idea which Gibbs found worrying, just as he found the tight and chilly tone of Jack's voice.  
"Will he not? Seems to me that young master Turner was every bit as easily swayed to betrayal as Jones when it was his own heart that was involved. Was willing enough to betray us all for his faithless father, even his ladylove. Quite happy to leave me in hell, though he'd risk all to get his hands on me ship."  
Jack cast Gibbs a look as dark as any he had ever seen on his face,  
"No doubts of it mate, William would have been happy to trade everyone one of us to Beckett for his father and his girl. Certainly he would have sailed away with the Pearl and left me standin' on the locker shore had it not been for the numbers against him, and the sight of his beloved murderess's guilt."

Gibbs rowed in silence for a while, thinking about that meeting in the locker and about Jack's words and the softly dangerous tone of his voice, strange and unusual as if the shadow of someone else had clouded it. But however forgiving a man Jack might be Gibbs could see why he would feel that way if the truth be told, and only too well. Which left another question,  
"Then why'd ye save him Jack? Could have let him die on the Dutchman, could have taken her captaincy for yourself."  
The cold and harsh look disappeared and Jack shrugged, looking down at his hands on the oars,  
"Aye I could. But none of our hands were clean in that business and was my error that allowed Jones that sword thrust, I'd not kill the lad for a the chance of a moments triumph over Jones."  
Jack's hand left the oar and strayed to the macabre object on his belt for a brief moment,  
"Seems that Teague was right, bastard though he may be, it is living with yourself forever that's the trick. Or rather finding the bits of yourself you can live with forever."  
He back looked towards the white ship, now obviously closer than she had been, and smiled faintly,  
"Jones was a salutary example of that, and I don't have the face for tentacles."

For a moment there was quiet between them as both remembered the man who had sailed with the Dutchman; then Jack sighed again, weariness and reluctant acceptance twined within the sound,  
" I'd not condemn the lad for doin' what he saw as right by him."  
Gibbs cast a hard look towards his companion, but the set expression was gone from Jack's face, replaced by a softer, far away, and altogether sadder look, a look echoed in his voice when he spoke again.  
"A man will do things to forestall that final judgement that he'd not expect of himself, maybe, then, he'll do the same for someone else's judgement, if matters are so arranged."  
Gibbs nodded but said nothing, himself he was not so sure of that, having never seen it, but now did not seem the time to say so.

"So you think that Will would be willing to do their bidding if they were to gain control of his heart?" he said eventually.  
Jack pulled harder on the oar as if the action would drive the thoughts away.  
"Mebbe. Mebbe not, suspect that it would depend upon the circumstances."  
Gibbs frowned,  
"Aye ye might be right enough about that." He shot a hopeful look towards his captain, "But Calypso be free now, and maybe she would not be so willin' to see them get that control."  
"Can't count on that mate. Capricious creature Tia Dalma was, see no reason why Calypso should be any different. Anyways I doubt they know of our newly released sea goddess, I certainly hope they don't. Wouldn't be comfortable for them to know all of the cards that are in the deck." He cast another look behind him, "and talking of decks and the owners of them, better not to talk of William to Elanor. She knows of him and the heart, but it's best she knows no more than I've said."  
"You told her?"  
"Had no choice mate, she's a noticin' kind of a woman."  
He looked up at the prow of the Dawn Chaser now towering above them, then shot a wry look back at Gibbs,  
"Worst possible kind they are, take it from me, so tread carefully around her."  
With that he folded his hands across the oars ands waited, his face a picture of innocence, as Elanor pulled up alongside them.

***

They cleared the bay without being seen, at least as far as they could tell, but even so their departure was not without incident. For Mr Gibbs first encounter with Ariadne was something of an event and it was the only time Elanor had seen him truly angry with Jack. At least so far. But then he had every right to be so; Jack should never have insisted that Gibbs not know of her 'ghost' until they were underway.

Of course if she were honest she was in part to blame, she should not have gone along with Jack's silence on the subject, and she should have known better than simply issue the casual instruction to pull up the long boats as soon as they were aboard. She had not given any real thought to what he would make of the sight of the boats rising from the sea on chains hauled by pulleys that couldn't be seen and were untouched by human hands. She heard his curse, and Jack's somewhat rueful 'Ah, someone you need to be introduced to' and then she left them to it, going below to confer with Ariadne on several pressing matters, such as the need to watch for the Spanish as well as the British navy.

As she opened the hatch door she looked back to see Jack backed against the forward mast, hands raised in supplication or apology, words hurrying from his mouth at a rate of knots, while Gibbs stood arms akimbo, chin jutted, in front of him. Elanor grinned and hurried below, before Jack could call upon her to either take the blame or to explain.

***

"So we must assume that there was at least one survivor of the Endeavour with enough credibility to convince the admiralty that this heart exists and remains a potential weapon. Perhaps another who was taken by the Spanish, or it may be that word of the heart has been passed on by a spy," was Ariadne's summing up of the situation.

Elanor inclined her head, staring down at her boots and the borrowed and threadbare breeches she was still wearing.  
"Yes, and they both believe that Jack knows where it is, possibly that he is the only person who does."  
"Which will make them very anxious to talk to him. Yes. And yet he knows that Davy Jones is dead."  
"And he knows Davy Jones is dead." Elanor agreed. "He'd have to give them William Turners heart if he were to trade."  
"Would that be any greater concern to him?"  
"I'm not sure. I sense a lot of anger in him, towards both William Turner and Elizabeth Swann, but it hard to judge just how much. For all his swagger and open book posturing he remains a clever and, I suspect, a largely hidden, man. He makes it so obvious that he's a knave and fool, slips so rarely, that it's hard to get past the persona even when you know what it is."  
She sighed,  
"And of course I'm not the best person to do it, all my instincts are of my time and all his are of his. I'm not sure that we could ever really understand each other. Just how much would he accept their betrayals as all in the line of business and how much would he take personally is not something I feel qualified to judge."

"But if we are to believe him then we accept that he could have taken immortality for himself, and there seems no doubt that he wants that. Yet he didn't. If we believe him. This does not suggest that his level of anger stretches as far as killing Captain Turner."  
Elanor rubbed her eyes, not the only part of her body reminding her how little sleep she had had in recent days,  
"True, but then it might be that his anger at Ms Swann didn't stretch as far as widowing her on her wedding day."  
"Then he will not give up the heart for her sake perhaps." Ariadne suggested.  
"She's dead, or so he told me. Not that he was very specific about how or when."  
Ariadne was quiet for a moment,  
"Then the question then is does Captain Sparrow really know where the heart is," she said finally, "and if so why is he unwilling to trade for it. It is likely that they would give him anything he asked for in exchange for it." Ariadne replied.  
Elanor thought about that for the moment then smiled,  
"Except the freedom that seems to be his driving principle. He would lose that, in his own eyes at least. They might give him a ship and as much gold as he asked for but they would still control the seas, and that control would include him if he were to continue to sail."

"You must ask him why he is not prepared to trade his knowledge."  
Elanor sighed wearily and sank into a chair,  
"Does it matter so much?"  
"There may be circumstances under which it might matter very much. You must ask yourself these questions, if the Dawn Chaser were to be at risk would you trade Captain Sparrow and his knowledge for safety? Against his wishes perhaps. If you were to be taken would he trade it for your life? Or that of Mr Gibbs? Would he trade you rather than it if he were to be taken by those wanting to know where it is?"  
Elanor stared at the bulkhead in horror,  
"God Ariadne you do come up with some terrible questions."  
"Terrible or not, only you can determine the answers. This ship must not be taken, you understand that, so if escape is not possible then death or trade is the only option you will have and you need to be prepared for the choice. I suspect that Captain Sparrow was not and he has paid the price for it. I would not wish you to do the same."  
"No. Nor would I. But why the hell did it have to be me? Of all the ships it could have been that sailed into that abyss why did it have to be me?"  
"That is the question asked by all those caught up in interesting times and the dilemma's that make them so interesting. But the real question is why should it not have been?"

Elanor pushed herself to her feet again,  
"I just hope that you are right and this is all a fevered dream."  
"Indeed. However I am not sure that being a dream will change the impact the choices you make within it will have upon you. However unreal this is you believe in it now, and appear to be in your right mind now, and when it is over you will still know what it was that you chose to do."  
"Thank you for those words of consolation Ariadne! I hate to think what you would come up with if you knew how to be brutal."  
"Would kindness, of the kind I assume you are suggesting I should show, help you in any way?"  
"No of course not, you are right, as ever, however uncomfortable it may be. What would I do without you?"  
"Go truly mad in time. Is that not why I am here, in your dream if that is what this is?"  
"Probably. But talking of insanity I had better go and see what Jack has said to Mr Gibbs. Or if Gibbs has throttled him by now, it looked like he might think of it. By the way, have you any exception to being thought a ghost for a little while longer?"

***

Gibbs had not throttled Jack; in fact they looked very much in accord as she stepped back out onto the deck.

They were both standing facing the hatch door, Jack lounging against the chart table, a slight smile playing around his mouth and with his arms folded across his chest, apparently relaxed and looking for all the world as like a guest at a fancy dress party. Mr Gibbs stood beside him, hands tucked into his belt and wearing a slight frown that didn't hide his underlying nervousness.

Jack spoke before she time to do more than raise a questioning eyebrow.  
"I've been explaining to Mr Gibbs here about your ghost." he said softly.  
"Have you now, and what exactly have you explained?"  
"That she is the ghost of the ship that was made real when the ship came though this door from the other world."  
Jack's voice was light and easy enough but his eyes were positively blazing with unspoken messages, and as she stepped closer she could see that the relaxed posture was nothing more than a pose, for the skin around his eyes and nose was tight and blanched with tension, the tendons of his neck were corded and the muscle in his shoulders and arms was bunched and hard. For a moment she wondered whom he saw as the threat, Gibbs or herself, then she realised that it was nothing more than the tension of his willing her to understand and follow his lead. But what exactly was it that he wanted her to follow? Given that he knew nothing of Ariadne himself.

She flicked a look at Gibbs seeing the wariness in him, the intentness as he stared back at her, and something else too, a sort of relief mixed with respect and wonder. What had Jack been telling him? Only what would reassure him no doubt, what it was that he would want to believe, given that he couldn't deny the ghost. But what would that be? Elanor struggled to recall all that Jack had told her of Gibbs and all that she read of sailors of this time. Jack's eyes were still burning darkly with some message that he couldn't put into words, but that wasn't enough.

Fortunately he seemed to realise that for he spoke again, apparently careless but with a wealth of meaning in the shift of his eyes and the faint inflexions of his voice while yet more emphasis was channelled though his suddenly restless hands,  
"I've assured him that a being such as yourself, a captain that has sailed the worlds beyond would not suffer to travel so far and so long alone with a malevolent ghost."  
He didn't say 'I dare you?' but the caressing note in his voice, as well as the tight smile on his lips, was a good as doing so.  
"Ghost is not the right word. Ariadne is more a spirit than a ghost." She said slowly her eyes fixed on Jack's face. "She is in every fibre of the ship, every rope and every piece of canvas. That is why she can sail the Chaser. She sees everywhere and knows everything that takes place on board."  
Elanor looked towards Mr Gibbs,  
" She knows the difference between me and you, she will do as I instruct but take no orders from you or Jack unless I say that she may, and only then provided you do not try and harm me or the ship."

"So what form of spirit be she then? Exactly?" Gibbs asked a little nervously, looking up to the spread canvas above them. "The spirit of the ship?"  
Elanor smiled, the truth could be no stranger than fiction here,  
"Not exactly. Once she was, but now she is more than that. Ariadne has absorbed all of the memories, all the hopes and fears and dreams and ideas of all the worlds we have sailed though. They are a part of her and she is a part of the ship, the two are one and cannot be separated.  
Elanor caught sight of Jack's raised brows, he was watching her with his head tilted, a slight frown on his brow and a considering look in his eyes, and she looked away quickly before he could question her.  
"Aye ma'am. I see." Mr Gibbs said as he stared around him. Then he looked back at her, "and what of yourself? Jack says you've sailed seas beyond the map but are ye mortal or no?" his tone and words were respectful but there was a watchfulness in his eyes that betrayed his concern.  
Elanor was not prepared for the sudden spurt of grief and anger that innocent question brought and it was a moment before she could reply,  
"Mortal enough, though maybe not human any longer," the words sounded calm though she didn't feel it, "Not as human as you perhaps," she cast a challenging look towards Jack, "but maybe as human as Captain Sparrow here, given that I've not returned from the dead."

Jack smiled a wary smile  
"Not an angel then."  
"No, not an angel, any more than you are."  
His smile became wider and he looked towards Gibbs,  
"So you see Mr Gibbs, no reason to fear. The Captain's ghost'll not do us harm."  
A flash of irritation passed across his face and he straightened up and raised a finger,  
"At least she won't provided... we pay her due homage."  
"Homage?" Gibbs sounded nervous again  
"Aye homage, a sort of ritual cleansing if you take my meaning."  
"Cleansing?"  
Gibbs sounded frightened and Elanor had to turn away to hide her smile, realising what Jack was about.  
"Aye. That the case is it not Elanor? Have to wash the dust of the world from us when we come aboard. Being as your ghost and your good self are such otherworldly creatures. Can't scatter common clay on these decks." He turned back to Gibbs "Savvy?"

"Oh, aye! I see what you mean," Gibbs said as he gave Jack an uncertain look, "What does it involve this... cleansing."  
Jack put his arm around Gibbs shoulders and smiled brightly,  
"There's a special waterfall on this ship that does the job." Without releasing Gibbs he cast her an almost limpid look, "Is there not Elanor?"  
She stared back at him with appreciation,  
"There is indeed," she kept the laughter from her voice with an effort; she too had felt the presence of the fleas since the fight in the alley, perhaps they were the source of Jack's irritation.  
His eyes gleamed brighter, the laughter in them was shared and not unkind,  
" And special oils and unguents and ..things, are there not?" he said.  
"Oh yes."  
"Aye, I see." Gibbs nodded his head sagely before concern took over again, "Does it take special words, and fire and dancin'" the last one seemed to worry him the most.  
"No, Mr Gibbs," Elanor broke in before Jack could indulge his inner imp any further, "Just water and the oils I will provide. No fire, no drinking blood, no dancing and no chanting."  
She narrowed her eyes at Jack in an unspoken warning,  
"Nor do we all need to do it together, one at a time is the proper way. Captain Sparrow has done it before and he survived it, as you can see, so there is no need for you to worry."  
She smiled reassuringly,  
"I'll find you the necessary robe while Jack takes you down there and explains what to do. You go first as you have never done it before, Ariadne knows Jack a little better than you so he can wait."

That earned her a disapproving look that melthd into a smile as he looked towards his friend again  
"Follow me Mr Gibbs, and I'll introduce you to the waterfall."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 Material and Immaterial **

"Tell me about Elizabeth Swann."

Day was dying and the waters were darkening; yet the wind was warm and the air soft, even this far out to sea. Gibbs was sat at the stern, dozing in the company of a rum bottle that had some how got smuggled into the long boat. Jack however appeared sober and was sitting at the prow, bare feet draped over the side and his arm wrapped casually around the rail. He'd been here since she had first come up on deck and he showed no intention of moving.

The two men had slept most of the morning away after their ritual ablutions, as Jack had described them, one in his bunk and one in a hammock slung in the shade of the helm awning. Elanor had spent that time catching up on some basic maintenance and in consultation with Ariadne. It was only when Jack swanned on deck, eyes still heavy but other wise clean and sober looking that she sought her own bunk, leaving the men to unload the longboats and Ariadne to take the helm.

It was hunger that woke her as the sun hovered on the horizon and she stumbled upon deck to be greeted by a smiling Mr Gibbs and the smell of grilling fish.  
"Jack says there be no fire below for cookin' ma'am, and neither of us could fathom the galley, so we lit a fire up here. I trust that won't offend this ghost of yourn, though if it has she has said nought about it."  
Elanor smiled, Jack or Gibbs had rigged up something that looked to be a makeshift barbecue using some of the charcoal that Jack had insisted on adding to the list of supplies; 'might be no tinder on this island, nor vegetation, and I've no taste for raw fish for days on end' was all he had said when she had asked why. Looking around she could see that they had been busy, for as well as the barbecue the deck now hosted a small mound of well stacked and secured supplies under a tarpaulin, and a number of freshly gutted fish were laid out waiting to join the two already cooking.

Mr Gibbs appeared to be in charge of the food while Jack was sitting at the rail and, for once, apparently disinclined for company; for, though he turned to look at her when she arrived and flipped a hand in what might have been greeting, he made no move to leave his solitary position. Elanor wondered what was occupying his mind to the extent that he was forswearing company, something that he usually seemed so inclined towards, but she had made no move to join him. Instead she had gone back below to check the scanners, then collected some fruit from the stores and joined Gibbs.

Twice he had taken food to Jack and, though he had taken it, he had made no move to join them. A fact that Elanor found more than a little worrying.

Finally, having eaten his fill, Gibbs had produced his rum bottle with a slightly uncertain look in her direction.  
"If ye have no objection to a man wetting his whistle ma'am?"  
Elanor had waved her hand towards the bottle,  
"No objection at all Mr Gibbs, provided you and Jack are sober enough to row a boat and shoot straight should it be necessary, and that you don't throw up over the deck, you can drink the seas dry between you as far as I'm concerned."  
That won her a very uncertain look,  
"Aye ma'am, that be kind of ye."  
"Nothing kind about it at all, I'm not your keeper and the pair of you are more than old enough to decide how you want to live your lives."  
His uncertain look remained and she smiled and softened her voice,  
"Besides you have had a hard few days of it if the last one has been anything to go by. You deserve some relaxation and how you do it is up to you."  
Either the words or her tone reassured him for he smiled wryly at her,  
"That be right understanding of you ma'am."  
She indicated the pile of supplies with her hand,  
"No need to hide the bottles, I'm not about to ask you to throw them overboard." She got to her feet and dropped a hand on his shoulder, "but remember that we might not be making port for some time now. Who knows what's going to happen if we find this fountain, your need may be greater then than it is now."  
Gibbs looked at her seriously for a moment then he smiled a wary smile,  
"Aye ma'am. Best make 'em last then."

Elanor patted his shoulder in understanding and left to tackle Jack.

"So are you going to let me look at this injury whatever it is?" was her opening gambit as she stood behind him.  
"Injury? What'd you mean?"  
"You've been uncomfortable since that fight and it must be paining you a considerable amount to keep you sitting here all on your own when there is rum and company not a hundred feet behind you."  
He cast a wary look at her over his shoulder and she smiled,  
"Of course I know about the rum Jack, I'd have been astonished if you hadn't brought it. As I just told Mr Gibbs I've no objection, as long as you don't drink enough to get us killed as a result. Not my business how you chose to go the devil, just as long as you don't take me with you."  
That earned her a frown and a narrow eyed look,  
"Not tryin' to change me then?"  
She shrugged,  
"I've no right to try, and anyway I expect you are both beyond that."  
He stroked his moustache at that and wriggled his shoulders as if uncomfortable,  
"Mebbe" was all he said.

She sat down beside him, a move he ignored,  
"So are you going to let me look at whatever it is that's bothering you?"  
"Nothing to look at." He frowned at the sea, "few bruises. A scratch on me ribs nothin' worth any fuss about."  
She watched him for a moment but he remained silent, just staring towards the horizon. In the end she gave in with a faint sigh,  
"If you say so. No trouble though, if it doesn't get any better then tell me and I'll clean it up and dress it for you."  
The offer just earned her another shrug and more silence.

For a while she sat beside him, saying nothing, the equally silent pirate beside her, his hands unusually still, clasped in his lap, his hair blowing in the wind and tangling with her own. The spray was taking on a rosy hue as the sunset deepened and a shoal of yellow finned fish could just be seen below the Chaser's wash. It was going to be a beautiful evening. Jack though seemed to be lost in another world.

"Tell me about Elizabeth Swann."  
He remained still and silent for a moment then he turned towards her, something close to a frown in his eyes.  
"What it she to you? " he said softly.  
"Nothing. But I'm curious."  
That brought the shadow of a smile as he turned away back towards the sea and the horizon,  
"No, you're not curious. At least not about her. She's nothing to you, no reason that she would be. If you want to know it's for a reason." His voice was even enough, but it was also flat and expressionless.  
She shrugged, unwilling to argue the point with him,  
"OK, let's say I'm curious about this heart business and what it means for our the future."  
" And why would Elizabeth Swann matter in such calculations? When I have already I told you that she is dead."  
"And is Elizabeth Turner also dead?"  
That caused him to turn towards her again, this time with a bright smile,  
"Never was an Elizabeth Turner," he said, the smile faded and he shrugged dismissively. "Leastways, I suppose there may be somewhere, probably is, but can't say I've ever met one meself, not knowingly."  
His evasiveness intrigued her,  
"Well how about the pirate king?" she prompted,  
He shook his head with another smile,  
"Never one of those either. Pirates don't have kings."

He caught her eye and saw her lips part as she prepared to remind him of what he himself had told her and he cursed her ghost who heard and remembered everything. Very wearing it was going to be making sure all the tales tallied.  
"King of the Brethren Court," he corrected her with another of those soft smiles that didn't reach his eyes, "not the same thing at all."  
He looked back towards the sea, and waved a careless hand in her direction,  
"Elected, but it only lasts for as long as the court is assembled."  
She thought about that for a moment,  
"So how does it work? If the Pirate king doesn't command the pirates what do they do? Where is their authority?" she said.  
Jack stared at the sea for a moment longer then sighed heavily and raised an explanatory finger,  
"The king can only command the officers of the Brethren Court, and they are the Pirate Lords. Crews follow their elected captains since they don't have a vote on the king. Not all captains are pirate lords' o'course, there's only nine of them, but it is unusual for a captain to go against the wishes of the court, though the code allows for it in some circumstances. As for the king's authority, well it comes from the Code, which sets out what the king can do and must do. If it's not set out in the Code then the king has no authority over it "

Elanor thought about that,  
"More a sort of chairperson than a monarch then." She sat back slightly and watched Jack with narrowed eyes, "You said most pirates vote for themselves yet you voted her in? Why?"  
That brought another languid wave of his hand,  
"We were of the same mind about what had to be done."  
"As simple as that?"  
Jack shrugged but said nothing,  
"Why did you have to vote for her, couldn't she have voted for you? Since you wanted the same thing and you'd been a Pirate Lord for longer?  
"Aye she could have done."  
"But she voted for herself instead?"  
Jack's smile flashed again.  
"Pirate," was all he offered as explanation.

"So how many kings have there been?"  
"She was the second. Only ever been four courts. Pirates don't generally gather together in that way, too much of a temptation for the authorities were it to be a regular occurrence.  
Elanor digested the idea in silence, but his explanation raised some uncomfortable possibilities,  
"I suppose it would be. But from what you said it would seem that they know where this pirate city is now, aren't you worried that they might move against it?"  
Jack seemed to think about that for a while and then he shrugged again,  
"It's a fortress and well defended. Anyways the court is disbanded and so it's empty of those the authorities might desire to get at for the moment. The pirates will not return there until it is clear what the navy plans."  
"What do you think they will do?"  
"No ways of knowin' until they do it. Though it seems they have other things on their minds." He turned and grinned at her, "Unfortunately, for present circumstances, those things appears to include chasing me."

"I had noticed," she said dryly "But Ariadne says we are clear of them for the moment and we are well away from the main trade routes so we are unlikely to be spotted. Ariadne will keep her eyes well peeled."  
"But you want to know where we are going." He stated flatly.  
"Yes I want to know are we are going. I've seen the chart but it's not exact enough to give us a precise heading. Somewhere off Florida and up a bit from Cuba isn't that much help Jack, given that we can't afford to spend our time sailing in circles. Even assuming that the map is a true representation of the world, which we can't be sure of given its age."  
Jack stared out at the sea for a moment longer then reached down and took his strange compass from his belt, flipped it open and stared at it for a moment watching he needle swing, a hint of anxiety visible in his face as it did so. Finally it came to rest and he smiled and held it out towards her.  
"There you are Captain Cavendish," he almost purred. " we have our heading."

***

"Who be this Nat then?" Pintel demanded of Raggetti, "No Nat in this crew that I be a'knowin."  
Raggetti pursed his lips and considered the question.  
"Not conversant with any one be name of Nat meself. One of those two daft apeths maybe?"  
"Never heard them called such," Pintel grinned, "heard 'em called a lot else but never Nat."  
Raggtti grinned in return, then looked at his companion questioningly,  
"So who raised the issues of this Nat person then?"  
"Captain Barbossa."  
"Ah" Raggtti's face took on a knowing expression as he fell silent, immediately irritating his friend,  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Pintel snapped, "Ah, means nothin'."  
"Was merely an acknowledgment of my sudden comprehension of the situation." Raggetti said.

Pintel swelled like a courting toad, his eyes popping like raindrops on hot stones in his annoyance,  
"Well are ye goin to share this here comprehension then?"  
Raggetti cast a careful look around him to make sure that they were alone, then he drew close to Pintel, whispering in his ear,  
"Captain Barbossa, he has been given orders to people who aren't here. People only he can see. Haunted he is and they are becoming so real these ghosts that he thinks they are real and a part of the crew." he drew a way with a knowing look  
Pintel stared towards the closed doors of the great cabin with narrow eyes,  
"Is that so? Unsettlin that be, and dangerous for all concerned. Givin' orders to them that can't follow em."  
"Aye, that it is. I heared him sendin' a man that weren't there to the crows nest this mornin' Dead look out not much use for nothin', at least not if rest of crew can't see him he isn't."  
"That be true enough. Thought he'd got over all that. Seemed more like hisself when the navy was chasing us."  
"That he did. Don't shout or scream so much now, but don't seem able to tell the real from the unreal, if you takes my meaning." Raggetti said.  
"Oh I takes it alright." Pintel sighed, "wish we hadn't left Captain Jack behind."

Raggetti considered that,  
"But he saw things that weren't there too."  
"Aye but he only saw hisself, not Nats' and other people. Bit odd I'll grant ye hearin' him argue with hisself but he never thought to send his other self to the crows nest!" Pintel moaned.  
"It'd not matter if he did since he could see hiself. But Captain Jack he hadn't even seen himself since he came back from the Dutchman."  
Pintel nodded  
"Aye made a mistake we did, sidin' with Barbossa. Best tell every man to keep an eye peeled for that white ship"  
Raggetti stared out towards the seas,  
"Lot of water out there. Think we'll spot her?"  
Pintel caught sight of the crab scurrying into the shadow of a coil of rope and looked portentous,  
"Oh we'll spot her sooner or later. Got a feelin' in me water that there be those who don't want us to lose her nor Capt'n Jack."

***

"And what exactly does the king expect me to do about it Governor?" Admiral Norrington drawled wearily. "James may have been my nephew but I have had no supernatural communication with him I assure you. No messages from beyond or ciphers written in blood. Though this Jones business must make us all review our beliefs on the hereafter."

"I doubt that the king thinks that you have," the man on the other side of the table smiled, "merely that it is his way of informing us that this matter is of prime importance." He patted his wig, "no doubt the church is as anxious as the admiralty for this business to be settled quietly with a few hearing as possible. As is the king."  
"I am aware of that. More so than the king is; far more so. He can only just have received the details of Beckett's ill-advised actions. I doubt he yet realises the dangers the man's ambitions have exposed us to."  
Norrington took another sip of his tea then dabbed his lips with the pristine napkin, the new governor had not been slow in establishing the forms and comforts. He hoped that was not a bad sign, it would take an astute man to sort out the tangle left behind by the EITC's Caribbean venture. He raised his eyes to see a pair of calm grey ones watching him with a shrew expression, the sight reassured him a little, even so he sighed,  
"While Davy Jones was a legend he was of no danger to any one. Now? Well now he is a danger to us all. Stories about hearts in chest is one thing but the knowledge that there really is one that can be used to control the Flying Dutchman is quite another."

"I may not be a sailor but I do realise the political implications of the situation Admiral." The governor's mild tone was itself a reprimand, "none better I assure you, even though I have barely had the time to unpack my trunk." He raised his eyebrows in exasperation, "be assured that the stink from those shallow graves and gibbets will remind me if I am in danger of forgetting."  
He took a small bite of a macaroon and chewed in thoughtful silence,  
"What was Beckett about to take such a course? Did the man not know where it might lead?"  
The Admiral considered that over another sip of tea,  
"I never met the man so I cannot speak from personal experience, but I doubt that he ever gave any thought to things not going his way. No doubt he was of the opinion that what ever difficulties there were he could buy his way around them."  
"Or kill." The governor said dryly.  
"Or kill." Admiral Norrington agreed, "The involvement of this man Mercer is a particularly worrying aspect of the matter."  
"Did the king not send him with Beckett?"  
Norrington frowned,  
"No. Mercer was dismissed from his post some five years ago, he was known to be something of a loose cannon."

There was a moment of silence before the Governor sighed,  
"The number of ships he commandeered is outrageous. The stack of claims for compensation on my desk is more than a foot high!"  
The Admiral frowned,  
"Navy ships too. I shudder to think what would have happened had the Spanish made a move towards war in these last months."  
"Ah. The Spanish." The governor put his cup down slowly, "another difficulty Beckett has wished upon us."  
Norrington nodded,  
"They know. Yes I am aware of that. It was that possibility that caused the king to send me here to persuade Beckett to be more cautious if I could. Even then it was too late, the admiralty knew that. Though I hadn't expected the fighting to be over. Beckett acted in a most precipitous manner."  
The governor nodded,  
"I doubt that Weatherby, or the pirates, left him much choice." He looked towards the weary face of the sailor opposite, "he tried to get his daughter away you know, but he failed with tragic consequences."  
The Admiral nodded slowly,  
"So it seems, though I doubt that marriage to James would have made much difference to her fate in the longer term. She was the card Beckett held over Governor Swann's head. Her fate was always sealed along with his."

The governor sat back in his chair the sun slanting through the curtains glinting gold in the threads in his waistcoat,  
"So what are you charged with Admiral? Finding the heart for the king?"  
Norrington nodded abruptly  
"If Sparrow does indeed know where it is. Groves, the officer who survived the destruction of the Endeavour seems to think that he will."  
"Well I would imagine that he would demand a very high price for that knowledge. He is a pirate after all he had no country. Still I suppose no price is to high if he will give us control the seas. We must certainly find him before the Spanish do."  
The admiral buried his nose in the teacup as he replied,  
"Or anyone else. Imagine what it might fetch in an open auction."

The governor paled,  
"I'd really rather not. Beckett was bad enough. " A thought occurred to him, "What if Sparrow decides to use it for his own purposes?"  
The admiral sighed,  
"What indeed? Let us hope that Groves and Hathaway find him quickly."

***

Elanor had taken the heading and had gone to confer with her ghost. After ten minutes or so Jack had felt the Dawn Chaser shift, canvas adjusting to the changing wind as she came around to the new heading. It was at moments like this that he was most aware of the strangeness of this ship, of the silence and the calm of it.

Jack sat staring over the sea as the night lengthened shadows and darkened the wave caps, the compass open on his knee. Gibbs was apparently sleeping, his snores carried away on the wind. Elanor was no where to be seen or heard. Small lights began to glow in the decks and masts as the darkness deepened reminding him suddenly of those lanterns on the seas of the dead. He pushed the thought away with some difficulty, uneasily aware that the past was sitting heavily on him this evening. Maybe because there had been a moment when he had worried that the compass would not show him what it was he thought he wanted. But after a moment of nasty indecision it had. At least he thought that it had, as it was not pointing to anything on the ship he could only assume that the heading was that of the fountain, or maybe the Pearl. Either way he wouldn't be sure until they got there.

He was aware of a tension in himself, like a rope pulled taut, and the tension was not only in his mind, his body was no less uneasy. The pain of the slash across his ribs, perhaps a little deeper than he had Elanor to believe, was a slow burning irritant, yet more bearable than the thought of her soft handed ministrations. He swallowed hard on the idea of them, knowing that he could not bring himself to run the risk of seeing concern in her face, of being so close to the silk fall of her hair, feeling the velvet of her skin...

He shook himself and cursed the spies in Tortuga who had so curtailed his activities. 'A man needs release' he told himself, 'particularly when forced into the company of a sharp tongued angel.' But events had precluded him searching for it in port, and he was unlikely to find it here. Better get used to it for it was likely to be this way for a while. For a moment he wondered if even the Fountain would prove to be worth it. At least there was the consolation that his current companion of the female persuasion, though a fantasy in so many ways, was not of a teasing turn of mind; he should be grateful for that. Grateful too that this ship was so strange, and fast, given that he had not just James Norrington but the whole bloody Navy on his tail.

Jack got to his feet and wandered down to the pile of supplies, reaching into a coil of rope and pulling out a rum bottle before wandering back to his perch. Dropping the cork onto the deck he took a long swig before staring out into the darkness again. Strange there had been no darkness in the locker, not that he recalled it. Just glaring white and shadows as black as the Pearl's timbers. In his nightmares he could still feel the stillness of the air and the dryness of the sand blasted air in his lungs, only the sight of the sea reassured him that he was free of it and that this was not a dream.

No, he needed to find the fountain. The compass would reflect that and the bearing would be true. But that wouldnt be the end of it. The heart of the Flying Dutchman was not safe now they all knew of it, and nor was he. While they thought he knew of it he would not be free of them. Fate wasn't finished with him it seemed, for the heart must never be found and only he could make sure of that, but he couldn't do that without the Fountain.

Jack swallowed more rum and grimaced. He had lived long enough to know how the world worked and he had no doubt of the score, whoever found him would offer him anything he desired, but the only thing they would be intending to leave him with would be death.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 Having time**

It was a weeks' sailing to the likely location of the fountain if they went by the shortest route, but the cluster of ships gathering around the fringes of the Caribbean and the presence of the navy in nearly every port they would have to pass prevented them taking a direct heading. Instead they slipped out of the Caribbean taking first a southerly and then a westerly line down towards the southern Americas and the North Atlantic, all the time avoiding the trade routes. Then they turned northeast and looped back into the Sargasso Sea and towards their target.

In the end they sailed for close on a month before they approached their objective. A week of blue seas and skies, of hot days and warm nights before the colder water of the ocean with its stronger winds and heavier swell, then back towards more gentle seas. Four weeks of wind and wave, of constant watching and impatient uncertainty. Twice they ducked into small coves to avoid being seen, their passing only noticed by a curious cliff walker or crab stalker. They did not make port, though Jack spoke wistfully on occasions of his visits to the coastlands they skimmed.

They spent the time in getting to know each other better and establishing a satisfactory working relationship, though not totally satisfactory. Elanor was aware of a continuing tension between herself and Jack, and an ongoing unease on Gibb's part, even after a month of sailing together.

The issues with Gibbs were straightforward enough, he was superstitious and women at sea were bad luck in his book. Women who were already ship's captains, and a fine ship's captain to boot, might have to be excluded from that he would admit, indeed they must be excluded, yet he still wasn't quite sure how to do it. But as he watched her work her ship he gradually came to accept her sailing and captain's skills and got used to that unseen ghost she spoke to, and he seemed to become resigned to the unusual situation and able to defer to her judgement as easily as he did to Jack's. He was learning some of the more basic of the Chaser's daily needs and showed no unwillingness to take her on trust, at least while his own captain remained aboard and accommodating.

Jack however was more of a problem. Though he never showed her anything other than respect, well Jack style respect anyway, she could feel a growing pressure in him. The occasional challenge of her authority was of no real concern to her, for both of them knew it was merely for forms sake, and in his position she would have felt the same way and probably done the same. Even so it was reassuring that, according to Gibbs, he was far less abrasive with her than he had been with Barbossa or Turner.

Mr Gibbs, once accustomed to being on a ship with a woman who he still thought of as angelic proved to be a most amusing source of information, not least about Jack. Some of it she discounted, but buried in the meandering tales was enough real information to keep her listening. On one of those evenings that Jack forswore company Gibbs told her about the journey from the Locker and to Shipwreck. Hearing it Elanor could only be grateful that that, other pressures or not, Jack was easier sailing with her command.  
"Like a pair of chile they was," Gibbs smiled like an indulgent uncle, "You'd have taken them for squabbling brothers if ye didn't know about the one marooning the other and the other a'shootin' the one; if ye takes my meaning. That, or a pair of spring cocked lads jostling for the interests of a lass." He'd looked thoughtful for a moment, "Which in some ways I reckon they was. Jack knows the Pearl be his lady, but Barbossa be convinced that the ten years o' the curse makes her his ship."  
He'd grinned at her,  
"Got so bad at one point that Pintel turned on them, not clever of him, given what he did to Jack and his knowledge of Barbossa's past."

Elanor had smiled then frowned,  
"But Barbossa sailed away with the Black Pearl at Tortuga didn't he?" she asked.  
"Aye, and I'm shamed to say that was my doin' to some degree." Gibbs looked down into his rum with a sorrowful look. "Jack trusted me to keep an eye on Barbossa and I let him down. Should have known what the bastard might be up to, had heard all the stories after all. Aye and seen him in the days afore the curse. But he'd been a different man since 'She' brought him back, an easier, more careful, man. Certainly wasn't the man he'd been, even afore the curse. Still I dropped my guard and he stole the Pearl again and Jack'll not forgive and forget him doin' that."  
He looked towards the prow, where Jack was sitting alone, a rum bottle cradled in his lap.  
"He don't seem to blame me, but it must have hit him bad, losin' her again so soon." He looked back towards Elanor, "can't says how sorry I am but 'tis done and that all there is to it."

Elanor was puzzled by something, had been for a while, and took this chance to ask the one man who might know the answer.  
"So why has he made no mention of chasing her? He's not asked me to do it. He talked about the Black Pearl but he's made no mention that we should go after her."  
Gibbs looked sly and yet confused at the same time,  
"Aye I guessed as much. Jack has a plan in that crazy head of his I'll be bound, and somehow havin' this fountain is a part of it. He'll go after the Pearl, I'm sure of it, but he'll wait for the opportune moment."  
She took a swallow of brandy,  
"I'd be happier if I understood him enough to guess what the opportune moment was likely to be."  
Gibbs looked at her for a long moment, and then he smiled another sly smile,  
"Well ma'am if anyone is like to fathom the mind of Jack Sparrow I'd bet a bottle of rum or two that it would be yoursel'."

When she thought about that remark later, and the look that went with it, Elanor couldn't decide whether that was a compliment or not.

"But he's made no move to take the Chaser either," she mused, almost without thinking, then shrugged, "maybe it's because he knows he couldn't. He seems to have a good grasp of practicalities for all his airy fairy posturing."  
Gibbs looked almost shocked.  
"He'd not do that captain, t'would be as bad as Barbossa stealin' the Pearl! This fine lady be yours, just as the Pearl be his. He'll bide his time," he shot her an appraising glance, "but I'd not say he wouldn't try and persuade you if he felt it the right time to try and retake the Pearl, and Jack can be mighty persuasive when he is of a mind to be."  
"I bet." She shot Gibbs a sideway glance. "I'd guess that's how he's survived so long. Can't be because of his risk averse attitude to life. At least not from what he's told me."  
Gibbs looked puzzled for a moment then gave her a small smile but said nothing.  
Elanor looked up the deck towards the subject under discussion, Jack was staring out to sea the rum bottle held loosely between his hands, there was no sign that it had been touched since he'd sat down.

"Tell me Mr Gibbs, " she said without turning, "How much do you know about Jack? Really know I mean?"

***

Admiral Norrington stared around his new accommodation and wished that walls had tongues as well as ears. These had been his nephew's quarters and he felt that it might have been helpful, in the circumstances, if the boy had been less obsessively tidy and organised than he had been. James had left his affairs in perfect order, every document signed and filed neatly for those who would be charged with dispersing his estate. The Admiral found that sad in some way.

Reaching into his coat he pulled out a letter and laid it beside the ones already sitting on the desk. It would be some time before his sister knew that her son was dead, he had written to her and sent it with his first official report on a fast frigate back to England but it would still be many weeks before she read the dreadful news. He could only imagine her grief when she did, the news that he had resigned his commission had been painful but this would be devastating, for James had always been her favourite son.

As he smoothed the creases from her letter he was shaken by a wave of anger against his sister, unfair perhaps but real and bitter. From his earliest years she had filled James head with tales of bravery and chivalry, where good men were always good and bad men were invariably bad, where the right was always on the side of honour, and the hero or the honourable man always prevailed. Despite his years in the navy and his rapid preferment, in which the Admiral had played his part, James would have been totally unprepared for losing his ship to the sea in the manner that he had. Why else that stupid resignation? As if no naval captain had ever lost a ship or men before! No, James had not been prepared for a more ambiguous world where good and bad were not so accommodating as to wear such clearly written labels, where a good man could fail and where adversity was not a sign of sin. The Admiral was most certain that James would not have been well prepared for dealing with Jack Sparrow, and that he would have been completely unprepared for Cutler Beckett.

Norrington sat back in the chair and looked at his nephew's letters and wished that he had reached here sooner, or that Beckett had delayed longer. The admiral could have told James a few tales of both Beckett and Sparrow, and though the lad might have not wished to hear so unpalatable truths they might have kept him alive. But that was why Beckett had not delayed ofcourse, not once he had the heart, for he must have known that their lordships would despatch someone with knowledge of the matter.

He fingered the letter addressed to himself thoughtfully, if Groves were to be believed, and there was no reason not to, then James had started his road to enlightenment in the most painful of fashion, only to finish it on the Dutchman, along with his life. His uncle grieved for him in that, if he had to die then he wished that it would have been with his heroic illusions intact.

With a sigh he reached forward and picked up the letter bearing his name and reached for the paper knife; perhaps James had managed to leave him some clue of where to go from here.

***

As the first week passed they settled down into a routine, each taking one watch a day, though Ariadne needed no real help, and spending at least one other working on the ship and her needs, or checking and preparing the supplies they had purchased ashore. As the sun sank towards the west they would eat and then spend the last hour or two before night fall sitting on deck drinking, talking and watching the sea. Jack would sometimes spend the hours of evening seated at the rail staring out to sea only joining Gibbs and her when night finally turned the waters to purple and the lights glowed yellow on the masts.

Despite the fact that she and Jack were not rivals for a ship there was still that hint of something unsettled between them and it bothered her. His occasional tutting and the exagerated and despairing shakes of his head she ignored as play acting, as no doubt he expected them to be; nor was the more frequent swaggering flirtation of any greater concern, she rather though that it was a tactic so well practised, and often used, that he didn't always know he was doing it. It was the tension she could see in him when around her that bothered her, for she wasn't sure that she fully understood the reasons, and that was uncomfortable when she might depend upon the man for her survival. It made her wonder where he would stand if faced with difficult choices.

The source of some of his discomfort was obvious enough. She thought that Captain Sparrow was probably a rather tactile man, sensual even, and there were times when she could read the desire to touch her in his eyes, times when his fingers would stray towards her arm or even her waist, only to be pulled back suddenly. Watching him she got the feeling that he used those dancing fingers in much the same way that a cat used it's whiskers, another means of testing the world around him. Restraining them, particularly around one he was so unsure of, was an effort for him and he resented the need to do it.

Yet there was more to it than that. On occasions he would lean towards to her as they spoke, as if trying to draw warmth from the closeness of her, as if hungry for some crumb, maybe any crumb, of contact, and his smile would soften while his voice would take on a almost teasing note. But then he would seem to catch himself and pull away with a sudden coldness. Sometimes the reason for this sudden withdrawl was easily read, after all she was no teenage ninny, and she couldn't hold him to blame for it, not in the circumstances. Yet there were other times when the causes were less obvious or more complicated, when the forces driving him seemed to be more emotional than physical. His reaction was more severe then, his eyes would seem darker, his jaw tight and his shoulders stiff, and he'd bite off his words and find some excuse to stride away from her as if her presence was painful. These incidents bothered her most for she wasn't quite sure whether it was she that he was reacting to or something in his past.

On more than one occasion she wondered what he saw when he looked at her that way, and what legacy the loneliness of the locker had left to him.

Perhaps the fact that it bothered her was an even greater worry, for though she could reassure herself that their working relationship was the core of her concern she knew in her more honest moment that it wasn't totally true. She was truly alone, at risk on all sides, and, despite what some might think, she was indeed as human as he was. In the darkest watches of the night it grieved her to think that it might be this way forever, however long that might be. She needed a friend, she knew it, and the need would become greater with the danger; it only remained to be seen just how much she would be prepared to risk for that friendship.

There were times when she was tempted to forget caution. The times when Jack was at his most charming, his most endearing, and by all the heavens he could be endearing; times when he was fey and funny and gentle. Those were times when wariness seemed unfair, absurd even. Times when he sat at the rail, bare feet dipping into the spray, a glass in his hand, hair blowing the in the winds, his braid trinkets flashing in the sunlight, with his eyes on the horizon while he talked of the past, of cursed gold and banished goddesses, of the flying Dutchman and captains past and present. A past that she wanted to laugh at but somehow couldn't, not when she caught the look in his eyes. Times when his smile flashed gold and those same eyes were velvet soft. Times too when they sat around a table or a bottle and he laughed with Gibbs about the past, about places and people they had known, ships they had sailed and ladies they had dallied with; mocking the world and himself with caressing words and dancing hands.

Then there were the times, usually in the night watches, when he was almost sombre, when she felt a sorrow in him, and an emptiness that was more to do with loss, and a sense of being lost, than any absence of feeling or shallowness. Those were the most confusing times of all, when, for all her uncertainty about him, she felt a desire to put her hand upon his shoulder, to comfort this clown who was not a fool, to be a friend and let him feel the warmth of her.

Yet there were still other times that held her back from going closer. Times when there was nothing fey about him, when the velvet stripped away to show steel beneath and his eyes were as cold and hard as the storm clouds above the Horn. Those times all uncertainty and clowning fell away from him and the intelligence that lay behind the foolish meandering was unsheathed. These times his gaze was level and dominating and his presence all the threat he needed, at these times the captain in him was clear to see, the captain and the pirate.

Not that she feared him, for she did not believe it was concern for those unseen weapons she had told him of that held him back from acting against her. He would not harm her, she was sure of that for some reason she couldn't explain even to herself, other than that the man seemed to have his own code of twisted honour and unnecessary harm to incidental companions, even female ones, appeared to be a breach of it. Freedom was his watchword and instinct told her it would take severe and continuing personal danger, or great enmity, for him to deny to her that which he valued so highly for himself. But these times reminded her that he might be a formidable adversary and that, though his instinct might be to run away from trouble, when he couldn't run he might fight with both ruthlessness and ferocity. Not a bad man to have at your back in tight spot after all. These times also reassured her, as much as it was possible for her to be reassured.

As they reached their goal she decided that caution still remained the sensible option, for no better reason than she was no closer to resolving the puzzle that was Captain Jack Sparrow than when they had started.

***

'My dear Uncle Charles', the letter began. 'I trust you will excuse the informality but I would prefer this not be an official matter. I have caused my family enough embarrassment as it is.'  
James writing showed signs of his inner turmoil even if the words were calm enough.  
'I will lodge this letter with my lawyer and if my fears prove groundless, as I pray that they do for all our sakes, then you need never see it. If you are reading it then you will already know the worst.'

Admiral Norrington sighed and wondered what was still to be discovered.

'It is my most fervent hope that things are as they appear to be, that Lord Beckett constructs this armada at the kings behest to free the seas of piracy, and that the safe passage of civilians and the freedom of trade will be what results from this business. Yet I must confess I become afraid that all is not as it seems. For I have served in these waters for nearly ten years and in that time I have had no small success is driving out piracy, the last real pirate threat in the Caribbean was Barbossa and the Black Pearl and that cursed pairing was ended before my disastrous search for the ship and her returned captain Jack Sparrow. Why then, I must ask myself, does Lord Beckett come to the Caribbean to launch his assault against piracy? Why then does he seek the heart of Davy Jones and control of the sea? But most of all why does the king send Beckett, for if the king wishes Sparrow's assistance in this matter then why did he not send the letters of marque to the Governor?'

The writing was becoming more sprawled and hurried, James must have written this in the last hours before they sailed.

'Sparrow sought the heart to save himself from Davy Jones, and he found it. I took it from him and gave it to Lord Beckett in the hope of finding some redemption from my failures and the accompanying fall from grace. I felt that I owed my family that, and, if I am honest, that I owed it to myself also. Yet in seeking a way back to honour I have put at risk those I cared for, I understand that now, but there can be no undoing it however much I would wish that I might.

Lord Beckett has repaid me handsomely, for I wear the uniform of an Admiral. Yet that is another reason for disquiet, for mine is not the uniform that you wear Uncle Charles. We sail on this quest to end piracy not in the uniform of the king's navy but in the garb of the East India Company. I can see no reason why the king would wish this to be the case and I begin to fear in whose name it is that Lord Beckett wishes the control of the seas. Jones is a monster but I am no longer convinced that Beckett, and his creature Mercer, may not yet prove to be greater fiends. All I have to cling to is that hope that I am mistaken and the belief that the scourge of free men that is called piracy will indeed be ended by this action.

But beware, there are so many ships involved that it becomes my fear too that others will learn of it and seek the heart for themselves. Yet even worse is the possibility that Jones will regain control of the heart, for Beckett humiliates him at every turn and Jones will not forget or forgive this. I fear for everyone who sails if Jones were to regain control of his destiny.

Beckett informs me that it is Governor Swann's intention to return to England once his duties here are finished, that statement gives me some comfort for if my fears were justified I do not think that Weatherby Swann would leave his post. I ask that you pass him my kindest regards and assure him that I will do all in my power to protect Elizabeth, and her chosen husband, should our paths cross. I beg that you impress upon him how grateful I have been for his support in these last few years.

One final thing Uncle, though it surprises me to be writing it. Should the fate of the heart fall to you then I would advise that you seek the help of Jack Sparrow in its disposal, if he still lives. He is a clever man, more so than I once knew, and devious, he will know how to hide it in safety, and it must be put beyond the reach of men, of that I am more convinced with each day that passes. If it remains in the world then it can only be a matter of time before it puts all that we care for in jeopardy.

May I take this opportunity to thank you for all your affectionate interest and assistance in the past and assure that I will always remain your most grateful nephew James."

Admiral Norrington set the letter down and rubbed his eyes,  
"Ah James my boy," he sighed, "perhaps your death was for the best after all. I do not think you could have lived with the truth."

***

The month long voyage was more difficult that Jack had expected, though not because of the sea. The storms that made that voyage memorable were contained within the ship not scattered across the ocean. More of them than he cared for were confined to himself.

He had not given much thought to how he would survive the hours with so little to do, but inactivity proved to be much harder than he had bargained on. Many of the tasks required by the Dawn Chaser neither he nor Gibbs could do, and dependence upon someone else did not come easy. As captain he was used to giving orders and letting the men get on with it, but watching someone do something with no way of knowing how well they were doing it was a different matter it seemed.

But much of his unease lat at Elanor's door. For the woman seemed to have eyes that saw through walls and flesh, eyes that seemed to strip his soul bare far too often for comfort. Angelic as she might appear he could not assume her to be an innocent, and while she was honourable enough, or so he he surmised, she was knowing too, and worldly. There was expereince in her eyes and he would swear that she knew each and every time his body played him false, and that was more often than he liked to think of. Yet she said nothing, no protest or disparaging comment passed her lips, nor did she smile her knowledge or smirk her triumph, and never once did she raise her hand to slap him. Instead she took it with the simple acceptance that any man he had ever sailed with might have shown. Which was most confusing. Disappointing too, for it seemed that her sangfroid extended to those times when he was closest to her and his .....difficulty..... would have been most apparent. If he couldn't shock her, or suprise or unsettle her, then how was he to deal with her?

He wished he could dismiss her as some chit cosseted and protected by her ghost, but he couldn't do that either. It was clear that she was a good sailor, more than good, with or without her ghost. She could read the seas and the winds, decipher the message of sea bird and fish shoal and trace a course in the stars. He could find no lack in her seamanship at all, not allowing for the peculiarities of her ship. Captain Cavendish was indeed just that, a fine captain, and that demanded his respect however uneasy the situation might be. So he gave it to her, and she, damn her, accepted it as nothing more than her due. Just as he would have done.

When the opportunity presented he would watch her about her duties, noting the calm confidence with which she strode her deck, the ease with which she climbed the rigging, muscle rippling under the white velvet of that flawless skin, and the unconcern as she sat high above them her hair pulled back from her face and streaming like a comet tail behind her. He'd remember her in that back alley scramble, untutored with a sword maybe but showing a calm and restrained ruthlessness and a cool reading of her opponent that was worth more than swordplay in such a situation. No, he would have no hesitation in trusting to her instinct in a tight spot.

Gibbs liked her too, for all his superstition he had come to trust her, just as he had once trusted Ana Maria, and for similar reasons. There were evenings when the two of them would sit companionably and Gibbs would tell his stories of piracy and the Spanish main. How much she believed was hard to say, but Jack was coming to the conclusion that she was uncommonly good at separating the wheat from the chaff. Most times he would join them, and it would be wrong to say he didn't enjoy it, for she was good company for all her self contained air. Often forget who and what she was, and for the space of an evening she would be just another mate to tell tall tales to and laugh at the absurdity of the world with. Though he couldn't help but notice that the tales were all theirs and she said little of herself and her world. Sensible enough with Gibbs around, he thought, but less encouraging when he reflected upon just how little he knew of her. Yet he couldn't risk spending too much time in close proximity to her, not alone, not just .....them.

Sometimes he would find that he needed to be truly alone, a worrying development, for he had rarely avoided company in such circumstances the past. But the sea was his only reassurance and sometimes he needed to immerse himself in the sight and sound of it now, to listen to it and the winds it spawned to keep a hold of himself. Even rum was not enough on those evenings. He rather thought that Gibbs used those times to tell her tales of Jack Sparrow, but whatever Gibbs said she showed no sign of holding it against him. For which he would have reasons to be thankful.

By the second week out it was clear that the scratch across his ribs was going to be more of a problem than he had anticipated. The burning had got steadily worse and the muscles had started to ache. Each morning he inspected it in that wonderful glass of hers, seeing with some concern the puffiness in the flesh and the halo of red deepen and spread, and he knew he was going to have to take some drastic action if it wasn't to claim him. He'd wiped the wound with rum when they first arrived at Polly's, but only quickly for he had not wanted to draw attention to the injury, but it was now clear that that had not been enough. Jack knew that he could go to Elanor and ask her to tend it, for she had dealt with Gibbs wound with little enough fuss and there was now barely a mark to show for it. But though she'd stripped him once he was unprepared for her to do it again while he was awake. He decided he would not rely on her but would deal with it for himself, as he would have done on the Pearl. So he waited until he had seen her enter her cabin, then he grabbed a bottle of rum and headed to the waterfall room.

Stripping off his clothes was painful but he took a swig of rum and gritted his teeth as the movement pulled on the inflamed skin, shrugging his shirt over his head and letting it fall to the deck. He stood for a moment preparing himself, then he pulled the knife from his belt and tipped a large slug of rum across the blade, and drawing a deep breath put the tip of it against the weeping welt. Another swig of rum and he pushed the point of the knife in on the furthest edge of the wound at the base of his rib cage, biting down hard on his lip to stay the cry that rose in his throat. Watching carefully he began to slide the knife up, opening the puckered edges of the wound, the blade biting deeper than the sword point had. Once the pain drove him to wait, the knife still in the wound, while he swallowed more rum before dragging the knife slowly upwards again watching the blood splash across his ribs and belly as it moved. So focussed was he on his pain and the slow movement of the knife that he didn't hear the door slide open.

"What the bloody hell are you doing Jack!"  
He looked up to see Elanor standing open mouthed in the doorway.  
"I thought something was up with you but never this." She waived a disbelieving hand at the knife and the blood that was now liberally splashed down him and over the shirt at his feet.  
She stepped forward and grasped his wrist preventing any further movement of the knife, staring into his face with something close to fear in her eyes,  
"I ask you again what are you doing?"

He dropped his head, his hair falling forward to hide his face and with his free hand he indicated the welt running up his ribs.  
"That sword slash, I got. I wasn't quite straight with you about it. Seemed a trifle but its not healin'" he admitted wearily, "not as it should. I wiped it with rum at the time but it wasn't enough it seems, I need to open it up to have a chance. I could have asked you I know, but I'd turned you down once, seemed best that I deal with it myself. " he raised his head an smiled at her,  
"Done it before, plenty of times, no worries."  
She watched him for a moment longer then lowered her eyes to the wound, the untouched portion of it obviously red and swollen. She sighed and came forward, standing close then prodding the slash with gentle fingers.  
"I'm not surprised," she said calmly, "the sword that made this had probably spent some time in the mud of that alley. God alone knows what it was carrying."  
Her fingers probed further and he had to clench his jaw to stay silent,  
"It scraped the rib here, it possibly deposited some muck on the bone itself. No wipe with a cloth would fix that." She looked up at him again but there was no anger in her face, "you should have told me. But I suppose you are not used to passing your burdens on to someone else, and it was hardly your first fight."

He grimaced at her,  
"Hardly," he agreed, "but this is not good, I know that."  
She grunted and went on probing the wound,  
"Would have been easier if you had told me straight away, but it's not fatal. Still, it's better dealt with by a scalpel than a knife." She looked at the rum bottle still clutched in his other hand and shook her head silently, " Wait here, I won't be long."  
With that she took the knife from his hand, laid it on the shelf and then left. He watched the door and cursed her half heartedly, unwilling to accept the relief that was starting to grow within him.

She had returned with another knife, small and delicate, its blade just a sliver of steel, a couple of cloths and a small gadget hidden in the palm of her hand. That she had pressed to the wound, an action that froze his skin and the pain with it. Then she had sliced the length of the wound pulling the lips of flesh apart to wipe the inside of the wound.  
"I don't have an endless supply of these Jack. Though in my world medicines, ones that are sure not to be fakes, are the best negotiable currency that there is and so I have more onboard than I would have done just for myself, but when they are gone that's it."  
She looked up at him,  
"Next time just tell me will you please. Even my simple medical skills could have dealt with this with little more than alcohol and salt water, so let's save the heavy duty stuff for times when it can't be avoided." Her eyes roamed over his torso, "though you don't carry as many scars as I might have expected."  
"That's because it has always been my aim to dodge the blade luv, not impale myself upon it." He said acidly only too aware of her eyes taking an inventory of him, which given that she was wearing a very loose shirt, something she had done more of recently, did not seem entirely fair to him.  
She grinned,  
"A very sensible point of view."  
Finally she stood back,  
"Right, that's enough for now. Keep an eye on it tonight and I'll look at it again tomorrow. Oh and you'd best take these, " she held out two small white pills, "that's going to hurt like the fires of hell when the local wears off." She bent and picked up the shirt, "I'll put this to wash but clean the floor before you come back on deck will you." Then she turned and left.

Jack sighed, it seemed he was going to spend a fair bit of his time in her company minus his shirt after all, but not for any reason he would have chosen. Still he couldn't complain. She'd been reasonable enough about it, no shouts or screams, no wailing or bemoaning, and not even the threat of a slap.

As they came closer to their target he thought more and more about that. She was reasonable, straight looking and talking, strong, apparently loyal to her own and willing and able to do what it took. All he could ask for in a ship mate now he came to think about it

If only the woman wasn't such a ....woman. If only he could forget that she was.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21 Do we dare? **

"Are we quite sure this is where we want to be?" Elanor asked as she stood beside the rail and scanned the tiny scrap of land that seemed to be the only thing for miles around.  
"Compass says so," Jack replied from behind her shoulder, "tallies with the chart too."  
She sighed in resignation,  
"I thought you might say that." She turned around to face him, "you know what that means don't you?"  
"No. What." He was glaring at her, but with a hint of uncertainty.  
"That this fountain isn't a fountain and it's bloody well hidden, probably somewhere it's going to be very difficult to get at."

Jack looked past his somewhat irritated, and irritating, fellow captain to the small skull cap of land which the compass proclaimed to be the island home of the fountain of youth. It was little more than a rocky atoll, no larger than the one Barbossa had abandoned him on, twice, and even less well provided with vegetation. Just a top knot of palms decorating its otherwise bald pate. He had to admit that it didn't look to be promising, but the compass needle seemed unwavering.  
"Aye," he agreed, "but if it was just sittin' there in the middle of some oasis or other then everyone would have found it wouldn't they? Eh?"  
She sighed heavily and rubbed her brow,  
"True I suppose, but I have to admit I hadn't expected it to be quite this unprepossessing."  
Her hand moved from her brow to her forehead, long finger delving into the rippling waves of her hair, loose about her shoulders for the first time in a week or more, seeking the spots already made sore by tension. Jack watched her with lowered lashes, pressure building in him as he wondered what he was going to do if she baulked at this final hurdle.

"It's very exposed," she said finally. "I know we are well away from the main trade routes, but there's nowhere to hide if something wanders this way, no bay to conceal the Chaser in and no cover on the island itself, other than those few trees."  
Jack looked back towards the island, chewing on the edge of his lip in frustration, for no matter how much he wanted to find the Fountain he couldn't deny that she was right.  
"Aye that it is. Might be sensible to scout a little before we commit ourselves to any lengthier action," he said.  
She shrugged,  
"Your plan being...."  
"I'll take a long boat, row over. You stay here, ready to take the ship away to safety if your ghost spots danger."  
"Leaving you over there?"  
He met her eyes levelly and nodded once,  
"If it becomes necessary, then yes." his voice was smooth, "Though a warning of your departure would be appreciated. Give me enough time to hide the boat." He shrugged, "come for me when it's clear."  
He made it sound as if it was simple.

"Jack!" Gibbs protested, "There's nought on that rock and we might not be so quick getting back for ye. Not if it involved dodging the navy. Best that I come with ye eh?"  
Jack shook his head  
"No, it will be hard enough to hide meself and the boat mate, two of us we might not manage."  
"Jack!"  
"He's right Mr Gibbs."  
Elanor chipped in, causing Jack to look at her with some surprise,  
"there's just not enough cover. I hope it won't matter but if it does then Jack may well stand more chance of going unseen on his own."  
Faced with agreement between his two captains Gibbs subsided into silence, but he didn't look happy about it.

Jack simply nodded at her,  
"What does your ghost say at the moment then 'lanor?"  
She drew a beep breath and tipped her head.  
"Nothing to be seen. There is no reason why we should have to leave as long as your quick look is just that." She met his eyes, her own direct and warning,  
"But don't get carried away Jack, there is no way that island hosts any fountain that I'd recognise as such. A quick scout and then back here, and with the truth Jack, no dressing it up in 'maybes' or 'ah buts'. If there is no sign of it you tell us. Agreed?"  
Jack smiled brightly,  
"Agreed."  
She looked at him for a moment longer, then sighed and turned away,  
"Right. Mr Gibbs can see you off, I'm going to consult Ariadne on why it might be that the compass thinks this is the fountain."  
With that she strode off towards the below deck watched her go, his face unreadable.

"Are ye sure about this captain?" Gibbs pressed him again.  
Jack turned his attention back to his long time ally, his expression was stern and determined.  
"I am. No sense in both of us scrambling around on that god forsaken spit. Won't take long to get the lie of things over there, I'll be back before anything has a chance to venture close enough to upset Elanor's ghost."  
Gibbs shot Jack a look under lowered brows, his voice was hesitant,  
"How much do ye know about the ghost Jack? Do ye trust it?"  
Jacks frown disolved into a faint smile,  
"I trust it to keep Captain Cavendish out of harms way, which means keeping us out of harms way while we sail with her."  
The smile faded and he gave Gibbs a serious look,  
"I've seen a little of what it..... she........, the shost that is, can do,. Aye and felt it too, and it's not something to be taken lightly, my word on it ." He looked towards the helm with a frown, "though I know little enough about what she is or why she's here, other than what I told you."  
He gave Gibbs a rueful smile,  
"not exactly a trustin' soul is Elanor."  
Gibbs nodded his agreement,  
"Aye, though a man can see why that might be."  
Jack smiles took on a golden glitter,  
"He can indeed." The smile faded, "no criticism of her mate, for she has her reasons. Sssm good enough to me."  
With that he turned away towards the longboat, already slung over the side and waiting.

Gibbs watched him go with a worm of suspicion working in his belly, the idea that maybe Jack knew more about the lady captain than he was saying. But he trusted Jack and so no doubt there were reasons for him not sharing what he knew, if he knew anything at all. Gibbs, however, had an inkling that he might not like the knowledge should he come by it.

***

The island proved to be as barren as it had looked from a distance.

Jack pulled the boat up onto white sand as pristine and unsullied as if no human foot had ever touched it, and stared around him in resigned disgust. No driftwood, no scrub, no, water; just white sand, and so hot that it seemed to make the water on his boots hiss, though that could have been the surf. The sea was palely blue, a coulor unlike anything he thought eh had ever seen before, so luminous that it didn't seem possible that it could be real. Even in the shallows small fish were darting crazily about as if it were too hot to stay in one place without being cooked, and though he'd seen cloudless skies before it felt as if he'd never seen one so devoid of it as this one. Even this close to the shore the air was heavy and still, there was not even enough breeze to stir his hair. 'Just like the locker he thought' before filing the idea away for later consideration.

He looked back towards the ship, sitting calmly out the other side of the reef and wondered what Elanor was doing, for somehow he was sure that she was not as content to leave this to him as she had appeared.

Already the lack of breeze was taking its toll and sweat was running down between his shoulder blades and across his chest. With a sigh he shrugged off his baldric and stripped himself of his coat; his waistcoat followed it into the boat, the baldric and sword thrown in on top of it. His sash and belts he kept, though he could feel the sweat starting down across his belly, the lack of his sword being compensated for by the twin pistols he picked up and pushed behind the leather. Within seconds the barrels were warming, the heat glowing back through the fabric of his sash, chafing his already sweat dampened skin and adding another source of discomfort. With a sigh he settled his hat more firmly forward on his head, the sun was too hot to go without it even with his scarf, and set out across the colourless sand towards the only source of shade that there was.

***

Elanor had set Ariadne to a little investigation and gone back upon deck to join Mr Gibbs. She turned her binoculars towards the island where Jack was just dragging the boat ashore, watching him closely for a moment, glad to see that he showed no sign of being hampered by the sword slash any longer. She lowered the glasses to meet Mr Gibbs curious eyes watching her with fascinated concern and for a moment she wondered why he was staring at her in that way, then it dawned on her and she raised the binoculars towards him,  
"A kind of spyglass Mr Gibbs. Nothing more sinister than that."  
"Oh aye ma'am," he said, though his tone was dubious.  
If he noticed that she made no move to hand them to him he said nothing.

"Jack has made it to shore, and he is heading uinland, if you can call it that. It shouldn't take him long to discover all there is to be discovered, at least as long as he does as he promised it won't." She smiled reassuringly at Gibbs, "he should be back with us in a couple of hours."  
"No sign of any other ships ma'am?"  
"Nothing that could come close enough to us for us to need to leave before Jack is back on board." She reached out and patted the man arm, "No need to worry, he'll be fine."  
"Aye ma'am." But he didn't sound convinced.  
"What is it that's bothering you?" she leaned against the rail and frowned at the man in front of her. "Jack seems to be more than capable of taking care of himself. Fewer men would be more so from what I've seen and heard. So why are you so concerned?"  
Gibbs stared out across the bay for a moment, uncertainty written clearly in his face,  
"Aye ma'am " he said eventually, "none as capable as Jack of getting out of trouble, but few more capable of getting in it too."  
He sighed and looked at her with an uncertain sideways look,  
"Not had an easy life has Jack. In recent months it's been as hard as it's ever been. Man can go on fighting fate for so long but there comes a time when he's got to hold hisself and take stock. Like a ship ma'am, a man can only weather so many storms without taking time to refit, in the end all the runnin' repairs in the world will not see you through the next storm. "

Elanor felt that stirring of concern again, the same unease that came every time she thought of Jack's past.  
"Is that what Jack has been doing then? Relying on running repairs?"  
"Aye in many ways, most ways perhaps. He's strong is Jack, stronger than most, canny with it too for all his strangeness, and he's found his course back to hisself when others would have sunk without trace. But it can't go on, in the end he must pay for it. Losing the Pearl again, well it makes me fear for him ma'am."  
He looked at her with a somber face,  
"when he left Tortuga like that, havin' told the ladies what he did," he looked suddenly guilty, "if you'll pardon me mentioning such as them to a lady like yourself."  
Elanor raised her brows in surprise then inclined her head,  
"Apologies not required Mr Gibbs, it's been a long time since I was naive to the ways of the world."  
Gibbs looked unconvinced,  
"If you say so ma'am, but it don't seem proper somehow."  
Elanor smiled  
"It's forgiven, however improper, since it seems to be relevant to your concerns for Jack."  
She indicated that he should continue, he did though uncertainly,  
"Oh aye. Well him sayin' what he did, it was like he was never planning on comin' back. When I heard that he'd gone and taken the dingy out to sea, well I'll admit I was afeared at what he was about."  
He looked across to the island,  
"and this place, well it has the feel of damnation about it."  
Elanor considered the calm seas around them and frowned,  
"Yes I know what you mean. It feels wrong somehow, so quiet, so beautiful, and yet it looks abandoned, rejected in some way."  
Gibbs stared at her with worried eyes, then cleared his thoat and dropped his voice to a loud whisper,  
"It looks like the locker."

***

The island was smaller than the one that he and Elizabeth had been marooned on now that he came to look closely, and there was little on it other than sand and bare rock. It wasn't completely flat but the gradual rise from the shore to the highest point was slow and slight and in a storm the seas might cover the whole. Deep crevasse ran through the rock on its crown, dark secret folds that hid what little life there might be, life that was staying well out of sight even if it were there and awake. The vegetation was confined to a small patch in the center of the spit, at the highest point, where a deeper and wider cleft held enough sandy soil for a small group of stunted palms to have taken and kept hold. Around them the ground was covered in a hard leaved grass-like plant its edges sharp enough to cut an unshod foot.

Most importantly there was no water to be seen, not anywhere. Jack scoured the sands around the trees where it seemed that water, any water, was most likely to be. He inspected the ground on hand and knees, peered into holes in sand and rock, lifted rocks without holes where he could. For more than a weary hour he searched the small patch of vegetation to no avail, there was no spring, no pool and no well that he could see. Yet the trees must be drawing water from somewhere, for rain would pass quickly through the sand they were rooted in. With a curse and a quick look up at the empty sky and the white hot disc of the sun, now high over head, Jack set about searching the rest of the barren land.

***

On the ship Elanor and Gibbs had retreated into the shade, for even out at sea the air was heavy, almost stifling. It could not be pleasant on the island and for a moment Elanor wondered if she had been right in supporting Jack in his insistence on going alone.

Gibbs had a rum bottle in his hand and took a swig from time time to time, his eyes barely leaving the island behind the reef, scanning it from one end to the other. Elanor sighed to herself and wished that she could find him something to do, but with the anchors down there was little that could be done by anyone, not and have the ship ready to move quickly if they needed to. But she needed to distract him from his concerns about Jack, if only to stop the worry in his face from rasping against her own uncertainties.

Fortunately there was always a way to distract Gibbs, and she used it.  
"You said that Jack was something of a mystery before the business with the Aztec gold, but you've been with him most of these last three years you must have learned more about him."

Gibbs sighed and was silent for a moment or two and she wondered if the this time his worry was so great that it would be different. Finally though he took another swig of run and turned to face her,  
"Aye, I know more than I did, m'ren I did before he killed Barbossa." He smiled wryly, "It's as I told you, for all his 'look at me' swagger Jack can be very close mouthed, no man alive better at talking a lot but sayin' little if ye take my meanin'. There be a lot of stories o'course, some true, some part true, some not true at all. Not always the ones you'd think untrue that are either. But I'd guess that I knows more of the truth about him than most. "  
"Do you know the real story of the Black Pearl and Davy Jones? Or how he got that brand on his arm?"  
He nodded,  
"Most of it I reckon, some he only told me once he knew Beckett was on the horizon again."

Elanor shifted slightly so that she could see his face more easily,  
"Captain needs to be kept informed Mr Gibbs, so tell me."

***

Judging by the sun he'd been searching for more than two hours and he was no closer to knowing why the compass put the fountain here than he had been to start with. The only difference was that his shirt was plastered to him and his hands were scratched and scraped and coated in dust. He cursed as one of the stiff bladed grasses pierced his thumb sending a trail of red blood to join the sweat caked dust on his palm. He stood up, thumb in his mouth, and stared around him,  
"Bugger. It has to be here. Compass never lies to me, not even when it doesn't know what to tell me. But I want the fountain and the fountain don't seem to be here".  
He stared up at the cloudless sky and shivered despite the heat, the familiarity with the locker was getting harder to ignore.  
"Has to be here."

Jack pulled the compass from his belt and studied it again, the needle remain stubbornly pointing at a group of rocks he'd already searched twice. With another curse he looked across to the Chaser, still where he had last seen her before letting his eyes drift back down to the compass as the needle flickered and reoriented itself now pointing out to sea. Jack shook it angrily,  
"Of course I want to bloody well go back. I'm fryin' like an egg on a griddle here, there's no rum, no water, no food and no shade. Stop telling me what I already know and show me the bloody fountain."  
But the compass remained stubbornly pointing at the sea and with a sigh Jack began the trudge towards the scruffy palm trees again; one more search of that hole in the rock, just in case he'd missed something, and then he'd head back to the ship.

***

"Jack didn't start his sailin' as a pirate. No more did his father, Teague."  
Gibbs smiled,  
"There be many a story about where Teague came from and how he found his way to piracy, nearly as many as there be about Jack, but none I know to be the truth. All I knows of Teague is that he be Keeper of the Code, a readin' man, and a hard bastard with a harsh reputation. But there was talk around Shipwreck when we were there, lot a rot most of it for there be not many who knew Teague when were a lad, but there were a few. After a grog or two they was willin' enough to talk after seeing Jack come home in such a way."  
He looked up at her with sadness in his face,  
"Jack were not himself when he came back from the locker, not for a long while. More than one wondered how he and Teague would deal with each other after so many years."  
"So Jack hadn't seen his father in some years?"  
"From what I can tell not since he were twenty."  
"Why?"  
"Ah well ma'am ye have to understand that Jack's mother was the great love of Teague's life, after the sea, or so 'tis said. Jack be his only legitimate son, as ye might say, the only one who he wanted to carry his name."  
"But he doesn't, carry his name I mean."  
"No ma'am and that perhaps tells ye a lot about it. "

Gibbs took another swig of rum,  
"Now as I heard it Jack's ma came from the Indies and was born of a high caste family and was both beautiful and passin' rich. But, whether it came from her or Teague, Jack didn't come into this world without a shillin' and he had no taste for his father's life even as a lad. Sided with his mother and her culture he did, or so I heard at Shipwreck, and she drummed a respect for life and livin' things into him from his earliest days."  
"Not the best outlook for a pirate!"  
"No ma'am and Teague were mortal offended when not much more than a little lad Jack ups and says he want to go to England to learn map makin' and such so that he could go exploring the seas rather than sailin with his da. Well Jack's ma she sided with him, and Teague could never say no to her so 'tis said, so he agrees that Jack can go when he reached twelve, which he did. Teague were mightily angry though and swore that no milksop of a map maker would carry his name, so Jack he says 'fair enough' and takes another."  
Elanor laughed,  
"Families! Seems that some things don't change much."  
"If ye say so ma'am."

"So how did he end up in the Caribbean?"  
"No one rightly knows. Plenty of stories but can't say which are true or not. General thrust is that Jack worked for the East India Company for a couple of years captaining a ship called the Wicked Wench. The ship that became the Pearl."  
"Bit young to be captain of merchant man wasn't he?"  
"Aye ma'am, normally that would be so, but Jack is quicker than most in lots of things and he were born on a ship."  
Gibbs looked at her with raised brows,  
"Some of the stories now they say that the Wench weren't a company ship at all, and that Jack owned her, that he had paid for her to be built and to his own design too."  
Elanor considered that dispassionately before nodding slowly,  
"Well I suppose that would make more sense, if he owned her then he could decide who captained her, couldn't he?" She stared out towards the island with narrowed eyes, "makes more sense of this deal with Davy Jones he talks of too. I had wondered why he cared so much about that ship in particular to make such a bargain. If he was turning pirate then why not just steal a ship? Somehow I couldn't see that her speed alone would make her worth the risk of such a deal, not to a pragmatist like Jack. But owning her, that might explain it."  
Gibbs gave that some thought then nodded,  
"Aye, it might at that."

She drew a deep breath,  
"And what of Beckett?"  
Gibbs took a pull on his rum and sighed.  
"Jack worked for the company for a couple of years, mainly trading things locally. He and Cutler Beckett did a lot of business and they were in the way of being friends, or so I heard. But, see, Beckett weren't satisfied with his lot. Lot of lordlings in the company offices ma'am and Beckett's family well they had some money but not enough and not much else. Beckett had ambition to change that. He had other ambitions too, involving Jack."  
He shot her a nervous look,  
"Some of them of a more personal nature if you take my meanin' ma'am. At least so some have said." Gibbs shook his head. " He called Jack a friend whatever there was between them. But Beckett, well he was a nasty piece of goods even then. People, even friends, were to be used in his book. So Beckett acquires a cargo in his own right and commissioned Jack to run it to the Caribbean for him. It would have made him a pile of gold had it worked as he planned."  
He shot her a look that she couldn't read,  
"He used the king's money to buy it though, so he needed no one to know until it was all sealed. He persuaded Jack to do it for him as a special favour, telling no one what he was up to."  
Gibbs stared down at the deck,  
"Cargo were slaves, men, women and chile. Beckett knew Jack's views on that but the Wench was fast and he needed the deal done quickly, so he arranged for Jack to spend the evening on the town while the ship were loaded. Saw to it that Jack were well provided with stong licour , too well provided for him to notice much when he went on board. Quartermaster saw to the loadin' and he was in Beckett's pocket. Reckon that Beckett thought Jack'd just accept it once they'd sailed."  
Gibbs took another swig of rum,  
"But Bootstrap said he'd never see a man in such a rage as when Jack found out."

***

It was thirst that finally drove Jack to accept that he wasn't going to find the fountain, at least not yet. The little water he had brought with him had been drunk and he had a growing desire for rum, not helped by the fact that the sun had burnt his back through his shirt, the pistols had bruised his ribs and a falling rock had done something nasty to the thumb that the grass hadn't speared. He was hotter than he thought that he had ever been, tired, thirsty and as close to depressed as he was going to allow himself to become. Rum definitely seemed a good idea, but that meant a long row back to the Dawn Chaser. In which case the sooner he started the sooner he would be there.

He started the short but slow trek back to the boat his mind examining the problem from all the angles as he went. If the compass said the fountain was here, then it was here; the fact that he couldn't find it didn't change that. If asked most people would tell you that there couldn't be doorways to the eternal seas or to other worlds, but he'd sailed the one and was currently sailing with the proof of the other, so just not being able to see something didn't mean that it didn't exist. It was just a case of finding out what it took to see it.

On that cheerful thought he clambered into the long boat and began the haul back to the ship.

***

The sight of the call light flashing on the helm console halted Elanor's discussions with Mr Gibbs; Ariadne wanted her with some urgency it seemed. She turned the binoculars towards the little island just in time to see Jack push the longboat into the surf, and turned to reassure her companion,  
"He's just started back." She said with a smile. "I've no doubt that he'll more than ready for a drink, so you had better break out another bottle of rum, somehow I don't think water is going to be enough. Not unless he's found the fountain, but from the set of his shoulders I don't think he has. See to him when he get here will you? I need to go below for a while."  
Before he could ask her why she headed below deck.

She stayed there until Jack was back aboard.

"You didn't find it." She said although she already knew the answer, Ariadne had just spent some considerable time explaining the why of it to her.  
"No I didn't." Jack's admission was grudging, but the reddening of the bridge of his nose and the sweat stains on his shirt told the story of his discomfort and she didn't press him.  
"You wouldn't have done."  
He took a step closer to her, standing almost nose to nose,  
"Why not! It has to be here, the compass says it does." He waved the item in question in front of her, "and this doesn't lie. See it's still pointing to the that bloody island, this has to be the right place."  
Elanor waited while Gibbs handed Jack a bottle of rum ,  
"It might well be but you won't have found it. Ariadne has just explained to me why."  
He took a deep swig then tipped his head back and stared at her down his sun burnt nose,  
"Oh. What she said then."  
Elanor drew a deep breath and leaned against the rail,  
"The island used to be bigger. Well no, that's not quite true, it's the same size it always was but more of it is under the sea than there used to be."  
"What!"  
"Isle del Muerta!" Gibbs groaned.

Elanor nodded suppressing a smile at Gibbs despairing look,  
"Something like, that but not quite the same."  
She looked towards Jack who had the rum bottle to his lips but seemed not to be drinking,  
"The sea bed seems to have dropped, but it's been a straight drop. Below the water line the island seems unchanged." She looked across towards the island with narrowed eyes, "Which is really rather strange when you come to think about it."  
"So you're sayin' that it's lost then, are you?" Jack sounded willing to argue the point.  
Elanor paused,  
'I can lie' she thought to herself, 'I can hold back on what Ariadne knows and just say yes. If I do that then how will Jack respond? Will he try to force me to go on at the point of a sword and risk Ariadne's wrath? Probably not, but he may well decide that he's not giving up, decide to row back over there and stay. What do I do is he does? Do I sail off into the sunset and leave him to it? Gibbs will go with him of course, so am I prepared to sail away and let the pair of them die here. Because they will die. Or do I sail off and come back when they have had time to convince themselves there's nothing else to do? Assuming that I can get back, and there is certainly something very odd about this place, I'm not sure I could find it again. But could we go on sailing together after that even if I did? Because I'm damn sure that Jack would see it as betrayal.'  
"Elanor?" Jack was frowning at her silence,

She stared at him the tension almost a physical thing between them. Her thoughts ran on,  
'If I lie then where do we go from here. If not this hare to chase then what comes next for both of us? Gibbs can go back to Tortuga and his life there but what would it leave for Jack and I?'  
"Elanor?" Jack said more loudly letting the bottle drop and coming half a pace forward, "out with it woman whatever it is."  
She drew another deep breath,  
"Sorry, but I'm not quite sure how to say it."  
"Say what?" Jack was almost shouting now, only his clenched teeth preventing it being a bellow.  
"There is a space, under the island. It seems to be quite large, as if the center of the mountain that is now covered is hollow. But Ariadne can't see what is inside the space. It's not water, that seems clear enough, however the island sunk it hasn't filled this hollowed mountain with water." She frowned at him, "Which is also odd."

Jack stared at her with narrowed eyes and uncertainty shadowing his mouth, then he corked the rum bottle and put it down on the deck straitening up slowly and resting his hands on the pistols still tucked into his belt  
"So can we get to it from above?"  
"Possibly. There is an crevasse in the rock beneath those trees."  
"Aye I saw it, but its narrow and shallow, goes nowhere."  
"Oh it goes somewhere, but not for a good many feet. Ariadne thinks that about ten feet down it starts to widen, and gets wider still at twenty feet down and then wider still at fifty feet down. Somewhere about a hundred feet down it opens into this space whatever it is."

Jack looked back towards the island,  
"That's a hundred feet below the surface of the sea is it?"  
"Yes."  
"Hmmp." Jack pulled on his beard braids as he thought. "But no water in it you say?"  
"Not as far as we can judge. Of course there might be no air either....."  
Jack shrugged,  
"It's open to the sky, no reason why there shouldn't be air."  
"No that's true enough. But this place makes me uneasy Jack. Everything Ariadne knows says that this island and this submerged mountain shouldn't exist in the way that they do. But they are here. However they may not obey the usual rules in ways we have no idea of. Look around you, this whole location has a strange aura to it. Mr Gibbs can feel it, I can feel it, are you saying that you don't?"  
"Not sayin' anything of the sort." Jack's voice was soft, "but it is there, and the compass says that this is where the fountain is. That's what we came to find."  
His hand fluttered towards her arm and he smiled one of his most winning smiles,  
"We can hardly go away again with so little exploration, now can we?" He inclined his head to the pile of supplies still neatly stacked on the deck, "we have what we need do we not? So what do you say Captain Cavendish, do we dare or do we not?"

Elanor looked at Gibbs standing behind Jack his face smiling but the worry clear to see in his eyes, then she looked back at Jack reading the tension in his shoulders as well as the blaze of his smile. Suddenly it felt as if she had known him forever. 'If not here and with them, then where and with whom?' the voice at the back of her head asked. She met his eyes for a long moment then she smiled, drew a deep breath, throwing back her head to look at the impossibly red sunset,  
"Well I've nothing else pressing to do," she said then she looked back to Jack's face,  
"We dare Captain Sparrow, it seems that we dare."

In the shadows of the helm the sun glowed brighter for a moment as the Lady smiled.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22 Its begun **

It was three weeks after Barbossa started issuing orders to ghostly crew men, three weeks spent sailing in circles, that they spotted the white ship.

Marty saw her first, he was lookout and staying as far from his captain as he could, a course that many of the crew were beginning to adopt. The choice being not to see what was happening or mutiny, and Barbossa was not yet so far gone as to be safe; not when there wasn't another captain of suitable fighting weight to hand.

But it was more by chance than design that he saw her, a grey shadow on the horizon. She was sailing under full canvas and steering a north westerly course, her masts and decks lit by fire flies in the dimming evening light, or so it seemed. 'Barbossa nat be fully mad yet then' was his first thought, but the sight of those lights caused him to pause for a moment, for they reminded him of the stars on the edge of the world, and his second thought was to wonder whether it wouldn't be best not to see her.

But Barbossa's bellow from the deck beneath him reminded him of the ever growing strangeness on his own ship, if Captain Jack was aboard that shadow then the sooner they recovered him the better. Marty wanted any other captain than the one that he had these days, excepting Pintel or Raggetti that was, and without Jack Sparrow they were the only others he was likely to get. Even so caution seemed the best course and he waited until Barbossa had returned to the fastness of the great cabin before he descended to the decks and went in search of other opinion.

"Tis her sure enough, the white ship" he said to the small gang he gathered together around the water barrel.  
Pintel looked unhappily at Raggetti,  
"Tol' you that we'd see her agin."  
"Goin to tell the Captain are we?" Raggetti asked slyly.  
"Nat sure tat be such a good thing." Marty frowned, "strange that ship be, something other worldly about her. No sayin' what'll happen if Barbossa tries to take her." He looked around at the others, "all out attack be Barbossa's way, an' we could lose everything if it go wrong."  
"Aye," Raggetti nodded, "got no guile, Barbossa. Captain Jack now, he'd think of some other way, but not Barbossa."

"But maybe Captain Jack is on that ship." Mullroy said, "You say that he considers the Black Pearl his, so if he sees us then maybe he'll come back." He looked around him, "without a fight."  
His friend nodded,  
"True enough, he didn't ask to be left behind, so if he sees us then maybe he'll come back of his own accord."  
"An' not in a friendly mood as like. What'll Barbossa do to that even if he does?" Marty asked with narrowed eyes, "He'll not stand there and let him come."  
"Why not? He wants the chart. Seems to me he'd be glad to see Captain Jack again." Murtog looked around him, "isn't that why we have been looking for him?"  
Marty shook his head.  
"Wants th' chart, but not Jack Sparrow on board."  
"He'd kill him you think?" Murtog asked nervously,  
Raggetti sniffed as he considered the possibility,  
"Might, then agin' might not. No sayin' what he might do, state he's in at present. Might think that Captain Jack is already dead, seeing as he don't seem to know livin' from dead an longer. The again he might think they be back at Isle de Muerta and shoot him."  
Pintel nodded agreement  
"Never been slow with his pistol, not Barbossa," he said.

There was a moment of silence while they all considered that, then Raggetti frowned,  
"The Pearl might not like that, not bearin' in mind where she and he have been together. Pearl might not take kindly to Barbossa killin' Captain Jack, a'spilin' his blood on her decks."  
"Aye, she might no," Pintel agreed, "nor Calypso neither. No sayin' what Mrs Fish might do in those circumstances. She's forgivin' enough o' Captain Jack it seem, but not keen on Barbossa she be. Not after all the time she spent in the brig on his say so."  
"But it caan't go on as it is." Marty said squinting towards the great cabin. "Barbossa get more lost by the day, today he sees the dead, hears the dead talking to him, no sayin' what it'll be tamarra."  
"Aye," Mullroy and Murtog said together.  
"Thinks we don't know that?" Pintel hissed, "think we don't see it? Mrs Fish brought him back to this world but seems to me she forgot to leave his death behind."  
Raggetti nodded,  
"Aye 'tis like he could only survive while she was bound, once she were free her power couldn't protect him, or wouldn't. Dissipated like, back into the seas." He grinned slyly around the little group, "Barbossa wanted to be master of his fate, seems like she granted his wish and left him to it. Unprotected."

"Then we need Captain Jack back as soon as can be arranged." Marty said, "I says we tell Barbossa an' follow the white ship."  
"Or we follows the white ship and don't tell Barbossa." Raggetti said with a half grin.  
Marty shook his head,  
"Na need. Barbossa need that chart worsen ever, he'll follow any chance of it. Na need to risk stirrin' him up more than he be already."  
Around him heads were nodded in reluctant agreement and he got slowly to his feet,  
"I'll tell him then."  
The others nodded and scuttled quickly to their duties lest he change his mind and leave them to do the telling.

Yet, as he crossed to the great cabin, he could have sworn he was being watched.

***

They watched the white ship for three days, always staying well behind her and out of view. For those three days Barbossa barely left the helm and the crew became accustomed to his shadow beside the silent Cotton, and the orders shouted to men that none but the captain could see. Cotton's parrot had deserted his master's shoulder and taken refuge in the topsail rigging, its unsettling utterances lost to the wind.

Mostly they avoided looking at their captain, for his eyes were red and haunted and his clothes hung loose, it had been many days since he had done much more than eat an apple, no product of the galley seemed to tempt him. When he wasn't staring at the sea and sky he fed nuts to little Jack and crooned him a lullaby in a language none of them understood. They knew how his mind was working though, for they would often overhear his conversations with those they could not see, his promises of lives renewed, of injuries paid for, of wrongs made right when he caught Jack Sparrow and wrung from him the chart and the secret of the fountain.

But it seemed that he was not to be granted the chance, at least not yet. For, on the third day, they crossed the path of a Spanish man o' war, unusual in these waters, and one who showed more than a passing interest in them. The ship was large and heavy with canon yet her inclination seemed more in taking them alive than sending them to the bottom, for her warning shots went wide, too wide to be just poor marksmanship. She matched course with the Pearl for half a day, flying flags of parley, signals Barbossa didn't see or ignored. Then came more warning shots and an alteration in her course to bring her into a line to close haul. Only then did Barbossa send the men to their stations and order the guns rolled out.

Then suddenly the wind changed, the sheets hung limp and the swell dropped to little more than the ripple on a millpond.

The crew of the Pearl stared at each other in consternation, for doldrums here and in this season were unknown. Pintel watched a crab scurry behind a coil of rope and leaned across to Raggetti,  
"Mrs Fish," he hissed. "I tol' you she weren't finished with us."  
Raggetti stared at the pale sky and nodded,  
"Aye. Maybe. But she seems in calm enough mood." He squinted at his friend, "But for how long?"  
"Who knows, depends on what she is about this time." He shivered and looked at the flat sea, "just as long as she ain't planning another one of those whirly things." Pintel cast a suspicious eye towards the flat calm of the sky, "and no rain." He added bitterly.

But neither rain nor maelstrom appeared, and for half a day the two ships sat becalmed at just a cannon shot's distance from each other. Then, without warning the wind picked up, strengthening as suddenly as it had fallen, catching the sails of the Pearl and sending her surging across the growing swell, as behind her the galleon began to move. The darkening sky warned of the coming storm, the severity of it spoke in the tattered flags of black cloud that raced towards them and the yellow light that bathed the horizon. Both ships battened hatches and began to run from it, the wind straining canvas and whipping the wave tops into frenzy. The Pearl had the advantage of speed and outpaced her follower with ease; the last they saw of the Spaniard was her masts outlined against the lightening now flashing a warning on the horizon.

There was no following the white ship any longer, for the storm now stood sentinel between them.

***

They spent the next day bickering about who would go and search and who would stay behind, or rather Elanor and Jack did, Gibbs took refuge in a long boat with a bottle of rum. Occasionally he raised his head to watch his two captains striding about the deck or locked toe to toe in close combat, and while it was true that their voices were never raised that didn't make the arguing any less uncomfortable. Though the lady held the aces she chose not the play the hand, Gibbs could not be sure of why, and so neither of them carried the day and in the end they decided all three of them would go. Ariadne, her ghost, would be left to guard the Dawn Chaser.

Elanor had always suspected that it would be like this, unless she was willing to use force to have her way, but she'd achieved her objective and rammed some caution down his throat.

For herself, she was taking no chances this time, she intended to stay in constant contact with the ship; unlike Tortuga this island was unpopulated and there was no need to fear being overheard. Jack had understood the what, if not the how, and had agreed to square it with Mr Gibbs should it become necessary. Though there was no sign of other ships they may yet have to run. They had lost the ship she took to be the Black Pearl more than a week ago, but she doubted that Barbossa or any other pursuers there might be would give up so easily. Yet somehow she doubted they would be found, there was something very strange indeed about this location though should not have explained what it was that made her feel it to be so.

As she watched Jack loading ropes into a long boat she wondered why she had said nothing of the sighting of the Black Pearl; she had told herself it was because he wouldn't like the possibility of her blowing holes in his ship, but as the moment to set off approached she wondered if she was being honest with herself. But then she wasn't the only one holding back was she? She'd feel a lot easier about this business if she had any idea what it was that Jack was holding back on. Despite all her efforts of the previous evening, including the offer of a bottle of rum, she had been unable to persuade him to confide whatever it was that was eating at him.

Even asking outright had got her nowhere.

"What is it Jack? Had a change of heart?" she had asked him.  
"What!" he didn't look at her but raised a hand and stroked his moustache, a sure sign of his uncertainty.  
She'd leant beside him at the rail, her own eyes fixed on the island now fading from sight with the approaching night.  
"Changed your mind about trying for whatever it is that island is hiding?"  
"No."  
"Then what is it?"  
"What is what?"  
"You've been standing here for more than two hours, just staring. You've not eaten anything, you've not touched the rum and you've not said a word to Mr Gibbs or myself. So come on, give."  
"Give what?" he looked confused.  
She sighed,  
"Tell me."  
"Tell you what?" he frowned at her, "What would you have me say?"  
"What ever it is that's bothering you."

He looked away from her,  
"I haven't said anything is."  
"You don't need to." She shot him a sideways glance, "Mr Gibbs is concerned, says he hasn't seen you this quiet since the return from the locker."  
"Does he now?" Jack sounded both dismissive and angry at the same time. "Maybe he should be a little less ready with his confiding."  
She shook her head,  
"No he shouldn't. I'm captain of this ship and I have a right to know anything that may affect her safety."  
Jack shot her a cold eyed look at that,  
"I'm not your crew."  
"Did I say that you were? But you are one of the crew just as I am. If something is amiss, and that something might put the ship or anyone aboard in jeopardy, then I have a right to know." She turned around, looking in towards the deck, her head tilted so that she could watch him, "you'd expect no less if this were the Pearl."

He gave one of those complicated shrugs, or it might just have been a shiver at the mention of the locker, or the chill that was developing in the night air. Jack was still in shirtsleeves; the linen pale in the rail lights, and the hairs on his forearm were raised as if against the cold. In the glow of the deck lights he looked strained and uncertain. The kohl he had applied that morning turned his eye sockets to deep shadow, seeming to magnify the size and luminance of his eyes, while his hair was matt black against his shirt. In this half light his skin seemed paler, throwing the curve of his lip into deeper relief while milking the brand on his forearm of some of its startling clarity. She watched it pale further as he clasped his hands together on the rail and she wondered, for a moment, if the pain of that still haunted his nightmares.

"I'm not putting anything in jeopardy at all," he said eventually.  
Elanor's eyes moved back to his face,  
"Aren't you? Tomorrow we are setting off on a risky, not to say stupidly dangerous, operation at your behest. I'd like to be assured that you are in whatever passes for your right mind before we start," she eased her hip more comfortably against the rail, " even if you won't be by the end of it." Her tone was all resignation.  
He turned towards her and gave her a cold and glittering smile,  
"How would you know? Me mind. The difference that is?"  
She gave the impression of thinking about that for a moment then she crossed her arms and looked up towards the sky,  
"Damn! Knew there was a flaw somewhere."  
His smile became warmer and more amused before he turned away.  
"All too often is luv." He looked back towards the island, "all too often is."

"So what's the flaw this time?"  
"Nothing that I know of," he half turned back and quirked and eyebrow at her,  
"Your ghost think different does she?" His eyes were hard and bright. "After all I've only your word for what she says."  
"You doubt it? My word I mean. Is that what the silence is all about?"  
He opened his eyes wide in a mocking gesture of surprise,  
"Now why would I do that?" he drawled. "When your life is so open for all to see." He edged closer to her, fingers straying towards her wrist, hovering above the surface of her skin, "Why would I doubt the word of someone so slack tongued, so free with their confidings, or so obviously above board. Eh?"  
"Why indeed?"  
He turned fully around, leaning on the rail, his hand still extended towards her and his head tilted as if to see her face the better against the low rays of the dying sun.  
"What is your story Elanor? You know enough of mine, but what do I know of yours?" He gave a small, apparently disgusted, toss of his head, "No more than when you hauled me from the water. Here I am about to put the fountain of youth into your strong, yet fetching, hands, and what, when all is said and done, do I know of you?"

She looked at him in silence for a moment, then down at his hand and extended her own, fingers up, to just touch the tips of his.  
"You know that I didn't leave you die when it would have been easier for me to have done so, and that I put a small fortune into your hands because you said we needed it."  
He straightened abruptly but she ignored it,  
"You know that I came back for you when I had no need to." She looked up and met his eyes levelly, "not because I felt guilty, not because you had something I wanted, not because the world needed you, but because I was alone and I missed you." She said quietly, knowing the risk she was taking even as she said it.  
The shock she saw in his face had been expected, but not the flash of hurt. He let his hand drop as if contact with her burned him,  
"Mr Gibbs talks too much," he said softly and with a twisted and bitter smile.  
"Mr Gibbs is your friend, and he trusts me because you tell him to. It's true he doesn't always watch his tongue, " she smiled ruefully, "certainly not when he's had a swallow or three of rum, but I'd not use his stories against you. For his sake if not for yours or mine."

Jack sighed and turned away to stare back towards the shadow of the island,  
"Mebbe. But it's a one sided conversation Elanor, as always; you and your ghost hold your own counsel, yet you rob me of the right to do the same."  
She matched his sigh,  
"What would you have me do Jack? Tell him to be quiet? Or disbelieve everything he says? What would that gain you when the stories are still told? Seems to me that you are happy enough to have the tales spread in general, just not to me. Why would that be? Would you have me think less of you? Is that what you see as safety? That I take you for every kind of rogue you hint at. He speaks of a better man than you tell of."

He just shrugged at that, letting the silence between them stretch; only when she, too, shrugged and made to turn away did he speak again,  
"Are there any who would miss you Captain Cavendish? Are there those who somewhere will grieve your loss?"  
When she said nothing he turned and lounged against the rail in challenge, lifting his chin and sending her a smile of velvet coated steel,  
"Or am I not permitted that question."  
Elanor turned back to face him,  
"I can't tell you what I don't know Jack."  
That brought another look of shock and something close to guilt to his face, before he smiled more softly and swept her a half bow,  
"Then forget that I asked."  
"Why? If you want an answer I'll try for one."  
Curiosity flared in his eyes and he edged closer, but his face was kind,  
"I'd not force that which you are not willing to give. It can wait."

Elanor let her eyes drift towards the darkening sea.  
"No it can't. There are things I cannot tell you so I suppose I owe you what I can. Tomorrow might be too late for one or the other of us."  
She drew a deep breath,  
"Will there be those that grieve for me if I never return Captain Sparrow? Probably not."  
She felt him go unusually still and she turned to look at him with a weary smile,  
"Those who would have done so are already dead. My parents, and a brother, all departed this veil of tears before me. As for the others?" Her smile twisted, "oh there will be plenty of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth I expect, even by those that never said as much as good day to me. People are good at that in my world. It's what passes for care and duty and kindness. Parade what you claim to feel, say the right words, shake your fists at the heavens and wring your hands, and maybe no one will notice that you don't actually feel much at all."  
Jack was staring at her wide eyed now, but she avoided his look and gazed up towards the topsail,  
"There may be one or two who will down a drink in my name and remember me and times we shared, maybe even wish there had been more of them. But I'll just be another fifteen minute wonder, or maybe a day's if the announcement of my demise comes at a time when the rest of the world is less than usually homicidal."  
She dropped her eyes to his,  
"There, does knowing that make you feel better?"

For a moment he started at her speechless, then he reached into a shadow and pulled out the bottle of rum, with a flourish he drew the cork with his teeth and held it out to her with an over bright smile that didn't displace the shadows from his eyes,  
"That it does darlin'," he said cheerily, pushing the bottle into her hand and indicating that she should drink, "I've been awake at nights wonderin' if I was keeping you from the bosom of a lovin' family or the bed of a needy spouse." He nodded, fingers fluttering towards himself in emphasis, "Now I can rest easy, for it seems that you're no better provisioned in those quarters than I am meself."  
He edged closer and leant in towards her, his cheek nearly touching hers. Elanor looked sideways at him as he slid an arm around her shoulders, seeing the spark of devilry in his narrowed eyes and the smile tugging the side of his mouth. She suppressed a smile of her own and spoke with a put upon air,  
"Now you are going to say something outrageous aren't you?"  
His eyes opened wide again,  
"Me? Never! Well brought up I was, I assure you. Never been one to step across the line with a lady, at least not uninvited. Ask Mr Gibbs."  
Elanor bit her lip; it was getting harder to hold the smile at bay,  
"I'm sure," she said, " but I think I need to a little fortification, anyway," she took a swig of rum and grimaced at the taste of it, then cast him another sideways look; his smile was still in check but his eyes were dancing. She took another swallow and inclined the bottle in his direction,  
"now just get on and say whatever it is you are planning."

Jack adopted a hurt look and tightened his arm around her shoulders,  
"Only wanting to be reassuring luv," he patted her arm gently and lowered his voice to a confiding level,  
" you see, you being a wealthy woman and all, captain of a fine ship no less," his free hand swept a circle encompassing the decks, "well friended by your ghost and able to scoop riches from the seas, and so being totally without need of lace or clergy; I can say, with hand on heart, that should you, in the not having of one, feel the need for one, a family bosom that is, you have only to say the word and I'll see what I can do in the way of provision. And I'm Captain Jack Sparrow! So no worries."

On the far side of the ship Gibbs wondered what it was that had sent his two captains, after a day of snarling, into such paroxysms of mirth.

***

They left the Chaser as the first tendrils of dawn smoked the night sky, the three of them in two boats well stoked with picks, ropes, grapples and various paraphernalia that Jack had not bothered to explain. There were rations for two days in the bottom of the boat, including, at Jacks insistence, charcoal, and water for five; where they were going would be even hotter than the surface. Tucked inside her shirt Elanor was carrying a few little additions of her own along with Ariadne's pictures of what lay before them. A two way communicator was firmly fixed into her shirt, while a backup was hidden in her belt beside the ever present tasar.

She had spent the last hour before sleeping, and after a somewhat surreal game of tag around the decks with Jack and his rum bottle, or rather the run bottle she had refused to return to him unless he explained his remarks regarding families, something he seemed loath to elaborate on, in deep conversation with Ariadne,  
"I can't see any way we can do it with the tools that Gibbs bought at Tortuga. Not without a team of men digging in relays, even then it would be dangerous work. But he won't admit it and he isn't going to give up."  
"Nor are you." Ariadne stated.  
Elanor smiled ruefully at that,  
"Well no, I admit that the whole situation is rather intriguing. We both know that underwater mountain is more than a little left field. It simply shouldn't exist. Yet it does." She wrapped her arms around herself and dropped her chin onto her chest, "Everything around this place is weird, and every instinct tells me so yet I can't see why."  
"The scans are clear." Ariadne said calmly " but I am aware that there are anomalies that need to be explained."  
"Such as?"  
"The water temperature is higher than observed elsewhere, it may be a microclimate effect but as yet I have been unable to trace the reason for it. The tidal forces are slightly stronger than I would expect in an area of water as shallow as this, yet there appears to be no scouring of the reef. The scanners, too, seem to experience some calibration problems in the area ten miles out in a circle around the island."  
"Do they? Not sure I like the sound of that!"  
"Nothing that interferes with their ability to track objects, but there is some distortion. Then there is the space under the island, that may explain all the other irregularities but until we know what it is we can't be sure."  
"So you want to know too!"  
"I will agree that the information might have value in the future."

Elanor thought about that for a moment,  
"So we go ahead, but you are going to have to do some of the work, that's too much rock to clear by hand in this heat."  
"I agree that is the most effective option."  
"But can you get the right angle? We can't bring the Chaser any closer; her draught is too great to get across the reef in safety. I suppose we could cut a hole through but there is no way of knowing what the knock on effects might be."  
"Cutting a hole in the reef must be the last resort," Ariadne agreed, "but my calculations suggest that if we raise the wand to its full height the angle should be sufficient to give the depth needed."  
Elanor sighed and rubbed her tired eyes,  
"Well there's no one to see other than Jack and Mr Gibbs, and what's a little more ghostly magic between friends. Though it shows a more of our hands than I'd like."  
"Either you trust him or you don't," Ariadne made no pretence of not knowing who was the issue, "Understanding a little more of what's at stake may help matters."  
Elanor remembered the look on Jack's face as he had stood at the rail and wasn't so sure. But in the end she had agreed and left Ariadne to make the calculations while she went to her bunk.

She dreamed of home and of people lost long before she set sail.

***

They travelled in silence, she and Gibbs in one boat, Jack in the other, each wrapped in their own thoughts. As the distance between them and the ship grew so did Elanor's sense of unease, for it felt as of the world around them was watching, and holding its breath while it did so.

The boats grounded landed with barely a shudder as the first rays of the sun emerged from the mists of the horizon, driving deep into the softly shelving white sand, impossibly white now she stood upon it. It was already warm to the touch, even this early, and it was not hard to imagine it possessing the fiery heat that Jack had described later on in the day.

By the time they had unloaded the boats the sun was already rising above the horizon, lightening the blue of the sea and showing darting shoals of fish in the shallows. With unspoken agreement they dragged the supplies across the rocks and scrub and into the shade of the few trees the island possessed, then hauled one of the boats in the same way; the other they turned upside down on the edge of the surf before draping it with what little seaweed the night tide had deposited on the sand. It was poor enough disguise this close to but from a distance it might be just enough to hide their presence if Ariadne had to leave them stranded.

In the shade of the stunted trees they took stock while they recovered their breath. Elanor handed copies of Ariadne's chart to the two men seeing the frowns grow as they realised the magnitude of the difficulties and uncertainties ahead of them.  
"We need to widen the channel but as you can see it's not straight," she trailed her finger down the line of the fissure.  
Gibbs looked horrified,  
"That's days of diggin' ma'am and with just the three of us and the heat and all I doubt that we can do it."  
"Not with picks and shovels," Jack agreed, "but we've powder, once we meet the line then we can blast our way through."  
Gibbs shook his head,  
"Noisy though, and there's nowhere to shelter while we do it. And what if it goes wrong? Too much or too little and we could block the tunnel, or make it too unstable to be able to get out again."  
He squinted at Elanor from under lowered brows,  
" One hundred feet down you said ma'am that's a lot of rock above us to collapse."  
"Have to do it slowly," Jack agreed, "can't risk disturbin' things too much, it might let the sea in."

Jack stared at the plans for a moment longer then looked across at Elanor,  
"You're too quiet, you're thinking something. I can hear it."  
She smiled at him.  
"No powder. There's another way, safer. We open up this fissure to here, "she pointed, then we dig a narrow hole here, "she pointed again, "and then," she sat back on her heels and looked at the two men squatting in front of her, "we let Ariadne do it."  
For a moment they stared at her in disbelief then Jack shook his head,  
"Elanor, it a little early in the day to be havin' a touch of the sun! The ship is half way across the bay, with a reef between it and us. How is your ghost goin' to do anything when you told me yourself that she can't come ashore?"  
Elanor smiled and rolled up her copy of the plan then got to her feet.  
"Leave that to me. For the moment I suggest we get to work, there is still a lot to do before Ariadne can take over."

With that she stripped off her coat, took a pick from the pile of goods stacked in the shade and started across to the shelf of rock that hid the narrow entrance to whatever it was that lay below them. Jack and Gibbs watched her go in silence but made no move to follow. After a moment or two she turned around and stared at them,  
"Well what are you waiting for?" she demanded. "Sooner we start, sooner its done."  
They exchanged a wary look then selected their own pick and shovel and crossed to join her.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23 Stories and speculations**

The digging got harder as the sun climbed in the sky pulling the temperature with it, even in the patchy shade. It had taken them more than two hours to clear enough loose rock and sand to let them wriggle under the over hang that Jack had discovered on his first trip without suffocating, for as soon as they moved it the wretched stuff slithered back to where it had just been removed from. But when they managed it the space revealed, though cramped even for one, was larger than Elanor had expected. Ariadne had warned her that the scanners were finding it hard to calibrate and here was a disturbingly practical demonstration of it, a worrying large example too. She raised her eyes and looked across the hummock that was the visible part of the island towards the ship and sent a silent prayer that they weren't getting anything else wrong on this scale.

It had taken a further three back breaking hours to open up a large enough hole to let them start any serious digging.

Mr Gibbs had been touchingly concerned about her taking a full part in this exercise but after watching her swing a pick a few times he settled into a nervous silence, the sideways looks indicating that he had now decided that she was even stranger than he had previously thought. Jack seemed unconcerned about sharing hard physical labour with a woman, but she had caught him casting more than one surreptitious glance from her direction under the curtain wall of his hair, and when he thought she wouldn't see. After a while he seemed convinced that her strength was just what he had thought it might be, and he confined his concern to pacing himself and checking occasionally, and equally surreptitiously, on Mr Gibbs. She wondered whose interests he thought he was protecting, and if he even knew.

Jack had shed his coat before they began, his sash and belts followed quickly, the ever present pistols being laid down in the shade beside her own coat, for their stocks were already becoming uncomfortably hot, and his waistcoat was folded beside them. His sword he propped up against the lip of the overhang within his reach and Elanor wondered who, or what, it was that he was expecting to fight off on such a desolate spot.

It was several more weary hours of working on hands and knees, shoulder against shoulder, before they had opened up a space large enough to allow any of them to stand. Those hours were back breaking and shoulder straining, though none of them mentioned it; dangerous too, for there was little room to swing the pick and any attempt to force the pace only increased the danger of broken skulls and gouged eyes. They took turns to rest, two of them always at work, while the third sat in the little cool shade that survived the strengthening sun. The blue sky was as hard and bright as polished lapis and no cloud appeared to soften the rays that cooked the rock around the little shore party. As the temperature rose the two working had to take regular breaks for water, though small mouthfuls was all they could usefully take, bent over as they were. Even with the Chaser so close to hand the water was too valuable to be spewed back onto hot rock by cramped bellies. Before the first half hour was over they were all drenched in sweat and powdered with sand, the gritty grains finding the way into their hair and eyes with relentless efficiency. Shirts plastered to their backs and shoulders, hands slippery and sore they struggled on.

In the black shade beneath the overhang the air was oven hot and thick with dust and sand, so resting in it did little to ease laboured breathing or stem the flow of sweat. The dust caked on their faces like a clown's makeup and rasped their throats like smoke, the smaller particles working under finger nails and into any gap in their clothing. Occasionally a larger sliver of rock would rise up with enough energy to gouge a slit in unprotected skin, the ooze of blood attracting a further caking of sand to irritate the wound. Elanor muttered a curse as another cut opened up on her forearm, 'worse than paper cuts' she thought as she ignored the sand on her tongue and licked the blood away. Jack cast her a faintly worried look and seemed about to ask her if she was alright, before a glare, more for the sand than for him, caused him to shrug slightly and turn his attention back to his shovel. She did the same, noting in passing that his shirt, now well plastered to his torso, was spotted with blood in a number of places and that the sparrow of his forearm tattoo held a red worm in its beak; she made a note to herself to make sure that both he and Mr Gibbs joined her in washing the dust off before they ventured below ground.

She had been right about Jack though, he was a man accustomed to hard physical work, and his body, though lean, even after a month or so of enjoying the Chaser's hospitality, was well honed and efficient. Moreover he swung the pick and wielded the shovel with the economical skill and expertise of someone who had done it more than once before. Had hard labour been a punishment for pirates in the eighteenth century she wondered idly as she took her turn in the shade? Somehow she had an idea they had just hung them. But he must have had some life other than the sea in the years he'd search for his ship, was there some house or farmstead waiting for him somewhere? With a wife of sorts maybe? Children even? She repressed a smile at the idea, somehow she didn't think so, at least about the wife. Children? Well she wouldn't be surprised. Though she doubted he knew them if there were. 'Was that something to be sad about?' she wondered. Probably not, if it was similar to the past of her own world then this was a hard place and such ignorance would not be an uncommon occurrence.

Her eyes flickered to a red faced Mr Gibbs as he wiped his forehead, his eyes narrowed to slits beneath sand encrusted brows, and she sighed. What future did either of these men have? Could it be any better than their past, which, from what little she knew of them, could not have been any bed of roses? She needed to remember Ariadne's warning and avoid sentimentalising something that she didn't understand, her world was harsh for many too, particularly the dispossessed, would they find Jack or Gibbs either strange or immoral?

Jack looked up at that moment and raised his eyebrows as he caught her glance,  
"Something botherin' you Captain Cavendish?" he asked rather formally, taking the opportunity to wipe his sweat slicked face with the ends of his scarf.  
Gibbs his bent back to his task as if unwilling to take part in whatever exchange of words was coming. Elanor smiled slightly and pushed the speculations away with a small shake of her head, this was not the time or place for such wondering, maybe there never would be one,  
"Not really, I was just wondering which of us is going to ache most after this little escapade."  
She got to her feet and crossed to the growing hole taking the shovel from Mr Gibbs as, in response to a flick of Jack's head, he climbed out and crossed towards the shade. For a moment she stared down at what they had achieved.  
" If we are going to make a habit of this maybe I should work out some form of keep fit routine for us."  
"A what?"  
He looked up at her in puzzlement and she laughed, at herself more than anything else,  
"Sorry, my origins are showing. In my world we don't do much in the way of hard physical work, at least people like me don't." She waved a hand at the slowly growing hole, "we would use a machine for doing things like this."  
"A machine? For diggin'?"  
"Mmmm, something called, a digger."  
"Well there's a surprise!" he replied sarcastically. "What else would you call it?"

He pushed his shirt sleeves higher up his arm showing the extent of the tattoo, and more stone cuts,  
"Pity you don't have one to hand." He cast her a suspicious look, "you don't I suppose."  
"No of course not! Think I'd be doing this if I had?"  
"No sayin' what you'd do."  
"Well I certainly wouldn't be digging in this heat if there was any alternative. Which is why Ariadne takes over as soon as possible."  
"Which is when exactly?" He said as he looked down and wielded his shovel again, tossing more loose sand and stone out of the hole.  
"When we have enough uncovered for her to get the right angle." She cast him a serious look, "I don't think it's a good idea to disturb things more than we have to Jack. If this is this fountain of yours, and if that is what you think it is, then it's bad enough us knowing about it, but I'd hate to leave it uncovered for others to find."  
He froze, shovel in hand, and stared at the ground with a frown,  
"I know what you mean, " he said after a moment, "the heart is enough of a risk."  
She nodded,  
"Imagine what some people would do for this."  
"I am luv," he looked up at her, narrow eyed, "and it doesn't make for a pretty picture. Good job Beckett's gone."  
"There are other Beckett's Jack, plenty of them. You know that as well as I do."  
He met her eyes in silence and he nodded once, then his gaze slid away to where Mr Gibbs was sat in the shade,  
"Best keep that thought to ourselves though," he said quietly, and looked back towards her, his face serious, " Eh?"

She nodded in silent agreement as Jack straightened up and extended his hand to her in a careless offer of help. Elanor raised her brows but allowed him to help her jump down into the shadow of the overhang; he cast her an almost shamefaced look as she did so, which she carefully didn't see, and they both bent back to their task in silence.

***

The Intrepid put into the harbour at Port Royale with its objective of finding Jack Sparrow still unfulfilled, but in need of water and supplies; and with a wish, on its captain's, part to seek other counsel.

As they passed the sea side gibbet the sailors dipped their eyes; though no one had told them of the recent events, or what it was that they were seeking, to man they knew it was to do with a pirate. That none of them would risk being seen as disrespectful to any of that ilk, even dead ones, spoke volumes of the rumours and stories circulating and more still of their assessment of the seriousness of the business. Watching the men on deck avert their eyes from the remains of the three corpses still displayed there Hathaway wondered just what it was the crew thought they were about, and if in that strange alchemy of sailor and sea they had divined more than he knew. For they would have been told little enough. But Groves presence, not an officer of theirs, and the side trip to Tortuga, would have told them that something strange was in the wind. Hathaway couldn't help but wonder if this close mouthed approach was the right one.

Not that he could have told them much more even had he been permitted to do so, for their lordships had told him little enough,well intentionally anyways and his other source of information could not be shared with the crew. The sight of Admiral Norrington's ship at anchor in the harbour caused him to frown, why was he here? This matter? Or was it something more mundane, such as the threat of war? Hathaway sighed to himself as he watched the crew of the admiral's ship about their business on the decks; peace, uneasy as it was, could only hold so long, and the heart was just the sort of matter to set the would be empires at each other's throats again. Hathaway had seen enough of war to want no more of it if, not if it could be avoided.

It was late afternoon when he left the ship and set out towards the fort and already the wharves were thin of people, and in the market square the heat of the day had done its job of wearying people and traders were a little less pressing in their attempts to sell their wares. It was not a comfortable walk even now and his skin soon prickled with sweat in the accumulated heat of the day. The flies were out in force too, and above him the ramparts were dotted with insects basking in the stone's accumulated heat. He walked slowly, ignoring the discomfort of wig and woollen coat as best he could, his eyes on the ground but not noticing the dust, thick in the cart tracks, or the grey tiredness of crushed grass. Only when he was approaching the gate did he look up, seeing the men patrolling the walls, the canons glinting dull but threatening in their niches, the flag giving only the occasional half hearted flutter in the heavy air. It was as if Becket and his mad ambition had never been, Hathaway sighed again and wished, not for the first time, that had been the case.

Out to sea black clouds were growing, another storm was on its way.

***

Hathaway was directed to the office by a harassed looking clerk with a wig slightly askew and ink on his chin, the man then hurried back as quickly as he could to some private fastness hidden behind the scuffed, though handsomely paneled, doors at the far end of the stone flagged corridor. He couldn't be blamed for his hurried departure for the rooms, and the anti rooms too, were packed with sullen and silent people, some perched on chairs and an array of hurriedly provided stools, others propping up the walls, their sweat leaving dark marks when they moved. The air was heavy with the stink of unwashed bodies, anxiety and anger, all overlaid with a tinge of sour rum and cloves. Hathaway's brows rose as he edged passed the waiting people who had spilled out into the passage way, presumably all of these people had some grievance resulting from Beckett's actions and as yet all of them were unresolved. No surprise that their lordships were so on edge, if ever there had been conditions for an uprising then this must be it, and he did not envy the new governor or the Admiral the task they faced.

Admiral Norrington was alone in a small, but well appointed, office, and seated at the desk that would once have been his nephew's; the polished surface was awash with papers and stacks of slim bound volumes that spoke eloquently of the mess that still remained to be resolved. He seemed glad of the distraction and stood to receive the captain's salute before sinking into his chair as if weary, then he leant forward with his hands folded on the desk waving Hathaway to a chair.  
"You didn't find him then?" his tone was resigned, yet tinged with anxiety.  
"No sir. He wasn't in Tortuga, or if he was he wasn't being found."  
Norrington looked down at his interlaced fingers with a considering frown,  
"Why would he hide? Tortuga is a free port and you could do nothing against him there, and from all I've heard he is sharp enough to know this business could run very much in his favour. The king will give him a full pardon, a commission if he wants it, and as much as the crown can reasonably afford. Maybe not all the gold on the Spanish Main but certainly enough for one pirate to spend the rest of his life in more luxury than he can ever have aspired to."

"Maybe. But not necessarily a long life sir." Hathaway said dryly.  
Norrington blew out his breath in a small, refined gale, shuffling slightly in his chair and looking uneasy,  
"We have no reason to believe that Captain, their lordships are honourable men and if he keeps his side of the bargain then there is no reason he should not live a long and comfortable life. Devil take it man, they will even leave this Cove place alone if that's where he wants to set up residence! His own fiefdom, a fortune, all the rum he can swallow and peace to drink it in. What more could he ask?"  
"True sir, " Hathaway said smoothly, he could read the other man's expression clearly enough, and some things were best not known, "but we do not know the nature of his hold over Jones, surrendering the heart may put him at risk in that quarter. " He shrugged wearily, " and then there is the Spanish."

"Aye, there is the Spanish, " Norrington sighed, "and what you say of Jones is also true."  
He looked out towards the sea,  
"But what else can we do?"  
Hathaway looked at him with uncertainty,  
"We are sure, are we sir, about Jones?"  
In reply Norrington pushed a small stack of slim volumes across the desk,  
"My nephew's log, Captain Hathaway, read it for yourself and see what you make of it. I'd be glad of your opinion." He raised an eyebrow, "Tea?"  
Hathaway swallowed his surprise at the attention,  
"Would be most welcome sir," he said calmly.  
But he opened the first packet with growing trepidation.

More than an hour later, with the pot cold and the wind starting to whip the flag and rattle windows, he sat back and rubbed his eyes, daylight was starting to fade and the last minutes reading had been hard on his eyes as well as his heart.  
"Does the Governor know? All of it?" he asked quietly.

Norrington was standing silently at the window staring into the distance, the same place where once his nephew had stood and watched the ships changing colours from king's flag to Beckett's, that same position where he'd watched the parade of bond servants, slaves and the poor on their way to the noose with despair and disbelief and bitter regret. The light from the window, the same one through which James had first heard the song, reflected the last rays of the sun on sea and stone and threw the Admiral's profile into sharp relief as he nodded,  
"Yes he knows. He is a friend of the king and was a friend of Weatherby Swann, they were related by marriage I think. I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse, either way the story is not a pretty one. Though I suspect there is a lot my nephew never knew. Swann's diaries should be somewhere, though if the Governor has found them he hasn't said." He looked up towards the ceiling as if looking for answers in the patterns of candle smoke, " But they probably went down with Beckett."  
Hathaway just nodded and Norrington waved a hand towards the paper strewn across the desk,  
"So you see, unless my nephew had gone totally mad, like Beckett apparently did, Jones does indeed exist;" he sighed and looked back towards the sea, "and the world, Captain Hathaway, is changed forever." He turned and looked at the other man with sombre eyes, "Make you wonder what else exists, doesn't it?"

Hathaway rubbed his eyes again,  
"It does indeed sir. It does indeed." He drew a deep breath, "Their lordships want to find Sparrow, and through him the heart," he said quietly, "Groves is charged with finding him and I am charged with aiding him to do so. But what is your role in this sir? To make sure that no one else gets to it first? Or do the Spanish already threaten war on the basis of a rumour?"  
The Admiral gave a sad little smile,  
"Not yet, but it can't be long, not if they give any credence to the stories. As for safeguarding the heart, well I suppose that you might say so. Sparrow is probably still somewhere within the Caribbean, we need to secure these seas, and prevent an uprising, while we find him."  
Hathaway nodded,  
"We thought to take the Black Pearl and draw him out that way, but so far we have been unsuccessful," he frowned, "When we get close something always seems to get in our way."  
Norrington looked down and smoothed his heavily braided coat with a careful hand,  
"As I said it makes you wonder what else exists. There may be players in the game of who we know nothing." He looked up and spoke quietly,"which is why you are here I suspect."

Hathaway stilled himself with an effort,  
"Me sir?"  
"Yes. You are the king's man, are you not?"  
"I am a loyal servant of the crown if that is what you mean sir."  
"It is not what I mean. Captain. Does Groves know?"  
Hathaway was silent for a moment, watching the sea green eyes that watched him, all expression washed from them, knowing how much of a risk the Admiral was taking in asking the question. For a moment he was silent and then he shook his head,  
"I don't know. Sir. It is possible but I cannot ask."  
The admiral nodded, then he flicked a hand towards the scattered diaries,  
"My nephew trusted him as you can see, he set him to watch Beckett. Not that Groves could do much about anything, other than keep a record of what happened. A record that will soon be at St James if the winds are kind, not that it is likely to change anything. Though it throws an interesting light on our quarry."  
He was silent for a moment as if debating something with himself, the he reached into his coat,  
"Further light may be cast by these."  
He tossed a packet of papers onto the desk,  
"You had best read them too. I'll send for candles, and more tea. A lot more tea."

***

Night came before they managed to dig to the point where Ariadne could take over, and with it a sudden drop in temperature and a rising wind. They built a fire of charcoal and the few dried leaves the scrub offered them; leaving it to grow in strength as Elanor chivvied the two men into the sea to wash away the grit and sand and clean the sores and small cuts that each carried from the work. With another day of digging before them they needed to be a whole and as comfortable as possible.

Mr Gibbs protested noisily and only obeyed when Jack jerked his head in the direction of the surf with obvious meaning, even so he barely scraped the stiffest dirt from his shirt and hair before heading back towards the fire. Jack went more easily than he might have done once upon a time, he appeared to be acquiring the habit of cleanliness, though it might have been simple vanity that turned his mouth down in a moue of disgust at his stiff and whitened hair. Muttering mutinously about his refusal to go grey before his time, and grumbling that Teague didn't have this much white, he repeatedly submerged himself with surprising vigour. He didn't leave the water until he had wrung all of the dust from his braids and scrubbed the sand from his beard, and only preceded Elanor up the beach by a stride or two.

Though much cooler it was still warm enough for them to sit without coats, allowing the last heat of the dying day to dry their clinging shirts as the glow of the fire grew; and though the salt water had made the wounds smart it had cleaned them well enough for her to anoint them with the slave she had brought for the purpose. Elanor was not that surprised when Mr Gibbs produced a bottle of rum but was surprised when Jack waved the bottle away and took himself to the other side of the fire, apparently settling down to a period of meditation. Gibbs cast him a quick look then, apparently satisfied, ignored him. Elanor watched him a little longer, taking in the long hair with its elaborate decoration and the rings on the fingers now still and relaxed on his knee, he really did seem to be meditating, and wondered in passing which religious traditional his parents had sprung from. Or at least which one his mother had grown up in, from what Jack had told her of his father it was likely that his religion was immaterial. She gave a mental shrug and banished the idea, it really didn't matter, instead turning her thoughts to the next day's exertions.

As the first shadow of the moon appeared Mr Gibbs put aside his rum with a small, and rather grateful, smile in her direction and appointed himself hunter gather for the evening, taking a line and net to catch supper. Elanor fed the fire with more charcoal then wandered up to the overhang to collect their discarded clothing. Jack seemed oblivious of her presence as she dropped his coat around his shoulders and she said nothing, just wandered out to the shallows to take Mr Gibbs his waistcoat, the water still warm around her ankles. For a while she stayed there, watching him cast the net with surprising delicacy and patience, listening as he explained the rights and wrongs of fishing in this way. When the catch was complete she left him to prepare them at the water edge and wandered back to the fire.

Jack was sitting there now, with his back to the glowing pile and his eyes locked on the ship out beyond the reef. She picked up the rum bottle and crossed to his side,  
"We can go back for the night if you would prefer?" she said after a moment or two of watching him. Lowering herself beside him she sprawled out on the warm sand with only faint twinge or two or two to remind her of the day's hard work, but they were enough and she extended the rum bottle in Jack's direction with a faint smile, "just as long as you are offering to do the rowing."  
He gave a slight twitch of the shoulders that might have been a laugh and shook his head,  
"No, we'll stick to the plan. It'll be no easier tomorrow and rowing back and hauling the boat up here again seems an undesirable addition to the workload." He took a swallow of rum, "Tis a pity about this diggin' thing, the not havin' of it that is." He cast her a sideways look, "must be a strange place your world. Not much room for a man makin' his way by the strength of his back from what you say."  
She stretched and shook her head as he offered her the rum bottle,  
"None at all. At least not in my bit of it."  
He smiled wryly,  
"Must remember to tell Hector that if I ever see him again."

For a moment there was silence between them as they both watched the white pearl sheen of the ship beyond the reef. Mr Gibbs wandered up the sand with three fish in his hands and began to rake the ashes on the other side of the fire ready for cooking them. Jack took another swig of rum and held the bottle out to her again without taking his eyes of the sea.  
"That's the only bottle that we have with us," she warned him as she shook her head, "at least as far as I'm aware." She smiled faintly, "of course I might be wrong about that."  
Silence stretched again the Jack shifted,  
"Last time I sat round a fire with a woman there was plenty of rum." He said quietly. "not much of a future o'course but plenty of rum." He grimaced in memory, "she burned it."  
"She, being the late lamented Ms Swann I gather. The deceased Ms Swann." Her tone told him what she though of that assertion.

Jack turned and gave her a smirking smile,  
"Aye so it was. As I recall."  
He took another swig from the bottle then he stretched full length beside her, leaning on his elbow and sinking the bottle into the sand between them, keeping his hand on the neck even so.  
"Of course she was somewhat less generously attired," his grin was gold in the failing light, "though that's not to say the current scenery is without interest."  
Elanor mirrored his posture and smiled back,  
"Oh? Which interests would those be? "  
Jacks fingers stirred on the neck of the bottle for a moment and his smile froze in place, he watched her for a moment with narrowed eyes then he leaned slightly forward, one long rope of hair falling forward over his shoulder,  
"Many and myriad luv," he said softly with another grin  
"Really, " Elanor echoed wide eyed, "and on such a featureless scrap of land too. You are fortunate to be so easily pleased Captain Sparrow. I on the other hand am a little more...... Demanding."  
His eyes opened wide at the sudden attack, for he knew it for what it was. He tipped his head back and looked at her down the line of his nose,  
"Ah. I'll remember that in future shall I?"  
"If you think it worthy of note Captain Sparrow."

He looked at her for another long moment then dropped his eyes to the bottle, his finger caressing down its neck to the shoulder,  
"Interesting lass, young Miss Swann, very forthright, very...." he smiled wickedly in the direction of the bottle, his fingers still circling on the greasy glass, "up front."  
Elanor watched him with a smile as he looked back up and sent a sultry look in her direction.  
"Let me guess, " she mused, putting a finger to her lips in apparent thought, "not as up front as me though." She let her eyes drift down her own body then looked back up and matched his smile, "her having less to be up front with."  
His eyes flamed with laughter and he pulled the bottle free of the sand and raised it to her in salute. She smiled back,  
"Give it up Jack, it's a lost cause. I'm not the governor's daughter, you'll never manage to shock me this way."

Elanor took the bottle and drank once then handed it back,  
"So tell me, did you have a hankering for this Ms Swann, despite her relative lack of up frontedness? The fact that they didn't hang you out of hand suggests you didn't lay a finger on her, regardless of her dress." She saw him frown and raised a hand in appeasement,  
"Not that I'm suggesting that you would ever descend to rape."  
"Thank you!" he said sarcastically and scowled at her.  
She smiled and gestured at the bottle,  
"But under the influence of alcohol she might have been willing. Don't tell me it didn't occur to you?"  
He wriggled his feet in the sand and glared at her from under lowered brows,  
"May have done. Not that I'm sayin' that I would have accepted any such drunken offer. Pirate I may be but I've never been reduced to having to ply women with strong drink to win their affections." A ghost of the grin returned, "nor anything else come to that."  
She looked him over and grinned back,  
"I believe you. I often despair at my own sex."  
That brought a pout and she laughed,  
"But tell me the truth, did it never cross your mind to. ...er. win ......Ms Swann's affections?"

Jack cast her an appraising look then another grin,  
"Well.... mebbe....... occasionally. For about half an hour or so. Sometimes."  
Elanor raised her brows,  
"Half an hour or so? Sometimes? How long had you been at sea again?"  
His grin widened,  
"Well maybe an hour or so, more than sometimes." He looked down at the bottle with a blank look, "she gave me enough encouragement." He looked up at her again but his eyes were somewhere else, "Silly lass, what would she have done if I'd taken her up on it? For all she came from some high toned family William was all she had ever wanted but I doubt he would have taken her with that between them, and me, I'm not the marrying kind."  
"Maybe he would nave done," she said shaken by his sudden seriousness.  
He sighed, and shook his head,  
"Seen it before, ends up with him scurrying back to sea and her earning her bread on her back in a dirt water hole somewhere. I'd not do that to her, for all that she was a pirate at heart."

Elanor reached out for the bottle,  
"Talking of hearts, what are you going to do Jack? How long can you go on dodging them? The Chaser might stay ahead but that means giving up the Black Pearl and staying with me; do you want that? Even then they might catch us eventually and I meant what I said about not being taken."  
"If they catch me I'm dead anyway. I can't give them the heart."  
"Can't or won't?"  
He shrugged,  
"Doesn't matter does it?" looking away toward the over hang he shivered, "Maybe it depends on what's down there."

It was at that very inopportune moment that Mr Gibbs joined them with the news that the fish were ready.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24 Into the abyss **

Darkness came quickly, as it did in these waters, and sleep followed just as swiftly, at least for two of them. Once growling stomachs were fed eachof them claimed a little territory beside the fire and rolled themselves into a blanket, Gibbs was snoring almost before he finished moving and Elanor had just time to wonder, once again, what it was that Jack wasn't telling her before sleep claimed her too.

Jack lay awake sometime longer, his weary body protesting as his wayward mind took yet another of its strolls through the pictures of the past, reviewing events again, as if the revisiting of them might change something. He cursed himself, and the lack of rum, roundly, as he did each time it happened, and wondered why it was that what was gone should haunt him so. Once..... before.... he would have closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep, knowing that what was done could not be undone and that regrets were better expressed in future actions than by the recalling of that which had now passed into history; but now it seemed that he was doomed to relive those last hours over and over again as if he had brought some part of the Locker back with him.

Perhaps it would have been different if he had still been on the Pearl.

With another silent curse he rolled himself tighter in the blanket Elanor had provided, the smell of it, clean and new, reminding him of the uncertainties of the present. For the lady on the other side of the fire was something as uncharted as the seas beyond the map, and yet as each day passed he found it harder to imagine a future that did not encompass her and her ghost. It was unsettling him, for it had been many years since he had felt this way about almost any one at all. The lesson, that there was nothing and no one he could trust, not even his father, and nothing to rely on other than his own wits, had been a hard one but he had learned it well. Mr Gibbs was as close as he had come to trusting another in many a year and the man had earned that special place through deeds and hardships they neither of them spoke of. Elizabeth had not understood that or she would have known that Gibbs did not need her to save him, nor the others either; but then Elizabeth had understood very little of the realities of his life. He bore her no ill will for that, for how could it be otherwise when she was the governor's daughter? But the woman sleeping by the dying fire, though she was as alien to him as Elizabeth had been, was somehow different, he didn't know how or why but he was stubbornly and resentfully sure of it.

Jack frowned to himself as he wriggled the sand into a more comfortable hole, his restless mind meshing past events and current concerns as he stared up at the stars. What would she, Elanor, have done if had been her on the deck of the Pearl that day? Imagining her facing down the Kraken was not so hard, and maybe her ghost would have offered them a way out. But if not then what action would she have taken? Not a kiss and a shackle, somehow he was sure of that. He let the scene play in his head and grinned to himself as it approached its climax; no she would have faced him squarely with the truth that he already knew, that he had to stay and they had to go. She would have looked around at the battered ship and those already lost and told him openly that it ended here, and she would have given him a choice, his legend or a bullet in the head. Go down with his ship alive and fighting, or a quick death. Then she would have left, tossing him a pistol as she went, leaving his final fate to his own hand. She would have understood the need to die a free man.

Yet how was he so sure of that? Why did he feel this link to her, this strange kinship? She who was such a painfully honest woman, despite the secrets she guarded so carefully, and him such a dishonest man?

He did not love her, he was sure of that, was not even tending to love her; nor was it the gut twisting lust she could inspire with such uncomfortable consequences, yet somehow she was becoming woven into the story of his life, just as Elizabeth and William had been. Yet he had never seen them as a part of his future, what little future he had even seen for himself that was, not in the way that something whispered this woman from a far off world and her ship were. Would she prove to be that most rare of all things, a friend in dangerous world, perhaps? A friend and an equal, for all that she was more like her maybe ancestor the Commodore than was comfortable, an uneasy combination. He wondered if she were somehow filling a hole he had not even realised was there.

But the present and the future held other uncertainties, despite all his efforts to make it otherwise.

Jack frowned at the arching sky, he had hoped that the knowledge of the heart would die with Beckett, who was a malignant little weasel but close mouthed. Not at all given to sharing and so unlikely to let slip any advantageous knowledge to those who might also wish to make use of it. The heart and the control of Dutchman certainly counted as advantageous knowledge and so was likely to have been clutched most tightly to Beckett's covetous chest. Or so he had reasoned. To ensure that it went no further than that unhallowed place he had been willing to sink the Endeavour, though he hated sending a ship down, never forgetting the sight of the Wench as she sank, nor the screaming of her timbers as the water claimed her. Jack shifted uneasily as he recalled the sight of it, the bile rising in his gullet even now. Many of his negotiatory skills, and the unpirateness of his piratory legend had been developed to avoid sending ships down, he mused silently, though few would ever understand that. 'Except perhaps the woman not ten feet away' a little voice whispered.

Jack squirmed in the warm sand at the thought, reflecting that he was no longer sure if he could hide from her at all. But he had secrets too, some that he was almost sure she and her all knowing ghost had not yet discovered. He hoped.

But he had also hoped that with Beckett had gone to his final judgement that it would be an end of the matter. To keep the heart of the Dutchman safe he gave the order to fire, though he delayed it until the last moment, knowing that he was sending many a soul to the new ferryman too. Beckett had seen him return, had seen the Dutchman rise again, so Beckett had to die or there would be no peace on the seas, for the man had been mad to think that he would be allowed control unopposed. Though the fight was not of Jack's making the ending of it had to be, for there had been no one else.

The one consolation was that, while Beckett's death brought him relief, and some satisfaction, it had brought him no pleasure. Teague's words had only reminded him of what he had already learned, before the spectre of Jones and his locker had driven all thought of anything but survival from his head. 'Twas strange indeed what a man would do to forestall his final judgement, but Jack had known from the moment Bootstrap left that a final judgement was the last of his worries when Jones was the debtor. That knowledge had seduced him into indulging in a moment of gloating, a mistake that had carried such awful consequences, a payment far in excess of the fleeting pleasure gained; he would not make such an error again.

Now it seemed that the battle was not over at all. Beckett had not been so close mouthed or cautious as he expected and amongst those he had allowed to survive there were others knew of the heart and its power. Perhaps he should have followed Barbossa's wish after all and slaughtered them as they struggled in the waters; he had not allowed that and now it seemed that judgementtoo, that granting of a man a second chance, was a mistake.

He sighed and rolled over again turning his eyes from the stars to the fire, feeling somewhere in the distant reaches of his mind the shout of an aching muscle and castigating himself for not having brought more rum.

Jack pillowed his head on his hand and stared at the fading embers, seeing unwelcome pictures in the shifting reds and greys. But things were as they were, and men being what they were, there had always been the risk that someone else, somewhere, knew of the reality of Beckett's action, through pillow talk if naught else; he had known that and so had Teague. Which had consequences, unfortunate ones. Elizabeth could not remain at Shipwreck because Will's heart could not stay within the pirate city and she would not be parted from it, nor allow anyone else to bury it. If they could have swapped it then matters might have been different, but the beating of the thing made that impossible, there was no way it could be done without her knowing. But that left them with a dilemma because Jack knew better than most that Becket was not the only pirate who stood beneath the canopy of the law or called himself a god-fearing man. Nor was Norrington the only man who set his steps toward hell in the belief that it was done for king and country. So, for the safety of them all, she had to die.

He had left that to Teague, feeling the first gratitude towards his father that he had felt in many a year. Maybe some good had come of it then? He sighed and rolled over once more, laying his cheek against the cooling sand, his arm spread across it in abandoned embrace, seeking solace, as ever, in the sight of the sea. He'd grieved for her of course, as he had for the Pearl when she sailed away from him again, though perhaps not as much as he might have done. It seemed that the fates were not done with him, and the loss of the Pearl now might be considered somewhat fortunate. While the powers that be sought him on the Pearl he had the time and space to find the fountain, and to secure the heart too. He could only hope that those same fates would keep the Pearl in one piece while he did the necessary, for Barbossa's days were surely numbered. Believing that he could use Tia Dalma for his own ends and still escape her had been his final mistake.

Jack felt the sudden sharp nip of a crabs claw on his finger and raised his head to glare at the creature as it scuttled towards the shoreline. It seemed to shake its claws at him in a mocking salute and he glowered at it suspiciously before turning back to the fire with a heavy sigh, settling his head on his hat and pushing the afflicted digit into his mouth for a moment, though there was no blood to be seen. Staring through the heat haze drifting above the dying flame he watched the shimmer on Elanor's hair, the pale silk of it taking on the hues of blood and smoke as if to warn him of what lay ahead of them. He shuddered and pulled the blanket closer remembering the lightening that she carried with her. No deity maybe but the trappings of a goddess none the less; she and her ghost were as powerful as they were strange and as long as her door home stayed closed then there was a chance of success. With her help he would find his escape within the fountain and then he could steal Will's heart away to safety. She would help him, he was sure of that, for what else did she have to do?

Once they had found the fountain they could set about the next task.

His mouth twisted at the thought, finding the fountain was proving more strenuous than he had anticipated. He felt another twinge of pain and shifted uneasily, tomorrow would be as back breaking as today even with her ghosts help. He would need all his wits about him, whatever it was that waited for them. With that thought Jack settled his hat more comfortably beneath his head and disciplined himself to sleep.

***

The little island knew few shadows, having not much to cast them away from its tiny top knot of vegetation, but as the humans slept two strange ones visited its spreading sands. One seemed created by the dying embers of the fire, while the other formed from the crests of the moon kissed waves that crept up the shore. The first shimmered in the light of the high riding moon, turning its silver to all the colours of the rainbow, but the second seemed to absorb the light of that same lantern and recast it in dark glitters that hinted of depths and high rising peaks. Both bore the shape of women as many such as they had done before.

"Witty Jack him have a heavy heart an' a weary body." The dark shadow said as she stood beside the sleeping pirate. "Yet he'll nat give in. Him will falla tat which he seeks to his very end. Can hold a course can Jack Sparra, better than near all. An steer a hard one too. But the shadow o' the lacker, it still sit heavy on him Lady, must it be this way?"  
The other shadow seemed to incline her head, raising her hand to spread her fan before her shaded face, the medallions there glowing as if painted in light itself. The darker shadow edged close to peer at the fan, the lace of her tattered skirts whispering across the sand like the tide as she moved, the light of the fire showing her to be a woman of ebony skin and brown velvet eyes and with a wide brow that currently wore a frown. The painting on the fan seemed to come and go, only the two ships there, one white and one black, remaining unchanging; the frown on the watching woman's face deepened as she watched the images shift,  
"Must be done, tis true," she said with a sigh, "but can none other do it? Him tired and there are more scars on him than human eyes can see. Your captain too has her grief and pain, I can feel it even as she sleeps, can she steer the line that must be fallad?"

The fire hissed, a flame rising up in a final burst of energy that glittered on the other lady's smile but did nothing to illuminate the shadow of her face; the fan fluttered again, the lace reflecting back the fire light in a burst of brightness that turned the sand to white. The dark lady seemed to read the reply in the fan's movement for she nodded,  
"Ya keep them safe tis true, but will that be enough?" She looked out towards the seas, "There are those who seek what must nat be found and I cannot prevent them from followin' the call of it. Nor cant you. While they seek the Pearl I can keep them running and far away, but should they catch the Pearl and not find witty Jack aboard her. ....what then Lady? These here dance at ya biddin for they are ya own, and well chosen they may be. But wat of the others?"

The first lady followed the second one's gaze back towards the sea and the fan moved again, the images shifting one more time. The dark lady seemed to think, then she nodded,  
"So be it. Shall remain as we agreed for the moment, Barbossa him be mine already and the seekers will nat find the seas their friend. The rest I trust to ya Lady," her mouth widened in a shadowed smile and her voice took on a sly and soft note, "While ya pay ma price."

She moved across to stand beside the man Jack called friend,  
"Ah hope ya have the heart for tis Mr Gibbs for they will have need of ya these two before all be settled." She smiled again, but softly this time, "but happen ya would have it no other way."  
Her skirts whispered once more as she stepped towards the sleeping woman, looking down with curiosity,  
"Strange ya is tis true, but ah tink the Lady has chosen wisely. A woman of ma own heart I reckon ya be, and I'll trust witty Jack to ya care." She reached down to brush the pale hair from the wide brow, "treat him as gently as he will allow for ma sake, for he saved me once when I was a weary mortal and the power all sat in his hands. Nat a honest man Jack Sparra, a scallywag more often than he should be perhaps, but a good one when he need nat be and with the things that define a man, and that be a rarer and more precious quality tan honest by far."

The first lady moved to stand beside her, the fan moved again catching the eye of her dark companion who squinted at the pictures on the silk then threw back her head and laughed.

The waves rose higher and the moon sailed on, the sleeping humans turned in their dreams, and the shadows on the beach were gone.

***

Elanor was woken by a discrete call from Ariadne as the sun started to rise turning the sky and the sand rosy in the gentle light. Rubbing eyes that still longed for sleep she sat up and stretched her stiff shoulders, despite the softness of the morning breeze and the warmth of her coat she shivered, there was something about this place that bothered more than she cared to admit, and not only because they were here at all. Somehow she was sure that, even with the chart, this was another island that couldn't be found unless you were in some way intended to find it. Which was a truly stupid thought she kept telling herself, but one that had lodged in her head days ago and wouldn't move.

She acknowledged the signal and stumbled to her feet, braiding her hair as she looked around her. The fire had collapsed into a smudge of grey ash and the two men were still asleep, each rolled into a blanket, one each side of it. On a sudden impulse she crossed slowly and silently to stand over Jack, being careful that she didn't come between him and the rising sun. His head was pillowed on his hat, his arms were wrapped around himself, and the mass of his hair was lying neatly behind him, just one decorated braid falling across his cheek. He had washed the kohl from around his eyes, along with the sand, last evening and now the shadow there was nothing more than the fringe of dark lashes. Elanor smiled to herself, no man had any right to such lashes and certainly not a pirate. She studied him more closely noting the shadow of stubble on his cheek that confirmed her suspicion that his tidy beard was the result of some care rather than just luck. Vanity? or something else, something more pragmatic? She might not be of his world but she had cut her eye teeth some time ago and was no fool, so she could see why his image might be important to his legend and why the legend might be an important part of him staying alive.

He murmured something and moved his head against the leather pillow of the his hat, extending one arm out across the sand, long fingers curled loosely around the palm, the elegance of the hand and the narrowness of the lace bedecked wrist belying its strength. The growing light turned his skin to red gold and set the fine hairs of his moustache shimmering like a black cat's fur. Elanor continued to stare down at him, sombre faced, the whisper of the surf advancing up the sand sending her mind drifting back to other places and other people. Jack would not look out of place in her world, unlike most of those she had seen in Tortuga, which was of its self more than a little extraordinary. It was not so hard to believe, here on this island of secrets, in the slightly unreal light of a Caribbean early morning, that in this world he was marked for something special. More than special, if Ariadne was right, something downright weird. Something that she might have become caught up in.

She raised her eyes and looked across to the ship, recalling that conversation with the all-knowing Ariadne, another who was also becoming stranger by the day. But then she was forgetting that damned quantum wasn't she? Was anything really weird in the face of how the world apparently worked? How the universe worked come to that? Certainly this world, where curses claimed you even if you didn't believe in them, where sailors cut out their hearts and lived on and sea goddesses wandered about willy-nilly bound in human form.

"'lanor? Something wrong?"  
His voice was still slurred with sleep but the eyes staring up at her were alert. She cursed herself for her distraction and was momentarily glad that he hadn't slept with his pistols, though as he moved she saw the butt of one of them peep out from beneath the rim of his hat.  
"No." she said more shortly than she had intended too.  
That brought her a look that was half amused and half wary as he sat up and tossed the blanket aside,  
"So why are you standin' over me like this? Not that I'm complainin' you understand," he let his eyes drift her length with apparent appreciation, "there can't be many a sight a man would rather wake to," his lips curved in a suggestive smile and he tilted his head to look up at her sideways, "though the sight would be further improved if you were down here rather than up there..," he flicked a hand at the sand beside him and his voice trailed away suggestively.

She looked at him in resigned amusement,  
"Do you ever stop Jack? Does it never get tiring or boring or just too much effort?"  
That brought a wider smile as he got to his feet without apparent effort or stiffness, the movement bringing him close against her shoulder. She didn't retreat, not even when he reached out and took her hand, apparently fascinated by the lines in her palm. He turned his head towards her and when he spoke his breath ruffled the unbraided tendrils of hair about her face,  
"With such as you? Never," he murmured softly into her ear.  
"At least not this early in the morning," she countered, then wondered if the comment was wise as he saw his brows rise and his lips part, but she forestalled any question about her meaning with a stern look, "now, honour being satisfied on both sides can I have my hand back, I need to talk to you. Or are you planning on reading my fortune?"  
She cast a quick glance towards Mr Gibbs who had showed some signs of stirring though his eyes remained closed and his mouth open.  
"Either way not here."

***

Side by side they splashed through the surf, feeling the promise of the later heat in the rising sun. Jack said nothing but cast her an occasional curious glance as she wondered what to say. Finally she caught his eyes and stopped walking, turning to face him, deciding that there was no easy way and that she might as well just come out with it  
"I'm worried, about Mr Gibbs."  
"Gibbs?" Jack sounded amazed, "what is there to be worried about? I told you he's to be trusted and you've left it a little late to decide you don't believe me darlin'."  
"I do trust him, that not the issue."  
"Then what is?" He reached out and caught her arm, "Out with it, if ought is wrong with Gibbs then I want to know."  
"There's nothing wrong, at least not yet, but I'm worried about how he is going to cope when Ariadne takes a hand."  
She shook herself free and stepped past him,  
" You've seen some of what she can do, but I think it's going to come as a shock even to you, in his case it will be much worse because you've insisted that I keep quiet about Ariadne."  
Elanor shrugged impatiently as he opened his mouth to protest,  
" Oh he knows she's there, and he's got used to her changing canvas and taking the helm, though he crosses himself each time he sees it."  
"Does he?" Jack was wide eyed, "Well who would have thought it! Still I suppose he feels it necessary to take care with the Almighty, given that he put himself on the wrong side of one goddess."  
Elanor decided it was best not to follow that hare, though she filed it for future enquiry.  
"He might well think that the devil himself is rising when he sees."

"Might he?"  
Jack was now looking decidedly uneasy and the look set her wondering when exactly she had marked out Jack as an equal, for she had and as result she had given little thought to how he might react to Aridane showing her claws. No more than she would have done to someone of her own world in fact, even though he too referred to Ariadne as her ghost, and even though she had been careful to keep him away from Ariadne's physical presence. Now she wondered how, exactly, he would respond to what was coming, and what that response might mean for the future. Drawing a deep breath she turned to face him putting her hands lightly on his shoulders; he shifted uneasily meeting her eyes with something close to apprehension. Elanor spoke gently but with emphasis,  
"It's going to frighten him Jack. He finds me worrying enough as it is and I don't want him to be so scared of me he refuses to come back to the ship. Talk to him will you.... please?"  
"And tell him what?" he shifted beneath her hands, as if he wanted to run but would not allow himself to move, "What should I tell him when I don't know meself?"  
She shook her head in frustration,  
"I can't explain. There is no way to explain. Call it magic of you will, but just don't let him be afraid of me." She was slightly shocked to realise how much that mattered to her, "I like him Jack. I wouldn't do him any harm willingly and I don't want to be the cause of him marooning himself here, I don't want to be the cause of his death."

Elanor became aware that Jack was pale beneath the tan and that his shoulders were stiff under her hands, it was only too obvious that he wanted to escape from her grip. Strange given his flirtations of ten minutes ago. His eyes were wide and black and the look in them shook her, if he'd brought his pistol she'd be looking down the barrel of it. With a frown she let him go,  
"What is it? What have I said to make you look at me like that?"  
"Nothing," he replied quickly, but he stepped away from her as soon as she released him, turning away to stride off through the surf.  
"I mean it Jack," she called after him, "I don't want to hurt or frighten him, or you come to that."  
He stopped and spun around in flurry of flapping sleeves and flying hair,  
"Frighten me! Why should you think that you can luv?" The tone was mocking but there was a savagery in his face that pierced her own concern and made her stare at him in bewilderment.  
"I don't. You might find it a bit of a surprise, a shock even, but you'll cope." She closed on him again, "You're a clever man Jack, I worked that out in the first day, and you're no coward either. Mr Gibbs, though also no coward is not such a clever man and he is superstitious. I am worried about him!"

"Kind of you!" the tone was still unfriendly.  
"Jack what the hell has got into you? We are here because you want to be, we are doing this because you want to do it, Mr Gibbs is your friend, and possibly the only person in the world you can rely on, other than me. I'm not criticising him, or you, but I am worried about how he is going to react when the ship blasts the way through that rock without canon ball or powder and from the other side of the reef! Is that so surprising?"  
He looked away from her, up towards the cloudless morning sky and drew a deep breath,  
"Suppose not." His shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh, "don't worry, I'll stop him running for the hills," he looked back towards the centre of the little island, "were there any hills to run for. How long before your ghost does her magic?"  
Elanor shrugged,  
"I estimate we've got another couple of hours of digging still to do, then about half an hour of preparation before she can do her stuff."  
He nodded then turned away again  
"I'll warn him." He threw back over his shoulder, "But tis a pity we haven't any more rum."

***

In the end it was closer to three hours of digging before Elanor was satisfied that it could be done. But the time had taken its toll of them all and for a while the three of them sprawled on the sand in the shrinking shade, unable to find the energy even to think about going on. Water, and an easing of cramped limbs, eventually revived them and it was Jack who first broached the topic,  
"Your ghost can take it from here can she?"  
Elanor raised a weary head to look at him, repressing a smile at the sight of his sand rimed hair and sweat soaked shirt and wondering if he had ever worked quite so hard before or for so long. Surely it was to avoid labour of the kind he had seen in the last few days that he had turned pirate in the first place? But he appeared unconcerned by it and as he sat cross legged on the sand he seemed to be more than willing to go on.  
"I think so. I'll check it with Ariadne to be sure."  
That brought a grunt from Mr Gibbs,  
"Rowin' back will take time. Sun'll be full high by the time we make it. Maybe we should leave the rest till tomorrow and start afresh."  
"No. We need to get started now." Jack showed his first sign of irritation since they arrived, "Seen no one so far but might not stay that way. Sooner we get down there sooner we can get away."  
"No need to go anywhere," Elanor soothed, "I can talk to her from here."

Both men turned to stare at her, one in fear and one in disbelief. Elanor sighed,  
"Look just trust me will you? I know it seems strange to you but.. Well just trust me. We've not done anything to harm you so far have we?"  
She cast Jack a warning look and spoke apparently to the sky.  
"Can you hear me Ariadne?"  
"Clearly" Ariadne's calm tone echoed across the sand.  
Gibbs backed away with a curse, feet scrabbling in the sand and staring around him as if expecting to see some form of apparition materialise beside him. Jack reached out and caught his wrist, then just stared at Elanor open mouthed and wide eyed. She smothered a smile at his suddenly incredulous look, if ever Jack could look gormless he was doing it at the this moment, but then in his place she might well have run as far away as she could. Gibbs was white with the fear of it and she knew that only loyalty to Jack, and an iron grip, was holding him where he was; best make it quick for greater shocks were yet to come.  
"Good. I think we have reached the point we agreed. I'll set the sensors and relay and then check with you again. Hold the wand until then."  
"Agreed. I will wait for your signal."

Leaving Jack and Gibbs where they were Elanor crossed to the pile of equipment and pulled out the small box she had hidden under a stack of rope. Seeing the box open at her touch Jack gave Gibbs a warning look and strode across to join her. If she heard him come she paid no attention, nor did she when he leaned over her shoulder staring in fascinated confusion at the contents she was so carefully removing. The small objects had the shape and thickness of a coin, each had a dark glossy sheen that was unlike anything he had ever seen, and in the shimmering surface he thought he could see a tracing of silver. Then there was a square item too, larger than the black coins but still small enough to be hidden in the palm of a her hand and with a surface more grey than black but with the same hint of silver tracery within it.  
"What are these?" he pointed a wary finger at the coins.  
She cast him a flat and expressionless look over her shoulder,  
"Sensors. They will allow Ariadne to decide if we have dug enough for her to take over. This " she indicated the other thing, "is a relay it will make sure that Araidne's ... knife. is long enough to cut down to where the channel widens out."  
"Oh." Well there was little else he could say, "What are you goin' to do with them?"  
"Put them in the hole, Ariadne will use them to make her decision. If she's happy then the hard work is over for the moment." She cast him an uncertain look, "and the surprises start."  
"Oh" Jack said again, trying to ignore the sudden tightening of his chest. "I'd better warn Gibbs then."  
Elanor nodded as she got to her feet hiding the things she had taken from the box inside her shirt. Seeing that she wasn't intending to explain any further he left her to her preparations.

***

They had done enough it seemed and Elanor spent the next half hour positioning and fixing the relay, and the two others she had brought, to Ariadne's satisfaction. Finally it was done and she joined Jack and Gibbs where they sat in the small patch of shade.

"Will it make much a noise ma'am?" Gibbs asked nervously.  
"Not much at all," she said with a reassuring smile. "There'll be no explosion either, or at least not much of one. But its best to stay out of the way, get between the Chaser and the hole and it will cut you in two."  
Gibbs eyes were as wide and as round a saucers at the thought and Jack looked suddenly nervous.  
"Safe enough here though? Eh?" was all he said.  
She nodded but Jack scowled at her all the same,  
"So what is going to happen then? Goin' to open the hole you said, but not how. Like drawnin' Kracken's teeth getting anything out of you."  
There was peremptory note in his voice and Elanor looked at him in surprise, he seemed calm enough, if a little irritated, but as he generally avoided any unnecessary reference to his past, went to great lengths to do so in fact, him choosing those words now could only be a sign of just how anxious he really was.

She thought for a moment,  
"You've been inside a smithy I take it?"  
Jack nodded with a sly smile,  
"Aye. That I most certainly have."  
"Then you've seen fire melt metal. Ariadne is going to use something like fire to melt the rock."  
Jack stared out towards the ship,  
"How's that? The ship is too far away and the land is in the way."  
"Just watch, and if you still want to know afterwards I'll explain it when we have more time." She cast a worried look towards Gibbs, "It's alright really, it's common enough magic where I come from and nothing will go wrong as long as we stay out of the line of fire."  
"Then lets get on with it!" Jack exclaimed.  
Elanor shrugged,  
"Ariadne?"  
"I am awaiting instructions."  
"Raise the wand."

Jack frowned at her for a moment then stared back towards the ship; though he couldn't be certain at this distance it seemed that a thin spire arose from out of the main mast, the flash of the sun on it the only thing that made him sure it was there.  
"Wand extended to the required height." Ariadne's voice came calmly.  
"Confirm trajectory." Elanor instructed.  
Jack felt the tension growing as the reply came,  
"Trajectory confirmed."  
"Fire at will." Elanor instructed calmly.

From the thin spire came a lance of light, brighter than the sun and dangerous looking, flashing over the sea and land. Gibbs swore and scuttled backwards his face a mask of horror until Jack spoke warningly,  
"As you were Mr Gibbs, as you were."  
His words came out fainter than pleased him, but evenly enough.  
The light, thin and evil looking as a rapier blade, struck the box she had set in the top of the hole and, turning a corner downwards, disappearing into the darkness beneath the overhang, shattering the shadow and filling the space with an eerie blue white glow as it went. For a moment the light held steady, then there was hiss as if water was falling onto hot rocks and then as suddenly as it appeared the light turned off.

Elanor spoke into the silence,  
"Ariadne, status?"  
"Operation completed successfully. Access achieved."  
"Very well. Retract wand and standby."  
"Confirmed, wand retracting. I will stand by."  
Both Jack and Gibbs turned their eyes to the Dawn Chaser still riding sedately at anchor, the spire on the mast slowly disappeared.  
Jack turned to look at her with an unfathomable look in his eyes and a set jaw, then he got to his feet and came to stand over her,  
"More lightening?" he said coldly.  
Elanor stared up at him calmly,  
"I told you I wasn't defenceless, and that I couldn't let the Chaser be taken. Do you see now why I don't want to be backed into a corner?"  
He stared down at her for a long moment then he nodded but his grim expression didn't ease,  
"And here was I thinkin' the heart was danger enough. Didn't know the half of it did I?" He turned towards the ship again and the looked faded to a faint smile, "interesting though, very interesting.... and useful."  
Gibbs stared at him in confusion but said nothing.

Elanor shifted on the sand and Jack held out his hand to help her up,  
"On to the fountain then."  
Elanor nodded as she dusted her self down,  
"Rest first. The tunnel Ariadne has cut won't be large and the rock will be too hot to move through yet." She straightened, "Better we wait until nightfall anyway, just in case we get company. I'll go and check what's facing us then we can decide how best to play this."  
Jack nodded and watched with sombre eyes as she moved towards the overhang,  
"Elanor" he called. "One thing more thing,"  
She turned, brows raised in question, and he pointed an emphatic finger at her.  
"Don't ever use that fire on me ship. Others if you have to but never the Pearl. Not without my agreement. Do so and I'll not rest until I kill you. Savvy?"

***

It was decided that Gibbs would stay behind, and he wasn't sorry for it. Since Jack's threat the air between the two captains had been artic cold and all the ease he had seen in them for the last week was gone. If he read the situation rightly the tension was coming from Jack, his shoulders were pulled up and in on himself and his face was stiff. That and the frequent sideways glances at the object of his outburst spoke of his unease and Gibbs suspected he was regretting his remark. Jack being Jack he wasn't about to say so though. Captain Cavendish on the other hand was all collected calm and her tone when she spoke to Jack was politeness itself, but the humour was gone and there was a formality he hadn't seen between them before. Gibbs she treated as before.

In the seconds after Jack had spoken, when the words hung heavy and ugly on the hot air, she had simply stared at him with steady, but shuttered, eyes. Then she had shrugged just the once and turned her back on him, to Gibbs it seemed that she did it with deliberation, before replying,  
"Oh yes, I understand your meaning, " she cast a chilly look back over her shoulder, "and you are a very persistent man, are you not? I will remember Captain Sparrow."  
Then she strode away. Jack had watched her go but Gibbs had caught the flick of his head and the twitch of his beard braids as he grimaced and swore, and doubted that Jack knew which of them the curse was for. The he had turned on his heel and stalked off towards the sea. Gibbs had sighed in both relief and exasperation and followed the lady to the overhang.

In the shade of the rock a darker circle showed where the ghosts fire had done its work. The hole itself was twice a shoulders width and smooth as glass,  
"Mothers love but it's black," he had muttered to himself as he stared down into the open mouth and wondered if he could bring himself to descend into it.  
Elanor had assured him it was barely twenty feet before it spilled out into the wider channel her ghost had already seen, but, head first or feet first, twenty feet was enough for a man to suffocate and he felt no desire to risk it. Now it seemed that he wouldn't have to.

But as he watched the other two prepare he was determined that he would have a word with the lady before they set off. He had not forgotten that she carried that lightening on her belt, though Jack appeared to have done so, and he was unwilling to let the pair of them go into the darkness together without her having a better of understanding of Jack's feeling for the Pearl and the singularity of it.

She seemed to realise this and after a while she left Jack preparing ropes and grapples in the shade, taking herself down to the boat, now uncovered on the sand, to collect more supplies. He followed her as if to help but he didn't have long for Jack looked up occasionally to watch her about their business, but he hoped it was enough.

***

"It's a poor choice, head first with nothing but blackness before you or feet first not knowin' what's waiting for you below." Jack said quietly.  
"Much like the rest of the life then." Elanor said shortly as she lowered the rope into the hole.  
"That it is." Jack agreed. He turned to Gibbs, "best cover that boat again mate, don't want to attract attention."  
"Aye, I'll do it now afore you two disappear."

Jack watched Gibbs hurry away toward the boat on the shore, a wry look on his face.  
"Wish he'd used other words than disappear," he said softly.  
"Changed your mind Jack?" Elanor spoke without raising her eyes from the rope.  
"No," he paused and looked at her warily, "have you?"  
"No. I agreed, I'll see it through."  
There was silence for a moment then Jack reached out and grasped her wrist,  
"Captain Cavendish," he started formally, but the words died as she turned to stare at him. He sighed and pulled her closer closing his hand over hers, and smiling with a most unusual diffidence, "'lanor, you're captain of a fine ship, and a good captain I'll not say otherwise. That fair lady out there is all that stands between you and the world and you'd do anything to protect her would you not? Including killin' me. I'd not berate you for that. But....."  
"I do understand Jack," she broke in.  
"Do you?" he said uncertainly, not quite understanding what was happening.  
"Yes, better than maybe you think. But I'd not kill you for a ship, any ship, not unless I had to, not unless all other options were exhausted. Nor would I sell you. Can you say the say same?"

She turned back to the rope pulling on her hand but he held it tight, using more strength against her than he had ever done before. Elanor looked up again with a frown and his fingers tightened further around her own keeping them trapped. He stared at her uncertainly for a moment then smiled,  
"Yes. I promise that in the same circumstances I'd do no more and no less than you would."  
She watched him for a moment longer then relaxed, before yanking her hand away in a show of her own strength.  
"Well that's all right then," she said.  
A sound behind them warned of Mr Gibbs return and she smiled at Jack and gestured at the black shadow that was the entrance to the world below,  
"So which of us goes first?"  
Jack looked from her to the ship in the bay and then back again. His smiled widened into that familiar flash of gold and he reached out and took the rope from her hand  
"I do."  
With that he sat down and slid over the edge and into the darkness.

Elanor watched his head disappear with a faint smile,  
"I'll take that as an apology shall I?" she whispered as she sank down to sit on the edge.  
She heard Gibbs behind her and felt his hand on her shoulder for a moment,  
"I'll watch yer backs ma'am," he said quietly.  
She looked up at him over her shoulder.  
"I know."  
Gibbs nodded,  
" Keep an eye on Jack for me will yer, for his he's in a real strange mood, no sayin' what he'll be agettin into to. "  
She smiled and nodded once then she followed Jack into the ground.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25 Dark Horizons **

Hathaway had received Admiral Norrington's offer of dinner with some trepidation. While the admiral was his superior officer he was also related to James Norrington, and therefore more deeply connected to this business than was comfortable for anyone. Certainly for the man himself judging by the lines of strain and sorrow around his eyes. A lot remained unspoken between them, and there was yet more that never could, or should, be said; and food and drink might loosen a man's tongue more than was wise, for either party. But he liked the man; there was a lot that he could learn from him, and not only about James Norrington, for the trouble in his eyes must be more than for just a nephew lost at sea. So he had accepted the offer with grace and gratitude

He had to admit that the company would be welcome, for James Norrington's journals had not been comfortable reading, the regret and growing horror clear on every page; certainly not pleasant in the light of Jack Sparrow's history. The pirate was a man of some talent it would seem, and not a little compassion. Allowing Beckett to carry the letters of marque here had been madness if their lordships had known of this, and as the admiral was the source of his own new knowledge they must have done so. Not for the first time Hathaway indulged himself with some private worries about his king's wisdom.

As the sky darkened to indigo they left the office and adjourned to the best meal Hathaway had eaten in some time. While food was served and consumed they spoke of other matters, a little about music, more about books and the wonders of the new microscope, something on the great dock at Liverpool, before returning to their shared concerns about the threat from the Spanish colonies and navy, and the growing strains in the east. The matter of the East India company was carefully avoided by both men but other than that the conversation was unremarkable, and nothing that would not be heard around the dinner tables of London or Portsmouth.

Hathaway, however, was not terribly surprised when, as the port was placed upon the table and the servants withdrew some hidden fastness, the Governor joined them. He settled himself in a chair opposite without comment and took the glass that Norrington offered with a faint smile, unbuttoning his elaborate coat and easing his laced edged stock with a sigh. The real business of the evening was just beginning.

As the port passed around the Governor broached the subject of all their concerns,  
"I had a visitor today, a Spanish merchant or so he claimed," he gave a short, harsh, laugh, "he was no more merchant than I'm a shepherd, a Don from the Spanish court if ever I saw one. But then he wasn't trying to hide it for all his protestations."  
The admiral cast him a wary and worried look,  
"What did he want?"  
The other man watched the light on his wine for a moment then shrugged,  
"That was hard to say for certain, but easy enough to guess at, his stated aim was to discuss fair access to the trade routes and port facilities given the recent incursion by the EITC, but his main purpose seemed to be to read me a lecture on the nature of diplomacy and the balance of power. Oh, and the dangers of 'provocative actions', as he put them."  
Charles Norrington sighed,  
"Well I didn't really doubt that they knew, or suspected, but that would seem to confirm it."  
"And in their view possessing the heart of the Flying Dutchman would be an act of war." Hathaway murmured.  
"Or even seeking it." The governor agreed.  
Norrington nodded,  
"They would do all in their power to take it from us, perhaps strike to see how far they could push before we used it."  
"As we might if they were to find it first?" the Governor sounded worried.  
The navy men stared into their glasses unhappily,  
"What choice would we have?" the admiral replied eventually, "The possibility of such a war concerned James even while Beckett was alive. It bothered him that the king did not seem to have considered the chance. He didn't know about Beckett of course."

For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence. Then the Governor looked across at Hathaway.  
"I believe that you did know Cutler Beckett?" he said filling his glass for the second time.  
The captain smiled slightly and shook his head, his dark blue eyes taking on a slightly distant expression.  
"I would not use that word to describe the situation, sir, he was a little above my touch even then, though he had not yet been ennobled."  
"He bought it I assume? The title?"  
"I could not say. I know he was not of a noble family and nor was he a military man."  
"Then he bought it, either with money or other services." The Governor looked across at the admiral, "Information perhaps?"  
The other man shrugged.  
"It could be. The trade fleets of the east are something of a law unto themselves, little better than pirates on occasion." He sighed heavily, "but they are useful and they have men and ships that the navy cannot spare to such a distance, not unless the King is to build a new fleet, and with taxes already what they are..." he shrugged again and let the words trail away in the face of the other men's knowing nods. "They certainly have knowledge that their Lordships often find invaluable." He looked down into his glass, "and the King always needs funds."

The Governor grimaced,  
"I know, none better. Sometimes I think that the whole of St James is under siege by the merchant class and their underlings. Many are very clever and honourable men of course, but in the nature of things not all of them will be, certainly not when out of sight. They have ambitions too, more than many others at court. There will be more than one Beckett to watch for gentlemen, more than one of them would seek control of the seas for themselves if they could, we had best get used to being on our guard."  
He reached for a walnut and cracked it with a practiced gesture, looking across at Hathaway,  
"How did he come across Mercer? I recall that Mercer was the king's man, so how did he end up in the Indies?"

The captain went still, fingers tightening around the slender stem of his glass, knowing that they were edging into more dangerous waters, a self betrayal that was not unnoticed by the other two.  
"Mercer was dismissed near on five years ago." Hathaway's words were clipped, "he had become..... undisciplined."  
The Governor's mouth turned up briefly in a chilly smile,  
"Greedy." His resigned tone admitted that it was not a new story.  
"Aye that too. But more than that, he was unpredictable, some might say over zealous. There were some ...unpleasant incidents. He made enemies among the population where it was not needed, for himself and for the crown."  
Hathaway shrugged and sighed,  
"I suspect that the truth is that Mercer made his masters anxious, so he was released from service, and, like others before him, given a good reference, a fair payment, and a passage east. But he was man prone to offence from what I have heard, and may have taken umbrage at his dismissal. He could have met Lord Beckett on the journey, or at any port in the Indies. Beckett was not the most scrupulous or compassionate of men and would have found something of a kindred spirit in Mercer."

"Hmmm, a knife down a dark alley might have served the king better." The Governor mused as he refilled his glass again.  
"In light of recent events that might well be true, but there was no cause at the time." Hathaway accepted the port again with gratitude, "But the Beckett's of the world will always find those willing to do their dirty work, and they have a nose for them. Mercer or not I doubt it would have altered things much in the long term."  
"True enough," the admiral sighed, " pains me to say it but we have them in the navy too, the bullies who can always find recruits to do their unpleasant deeds. Fortunately a good officer learns to spot them quickly and the rule book makes ample provision for dealing with them. Be far more mutiny if that were not the case."  
"I was army myself, but I'm sure you are right." The governor conceded gracefully, "I've seen a few in my serving days."

He took another swallow of port,  
"But talking of the nature of men, what of our quarry Sparrow? Seems an odd sort from what I've heard of him. Plenty of tall tales of course, most of which I discount. Will we be able to do business with him?"  
He paused and stared down at the walnut shards for a moment as if seeking an answer in the pattern of them, "Are we even sure that he has this heart? After all he is a pirate and from what I hear he would not be adverse to making such a claim if he felt it expedient, irrespective of the truth of the matter."  
Hathaway shrugged,  
"Groves saw him escape the Dutchman as she sank, no one else escaped, and when she resurfaced she had switched sides. So we deduce that Sparrow has some leverage over Jones, why else would the Dutchman change sides at that point? That leverage can only be the heart, there appears to be nothing else Jones can be controlled by. but that does command his obedience however reluctantly."  
He let that sink in for a moment just incase the governor had doubted the seriousness of the matter. he took another swallow of wine,.  
"We don't know where it is now but it seems most likely that Sparrow does. Personally I doubt that it's at the pirate city, he'd never have risked leaving it there. Far too many men there who would see and seize the opportunity if they came by knowledge of it. For the same reason's he is unlikely to have told any of the occupants, or even his crew where it is, not if he wants to avoid a painful death."

The governor nodded and raised his glass again watching the candle light turn blood red through the liquid,  
"How did he leave the ship? It was sinking after all. Could he have taken it with him?"  
"Some kind if kite is as close as Groves can come. Rose like a bird from the deck as she started to go down, landed in the sea close to the Black Pearl. They fished him out." Hathaway said quietly.  
The admiral sighed,  
"Then I think that we can deduce that James was right and that pirate or not Sparrow is a man of some resource."  
Hathaway smiled without humour,  
"Indeed sir, Mr Groves comments on Captain Sparrow's resourcefulness are most enlightening. It seems that he took the Interceptor without a shot being fired, and with just the assistance of a blacksmith's apprentice, and that he disabled the Endeavor single handed while at the same time firing himself to safety from her decks. It makes some of the other stories about him seem less far fetched."  
Norrington nodded slowly,  
"The Interceptor incident being one of the things that persuaded the king that he should offer him a pardon; it was not the first time he had done such a thing, and he's credited, if that is the right word, with having absconded with more than one Spaniard. A man of such ability would be of considerable use should the Spanish decide to harass our colonies." He pursed his lips in thought, and then shook his head, "What is the world coming to that the hope for peace hangs on the actions of a pirate, however resourceful?"

"But it does it seems," the Governor said dryly, "Perhaps the best we can hope for is that he dropped it before he regained his ship. But would the Spanish believe that? We cannot afford war if it can be avoided."  
He set his glass down with a snap and reached for another walnut,  
"Nor is that our only problem. Agents of the EITC are already making representations, they talk of this heart as if it is their property. We cannot risk another Beckett arising from their ranks."  
The admiral shifted uneasily in his seat,  
"But Sparrow may be dead, of course. If he's not aboard his ship then they may have mutinied against him, possibly seeking the heart for themselves. Perhaps they have already taken it."  
Hathaway suppressed a shudder at the idea,  
"If they had it then I think we would have known by now. Sparrow is one of the few of that ilk that plays a long game; a very patient man is Jack Sparrow from all accounts. Nor would the Pearl have been seeking him in Tortuga, which they most certainly were, if they knew his whereabouts. Her captain seemed most anxious to find him, as if he had only just discovered that Sparrow had something of great worth."  
"Does it really matter so much?" the governor asked, his voice bland while his eyes were sharp on Hathaway's face, "Myth or not the Flying Dutchman is just one ship. Could controlling Davy Jones really give control of the seas as Beckett believed?"

Hathaway filled his glass again, and took a sliver of cheese,  
"Mr Groves has seen what the Dutchman can do, she can sail below the waves, she's heavily armed and, as she's immortal, she is also unsinkable. It is not a pretty picture. But as important as any of that is the fear she inspires in men, just seeing her could drive all the heart from even a disciplined crew. The Dutchman is also fast, there is said to be no escaping her."  
"The only ship that can outrun her as far as we know is the Black Pearl." The admiral said quietly.  
"Yes, another reason to try and take her," Hathaway agreed, "though I doubt that we could ever find out how or why, not without Sparrow's help." He looked around the table, "it all comes back to him it seems."

"I have a feeling that he knows that, which may be why he is staying out of sight," the Governor frowned, "but with such a thing at his command why should he bother? There must be some other factor that we don't know of."  
Hathaway stared down into his glass,  
"Very possibly. Whatever the cause I don't think I'd want to be in his shoes at the moment."

***

Twenty feet she had said but to Jack it felt more like twenty miles, and he cursed the bravado, or whatever it was, that had brought him into this hole first.

He'd climbed many a rope in his time, both up and down, but usually with the sky above him and the sea below, never in a void with no sense of where he was coming from or going to. Usually he climbed as quickly as he could, but here he moved slowly, hand over deliberate hand, and his shoulders already ached for doing so, but with no knowledge of what lay below caution must be their watchword. Every three feet he stopped and listened for some sign, some hint, of what was below them.

By the time he was a quarter of the way down the sounds of the surface had faded as if that world had ceased to exist, and all he could hear was the heavy rasp of his breathing and the quickened beat of his own heart. At least he hoped it was his own. These days it seemed a man couldn't be sure on that.

The movement of the rope knocked his elbows and knees on the sides of the hole, but it also told him that she not abandoned him, that she was following, and not far behind. But for all that he could see he might be alone on this descent into the unknown.

The rock, barely a foot from his face, was smooth as glass, and a tentative brush with his finger tips told him that it was warm to the touch, though not uncomfortably so, and slippery. Whatever the unearthly fire her ghost had used it had done a grand job, and he made a mental note to discover more about it when they had the time. The sight of it made him further regret his earlier threats, for it was a chilling demonstration of her power and he could see how useful such a weapon might be in recovering the Pearl. Thoughts of that recovery were never far from his mind and it would be a pity if some dream fed paranoia caused him to lose the co-operation of such an advantage. He cast a quick look down into the darkness and shivered, even more so if those same threats caused her to leave him to whatever awaited them below.

Then suddenly his knees were not brushing rock. Kicking out he found only space, and, legs flailing, he quickly lowered himself the last few inches until his boots were scrabbling on something that felt to be ice. For a moment Jack was still, waiting for a hand, or a tentacle perhaps, to grasp his ankle, but nothing happened. He shuffled his feet but the land below felt dry, though slippery, and it seemed that her ghost had been right and they had descended into a hollow below the sea. He inclined his head upwards and hissed,  
"I'm through," to the space above him before ducking his head to clear the edge of Ariadne's tunnel, and stumbled out into a wider passage way.

He pulled the lantern she had given him from his belt and thumbed it into life as she had instructed, blinking at the brightness of it after the darkness. Jack frowned down at the small cylinder, it was like no lantern he had seen, more like the little stars in her ship but focused, narrow and stark white in the blackness. In its halo he could see that the ground beneath his boots was smooth as the rock he'd passed through, but rutted and folded where the rock above had melted and dripped as the fire cut its way down.

Jack edged to one side to allow Elanor to join him, shining his lamp around as first her boots and then the woman herself emerged from the hole. The light of her lamp joined his, the pair of them showing a tunnel, wider than the one Ariadne had cut, floored with something that looked like coral encrusted rock, the edges sharp as razors in the sudden light. There was no way of knowing how long it had been since light had illuminated this subterranean world but there was nothing to see anyway. Only the occasional quartz like crystal, no bigger than a thimble full of sand, reflected back the bouncing light, for the rest it was swallowed up by the darkness. Nothing stirred, no insect skittered or rock shifted, and the floor sloped steeply away and down into nothingness. There was silence but for the sound of their breathing.

"So what now?" Jack spoke quietly as if afraid to disturb the rock above them.  
Elanor replied in a similar whisper,  
"Ariadne says this tunnel, if that's what it is, runs down for about another hundred feet, then it widens for a while longer before apparently dropping into the unexplained space."  
"Nothing between here and there?"  
"Nothing we can see," she shrugged "but that doesn't mean that there isn't anything."  
Jack snorted,  
"Cheerful sort aren't you, spend too much time conversing with ghosts." But he pulled his pistol from his belt as he spoke.  
She reached forward and grasped his wrist,  
"Don't go shooting at shadows Jack, there's an awful lot of rock and sand above us if it decided to take it amiss. Which reminds me..."  
She drew a small disc from the pouch hanging from her belt and pressed it against the rock where it set up a faint blue glow, like a curled up glow worm. Jack stared at it for a moment then looked at her,  
"What's that?"  
"Relay. This amount of rock can make it hard for Ariadne to hear us, and I don't like that idea, we may need all the help we can get. This will help me talk to her."  
Jack peered more closely at it then gave her a considering look,  
"Oh." Was all he said, then he straightened, "Into the abyss is it then?"  
"That or go back. Your choice."  
He stared into the darkness for a moment then tightened his grip on the pistol and moved forward.

***

It was slow going, the rutted rock, or dead coral, beneath their boots crunched beneath their boots and sent them stumbling at ever other step. The passage was not wide but the walls were far enough away to provide only an indifferent support, and they were both aware than an injury at this point would end the exploration for the foreseeable future.

If they hadn't been watching their step so carefully they might have passed the gate without noticing.

"Hold up a moment." Jack reached back and put his hand on her arm, shining his torch on the ground, flicking it this way and that in a searching manner.  
"What is it?" Elanor asked quietly.  
"Not sure." He edged forward and crouched down extending a hesitant hand and tracing an outline on the floor with a gentle finger, brushing away at something she couldn't see.  
"This ain't rock, nor coral, weren't cut by water or crabs neither," he said thoughtfully  
In the confined space Elanor couldn't join him and had to content herself with looking over his shoulder shining her torch alongside him at the rough pattern she thought she could see.  
"So what is it?"  
"Don't know, not metal either; see what you think."

He edged forward slightly and pressed himself against the wall to allow her to take his place. What she saw disturbed her more than she was willing to let him know. Whatever it had been had long been overlaid with salt and some other deposit but the pattern was that of a gate of some form and where he had brushed there was a fan of exposed filament that looked to be some form of engineered carbon. Whatever it was it wasn't natural.

Jack looked up at her his frown a pattern of shadow in the gloom.  
"Idea's?" he demanded.  
She drew a deep breath, unsure of what to say.  
"Elanor? It says somethin' to you so what?"  
His tone was peremptory and she sighed, they were in this business together after all and there was no point in lying.  
"I don't know. It's nothing I've ever seen. But I'd not take odds on it being artificial, or at least from somewhere other than here."  
"And that means?" he said with exaggerated politeness.  
"Someone else knew about this place at some time in the past and took measures to keep other people out. A long time in the past by the look of it, but even so......."  
"Makes you wonder what other little barriers they set in the way." Jack said flatly.  
She nodded,  
"And what exactly it was they were hiding here."  
Jack's grin was triumphant and gold in the torchlight.  
"We know the answer to that, though you won't have it. Fountain of youth, just like the map says. Not surprising they would want to keep it to themselves now is it."  
Elanor looked at him blandly,  
"Maybe. But if that is the case it leaves us with the question of where exactly are they? Why is their gate flattened on the floor and with all the signs of having been so for centuries."

Jack drew a deep breath.  
"Ah. Take your point. If they could live forever where are they? And why did they stop comin''"  
"Exactly."  
"Unless they got caught up in the island sinking, or couldn't find their way here any longer."  
"That's possible, but this doesn't look as if it's been flattened by water to me. In fact there's no sign of catastrophic damage at all. It's as if they just left and didn't come back. This is just the result of time and the gradual shifting of rock."  
"Dead then?"  
"In which case the question has to be how and why?"  
"Agreed. So onwards, says I, we'll not find the answer hanging about here."  
With that he straightened up and set off into the darkness again. After a moment of frowning thought Elanor followed him.

***

Now that she was looking for them the signs were everywhere. These tunnels had been cut, which probably meant that the space they were heading towards was artificial too, but whoever had done it had not been here in a very long time. Somewhere beneath the coral crusted floor were flags of stone or some other smoothed material and at intervals the walls had niches that might once have held torches, but they, and their full purpose, was long lost, though not to the surrounding sea. Whoever had created this place had done a fine job of it, for there was no sign of water penetration and though the air was dry it was clear and fresh. But if that was the case then where had the coral come from?

Which raised other questions about what waited for them ahead.

This section was longer than Ariadne had estimated, the tunnel being closer to two hundred feet than a hundred, but nothing occurred to hamper their progress. Jack stayed ahead moving slowly and methodically, torch in one hand and pistol in the other, the roof barely clearing his hat. Then suddenly they were in a wider space, almost circular, the roof arching up and over them like the rafters of a country church and with something that looked to be seats carved into the walls.

They cast their torches around, each noting the other's sombre expression in the drifting light.  
"How much further?" Jack asked as Elanor took a moment to fix another relay to the wall.  
She shrugged,  
"Can't be far now. Maybe another twenty or thirty feet. At least there's no doubt about the direction, there's only the one way to go."

A sudden sound silenced them both and set them back to back, Jack with pistol pointed one way, Elanor with her taser targeted on the other. After a moment of reorientation they realised that the sound was coming from floor level; drawing deep breaths and exchanging warning looks they both focused their torches on the source of the sound.

From beneath one of the carved niches an insect of some form appeared; hesitating for a moment on the edge of shadow before easing itself into the light as if surprised. Once there it halted, apparently unafraid. For a long moment they both stared at it in the torchlight, and it seemed to stare back. It's head was crowned with a circle of what appeared to be many faceted eyes, though there could be little to look at in such darkness, and five antenna sprouted from a top knot at the circle's centre, each one tipped with a quiver of fine hairs. It had six legs, an armoured body nearly a foot long, etched with deep ridges, which tapered into another quiver of fine hair with the look of a tail. The antenna turned towards them and flickered like a lizards tongue, but the creature made no move forward or backwards. Jack took half a step forward tilting his head to the side and studying it in open astonishment, Elanor reached out and caught his wrist but said nothing, her own mind struggling with what she saw.

For a moment it seemed to watch Jack with no less surprise, then suddenly it turned, the ridges in its body parting to allow it to spread transparent wings that were just a haze in the torch light. For a moment the wings were almost still, as if stretching, then with a flick of its hair like tail it took flight, passed over their lowered heads and down towards the centre of the mountain.

Jack turned an outraged look upon Elanor,  
"What the bloody hell was that!" he demanded.  
"How should I know?" Elanor snapped back, "This is your time and place not mine!"  
"Well my time and place don't include things like that!" he pointed a stiff finger in the direction it had gone, "I've seen a few strange beasties in me time, some I'd rather not see again, but nothing like that."  
"No?" she asked him trying to stifle her disquiet.  
"No." Jack hissed.  
"Well it had the look of some type of dragon fly. Maybe it's unique to this island." She stared down where it had disappeared, "But that doesn't answer the question of why it should be."

Elanor looked at Jack uncertainly,  
"Does this mean we go back?"  
"No it doesn't. Strange place this is I'll grant you, but then where else would you expect the fountain of youth to be but a strange place. Eh?"  
Elanor smiled faintly at him,  
"There is a twisted logic to that I suppose."  
"Oy, a little less of the twisted if you please. It makes perfect sense and you know it does."  
"Maybe, but have you thought of the implications? If we go on then things may get a lot stranger still."

Jack seemed to think about that for a moment as he let his torch beam play over the passage the creature had disappeared into, then he shrugged,  
"My life seems to be one long parade of weirdness these days, why should this be any different? I'm beginning to wonder if that Aztec curse didn't hang around even after the coins were returned."  
She smiled into the darkness,  
"Set you up as weird event magnet do you mean?"  
"Something like. Makes you a pole that weirdness calls to maybe."  
He sounded resigned and not for the first time she wondered how close to the edge of insanity his recent past had taken him. Then he scowled,  
"All that damned monkey's fault I'll wager. Must have taken one of the coins from the chest to be undead so stands to reason that the heathen gods were stirred up, still keeping a weather eye on those involved as you might say. I'll take it up with Hector next time I see him, assuming I delay shootin' him long enough."  
Elanor's smile became a grin,  
"If that's the case then shooting Hector or his monkey might only make matters worse," she warned.  
"Hmm," Was Jack's only response.  
Catching sight of her smile in the torch light he glowered,  
"I'll lead the way shall I?" he said and strode off.

***

This tunnel was also longer than Ariadne had predicted, and more than once Jack turned to find Elanor examining the wall by torchlight. The first and second time he merely huffed in exasperation and waved her to follow more quickly, but the third time he stared at her for a moment then came back the few paces to join her.  
"What is it that's botherin' you about these here walls. Seem strong enough to me, held the sea back for centuries no reason to assume they'll fail now."  
She shook her head slowly and put the torch closer to the rock,  
"Can't be sure, but these quartz like crystals, " she reached out and traced her finger over the face surface, "I don't think they are quite right, I'm no geologist but they don't seem to belong here. I saw them back there, where we first came down, but it didn't occur to me that they were strange. But they have got more frequent, and unless I'm letting my imagination run away with me they seem to be arranged in patterns. They aren't randomly dispersed if you see what I mean."

Jack let his torch beam wander over the rock around them seeing the faint reflections where the crystals studded the darker rock, like stars in the night sky. As he studied them he could see what she meant, like the stars to a navigator what had seemed random before now did not, instead they seemed to be arranged in constellations, groups that hung together though the patterns they made held no meaning for him.  
"I see. Leastways I think I do. What are thinking that they are?"  
"No idea, they just scream at me to be careful."  
"Works for me." Jack said as he ran the torch over them again.  
He cursed in surprise and then ducked sharply as something emerged from the shadow and flitted over their heads back in the direction they had come.

Elanor joined Jack in his cursing but for different reasons,  
"Damn it! I should have thought about it back there. This place was enclosed and now its not. If there are living creatures down here they will sense the change in air and go exploring. Hell!"  
She thought for a moment, then triggered the communicator,  
"Ariadne connect me to the surface."  
Jack started as the disembodied voice came back, echoing around the confined space.  
"Connection made."  
Elanor turned and beckoned him closer,  
"Be ready to bellow Jack, I need Gibbs to do as he's told and quickly, no fear, no arguments."  
Jack just frowned,  
"Told you he's a good man to have at your back, sacred of your ghost he may be but he can follow his captains orders and he'll do the necessary, what ever that might be."  
"Lets hope that you're right." She flicked the comms link again, "Mr Gibbs, can you hear me?"  
For a moment there was silence then Gibbs voice was echoing in the darkness,  
"Aye ma'am, though you sound to be a long ways down."  
"We are, but I need you to do something for me. The tarpaulin we brought, I need you to cover the overhang with it, and to weight it down well."

Jack's eyes widened in realisation and he leant forward over her shoulder,  
"Aye and scurry man! It needs to be done quickly, there are a few little beasties down here that might get the urge to strike for freedom. Which might not be good. Use the long boat for cover or weight if needs be, but make sure that nothing but ourselves comes back out of that hole."  
"But Jack, I'll not be able to hear you if you call." Gibbs protested anxiously.  
"Can't be helped mate." He saw Elanor's impatient shake of her head and smiled into the darkness, "Though the good captain's ghost may have a few things up her sleeve to assist with that I'm thinking. But no worries for us, we've not seen anything so far big enough that a pistol can't persuade to stay still. Remember that bloody monkey eh! Don't want a repeat of that now do we? So do as Captain Cavendish asks, and do it quickly."  
"Aye captain," the words drifted back, though it was unclear whom they were addressed to.  
Jack's eyes gleamed in the light of her torch.  
"Onwards and downwards then," he said. "Can't be far now."

***

It was far enough to be wearying though, and they descended the air grew hotter and strangely clammy. More skitterings in the shadows caused them to exchange looks but neither spoke. The crystals in the wall grew more frequent and densely packed and the ruts in the floor deeper and more intricate. But the first real shock came as they realised, both at the same time, that there were other noises than their own laboured breathing.

Not words, nor animal cries, but a faint hissing, like rain on hot rock, had replaced the back ground silence. Elanor felt the hairs on the back of neck rising in some primordial warning and she was glad of the dark shape of Jack ahead of her, though not as far ahead as he had been earlier. At frequent intervals he looked back at her as if to be sure that nothing had swallowed her or dragged her back into the darkness.

The noise grew louder as the tunnel appeared to bend to their right, something else that Ariadne's sensors had not predicted. They halted before the turn, each seeking agreement in the other's face. Jack raised his eyebrows in silent question and Elanor inclined her head in a brief deep of acceptance, then, shoulder to shoulder, they edged around the bend.

Another tunnel stretched away from them, its wall heavily pitted with the quartz patterns, its floor sloping upwards with the depth of incrustation. But they knew it marked a Rubicon, for the far end, though shadowed, was not as dark as it should have been.  
"Light." Jack said blankly, "I can see light. Down here. How?"  
"I don't know." Elanor replied slowly. "I'm not sure that I want to. Ariadne said whatever is down there the space is big, and if she misjudged its size to the same degree that she misjudged the length of these tunnels then huge would be a better word. Far bigger than the space needed to hold a fountain, or even a cascade. So what ever is down here its likely to be more than that. Unless fountain means something I can't think of."  
Jack was silent, for a moment then he handed her his torch and drew his sword,  
"Only one way to know."  
Then he was off towards the light, crossing the uneven floor at a run.  
Elanor swore, and raised her voice for the first time since that had left the surface.  
"Jack you bloody madman, be careful, if you fall its going to be dammed painful getting you back to the surface, for both of us."

He ignored her, and with a curse she set off after him, though more slowly.

At the end of the passage the exit narrowed, no longer high enough to allow Jack to stand straight. He thudded to a halt placing the hand holding his pistol on the roof as he leaned forward into the space beyond. As she got within arms length his words drifted back to her, the tone a mix of awe and delight,  
"Bloody hell!"


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26 Worlds within worlds **

"Bloody hell!" Jack said again, reaching behind him to catch at her arm and pull her forwards, edging sideways so that she could stand beside him on the lip of the tunnel,  
"What do you think to that!"

A part of Elanor's mind had been prepared for something like this but even so it came as a shock. Not least the size of it.  
"Nothing good." She said slowly.  
"Why's that?" Jack sounded affronted, as if she had insulted him or something of his.  
"Because it shouldn't be here, " she pointed to a shimmer beneath them, "and I really don't like the look of that cloud."  
Jack grimaced  
"Well granted it's not where a you would expect a cloud to be," he admitted, "but look at it, our own secret world."  
Elanor cast him a startled look then resumed her scrutiny of what was laid out before them. Starting with the light.

They were near the top of 'the space', as she continued to think of it, and at this level the light was clear and bright, almost like sunlight. Yet there was no light source that she could see.  
'Light tubes' her mind reassured her, 'possibly drawing light in from the island above us or from the shallows around the reef.' Another part of her mind went into overdrive at the thought. Light tubes? In the eighteenth century Caribbean? Not likely. But then nothing about this was likely was it? Her being here wasn't likely. Maybe this merging of past and future was proof that this whole world was a fabrication of her fevered mind, because no one here could even imagine a light tube. 'But that's not to say that there weren't those who could once upon a time' another part chided her. 'Think of city wide sanitation, brain surgery and central heating, all known once and forgotten in this period. The ancient civilisations knew far more, in many ways, than the people of this time and place. Judging by the gate outside whoever constructed this left a very long time ago.'

"Elanor!"  
She realised that Jack was staring at her and looking more than a little irritated. He must have been talking to her,  
"What? What did you say?"  
He looked at her narrowed eyes and flicked his hand impatiently,  
"Well you might at least do me the politeness of pretending to listen to me woman! I said how do you suggest that we get down there?"  
"Down where?"  
"There!" He pointed out and down. "I can see water, or its reflection at least. The fountain is bound to be there. So how do you suggest we get down to it?"

She followed the line of his finger, her mind still trying to come to terms with what she was seeing. The whole space looked to be giant volcanic caldera. Above them a haze of mist or cloud shrouded the containing mountain side but beneath them was what looked almost to be a mountainside, a steep slope of dark and shiny rock. The incline was sharp enough to require climbing rather than walking, being almost vertical in places, and even the flatter surfaces were folded in the same way that the tunnel floors had been. Here and there were scattered outcrops of what looked to be larger boulders, and in places the slope was cut with ravine like crevasses, some many feet deep from what she could see. At the bottom of the slope was a canopy of green, apparently trees or vegetation, and drifting below that was the strange swathe of the second cloud which obscured all other details except for the occasional flash of what might have been water. In the distance she thought she could see another steep slope rising up.

The sound they had heard seemed to come from both above and below them and the green canopy moved as if disturbed by a wind. 'But I'm inside a mountain that's under the sea' she reminded herself, 'no wind here.' Whatever this place was to describe it as strange was an understatement. What was going on inside Jack's head that he was so ready to step out into this unknown?

But whatever it was he was thinking it seemed that it would fall to her to be the voice of reason.  
"For the moment I don't. I'm not at all sure that we should."  
"But we have to go down. It's what we came for!"  
"Keep your voice down, we don't know what we might attract, remember that.. Thing back there."  
Jack sighed theatrically but lowered his voice.  
"We came here for this, Elanor. Whatever the fountain is.... exactly....the only place it can be is down there." He shrugged, "Alright I'll own that maybe a mite stranger than we had expected, but having come this far it makes no sense to be going back now and empty handed, whatever weirdness is there."  
Elanor shook her head,  
"Weird is the certainly the word. Remember our conversation back there? Given our recent history would you want to take odds on just how weird it might get down there?"  
Jack was silent for a moment, surveying what lay before them, before turning to look at her,  
"Doesn't look that weird, " he frowned and shrugged, "at least....not on a relative scale of weirdness you understand." He shrugged again and flicked a hand in her direction, "On a scale of normal, even usual, I'll grant that it's more than a little weird," he gave her a hard, sideways look, " though I have encountered greater weirdness."

Elanor smiled faintly  
"Have you? Would you want to go there again?"  
A shadow of something, too fleeting to be read, passed across his face,  
"Most certainly not luv."  
There was a grim determination in his voice that surprised her, but he continued before she had time to ask him any further questions.  
"It's not an easy climb its true, we'll need to go back and collect the ropes and grapples but with them we should be able to make it down this cliff or whatever it is and into the trees."  
He looked over the edge, and his mouth twisted in something close to reluctance,  
"Nearly all the way that is." He looked again, "Well..... half the way maybe."  
He sighed as she gave him a long look,  
"Some of the way anyways."  
"And when we do?" she replied calmly pulling him back from the edge, "We have no idea of what's waiting in that thing you so optimistically call a forest. It could be a swamp, or it could be nothing either of us has ever seen. If we are going down..."  
He opened his mouth as if to protest and she raised a warning finger,  
"if, not when, then we will need more than just ropes. We have no idea what we are stepping into. I want a word with Ariadne before we go down any further, she got too much wrong about this for my comfort."  
He opened his mouth again but she forestalled him with a pointed finger,  
"There is more information this time, she might be able to make a better guess. We are also going to need medical supplies, water and food. I am not going down there unprepared, whatever you may say."

The desire to gain his prize warred with his sense, the battle clear in his face. But she had no real doubt about the outcome, for she had already decided that for all his apparent recklessness Jack was both a realist and strategist and not given to taking uncalculated risks. Calculated ones most certainly, but she had little doubt that he would prefer better odds than the ones they currently had. But all of that hung in the balance against one factor and she was not surprised when he half turned to face her leaning against the wall, the light from the place below illuminating his frown,  
"And if someone should find us here. What then?"  
"We face that when we need to. But would it be any better for them to find us when we are down there and unable to get back up here quickly?"  
After a moment of silence he looked passed her and shook his head,  
"No."

Elanor relaxed a little having one the point and turned to look out into the strange world,  
"Ariadne would have told me of there was any sight of a ship. But I don't think anyone else is going to find us."  
Jack stared at her,  
"How's that? Sea's a big place but there are people looking for me, and there's more than one of the kings navy abroad; no sayin' that they won't find us."  
"Maybe but I've still got this odd feeling that no one will." She turned back to him, meeting his eyes with determination in her own, "Either way we can't go on into that," she waved her hand in the direction of the hole in the mountain, "unprepared."  
He stared back at her for a moment then shrugged with something close to a pout,  
"No suppose not."  
"Are we agreed then, we go back to the ship and come back when we are better supplied?"  
"No choice is there?" He stood back to let her pass him, "But I am comin' back luv, alone if I have to, but I am comin' back."

***

They rowed back to the ship in a single boat and in near silence. It had been clear to Mr Gibbs, after his first surprise at seeing them reappear had passed, that the accord between them was far from perfect. Captain Elanor, as he now thought of her in the privacy of his own head, was quiet and drawn in on herself, but whatever the cause it didn't seem to be directed at Jack. While Jack was no less mithered he appeared to be also angry with her in some way, judging by the few barbed comments he threw in her direction. Though as they neared the ship sitting quietly at anchor that anger seemed to shift and he fell silent, the looks he gave her from under frowning brows suggesting that once again he was regretting his fraying temper. From this Gibbs deduced that the lady captain had stopped Jack from doing something wild, something that in cooler blood Jack himself was coming to see as foolish. Jack being Jack the feeling would not be pleasant, but though he would not apologise to her directly he would find a roundabout way of making his peace. Just as long as she would accept it.

Which seemed less than certain, for as soon as they were back aboard she vanished into her own cabin to commune with her ghost, leaving them alone on deck with a bottle of rum.

Jack took several deep swallows then sat and wrapped in thought staring back at the island.  
"Somat wrong Jack?" Gibbs had risked asking after five minutes of silence.  
That earned him a frowm before his compnaion grabbed the rum bottle and took another deep swallow before replying,  
"No. Why do you ask?"  
"Well the pair o' you been somethin' on the quiet side you might say. Do I gather that ye not be in accord?"  
Jack grimaced,  
"Not say that." He took another swallow, "Sometimes it hard to remember that she's not William or Elizabeth. Nor Hector neither." He looked down at the bottle with another frown, "nor is she me. The lady always has reasons for what she does. Make her hard to deal with sometimes."

Gibbs took a long swallow and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand befopre venturing a reply.  
"Don't you always have reasons Jack? Crazy ones I'll grant, but reasons all the same. Maybe she's just as crazy as you, but differently so, if you take my meanin'"  
Jack have a lop sided smile,  
"Aye I take your meanin'." His voiced dropped to almost a whisper, "Maybe once we'd have been crazy in the same way. But.." He took another swig of rum, "Some things are hard to put aside."  
For a moment he was quiet then suddenly he shivered and turned to Gibbs with a broad smile,  
"But sufficient unto the day eh? Tonight we have rum, and a ship and we get to sleep in comfort; and tomorrow we will have the fountain of youth itself within our grasp. Nothin' more a man could ask for mate."  
Gibbs nodded and the bottle Jack held out to him,  
"Take what ye can," he said by way of salute before taking a deep swig.  
Jack just nodded and stared back at the island,  
"Ay, take what you can," he echoed, but he didnt sound as if he was sure any longer.

***

"So do you have any suggestions?"  
"Most will have already occurred to you."  
"I know," Elanor replied wearily sinking in her chair and rubbing her eyes, "this is all a fevered dream and for some reason not only have I dreamed up an eighteenth century pirate and his mater but also a mystical map and a hole in the middle of a sunken mountain that contains the fountain of youth."  
"Water of Life." Ariadne corrected calmly.  
"Yes," Elanor said slowly, "I wonder if the difference is significant or not?"  
"Do you mean significant in terms of what it says about your psychological state or in what you will find when you return there?"  
"If I didn't know better I would say that was sarcastic Ariadne! Both. Though if this is a creation of my own, well then I'm long past being explained. We have agreed that in face of our lack of information and options we treat this as if it is reality, so let us concentrate on why that place is where it is."

"Very well. There are three options, the first is that it is a rare but natural event of unexplained origins."  
"And the gate, and the odd crystals? Which, as I said, looked remarkably like some form of device to me, though God knows what."  
"I would agree, based on the little information available. That brings us to the second option, that it is a natural occurrence that at some time in the past has been used or inhabited by people or peoples unknown."  
Elanor smiled wryly,  
"Are we talking extraterrestrials here Ariadne? Or some long dead and forgotten race?"  
If Ariadne could have shrugged she would have done so, but the gesture was there in her reply,  
"Either or both, we have no evidence either way. It is possible that at some point in the past the earth was visited by another race and this was one of the places they made use of. However there is no evidence to suggest that they have. As for other human societies? It cannot be definitive proven that there has not been some other era of humanity long lost and forgotten. Certainly in this world if not our own."

"Hmm, how long is long?"  
"Evidence and theory would suggest that most traces of an advanced civilisation would disappear almost completely within a thousand years or so, those traces that remain would not necessarily be recognisable, either to a less advanced civilization or to another advanced that was based upon other forms of technology. Little else but rock survives longer than that but eventually even that record fails under the force of weather and sand. Within a hundred thousand years all traces would be gone. In the scale of the likely life of the planet one hundred thousand years is little enough time."  
"You mean that there might have been humans who walked alongside the dinosaur? What an interesting notion."  
"Who is to say? We only know that we have found no traces of them."  
"Which, as you have pointed out, is not necessarily the same as them having never been; which leaves us the third possibility, which is, I assume, that its not natural at all, but was created by someone for a specific purpose."  
"Correct. All of the comments made with regard to the second option would also apply to the third of course."

"Of course." Elanor said dryly. "Either way it is going to be hard to predict what we will find down there."  
"Agreed. The creatures you mentioned suggest that there may be some unusual form of life, mutations or originals or possibly both. That may include life and organisms at the microscopic levels so suitable clothing would be a sensible precaution, climbing equipment of course, food, water and possibly a shelter of some form."  
"Do we have suitable backpacks?"  
"One that might be suitable, mountaineering and jungle walking did not form a part of the specification of our original voyage."  
"I'm aware of that. It's a minor miracle that we even have the one. I'll set our men folk up there to making up some form of bag from spare sailcloth, they must be used to wielding a needle. I'll gather what we need together, then we had better all get some sleep."  
" I will prepare you a list of recommended items. You will also need to take medication and I would suggest that you address the matter of your erstwhile crew's immunities."  
Elanor remembered Jack's reaction to her explanation of his sickness when he first came aboard and smiled wryly,  
"Jack is going to love that."

***

Jack did indeed take exception.

"Wielding a needle I have no issue with, having them wielded into me is another matter entirely luv. I remember your little beasties well."  
"Not these, this kind are already tamed I promise. But they may help against whatever we find inside that mountain, which you can be sure won't be tame."  
"Then will we be stikin' needles in you too?" Jack sounded almost hopeful, obviously his illness, and her treatment of him, still rankled in some way.  
"Not at the moment, I was stuck enough when I was a child, and many of the beasties I'm... resistant to anyway. Might come to it in there of course." She leant in closer to him, "If it does then I promise to give you second chance."  
"Second chance?"  
"Assuming I can't do it myself." She grinned.  
A hint of surprise then something close to anxiety passed across his face,  
"You think that possible?"  
Elanor shrugged,  
"I don't know. But it might come to that I suppose." She smiled and shooed Jack towards the bed, "Anyway, I'm not actually going to stick a needle in you. Just a press something against your arm, it won't hurt at all. Though why someone who'll take a knife to a poisoned wound would quibble about a needle escapes me."

Jack just glowered at her for a moment, but interest took over when she pushed up his shirt and pressed the hypo against his arm, and he watched the plunger with the same interest that a cat would give a particularly well-visited mouse hole. When it was empty he took it from her and turned it carefully in his fingers scrutinising it from every angle,  
"Interestin'" he said eventually, then handed it back to her, watching as she refilled it. As she laid it on the table he made a grab for it,  
"Jack, one is enough! Give it back to me!"  
"No. Can't see why I should not get me turn with this fascinating object. From the other side of it that it."  
"I've told you I don't need it. In fact it might do me harm , do you want to make me ill?"  
He gave her a slow and wicked grin,  
"Now there's a thought, offer all sorts of interesting experiences that might."  
She smiled back with mocking and saccharine sweetness in her face and voice,  
"Like mopping up the vomit? I'll tell Ariadne to make sure that you do. You won't be able to leave the ship either, not until I'm fully well, I'll make sure of that too."  
Jack wrinkled his nose and looked at the hypo in his hand with regret before his smile returned, his fingers tightened around it,  
"But Gibbs needs one too, doesn't he?"

***

"So what's it like down there Jack? In them tunnels?"

Gibbs had taken little notice of the hypo, though the fact that it was administered while he was in mid swallow from a rapidly emptying rum bottle could well have been the reason for that Jack admitted to himself. Now they were sitting side by side on the darkening decks, fed and watered and enjoying a night cap. Elanor had decreed that Ariadne would take the watch as they were all going to need rest before the push into the mountain.

Jack was silent for a moment then he turned to stare at the sea and shrugged,  
"Dark. Very dark"  
"As in a moonless night dark?"  
"As inside the belly of the Kraken dark,"  
The words came out easily enough but it was with some difficulty that he held on to the unexpected shudder. He wondered uneasily why it was that he had chosen that comparison of all those he might have used, when he had not felt the similarity while he had been there. Well not a lot. He felt another shudder take hold of him as buried, and very unwelcome, memories stirred, and he turned it into another shrug, suddenly glad they were not sitting under one of those little stars in the masts. Grabbing the rum bottle he took another swig,  
"Well as far as I recall that is."

Gibbs stared at him dumbfounded and uneasy, in all the months since they had collected him from the locker Jack had never mentioned the experience of his death and Gibbs knew that he would never be able to ask him about it. None of them had been able to ask about it. Except her of course. She had. Not that it had done her much good when she did. No, when Elizabeth Swann, Mrs Turner as she was now was, had gone to ask Jack about it, bleating her apologies in the process, she had received short shift. Gibbs knew that for a fact, for he had heard the conversation quite clearly. With unspoken agreement the crew had had done their best to keep the two of them apart when they boarded the Pearl off the locker shore, and so he had followed her when she had sought out Jack that first evening after they recovered him, no more than an hour or so before they learned of her father's death.

Here, on the shadowed decks of a ship so unlike the Pearl, that memory was still as clear as day. He could still see her face as she followed Jack down the deck and to the great cabin, could recall the crew's startled looks and him hurrying after them as the day failed and shadows across the decks darkened. He'd not been far behind them, just far enough for neither to notice him, and had put his hand in the closing door to keep it open just enough for him to watch the events inside. Jack had been powerful strange when they found him and Gibbs had not been of a mind to allow her to tip him into outright madness, so he watched and waited ready to intervene, if it should prove necessary.

Eavesdropping it certainly was and as was only to be expected he had heard more than he bargained for.

He could hear her stumbling words even now; the apologies and self recrimination were no more than he had expected, but it was the excuses that had raised his bile.

Taking the rum bottle back from a silent and thoughtful Jack he thought back again to that first day, when Jack seemed to alternate between being himself and being someone else. The spat with Barbossa was only to be expected, but the business with the spy glasses was not Jack at all, Jack never bothered his head about such things. But it was Elizabeth Swann that showed up the fault lines in the man they had brought away with them, something that had scared them all. They had seen his fear of her in the locker and, though there were times when he seemed to have put it aside, there were others when it hung about him like a thundercloud. Had not been a good sight to see, for with Barbossa terrified of the sea witche's power and Jack disintegrating more than one of them wondered what they would do for a captain.

He took another drink and passed the bottle back to the still silent Jack.

Only went to show that women on ships were bad luck as he had always claimed, well unless they were like captain Elanor that was, he'd grant she was indeed a sailor and a good captain and so somewhat different, but Elizabeth Swann had always been bad luck and never more so than then.

The rage that had over come him as he heard her say that she had to do it so that the rest of them could live was more than he had ever felt before, near close to blood lust it had been. If he had been facing her then he would have gone against all the teachings of his youth and struck her, unarmed as she was, so outraged had he been that she, no more than chit when all was said and done, should think it given to her to decide that he should abandon Jack. That she should dare to make him an unwilling party to her mutinous cowardice. Did she think they hadn't known what was a stake, all of them? Did she not think that there had been enough of them to throw Jack over the side had they wished to? Aye, or to prevent him entering the long boat if had they a mind to? Jack knew and they knew, if they had wanted to abandon him they could have done it and he would not have complained. Did she think that what Jack had asked of them that day was any more than she had asked of Jack when she had sent him into the cave at Isle de Muerta? Or that she and Barbossa had asked of them all in Singapore? Seemed that impossible odds were fair enough if they served Miss Swann's interests but not to be considered for any other cause.

The rage at her faltering apology had rendered him speechless, not least because of the time she had chosen to seek her forgiveness. Jack had been weary and confused when he boarded the Pearl, and it got worse as they left the locker behind. Half the time it seemed that he was not with them at all, not at all the captain he had known and last seen on the sinking Pearl. That she had chosen such a time to speak had been beyond forgiving in his eyes. He would have charged in then and there and dragged her out for a few words of his own, had his hand on the latch to do just that, but Jack had rallied suddenly and the words that came back through the open door had been neither hesitant nor nervous. Jack had been turned away but his voice suddenly held the bite of a man accustomed to command again,  
"Killin' me not enough for you then, you want to enjoy the detail of it too?"

He heard her gasp and smiled to himself, edging closer to that sliver of an opening to see what was taking place within the cabin.

She had taken a half step forwards,  
"Jack no! You can't think that, surely you can't."  
There had been disbelief in her voice and he had wondered what she had expected Jack to say. She put out a hesitant hand as if to touch him but he was beyond her reach,  
"I just want you to understand, that I had to do what I did." There were tears in her voice though she was dry eyed. "There was no other choice. You knew it then, you know that you did. I just want you to know that I am sorry."  
Jack had raised a fluttering and emphatic hand, staring at the ruined window,  
"Ah, Miss Swann is sorry, that makes it alright then. No worries."

Through the crack he had seen her move another step towards Jack, hand outstretched, but he had evaded her, moving closer to the window.  
"Jack you knew that I had to do it."  
"Did I?"  
"Yes, you told me so. That's what you meant wasn't it, when you said pirate?"  
"Was it?"  
"Yes. Jack I lied to you then, I was, and am, sorry."

Jack had turned around to face her then though he had still been in shadow. But the set of him and the tone of his voice had said all that was necessary.  
"Are you now! For what exactly? Which bit are you sorry for Elizabeth? For the condescension of kissing me goodbye? For chaining me like a rabid dog? For leaving me to be ripped apart, shackled by me sword arm? Waiting for the beastie, without chance to defend meself, helpless like some virgin to be sacrificed?"

Even now, just thinking about it, Gibbs could feel the anger rise, then he'd had to cover his mouth to choke off the oath that revelation had brought, for until that moment he hadn't know the full level of her betrayal. He'd have barged in but for the fact that Jack would know that he had heard, and in Jack's shoes he didn't think that he could have borne that.

Jack turned to face her then, all captain in that moment, his voice quiet and cold.  
"Or were you sorry that I didn't beg and plead Eh? That I didn't implore you to let me free? Admit me guilt and ask for your help and forgiveness?"  
He'd been glad he hadn't intervened then for he'd not have robbed Jack of his chances to drive it home. As she had backed away from him he had moved forward a pace, for a moment looking like himself again as his calm and remorseless questioning continued,  
"Or were you sorry that I didn't make some flowery speech about dyin' for the love of you so that you could be with your noble William? Hmm?"

She had taken another step back from him at that, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as he went on,  
"I got free Elizabeth, free of your shackle. No thanks to you, but I got free and faced it down when it came for me. Died fighting it luv, sword in hand. Nothin' for Jones to gloat at there. Now that might not mean much to you but it matters to me. Don't expect you to understand that, because I'm not a man of any honour am I? But I got free."

Jack had leaned back against the table and smiled a softly dangerous smile,  
"So which bit of it are you sorry for luv? The pain, the humiliation, or for showing what you thought of me; that I was a worthless wretch whose life was nothing when weighted in the balance of your own and William's? Or did you think it only fair, given that you been deprived the sight of me on the end of a rope? For you would have left me to that too, would you not?"  
She had shaken her heart in mute reproach but she did not move. Jack's smile faded to a look of exaggerated concern, but his eyes were black and bleak and the skin of the hands resting on his pistol was white with tension.  
"Did you not see enough of it from the long boat? Sorry darlin', which bit of me dyin' do you want to know the gory details of? The stench of it? The sharpness of its teeth? The feel of breaking bone and tearing sinew. The burn of its belly on ripped flesh." He had straightened and moved closer,  
"I didn't recall it back there but I do now. Tell me what you want to know and I'll give you chapter and verse, for I remember every moment of it."

Gibbs shuddered at the memory of those last words, he was not an imaginative man he knew but there had been something in Jack's voice that had turned the fire of his rage to bitter cold. Even at the time, with all the fears and cares he had pressing on him, he'd not been able to stand the shadows cast by the horror in the familiar voice and he'd knocked on the door, striding in as if he had just found them,  
"Captain Barbossa wants a word Jack," he'd said as calmly as he could ignoring the girl still standing in the middle of the room.  
Jack had turned away and his voice had been soft and weary again,  
"Fine, Miss Swann was just leavin' we have said all we need to say."  
She had straightened up, staring at Jack in silence, before squaring her shoulders and inclining her head in acceptance,  
"Very well."  
As she turned she had met Gibbs eye and known that he had heard it all. They had not spoken again, except to relay commands, until after the Endeavour was sunk.

Now, safe and well on this moonlit deck, with a bellyful of rum, the idea that Jack should still remember all that, as it sounded as if he could, seemed mortal unfair to him and he found himself hoping that the lady captain was indeed cut from different cloth to Miss Swann. 'But the world was different now', he reminded himself. Beckett was dead and Jack was himself again. As for Mrs Turner? Well she had suffered losses and no doubt made good a acquaintence with her own hell, seemed to him that that the debt was paid. He gave himself a small shake, time to think of more cheerful things,  
"What was there at the end of the tunnels Jack?"

Jack drew a deep breath,  
"Not sure mate, looked like a whole world down there. A world within a world." He took another gulp of rum before handing the bottle over, "just like the Locker." He added softly.  
He caught sight of Gibbs widened eyes and saw him choke in his rum, and he smiled reaching out to clap his friend on the shoulder,  
"But a lot less in the way of sand, and looks to be some water, and certainly lots of trees," he shrugged, "or something green anyways. So no similarities at all."  
Gibbs caught his wrist and looked at him with concern,  
"You sure of that Jack? Seems to me that the locker's rather preyin' on your mind tonight."  
Jack got to his feet,  
"Aye , well maybe. " he scowled, "I blame our dear absent captain if that's the case, her and her tame beasties! She and I are goin' to be spending a lot of time in the dark tomorrow, where she can't run away or hide behind her ghost. It's my plan to have some serious words with the lady."  
Now Gibbs really did look worried,  
"Now Jack, that might not be such a good idea. Seems her ghost can hear us even over there."  
Jacks scowl became a glower,  
"That's true."

He turned around to look in the direction if the island and suddenly smiled.  
"Ah, but the fountain of youth mate, just think of it. All the centuries you want just to sail the seas. It's over there, I know it is." he turned to back to beam at Gibbs, "and tomorrow is the day that we find it."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27 - Making a start**

The Black Pearl had sailed for some time as a ship with more than one captain, not an easy situation and certainly not when both captains are pirates, only uncertainly alive, and determined not to be reclaimed by death. But as the days after the sighting of the white ship added up to a week and more the Pearl became a ship without a captain at all.

They had run before the storm outpacing the Spaniard with ease, but the weather had not improved and the night sky had been as lightening shot as the daylight. Barbossa had tried to skirt the worst of it and resume the course that the white ship had taken, bellowing commands with increasing urgency, as the seas grew higher and the winds stronger. Below decks the fire was long since out and the hammocks swung and pitched with every roll, and what few lamps were risked rattled and danced sending shadows twisting and turning upon the timbers. More than one of them wondered what world it was they were sailing.

Keeping the ship on course had not been easy. They had done their best to do as their captain wished but many of the orders went to men who did not exist outside of Barbossa's mind, and at times it seemed as if he wasn't certain what ship, or even type of ship, he was commanding, By eight bells on the first watch the towering seas had taken on the look of mountains and valleys, the men were run ragged from trying to decide what orders to obey, and more than one of them wondered if they would see another sunrise.

But the storm seemed to be holding its hand, tossing them with anger and mischief but never delivering the killing blow, allowing them to survive the tumult with little damage. Yet even as they skirted the worst weather, and as the winds and seas eased, they knew they were far from safe. The day that replaced the night was dim beneath the heavy blanket of cloud and the wind was chill to the wet and miserable crew. For hour upon hour they shivered at their stations while Barbossa stood at the stern staring into the distance.

Then suddenly the winds fell light and the clouds broke, sunlight streaming across the gunmetal sea. As the day passed the air grew warmer and seas resumed their familiar blue hue. Barbossa disappeared below for a while to consult the charts then gave Cotton a new heading.

It was the last recognisable order he had given.

At first it had seemed that he was simply lost in thought, wondering how to get back on the trail of the white ship was what they all assumed. But as the silence lengthened through the watch, and he remained where he was, leaning on the rail, even as the sun dropped, they realised that he was no longer with them at all. His eyes looked to be fixed upon the sea yet it seemed like he didn't see it at all. When Marty took hold of his arm he followed him like a lamb giving so sign that he was even aware of moving.

Now Barbossa, still nominally the Black Pearl's master, lay in the great cabin in stately silence, breathing and with eyes open but seeing nothing, his mind somewhere other than this ship. Raggetti had helped to lay him there and as he looked at him he shivered, for the scene was little different to the one in the caves where Barbossa had been shot. All that was varied from it was the nature of the mound upon which he lay.

Even Jack seemed unknown to him now and the little monkey sat hunched and unhappy in the rat lines much of the time, only hunger bringing it down to within an arms reach, though only Cotton could manage that much. The tiny creature looked to be in danger of starving even so, its skinny arms more stick like than ever and its eyes dull and sunken. Occasionally it would venture into the cabin and sit close to the silent captain crooning distress but wary of getting within striking distance. The object of this grief seemed unaware of the brown eyes that watched him with such confusion and sadness.

As the days went by it was the parrot that would prove to be the monkey's saviour, flying up to sit beside it for long periods before returning to Cotton's shoulder. Eventually the monkey got the message and followed it down to where the silent sailor had scattered pieces of fruit and biscuit. It would stay and eat while Cotton was close, but would scurry back up the lines with a shriek if anyone else ventured near.

After a full day the crew had met to discuss what to do next.  
"I tells you nought has gone right since we left Captain Jack behind." Pintel had stated the obvious as if he had been the only one to notice.  
"But you've said that before and we know that we can't find Captain Jack. We don't know where to look!" Murtogg put in, apparently oblivious to the look on Pintel's face. "If we could we wouldn't have a problem, but we don't so we do." He looked around him with a slight puzzled smile, "Don't we?"  
Pintel rolled his eyes,  
"I think we are at one on that! Not unless we can pick up the course o' that white ship. Which we can't, not without Barbossa's help, unless you be a navigator unbeknown to the rest of us!"  
He sneered at the quickly shaken head.  
"Thought as much. Question is what do we do about it."  
"Could elect a new captain." Raggetti chipped in.  
"Ay we could," That was Pintel again, "but since we can't unelect the one we got, him being so lost that we can't tell him he be unelected, that might still be mutiny."

"Does it matter? " That was Mullroy. " Captain Barbossa is not going to do anything about it is he?"  
"The Pearl might not like it." Raggetti put in with a sombre look, "Seen more than her fair share of mutiny's she has. Can't make her feel trust in those who crew her now can it?"  
That same crew looked around the moonlit decks, two of them remembering those same timbers under other moons and shivering, for the ship seemed strangely silent, not a creaking timber or stretching sail to be heard, as if she was listening to them. Like the crab that had scuttled into the shadow of a rope but was apparently watching them with tiny glass ball eyes. Marty had no such memories, but he had others,  
"Pearl might not want Barbossa, might be the Pearl tat's driven him out of his mind." He said slowly. "Pearl wants Jack Sparrow, we all know tat. Never sails as well as for Captain Jack, came back from t' dead for him."  
Raggetti shot a fearful look towards the sea, dark silk in the moonlight.  
"Mrs Fish might not want Barbossa captain either, she warned him it was her power that brought him back, told him something bad would happen if he crossed her. She'd want Captain Jack on the Pearl too."

"But we can't find him." Pintel snapped in open exasperation, "So what are we going to do until we do?"  
"Caant go on tis way." Marty agreed, then he rose and crossed to the rail, leaning over to shout to the waters below,  
"Whaat do we do lady Calypso? Is it yer intention to take the Pearl and us back to the depths? Without a captain we'll stand no chance if the navy find us. If only we had found Mr Gibbs, he could have held tings together until we found Captain Jack."  
A glint of moonlight seemed to flash brighter and with it came an idea,  
"Gibbs." He turned to face the others. "We can't find Captain Jack so we find Mr Gibbs, he was sort of captain afore we rescued captain Jack from the noose, and was quartermaster and first mate afore Barbossa abandoned him, so it would nat be mutiny to sail under him while we seek Captain Jack."  
"Aye," Raggetti agreed eagerly, "and Captain Jack he'd not mind Mr Gibbs being in loco parentis so to speak,"  
Pintel smiled a sly smile.  
"And if Barbossa wakes up he'll not mind that we found Mr Gibbs neither."

"So we find Mr Gibbs then?" Marty asked looking around at the gathered men.  
For a moment there was no movement and then Cotton inclined his head, as the parrot added its comment,  
"Ready to sail."  
Slowly each of the men looked around the circle before inclining their heads in agreement.  
"But where will he be? And, as you pointed out we have no navigator, so how do we get there? " Murtogg asked.  
Marty, Pintel and Raggetti exchanged a gleeful look,  
"Tortuga." Marty grinned, "an we all know how ta get there!"

***

Jack had retired to his bunk as the moon rose, falling into sleep with the suddenness of one who had laboured long and hard. But he didn't stay there for his sleep was uneasy, the dreams of dark tunnels and strange creatures waking him at frequent intervals. He buried his head under the coverlet and blamed those little beasties, for he had not as much as thought of the locker since....... he didn't know when, not until she had forced them on him. Well that wasn't quite true, but he hadn't thought if it above once or twice a day, no more than he had done since that sea soaked sunrise of his return to the world of the living. Those memories had become commonplace, taking their turn with the other things he preferred not to think about if he could help it.

The dreams this night were different though, more real somehow. After his fifth awakening, just before midnight, he got up and returned to the decks hoping a stroll in the moonlight would help send them on their way.

For a while he stood at the rail and stared at the sea, then the ache in his head reminded him of how tired he was, and of the work that was ahead of him when the sun rose, and he went and sat by the mast, leaning his back against the solid reassurance of it. Above him Ariadne did her ghostly work just as she had that first time he sat here, but now he was not disturbed by it, 'funny old world' he thought to himself, 'would never have thought it but it's amazin' how quickly a ghost trimming the canvas gets to feel normal'.

He turned his eyes from the subtly shifting sail to the shadow of the island. Gibbs had been right, the locker had been on his mind and it had been those tunnels that put it there. While he had been with Elanor, knowing she was at his back and bickering with her, while he had stayed concentrated on what might be ahead of them, he had been fine. Only later, when they had returned, and he had been alone with nothing to do but wait, had the similarities had started to prey upon his mind. He stared up at the sky, he would put such worries aside tomorrow he promised himself, he would go back down there and find the fountain and never have to worry about the locker again.

But he needed to sleep. Elanor had been right about that. Blasted woman, just once he'd like to catch her out in being wrong, or just plain foolish! He smiled to himself as her thought about her reaction to that hidden world, not at a fatal moment though, during them she and her ghost could be as omnipotent as they liked! He had laboured under the strain of child watching long enough, even Barbossa had come as something of a relief after the long months of thinking for three. Their youthful belief in their own immortality had been useful at times but it had also been a heavy burden, at least Elanor knew enough of the world never to trust it. Having someone he was nearly confident to relyup on was an unexpected comfort.

He shifted slightly, his eyes straying to the below decks hatch and the smile became thoughtful as it occurred to him to wonder what she was dreaming about. Home maybe, that strange world she was so reluctant to talk about. A world of plenty it seemed, of fine food and fancy clothes from what he'd seen of it. Of beautiful women too, if she was anything to go by, with velvet skins unmarked by the pox, and hair as glossy as the sun on the wave caps, and white teeth and straight limbs and red lips. Oh aye and with wicked tongues too no doubt. Then he wondered if maybe it was the ocean she dreamed of, and of that door home opening, of escape. That thought made him frown, she might dream of leavin' all she liked just as long as she didn't do it before he'd got both the Fountain and the Pearl.

'Not that you'd hold her against her will,' a little voice whispered at him. He shuffled uncomfortably, glowering at himself nd his waywrd thoughts. Why shouldn't he wish for her help?Iit wasn't as if she were unhappy here now was it? She had her ship and its ghost, and she had the sea and himself and Gibbs. Why would she be unhappy?  
'To be forced into a world she doesn't want perhaps,' that hated little voice whispered again, ' to be robbed of who she wants to be and to be forced to make straits being what she would rather not. To have to face her life as a bad dream that can only be endured and never wakened from. You of all people should understand that, or have you forgotten?'  
Jack stirred uneasily and cursed, wondering where these thoughts were coming from. He was weary that was all it was, he reassurred himself sielntly, he needed to sleep and the rum had not done the job.

For a moment he was tempted to go below and bang on her door until she woke and opened it all tousled and dishevelled with sleep, as she would be, and to demand that she undid her beasties work and made him sleep as she was no doubts sleeping. Since rum had failed it would have to be brandy or whatever else she had to hand. Yes! He rather liked that idea! For a while he sat and smiled to himself as he though about it, how he could pull her from her bed with her perfection smudged and her hair awry. Maybe then he'd see behind that careful façade.

Or maybe....... if she hadn't locked the door, he could stand beside her bed and watch her sleep for a while before he woke her. That idea brought another smile; he rather liked to watch a woman sleep, the thrill of it never palled, seeing them all calm and relaxed like basking seals. The sight reminded him of other times and places, allowed him to pretend that he was waking from that bad dream and all was well.

Not often that he got to do it of course, such a luxury took a lot of gold, and all of it better spent on the Pearl. But he'd watched Ana Maria on occassions, though he'd paid for it those times she had woken unexpectedly and caught him at it. He'd watched Elizabeth sleep more than once too, before she had killed him that was; like a child she had been with her nut brown hair loose across her shoulders and her head pillowed on her hand, all care washed from her face as if she had no greater worry than which gown to chose when her maid awoke her.

That sight, if no other, had reminded him of the gulf that had stood between them. A chasm so wide that she , nor William come to that, could even begin to fathom the scale of it.

"Jack?" Elanor's voice came from the hatch cutting across his reverie, "What are you doing up here?"  
"Could ask you the same question," he replied as she came across the deck towards him, suddenly uncomfortable at thoughts she had somehow caught him out in, even though she couldn't know them.  
He went on the offensive just in case those clear eyes saw more than he would like,  
"Shouldn't you be tucked up in your bunk dreaming pure and uplifting dreams?"  
She smiled faintly, her eyes shadowed in the half light.  
"Shouldn't you?"  
He turned to grin up at her, finding her a pleasant if unexpected sight. She had changed her clothes of the day for a warmer shirt of the same soft fabric as the one she had given to both him and Gibbs, and her hair now hung in three plaits, one over each shoulder and one behind her. It appeared yet more silvered by the moonlight. Something he couldn't explain drove him to taunt her,  
"Be tucked up in your bunk Elanor? Offerin' are you? I'd take you upon the offer of it if you intended to keep me company there." He winked at her with unmistakable devilry, "No pure and upliftin' dreams for you if I were to though."

Elanor looked down at him inscrutably for a moment then she lowered herself to sit at his side and turned her head to stare him full in the face with a considering look. His grin didn't falter.  
"Were we ever to find ourselves in such an unlikely situation," she said calmly, " I can promise you that you wouldn't be fit for much the following morning." She stressed the 'you' very faintly. Her eyes turned towards the sea, "certainly not clambering down ropes to find a mythical fountain."  
Jack seemed taken aback for a moment, then he head tilted back, his voice falling deep and soft,  
"Hmmm, I wouldn't count on that luv."  
She smiled into the darkness,  
"Well as we are unlikely to ever find out which of us is right, there is little point in speculation."  
Her smile faded,  
"But you should be sleeping, why are you out here?"

He settled himself more comfortably, staring out to sea.  
"Couldn't sleep, thought a breath of air would help. Why are you here? Thought you said we'd leave the watch to your ghost?"  
"I did. I couldn't sleep either."  
"Oh." He was silent for a moment then rolled his head to look at her,  
"Why couldn't you sleep? Can't have much to disturb your conscience."  
"Unlike you?"  
He shrugged and smoothed his mustache with one fingers,  
"Plenty of people would tell you I don't have one to be disturbed."  
"I expect that they would." She eased her back against the mast and turned her eyes towards the horizon, "So why the restless night?"  
Her words were light but the tone was not. Jack turned and looked at her in silence for a moment then shifted to allow her better room to sit,  
"Not sure. Just.. Unsettled."  
After a moment of silence she sighed,  
"Me too. What about Mr Gibbs?"  
Jack jerked his head towards the stern,  
"Curled up in his favourite spot and dead to the world. No dreams disturbing him."  
"Given the amount of rum he's put away, I wouldn't be surprised if he was comatose! Will he be alright for tomorrow's job?"  
"Fine. I took the liberty of watering the second bottle." He smiled a sly smile, "Not an unusual occurrence. With Gibbs the belief that's he's drunk it is as good as the drinking of it, if you take my meaning." He shrugged and the smile widened, "Once he's had half a bottle he doesn't much notice the change."

Elanor nodded, her look suddenly far away,  
"I sailed with someone like that once. Saw himself as real hard drinker; never settle for just one or two, always got to have twice the number that anyone else did. But he could get drunk on tonic water if you convinced him there was gin in it, and he often did." She gave a small chuckle. "Used to pride himself on the fact that he never got a hangover at sea and was always up for his watch. We none of us ever told him that the captain always made a point of watering his drink."  
Elanor looked towards the stern,  
"Still I envy him his sleep, I wish I could settle."  
She stared out towards the sea again and wondered why the dreams had suddenly come back to plague her now and if something similar was haunting her companion. There was something about this island that made her uncertain, more than she had been in a long time.  
"Dreams?" Jack asked.  
"Yes, why?" she caught something in his face and got her answer, "You too? I wonder if it's important"  
Jack stroked his beard,  
"Dreams are not new to me luv. Was at war not long ago don't forget. Not that that means much to you I expect."  
"Yes."  
"Yes what?"  
"Yes I was forgetting, and yes it does."  
She sighed,  
"Still we should both try and sleep, we've less than five hours before we need to be on our way."  
Jack just settled himself more comfortably  
"Well get you off to your bed then, as for me I'm stayin' here."

After a moment she got to her feet and strolled off across the decks towards the hatch. Jack watched her go for a moment then looked back to the sea and tried to relax, failing miserably, his eyes refusing to stay shut preferring instead to stray back to the sea and the waiting island.  
"Here,"  
A blanket landed on his knees, and he stared up at the returned Elanor with raised brows,  
She just pointed at it emphatically,  
"Use it, the wind's getting up and you'll get cold and stiff, and we can't afford any injuries before we even start."  
Jack shrugged and draped the blanket across his midriff staring in surprise as she sank down beside him,  
"You keeping me company then?"  
"What does it look like?" She handed him a small white pill. "Take this too, don't usually like to use them but they will help us get at least a few hours of good quality sleep."  
He stared at the pill for a moment before putting it in his mouth making a moue of disgust at the taste of it on his tongue, with a faint smile she passed him a small cup of something hot and pale.  
"As will this,"  
"What is it?" he asked frowning at the cup.  
"Don't ask, just drink it."  
He sniffed it, and smiled as he caught the undertone of brandy, he sat sipping it as she settled herself more comfortably at his side.

When she was settled he leaned towards her,  
"Do I get to put me arm around you then? Just friendly like? Keep the pair of us warm."  
"No." She pulled the blanket more closely around her.  
"Thought not," he said calmly and sipped the drink again. He cast her a sideways glance, "at least not till you're asleep."  
She refused to respond to the bait,  
"What I don't know won't worry me. If you do just make sure you remove it before I catch you. And remember I'm only asleep not unconscious."  
"What's that supposed to mean!" he felt like he should be angry but was far too warm and comfortable for such unfriendly feelings.  
She gave a small laugh,  
"Work it out. Good night Jack."  
She put her cup down and turned her head away. Jack half remembered saying,  
"Goodnight to you too Captain Cavendish."  
Then there was nothing else.

***

At the prow of the Dawn Chaser Calypso and the Lady stood in silent contemplation, watching their captains as they talked and then sat, side by side against the mast.  
Calypso shook her head setting her tangled locks churning as if they were alive.  
"So it start already then. The price be set. Canna tink of one better placed to pay it than witty Jack, though it may go hard on him for a while. But waat of the lady? Does the same steel run in her veins? Canny she is I'll grant, but is she ice or fire?"

The Lady tipped her head, the fan flashing in the moonlight, the white ship and the black ship still visible but little else.  
"Ya play your cards close Lady but we both know the fountain's price. Not even your canny captain can avoid it, nor her ghost neither. Sometings are as they must be. The old ones knew tat."  
The Lady took a step closer to her companion and tipped her head again, Calypso seemed to read her silent intention easily enough for she frowned,  
"I'm nat sure that this is entirely wise Lady. Jack Sparra is not a sinner but nor is he a saint. Is it wise to trust anything even nearly mortal to this course? The temptations are large. Of all I'd trust him most with it, for he sees much that many do not and does not covet that which lesser ones do, yet he is both thief and vagabond and his belief in this world was burned out long ago. Why then should he hold his hand if a prize of this nature is dropped into it? If he steps wrongly will your captain and her ghost halt him?"

The two figures moved closer to the two beside the mast, the Lady tilted her head towards them in silent enquiry before spreading a gold-sleeved arm above them. Her fan fluttered in the moonlight again as she did so and Calypso smiled as if hearing words on the gathering wind,  
"Nat fully human any longer 'tis true, none who return from death are that however they return. He'll not share Barbossa's fate though, the locker has seen to that, if the nature of the man had nat. Of all he is most like to stay the course. I must trust that your captain will do no less. Yet I'd be easier if I could see the sum of ya purpose Lady."  
The Lady's head dipped, the broad brim of her hat casting deeper shadow across her face.  
Calypso sighed,  
"Where they go I cannat help, I must trust their safety to you. I have other things to tend to if this venture is not to fail before it is begun. But there are few who better guard their beloveds than you do."  
She looked own at the silent pair, the moon shone white, flickering silver sparks from Elanor's triple plaited hair and draining the gold from Jack's skin. At the stern Gibbs stirred in his sleep as if a shadow had passed over him.  
"Let tem sleep sound. They venture dangerous places tomorrow."  
The Lady inclined her head then faded into the moonlight.

Calypso turned and watched the island for a moment, feeling the call of what lay within it; for all that she could go there no longer.  
"Dangerous indeed."  
Then she faded into the wind.

***

They left Mr Gibbs on the surface as before with instructions to make sure that nothing, other than them, got to the surface and to be alert for any call for help. Somewhat to Elanor's surprise both she and Jack had checked the supplies to make sure that no rum had been smuggled aboard. She had reinforced the communications link to Ariadne and made sure that the tracers she and Jack were carrying were working properly; then they set off back into the darkness.

***

They studied the tunnels with more attention this time but learned little more than the first time. The strange crystals set the in the rocks certainly seemed to be in patterns of some form and she photographed them and sent to Ariadne for consideration, making sure that Jack was distracted while she did it; heaven alone knew what kinds of distraction Jack would arrange or demand if he discovered photography. Somehow she felt he would be the worst kind of tourist.

They made better time than the previous day and encountered none of the strange dragonflies, though on several occasions the shuffling in the darkness suggested that they, or something like them, were not far away. Finally they reached the opening to cavern, or whatever it was, and Elanor stood for a while studying what lay ahead of them, while Jack drove in the anchors for the ropes that would get them down the worst of the climb.

It was as she remembered it; the rocky sky above the tunnel entrance obscured by hazy cloud while the bright light seemed to permeate all below them yet had no obvious source. Below the point at which they stood the steep cliffs, black and glassy, shelved steeply down for seventy or more feet then eased into tumbled scree and rocky outcrops. Another thirty of more feet of that before a line of gentler slope disappeared into that canopy of green. The visor she had brought this time showed that it did appear to be made up of vegetation, with various greens and textures mixed into the whole. It was sufficiently dense that from here she could see little other than the flickering pattern of greens and yellows and that ever shifting silvery cloud, even with the technological help.

Jack had insisted on taking his turn with the visor.  
"Has the look of a swamp from here, or the dense vegetation you see around parts of the coast of India or Africa," was all he said.  
But she noticed that all affectation had been put aside and he was as cool and business like as she could ask. With a nod she returned the visor to its holder on her belt as he made a final check of the ropes. Once he was satisfied they helped each other to don the backpacks containing supplies to meet every kind of eventuality; well every kind that she and Ariadne had been able to imagine anyway.  
"Ready?"  
He was at her shoulder and his voice was low as if heeding her warning of yesterday,  
"As I'll ever be." She replied.

Jack crossed to the edge testing the security of the rope before turning to face her smiling broadly,  
"I'll go first shall I?"  
Without waiting for a reply he swung himself over the edge and disappeared from her view.

***

The rock was glassy and smooth for the most part, though there was the odd edge or two that had the sharpness of a knife. They halted at the end of the first rope, she secured herself to the wall with a sucker pad while Jack drove in another support and connected the second rope; he had waved the offer of similar assistance away with a frown and a shake of his head. As she waited Elanor looked around her, more to take her mind off the drop below them than for any hope of discovering anything more important. The rock looked as if it had been melted then cooled quickly, too quickly in places causing the surface to fracture into those knife sharp edges. A volcano maybe, with the inflow of the sea following on before the rock had fully cooled.

A movement below her told her that Jack was descending and with a deep breath she released her grip on the rock and followed him.

Their descent was slow, the longer the it went on the harder it got, arms and shoulders burning with the strain, legs and hips cramping with the effort of bracing themselves against the rock. Half way down they paused to rest. The air was hot and sticky and the sweat was soaking their shirts before they were a quarter of the way down. Jack was glad he had allowed her to persuade him to wear clothes of her choosing, for his coat would have been a hindrance on such a climb being far less flexible than the shirt and breeches she had provided.

The rustling sound was becoming louder, sometimes it seemed as if it were speaking, the words undistinguishable on the far edge of hearing. The sensation of speech got louder as they rested, feet braced on the rope supports Jack had secured, at least so it seemed to Elanor, but their breathing was laboured and neither of them spoke. Below them the green canopy seemed to come into better focus but she was reluctant to make the effort of extracting and using the visor while the drop below them remained so great.

Three quarters of the way down they encountered the first living thing of this visit; a lizard, two feet or so nose to tail, came out of a fold in the rock and stared at them with eyes the colour of fire before scuttling up the sheer rock as if it were on the level to disappear into another fold to their left. Jack had stared at it for a moment with tilted head and Elanor had hoped they met nothing larger before they reached some form of ground.

In that she was lucky, nothing larger did appear, but several smaller things did, things that caused her to wish the climb was over. The first was some form of spider, well it had a central body and eight legs, in that it looked to be arachnid, but the armour plate on its hefty legs, the elongated and tail like abdomen, and the crown of tentacle mounted eyes looked to be something else entirely. At half a foot across it caused her a moment of panic for she could clearly see what looked to be a barbed sting curling round towards her. Moving slowly and carefully she pulled the machete from her belt struck the rock face hard with the heavy handle. This time she was lucky and the reverberation through the rock did what she had hoped, the creature seemed to shiver then it straightened out and scurried sideways and upwards quickly. She looked down to see Jack looking upwards, mouth in a tight line and eyes as wide as saucers as he watched it disappear. They exchanged a quick look of relief before resuming their slow descent.

Smaller version of the lizard popped out at intervals, some with the same red eyes others with blue ones, the were of every colour and some were so dark as to be almost black. Each time the climbers stopped to watch where the creatures went and to make sure they were alone before the resumed the climb down. No more spiders appeared, but a what looked to be a worm like snake stuck its head out of a hole and hissed as Jack passed, only to have the surprised pirate slap its nose with an outraged,  
"Oi, fangs to yerself mate," before he hurried on.  
The snake, if that's what it was withdrew quickly but Elanor was taking no chances and bracing her feet against the rock she swung herself out and away from the cliff wall as she passed, earning her an infuriated expletive from the man below her. She shrugged her shoulders in apology as he glared up at her, struggling to regain his balance,  
"Sorry. But after that it might have been quicker to use those fangs second time around." she hissed.  
Jack sighed and nodded,  
"True enough," and resumed his descent.

An hour or more after they began their descent Jack's feet reached the lower slope and the first part of the descent was over.

Sitting down to catch his breath, massaging legs and shoulders, as he waited for Elanor to join him, he admitted to himself that he was more than a little impressed that she had done the climb so far without assistance. It confirmed what he had suspected for some time, that her very female body was wrapped by some very unfemale muscle; she might look like an angel but it seemed that she had a strength to equal his own. One day he was going to ask her about that, he promised himself, and test it too; in the nicest possible way of course, a little friendly wrestling match on a sunny deck had particular appeal. Purely in the interests of discovery of course! He grinnd zt the thought then out it aside, for now he'd just settle for being grateful for it. For the fact that she seemed no stranger to uncomfortable, not to say tight, spots too.

"Lichen, or some form of moss, " she said as she sat beside him running delicate fingers over the blue green surface. "But there's no sign of how it comes to be here. There's no weathering of the rock that I can see, no sign of water and no other vegetation to provide food or cover. Odd."  
"I'll take your word on that," Jack mumbled as he pulled a flask from his backpack and drank deeply, he looked up to see her watching him, "it's only water," he huffed, then held the canister out to her. "Here try it yourself."  
She smiled.  
"I believe you."  
"Then what are looking at me like that for?"  
"I was just wondering."  
"What?"  
"Just how many men you are."  
With that cryptic comment she got to her feet,  
"Less time we spend here the better, it's too open for my taste. Lets move on, we don't even know if this light will hold up all the time, there might be darhness here and we don't know when it will come. Lets move before it decides to try night on us."

Jack shrugged and pushed the water flask away as he got to his feet. For a moment he looked back up the cliff they had just climbed, trying not to think about the climb back up, then he looked down at the green expanse below them and smiled brightly at her.  
"It occurs to me that we might have only done the easy bit so far."  
He met her resigned look with a one of innocence,  
"Thanks for sharing that Jack." She said as she turned away and began to make her way downwards again.  
With a flash of gold in his grin he followed her.

***

High above them the surface of the rock seemed to shift, the planes and angles taking on the shape of a woman's face, eyes shielded by her hat and her mouth covered by a lace topped fan. The face seemed to watch them for a moment before fading away as if it had never been.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28 Shadows of the past **

"To whom it may concern," the letter had opened.  
"I had hoped that I would be granted the opportunity to serve the king in peace for whatever life God saw fit to grant to me, however it would seem this is not to be. If this letter is being read then matters have gone as badly as I fear they might, and I can only hope that this missive finds its way safely to one who can save matters, for it now seems that it is beyond me to do so."

Governor Thynne raised his eyes from the bright stained glass to the whitewashed ceiling with its skeleton of dark rafters and wondered how many such events this church would see before the business was settled.

Beside him Admiral Norrington was still and silent, eyes closed in apparent prayer; Thynne took a moment to wonder exactly who the admiral was praying for, or to for that matter. Hathaway and Groves were sitting beyond him, each one as silent as the admiral, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts, upright and respectful, though neither of them had much knowledge of the man they were here to honour. Unlike himself, who had known Weatherby Swann since his school days and who had danced at his marriage feast. He could only be grateful that the gentle Mary had long since passed to her rest, for she would have been singularly ill equipped to cope with recent events.

His own wife, Anne, dressed in suitably muted tones, was to his other side, her face pale in the shadow and, he suspected, more concerned with thanking god that it hadn't been his office that Beckett had usurped than with thought of the dead. Unlike the good people of the town the Governor had no doubt that events would have been little different had he been so; even without the freeing of Jack Sparrow Beckett would have found a way to bring these islands under his control while he pursued his vendetta of hate and ambition. His wife, like himself, could only be glad that the disaster had not befallen them.

Now his friend was gone and with him his only child and they were gathered here to put some decent clothing upon the manner of their loss. The forms must be observed however little faith in them remained, how else could any of them go on?

As he sat in the rapidly warming silence, feeling the paper crackle in his pocket as if loathe to be silent, he wondered if Weatherby would have written differently if he had known to whom the resolution of these matters had fallen? Probably not for the tone of the letter suggested that he had not expected them to reach official hands.

"Today I have signed over one hundred requisitions, and seventy execution orders; yesterday it was seventy requisitions and thirty execution orders. I have lost count of the full number in these last weeks. The town is stripped of provender and the gallows are never still, they have begun hanging people in batches of seven now and all night the death carts are moving bodies to the grave pits. Men, women and children and none of them tried before the law or shriven before God, something I never thought to see under an English crown. We killed a king for the law and yet Beckett forswears it with apparent impunity, and I, to my never ending shame, say nothing. No more does James Norrington, nor those who once sailed with him under the crown's flag. Fear is all around and no one dares to speak up while Beckett's spies are about, the man Mercer is a shadow in everyone's mind. But we are further from London than I had given thought to and now I doubt that Beckett has much to do with the crown.

With some time to think, and I have far more of that than I would wish, I realise that there could have been little time for the news of Sparrow's escape to reach England before Beckett set sail, and that the manner of his arrival here was more to ensure that no one would reflect upon that fact than to flaunt the panoply of state. Nor do I know how he found out about Elizabeth's foolhardy aiding of Sparrow for I never sent word of that to England, why would I when all they needed to know was that the man had gone? I doubt that James Norrington said any more, for he is a good man and he had some care for Elizabeth, even though she chose a blacksmith. Groves has assured me that none of the Commodore's officers would have been so disloyal as to question his judgement on the matter of his delayed pursuit of the pirate, and I doubt that the Admiralty would have informed the king had they done so, not without him hearing of it, for all official letters to England passed through his hands or mine. The most there could have been was some gossip and rumour, and execution warrants used not to be issued upon rumour. But then nor had they used to be issued on the demand of a merchant."

Thynne remembered the man he had known and had no difficulty in imagining the sorrow and pain on the familiar face as these words were penned. Weatherby Swann had been a wise and merciful man, stalwart in defence of his king and always honourable, but in dealing with the likes of Cutler Beckett all of that would have been a fatal handicap. Even though he had known him.

"I remember Cutler Beckett well enough, always an unpleasant, mean and ambitious man, anxious to gain the standing his lineage and his father's profligacy and degeneracy denied his family, and ever eager for the honours the king has to bestow. Yet his own habits have never been much different. He seems no less greedy for wealth than when I knew him and no more inclined towards honour or duty, despite his protestations. But I would never have suspected the full nature of the man he is shown to be. That he has attained his current nobility, if indeed he has, and I am no longer sure of that, causes me some concern, for either the crown is more desperate for funds than I had assumed or his ruthlessness and corruption goes unsuspected. The matter of Jones suggests that it may well the latter.

But there is nothing that I can do. Not while Elizabeth's fate is unknown. I tried to get her away to England, both for her safety and in the hope that she might speak to the king; may god forgive me, for all my efforts achieved was the death of good and loyal man at who knows what cost to his family. I have made some small restitution for their possible need in my will but I no longer have the hope that any law will prevail that might honour that document.

That attempt cost me my last peace too, for Elizabeth is gone and I have no way of knowing how or where she has found refuge, or even if she still lives."

The small organ began its hum and Thynne closed his eyes, trying to imagine how he might feel if either of his daughters, happily married and safe in England, had been so lost.

"Hell can bring me no greater punishment for I do not know where my daughter is. She had disappeared from the coach when I returned to it and I have neither seen nor heard anything of her since. Beckett swears that he has no knowledge of her whereabouts and I can only pray that he speaks the truth, yet his creature Mercer is no where to be seen and I fear that it is in his hands that Elizabeth is held. I pray every moment that I am wrong and that she has found her way to William, or better still to the pirate Sparrow."

The music grew louder and the congregation surged to their feet, the smell of incense announcing the arrival of the clergy, those men of the church whose voices had been noticeably silent these last months. While the law of men had been suspended the law of god had been similarly forgotten, or so it seemed. Thynne knew men and had no doubt that those who had been silent then would shout all the louder now that the time of greatest testing was past. Yet he would have to deal with them, sit with them and dine with them and smile with them, but all the time he would do it wishing that they had known some of Weatherby's doubt and pain. If that were a sin he would trust to God to judge it correctly.

"Strange that I write that. But the world has gone mad and that is but a lesser strangeness of it. William had agreed to trade with Sparrow on Beckett's behalf and it is to him that Beckett believes she will have fled; though how she will find her way I cannot see and I dread to think what fate may overcome her. But even if she finds him there can be no safety, for, though William has shown himself to be a good man in the making, he is young and knows nothing of Beckett and his world. How, then, can he keep Elizabeth safe?

Sparrow however most certainly does know Beckett and in that he may be her one remaining chance of surviving this storm. Is it heaven's judgement upon me that a man I would have stood by and watched hang, knowing that he had saved her and dealt with her kindly, might prove to be my last hope of my daughters survial? Yet I have heard stories of the dealings between Sparrow and Beckett these last days, and if they are even half true then I pray that it is in his company Elizabeth rests, unholy though it might seem, for I find myself unable or unwilling to believe that one who would do such a thing would harm her."

'Strange indeed', the Governor reflected as he watched the ruddy faced vicar take his place. Yet in so topsy turvey a world why should it not be so? Governor becomes dupe, honest man becomes felon, merchant becomes pirate and pirate becomes privateer, all on the stroke of a pen, and not always an honest pen. But how much had Weatherby Swann known? He found himself hoping that he had not known the full truth of it, for if he had then it could only have made his fears for his daughter greater.

" I may delude myself but I find that I am hoping that there, aboard a pirate vessel of all things, she has some chance of safety. Maybe Sparrow will find a way of resolving this and freeing her, for it seems that the pirate is a clever man; and in the eyes of God perhaps a better man than I, despite his lawlessness. If the whispers are true then Beckett marred Sparrow's life as surely as he is destroying mine, and I find myself bitterly regretting that I would have seen him hang. For Beckett I would plait the hangman's rope if I could. Too late we learn it seems, but the law has failed me and I would break every tenet of it to preserve Elizabeth and end this killing, and not think myself fallen."

With a rustle of silk and lace the congregation came to their feet and the memorial service for Governor Swann and his daughter began.

"The song that Beckett has killed so many for is finally been sung, though the significance of that I have been unable to discover. I hear whispers of stolen hearts and pirate lords but little that makes sense. I must know more! Beckett seems to be preparing for some last great battle that he believes will grant him control of the seas, though why he assumes that defeating pirates would do this is unclear. There are other enemies, not least the Spanish, who will oppose him and his ambitions, and they will bring much greater war and bloodshed than we have yet seen. Yet Beckett seems unconcerned by this, but James Norrington understand only too well and each day I see the regret in his eyes become deeper and the weight that seems to rest on his shoulders grow heavier. I know that in some way he has aided Beckett in his ambitions for he now wears the uniform of an admiral, though not a navy one, yet I cannot believe that so honourable man would have traded Elizabeth for his present rank. But Beckett devalues most that he touches, no less now than when I knew him before, and his ally Jones seems to spread corruption over all that venture near to him."

As he rose from his seat to read the gospel Thynne wondered if Weatherby had known what manner of thing Jones was when he wrote that. He hadn't known of the heart that much was clear.

"The armada of requisitioned ships is nearly provisioned and tomorrow we set sail. Beckett insists that I accompany him, and I begin to suspect that he needs my presence to hold his venture together just as he has needed me to sign the documents. That betrays him, for with the king's authority behind him he would have no need of mine and he could have thrown me inthe deepest cell available, and yet he has not. It is my authority that he hides behind, will hide behind when this is done, and that makes all this possible. Yet I can do nothing while Elizabeth may still live and be within his power, and he is counting on this, I can see it in his eyes. Now as my strength and honour is most tested I find that it has deserted me and I can only pray that God will understand and forgive my weakness. For myself, I have no ambitions any longer and my only prayer is that William and Elizabeth find some way out of this storm and the war that will no doubt follow."

As Thynne returned to his seat, looking over the ranks of carefully bent heads, he wondered if Weatherby had learned of Elizabeth's fate before he died. He hoped not.

***

Elanor halted for a moment to brush a wisp of hair from her forehead, the air was humid and her skin was sticky. The gentle slope seemed to stretch on for longer than was likely, more disturbing evidence of the size of this cavern, if that was what it was, and of Ariadne's underestimation of it. Jack had caught her up, eventually convinced there was nothing to follow them, and they moved, shoulder to shoulder, down towards what looked to be a canopy of trees.

At this distance it was uncertain what they were but the colour and texture shifted as if they were moving, and occasionally the tendrils of cloud they had seen from above drifted amongst them, probably not far below the top leaves but not certainly so. Though there was no sign of life, and no sound other than that wind like whistling they had noticed above; Jack kept one hand on his pistol and Elanor one hand on her taser as they moved slowly and carefully downwards.

At first the ground had been covered in just a slick of the blue green moss, a thin covering and one that crushed easily beneath their feet, leaving lingering foot prints and giving off a strange and pungent smell as it did so. But after a while it got deeper and developed more spring, the coils of the tiny leaves cushioning their steps and rising back up as they passed on. By the time the carpet had reached ankle deep it was showing bright yellow flowers with dark stamens at their centre, and though their feet bruised the petals they recovered as the leaves did, seeming to glow brighter for the disturbance. The flowers. like the leaves, gave off a strange smell when pressed, but it was not unpleasant, a mix of lemongrass and pine essence was as close as Elanor could get to a description.

Above them the top of the cavern was still swathed in that drifting cloud that obscured the roof. The smooth black wall of rock they had climbed down looked glassy at a distance. Like a waterfall of obsidian frozen in the act of falling.

Occasionally she checked the small glow that told her the camera was still streaming the images of what was around them back to Ariadne's watchful eye, but so far she had not seen anything that caused her to warn of danger. High above them Mr Gibbs waited in the shade, they had spoken twice since they had finished the climb down, and though he found the speaking strange he responded willingly enough and seemed to be alert. No sign that he been at the rum. Like Jack he seemed to tolerate sobriety more easily than one might at think on early meetings.

The vegetation started small, outcrops of scrawny ferns and low spreading succulents sprouting out of the deepening layer of moss, but they grew in number and size quite rapidly. The first tress were still fern like and no taller than themselves, with elongated trunks the colour and texture of coconuts topped by plumes of deeply cut and curled leaves, a bright yellowish green at the centre but edged with red and purple. As they passed the leaves would move as if disturbed by insect or animal, even when they did not touch them, but there was no other sign of life.

The scent of the plants crushed by their passing was getting stronger, seeming to follow them, thickening the air, making it harder to breathe. Sometimes it seemed to rise up like smoke though there were no pollen grains or vapour that she could see.

The plants seemed to be getting larger with every yard they walked. New trees were appearing, each species seemingly taller than the rest and not only because the land was still sloping downwards. Most of them were the same green as the canopy ahead but there were a few where the green inclined to blue or yellow. The leaf shapeswere becoming more variable too, the ferns were still there amongst the delicate fronds there were those with a more substantial constuction, some were broad leaves coated on their undersides with fine hairs or brightly coloured bulbous others where the surface looked to be made of leather. A few had flowers, racemes of bells in white and yellow, or wide and flaring cups of blue, purple and deep red. The scent of the flowers added to the resinous smell of the growth they crushed under foot making the air heady, and at times almost suffocating.

Jack pulled away from one of the bright arches of bells with a moue of distaste and a shudder, halting the movement as she came to stand beside him staring at the plant with wide eyes.  
"What is it Jack?"  
"Nothing," he hurried to reassure her, "Stinks worse than the town midden that's all, you'd think that something so dainty would be more discrete about its perfume."  
Elanor leaned closer to the arch of pale bells, wrinkling her nose with distaste as she realised that the flower did indeed smell like rotting refuse,  
"There must be something somewhere that appreciates it. Scent is usually to the taste of the insect the plant wants to attract."  
"Insect? As in flies?" he shrugged and brushed the flower stem away from their path with a finicky hand, wiping his fingers on his breeches afterwards, "suppose it must work then but I've seen no insects here and I've no desire to meet any that finds such a stench to its taste."  
She took another sniff then backed away quickly her face contorted in her distaste.  
"I'm sure you've smelled worse in your time," she said dryly remembering the stench of the Tortuga alley.  
Jack gave her a long hard stare as if she had said something important,  
"Aye, but not much worse." He smiled suddenly. "Still no use in chatterin' here, sooner we get down to the bottom sooner we are likely to fond the fountain and the sooner we can be gone."  
With that he strode on ahead.

As he heard her fall in behind him he frowned, secure that for the moment she could not read his face. Even so he wondered what it was that had given him away, if indeed anything had. But why had she said that if he hadn't; she couldn't know that it wasn't a midden it reminded him of, that for an instant he had been back on the deck of the Pearl facing the Kracken again. Or could she? He did not know the scope of that ghost of hers, who knew what whispers in the dark that unearthly presence could hear. With a silent curse he took a hold of himself, the fountain could not be so far away now. A day, maybe two, for this place was bigger than he had thought it would be and they were making only slow progress, and thoughts of the locker could be behind him for good. All he had to do was hold his nerve, and he had had plenty of practice at that.

As she followed him down the slope Elanor wondered why Jack had chosen that flower to stop by, why it was that he had chosen one whose smell had stirred such powerful memories. Yet it must be co-incidence for there was no way that he could know, perhaps it was all in her imagination anyway, nothing more than the product of the anxiety she could feel nibbling at her mind. She shook herself slightly and lengthened her stride, closing on his heels, there was no going back, not without Jack, and the set of his shoulders and the swagger in his step told her as clear as any words that he had no intention of abandoning his quest. It seems that on this occassion she would have to follow.

***

Hathaway could only reflect with admiration on the skill the Governor had show in mounting this service. It seemed that the man was well chosen, for slowly but surely he was bringing the people to think that the crown had been no less betrayed by Beckett than those who had suffered. Without saying anything of the sort of course he was reinforcing the rumours that spoke of Beckett as a traitor in the pay of the Spanish, a man who sought war in the pursuit of gold and power. While it was some way towards being the truth Thynne's skills in making others believe the sum of it, without ever saying a words in defence of it, was masterly.

He cast a quick look around him, the pews of the small church were stuffed with the great and the good of Port Royale society and the back of the church well packed with the less elevated members of the community, including those who might well have felt that Governor Swann had betrayed them. A passing glance at Groves showed the man's face to be stiff and shuttered, but the tightness around the mouth, and the shadows under the eyes, hinted at considerable unease and many sleepless nights. No doubt he was wondering with some bitterness, perhaps rightly, if James Norrington would be honoured in such a way. No doubt in England there would be a service for the fallen naval hero, with the accompanying suggestion that he fell about the kings business; but here, where the populace had seen him promoted by Beckett's own hand and in the uniform of the Company, even as so many of their number mounted the gallows, it was unthinkable. For the moment at least. It was only the loss of Swann's daughter that had made the ex Governor's redemption possible, the people here would believe anything of Beckett now, that he had threatened a gently born girl with rape and murder to force her father's hand, and killed him when he discovered the truth, was taken for granted.

Or maybe it was guilt? For Groves had followed Beckett till the end, only seeing the truth of the man when the waters were closing over the Endeavor. His guilt seemed genuine enough however, and there had been no mistaking how he had bitten his lip when Elizabeth Swann was mentioned.

Here again the Governor has showed his skills, for Elizabeth's actions in the whole matter were artfully skirted, and the vicar's comments on the young girl lost to the sea gave no fuel to fire of gossip. After this the rumours of her joining a pirate ship would be seen as nothing more than a cruel and malicious fabrication by Beckett's cronies and none would want to be associated with them. In death Elizabeth Swann's many faults were being smoothed away, to a degree that would never have been possible had she lived, at least not if some of the tales Hathaway had heard were true. But under the Governors guidance it seemed she would take her place beside sleeping beauty and Rapunzle before long, forever a model of betrayed maidenhood. Norrington's letters hinted at a different story of course, but hints were all there was and there was no need for them to be disclosed. It was enough that Elizabeth Swann had died at Beckett's hands, exactly how and when could be forgotten.

On that thought he closed his eyes and let the swell of organ music wash over him, wishing that this display truly were the end of the matter.

***

The slope was getting steeper again and keeping their footing was becoming more difficult. Beneath them the moss had grown to a foot or more high, the tightly curled leaves like fine wire springs that shivered and shimmered at their passing; but the surface seemed wet, though the heavy air contained no more water than before. Maybe it was the shadow that made it seem that way, for the trees were now tall, each spreading branch reaching out to touch its neighbour. In the swaying green the first insects seem to have appeared, some hopping between the flower spikes that now reared into the air like pikes, others hovering in small clouds to do whatever it was they were about.

Jack found his hand tightening on his pistol as he watched them as if they were enemies massing for an attack.

Elanor had stopped beside a tall and graceful tree, its green needles soft and flushed with pink at the tip. With a sudden fear of danger he crossed to stand beside her, easing the pistol from his sash as she reached up to touch the lowest bough.  
"Why have you stopped? What's so interesting? What is it?" He ran one question into the other in his sudden worry,  
"This one look familiar. But it shouldn't be here."  
He watched her impatiently as she stroked the leaves,  
"None of this should be here, or so you and your ghost keep sayin'. Why should this specimen be any the less here than any other?"  
"I think it's a Dawn Redwood. One of the oldest trees on Earth. They were thought to be extinct until a few were found in some isolated mountains in the twentith century."  
She looked around her,  
"Somehow finding something I know here is worse than finding nothing I know."

"Makes no sense." Jack protested with a flick of his hand.  
"Probably not, but its easier to believe this is all a dream when there is nothing familiar at all. Finding something that is makes it more real somehow."  
He stared at her for a moment,  
"Seems real enough to me," he said eventually, shrugging and pushing the pistol back into his sash with some hesitation, "but as reality don't seem to count for much these days I'm not sure that is sayin' much."  
He looked around them, the trees were tall but not oppressively so, above them he could catch glimpses of the pale cloud they had seen when they stood at the top of this little world. The air was still and heavy with the scent of the flowers and leaves and suddenly it seemed as if they had been walking forever. Not twenty feet ahead was a small clearing with a smooth black skinned bolder at its centre, he jerked his head towards it  
"What is real is that I'm hungry, you insisted on bringing food, so what say we sit ourselves down on that comfortable looking rock and make some use of it."

Elanor blinked as she followed Jack's indication, for she had taken a close and careful look around them before she stopped to examine this tree and was sure there had been no rock there then. She gave Jack a sharp look but nothing showed in his face other than the question and a slowly growing confusion as she continued to stare at him.  
"Elanor?" he said eventually.  
"Sorry." For a moment she wondered where her wits had gone, of course the rock must have been there, she had just missed it in the shifting shadows, "Food. Yes, why not."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29 Something old and something new **

"Elanor." Jack's voice sounded strangely detached and strained but level enoug, too level to give her any real warning.  
"Yes?" she continued putting the spilled items into her backpack without looking up.  
" Have you or your ghost any idea why this rock is looking at me?"

A comment about rum and pirates hovered on her tongue for a moment, then she remembered that Jack had had nothing to drink but water since yesterday, and even on rum she had yet to see him drunk enough to hallucinate. A second comment about inappropriate teasing also occurred but died as she looked up into his face; he was unsmiling, staring past her and expressionless other than for the fact that his eyes were black with anxiety and wide as soup plates. Whatever it was that was bothering him he was serious about it.

Elanor froze, letting her backpack fall softly to the floor before edging her hand slowly towards her tasar as she carefully turned to face the same direction. From the far side of the rock a long slim neck topped with two even slimmer antenna had risen, each antenna was finished with a white, opaque, eye.

She swallowed hard and then drew a deep breath,  
"None whatsoever," she replied slowly, more grateful than she could explain that her voice came out as level as his.  
Jack shifted stance a little, drawing himself u,p his chest rising sharply as he pulled in a deep and shuddering breath,  
"Been followed by rocks before, but not looked at by them. So why is this one lookin'?"  
Elanor moved slightly closer to him her hand still hovering at her belt, and the milky eyes seemed to adjust focus to include her in their gaze,  
"It's looking at me too, if it helps," she said.  
"Should it .........help?"  
"I don't know. Depends on what happened the last time you were followed by a rock."

She knew they were both talking to buy time to assimilate what was happening, to give their reeling brains some opportunity to relocate common sense, but at the moment it didn't seem to be helping much.

Jack tilted his head slightly as if to match the stare,  
"They turned into crabs and carried me ship away. Tia Dalma's doin' I expect, but she's not here so that won't be happening this time."  
Elanor tried to recall whom Tia Dalma was but for the moment all she could really think about was the sight in front of her,  
"No I suppose not, " the words came almost of themselves.  
'I should have expected something like this' she thought as she watched and was watched back. Ariadne couldn't detect life in here but she had warned that the rock was too thick for the heat signature to be seen and that field detection was unreliable at this distance. The creature in the upper levels should have been warning enough, and if she and Jack were of interest up there then they would be of equal interest to whatever life was down here. It had been careless to stay still for so long, to let their guard down so completely. Now they might have to pay for it.

They had settled here nearly half an hour ago, at least she thought they had but suddenly she wasn't entirely sure. They had been weary, light headed from the blanket like air and the scent of vegetation now she came to think about it, and, though she had insisted that they make sure there was nothing obviously threatening about the rock and it's surrounding before they had sat down, she had not thought to monitor it once they had. Careless.

But there had been nothing to warn them. It was true that she had been surprised when Jack mentioned the rock, but she had dismissed her initial concerns as unwarranted when it appeared to be just what Jack described it, a rounded and smooth black boulder. Not the same sort of rock as the one they had climbed down but there had been no reason to assume it was anything more than it seemed. So they had made themselves as comfortable as they could in the cloying air, shrugging off the packs and extracting one of the small meals Ariadne had insisted they bring with them, washing it down with an energy drink. Jack had grimaced at the taste of that and expressed his usual preference for rum, but he had done no more than smile and shrug when she replied that she expected that he would prefer rum, but that they didn't have any, and that life was a bitch.

"Why are you so set on finding this fountain anyway?" she had asked as they ate.  
He'd shot her a rather warning, 'hands off', kind of look from under lowered brows, but he had answered.  
"Told you. Locker. Not goin' back there. So it's this or live on land, and I've no desire to leave the sea."  
"But you said Jones is gone. It was his locker so why would you assume that you'll end up there? Surely its gone with him?"  
He'd stared at her for a moment or two longer then shrugged and looked back down at his food,  
"True enough but there's no sayin' that I won't either. Jones was a malevolent miscreant, betrayed Calypso, the goddess who gave him immortality, so no sayin' what he could have done to me. Or what power it might still have over me." He tiled his head and looked at her sideways, a somewhat defensive expression creeping into his eyes, "That being so I'll avoid the possibility if it's all the same to you."

They were silent for a while after that, how long she wasn't sure for she was finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the feel of the air. That whispering sound of something that might, somewhere, be a breeze. In the back of her mind memories were stirring, unpleasant memories that had been shaken out from under the blanket of repression by the stench of the plant back there. It had been such a long time ago now, but not long enough, there never would be a long enough to forget the stench of death and the weight of the corpses piled on top of her. She didn't recall it often these days, other things had claimed its place at the top of her list of nightmares, but when it returned to her it did so in force. Now the clammy air reminded her of the suffocating heap, and the heat prickling her skin recalled the terrible panic of the endless wait for silence and the time it had taken her to push her way out. As she stared at the leaves of the tree in front of her she could almost see the iris pattern of the dead eyes that had seemed to gaze into her own whenever she opened them. Hour upon hour of that stare had burned it forever in the darker parts of her minds eye.

Not for the first time she wondered what Jack would make of her own hall of horrors, for she was sure that his was larger and darker than he let on; she had seen the shadow of unwelcome memory in his eyes and recognised it from her mirror.

Her reverie, if that's what it was, was broken by Jack's voice, and his earnest expression surprised her as much as his words.  
"You can go back and wait by the ropes if you'd prefer, or even go back above if you wish it. You insisted on coming down here but I'll go on alone if you are no longer happy to take the risk. We don't know what's ahead, I've seen plenty of strange things in me time but you and your ghost might have lived a more peaceful kind of life. I'll not ask you to go where you do not want to go."  
She gave herself a small shake and shook her head, pushing back the memory and summoning a faint smile. A peaceful life? If he only knew! Not that she had any intention of letting him know, no more than she had any intention of abandoning him to whatever it was down here.  
"No. I committed myself to this, I'll see it through."  
Jack nodded quickly and looked away, but not before she had seen something she thought was relief in his eyes.

***

Jack was aware of an easing of the tension within himself as she replied, and wondered about it; he'd do it alone if he had to but there was no denying he wanted her at his back. Why had he made the offer to let her return above he wondered? He didn't want her to go, he really didn't, but he had felt impelled to state the choice, for there was something about the look in her eyes as she stared at that tree that had shaken him. Something that had suddenly made him wonder what it was that she was seeing.

This was a strange place, an uncomfortable place, and a place that tricked you by looking familiar only to reveal that it was not. Worse thing about it was how it seemed to remind you of other times and places, things you didn't want to think about but somehow couldn't help doing so. Like the waxy sheen on that large leaf for example, why should it remind him of Davy Jones? But it did, and for a while he hadn't been able to work out how, then suddenly he was back on the Pearl on a dark deck with all the lanterns out, and he realised that that leaf had the colour and sheen of Jones ink as they signed the bargain for the trade of souls.

In general he tried to avoid thinking about that moment, for the memory hurt nearly as much as the Kraken and the Locker. That was the moment when Captain Jack Sparrow had first lost himself, the first moment of feeling sullied and unusual. A feeling he had not known before and one that he had hated so very much, though the hatred of it had not eased the burning desire, the desperate need, to beat Jones and keep himself and the Pearl above the seas. A feeling that had persisted until the decision in the long boat, the moment he made the choice to return to the Pearl knowing that in doing so he was accepting his fate, for both himself and his ship.

Memory unwound even as he struggled to push it back into the darkness. Suddenly everything, the smell of the air, the tang of the food and the colour of the moss around the stone on which they were sitting reminded him of that moment and what had led to it.

William had chosen to go aboard the Dutchman it was true; it had been his plan and not a gentle or cunning one. A plan that Barbossa would have approved of and his own choice. Jack had left William to chose the approach and the whelp had boarded the Dutchman not with evasion in mind but with the open intention of simple brutality, 'I'll cut down any that get in my way' he'd said, and meant it. Jack had believed that he would for he had little doubt that William would destroy the world for Elizabeth. Whose fault was it that he had failed to carry it through? But deep within himself he knew that William had framed that plan while not in full possession of the facts.

'That was William's own doing,' a defiant spark protested. But he knew that to be sophistry for he also knew now, as he had then, that he had been playing Will's weaknesses. Yet he had taken the risk, sure that Bootstrap and his name would keep the whelp alive even if Jones caught him, for he had no doubts of the degree of Bootstraps guilt or of the malice Jones bore him. He had been sure that he would be able to play that back against the Dutchman's captain, but he had failed to get Will back after all. Or had he? Had he even given any thought at all to the idea of Will being caught until that moment when he stepped over the side? He was no longer sure, but he did know that he had been willing to risk William for a chance, relying on Bootstrap to keep the whelp safe even though he had known the rigours of life under Jones command.

The defiant voice spoke up again. 'But if he had put aside his obsession with his own need and Elizabeth's need and considered mine too he might have been more cautious.' Jack sighed and took another half hearted swig of the drink, wishing with all his heart that it were rum. Such conversations with oneself should never be undertaken while sober, them being somewhat hard to forget then.

There was some truth in it to be sure, if William had considered what the compass and the key might mean for Jack, if he had thought beyond what he wanted to accomplish at all, then he might have asked why Jack couldn't or wouldn't go himself, and then things would have been different. Or would they? Would he have told him? Maybe. Maybe not. Truth was that a man would do almost anything to avoid his final judgement, and he could no longer be sure what he might have done. Not that it mattered a whit for it had not occurred to Will to ask, which was pretty much askin' to be used when you thought about it. But William had the selfish single mindedness of the young and he had not then learned the harsher lessons of need and survival; he had assumed Jack to be a good man and for William that meant Jack would do what he wanted him to do and with no thought for himself or his own needs.

As he saw the darkness in Elanor's eyes he thought he saw the echo of the darkness that must have been in William's as he realised his mistake and his fate.

The words had come out without thought, and, though he prayed that she would say no even as he spoke, he knew that he would not take them back. William's destiny had been the Dutchman, and by Jack's hand it seemed, but in the end it had been a gain and not a loss. Things could not be changed but they could be learned from, and put behind you. There would be no more losing himself.

Now as he looked into those oddly curious eyes he was glad that he had offered her the choice.

***

"So you are Mr Groves."  
Governor Thynne leaned back in his chair and settled his elaborate coat skirts more comfortably. The man was taller, thinner and paler than Governor Swann had been, but the elaborate clothes and the long grey wig were similar, his coat was grey silk laced with silver and his waistcoat was scarlet woven with silver thread. So too was the benevolent look that could suddenly sharpen into shrewdness, the pale blue eyes going from the dreamy tint of morning skies to the chilly tones of old ice in the flicker of an eyelid. The long fingers that had come to rest on the chair arms were pale and elegant and the rings that adorned them would certainly have been coveted by Jack Sparrow, one of them even looked similar to those the pirate habitually wore.

Groves swallowed and bowed slightly,  
"I am sir."  
The Governor nodded giving him a slow smile that might have seemed friendly if you ignored the hard look that accompanied it. He waved both Groves and Hathaway to a chair,  
"Thank you for attending the service gentlemen," he said, " it was well done I think, and should keep some of the gossip at bay. Not all of course, people will still talk and there is no way to stop them." He shot the young navy man a slightly unkind look, "unless we plan to hang the ones Beckett didn't get. But now that the necessary forms have been observed I think it is time that you, Mr Groves, tell me a little more of what happened to my predecessor and his daughter."  
He raised his hand to forestall any comment,  
"I know what the King knows of course, and I know what was in Governor Swann's official record of events. I have seen all the warrants,"  
He caught Groves barely repressed shudder and hid a smile, casting a quick look towards Norrington who was standing at the window,  
"I have also seen some of James Norrington's letters."  
He allowed a faint stress on the 'some' but neither Norrington nor Hathaway reacted with as much as a flickering eyelid.

Thynne turned his attention back to Groves, noting the thinness of him beneath the elaborate uniform and the shadows around his eyes; the haunted look suggested that closeness to Beckett had not corrupted him completely and that his sleep was infrequent. Perhaps his recovering conscience was pressing him hard. But this was no time for considering his sensibilities, he had done what he had done and now he must account for that; it seemed that he was not a happy man, but nor should he be.

"Why did no one question's Beckett's actions?" he asked mildly, "Did anyone seriously think that such a number of deaths were proportionate for the capture of one pirate, or that the crown would want such carnage in pursuit of man it was planned to pardon? What exactly did you think that Jack Sparrow was that he would be considered worth so many deaths?"  
Groves shrugged helplessly,  
"Beckett declared a state of emergency sir, and Governor Swann did not challenge it or his authority. We none of us knew about the letters of marque. I only heard of them from the Admiral when Beckett was dead. As for the rest, well he had the King's authority, why else would Governor Swann have signed the warrants?"  
Thynne considered that for a moment, reflecting on the risks that thoughtless obedience could bring in such circumstances. Groves of course would try hard not to see the faults of a superior officer, and both Swann and James Norrington had been that.

"And why did you all sign on with the company?" he said softly.  
Groves almost wrung his hands,  
"We had no choice sir! Beckett had the right to requisition all ships, the Dauntless was gone and Beckett told us that he had authority to use navy crews until such time as the admiralty could send a new force to the Caribbean. The Governor also told us that the admiralty had put us all on half pay and that it would be paid by the Company until the new force arrived, he said that Beckett had the authority to pay the balance if we signed on with his armada."  
Thynne sighed to himself, Beckett had a good, if devious, brain and he understood that money would blunt many a good man's sensibilities when the alternative was poverty, and half pay wages were not generous. But Weatherby had been right, without his authority the scheme could not have prospered. He pushed the unwelcome thought aside as Groves began speaking again,  
"As for Jones and the heart, we knew nothing of that until after the song had been sung. By which time we had all taken too much for granted and there seemed to be no turning back."  
An even greater urgency entered his voice,  
We believed that it was piracy were fighting sir."

Thynne nodded, but then frowned.  
"Why did you think that the King would suddenly allow such actions when the Navy had not asked for them? Or been given them in all the years that they secured these seas and while piracy was a greater threat than today? Why would he give such power to Beckett when he had not given it to his navy or his Governor?"  
Groves looked down at the floor,  
"I cannot speak for others sir, but I confess that I never thought of that." He shrugged wearily, "It seemed so simple sir, brutal perhaps, but simple, and obvious. Lord Beckett was acting for the law and the common good, doing what must be done. Why else would he do it?"  
"Had James Norrington not acted for the common good in the years he served here then?"  
Thynne's voice was silk smooth and whispoer soft but carried a thin blade of steel within it.  
Groves felt Hathaway shift in his chair and swallowed nosily,  
"Yes sir." He raised troubled eyes to the man opposite him, "It seems obvious now, and I don't know how we didn't see it. But it seemed equally obvious at the time.

'And in so complicated a world the greatest fool and the biggest villain is so often the simple man to whom such things as the common good and the law are obvious.' Thynne thought as he tilted his head and smiled at Groves.

The Governor drew a deep breath,  
"Very well. What did you know of Elizabeth Swann Mr Groves? What do you know of her now?"  
Groves paled even further and gripped his hands tightly in his lap,  
"At the time, not much at all. None of us were in the Company's employment when she was last seen in Port Royale. We heard rumours of the warrant for her death for releasing Sparrow, but no one really believed it. There were stories that she had been put into prison but no one gave much credence to that either. She was the Governor's daughter, and this is not the middle ages sir!"  
He straightened his back and stared ahead of him,  
"By the time I was employed back at the fort she was already gone. At first I thought she had returned to England and then I heard rumour that she and William Turner had been dispatched to make contact with Sparrow. The there were other rumours that Turner alone had been dispatched and she had run away to be with him."  
He looked at the Governor again,  
"It all seemed so far fetched sir that I didn't know what to believe. Miss Swann was a spirited girl, but she was just that, a girl, and gently bred. She was accustomed to servants to do her bidding and good food on her table and fine clothes to wear; she was a lady of breeding sir, how could she make her way in Sparrow's world?"  
At the window Norrington shifted uneasily but said nothing, perhaps thinking of the marriage there might have been, the wife she might have been, if things had been just a little different.  
The Governor smiled a small cold smile,  
"How indeed."

Groves sighed,  
"They say that Turner taught her to use a sword after she was abducted, and that may be the case, but it takes more than being able to hold a sword to survive alone in such a world."  
He looked down at his hands again,  
" Sparrow would have protected her I think, he is an odd sort of pirate and he did her no harm the last time he had her in his power. But how would she have found him?"  
The Governor flipped a depreciating hand,  
"Sparrow might well have protected her, better than you did it seems. Perhaps she expected that he would. That being the case maybe she took passage on a ship?"

He watched Groves closely as he spoke but he saw no sign of anything other than confusion in the man's face,  
"But then she would have gone to England sir, and we would have known."  
"Then perhaps she didn't travel as a passenger."  
"Then how did she travel sir, as crew? With respect sir that is most unlikely, even had she been able to get aboard a ship she could not have maintained the pretence for long for she didn't know how to sail and girl or not she was too tall to work as a cabin boy."  
Groves hands twisted in his lap as the Governor shrugged,  
"I didn't know what to think sir. The truth is I didn't think much about it at all, she was gone, maybe to England maybe not. The war against the pirates was all that seemed to matter. But then James Norrington returned and told me that she had found Sparrow at Tortuga, though he didn't know how she had got there. When we took the Black Pearl I heard that she was still aboard it; but that she was carried off by the pirate Sao Feng. He had done some deal with Beckett and I don't know if she was part of that or not, however it seems certain that she died when his ship was attacked."  
He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat visibly tight,  
"Believe me sir when I say that the knowledge of what must have happened to her before she died, what she must have suffered, tortures me."

"As it does us all Mr Groves, surely that act betrays what Beckett was more clearly than any other," Norrington said, "that a young girl should have been used in such a bargain." his voice trailed away.  
Groves looked towards the admiral,  
"The Commodore did not know of it sir, I would swear that on my life. He didn't speak much about her, but I know that he did not begrudge her the choice she made and he would have done anything in his power to save her."  
There was silence for a moment, then Hathaway shifted in his chair and joined the conversation,  
"As you see it seems that the unfortunate Miss Swann and her fiancé, William Turner, cannot be of any help to us in the matter of Sparrow."  
"What of Mr Turner?" The Governor asked with a frown.  
Hathaway smiled fiantly and indicated that Groves should continue his story.

"William Turner was on the Black Pearl when we lost it. Sparrow disabled the Endeavour and we could not follow quickly enough. There was rumour that he betrayed them and led us to the pirates lair, but he was handed back to the pirates when Sparrow was surrendered to Jones."  
The Governor's frown deepened.  
"So they betrayed him? Sparrow I mean. That might work in our favour."  
"So it seems sir. William Turner returned to the Black Pearl but he was later seen to board the Flying Dutchman. No one got off that ship alive sir, other than Sparrow that is, and possibly one of the Chinese pirates. The rest were either killed in the battle or drowned when she went down. Turner would have shared that fate."

The Govenor thought about that for a moment then nodded,  
"Which brings us to Jones. Did you ever see him Mr Groves?"  
The man opposite drew a deep breath and his hands gripped his thighs tightly, the tendons standing proud beneath the tanned skin  
"Not close to sir, though he was on board the Endeavour on one occasion the night before the battle. I saw him in passing as did several of the men. Most men would not look at him sir, and I confess I had no desire to go any closer."  
Thynne nodded, and settled more comfortably into his chair, he had the man in the palm of his hand now and they could cut to the chase,  
"So tell me what you know Mr Groves, tell me what you saw of this unholy myth made me how you think that we will deal with him. For deal with him we must. The genie is out of the bottle Mr Groves tell me how we put it back before we have a real war on our hands."

***

Jack saw Elanor straighten out of the corner of his eye, he felt rather than saw her shift position slightly to get a better look at whatever it was. Now that she was paying attention too some measure of his fear eased, and he took a hold on himself, staring at the creature to try and judge its mood. He let his eyes drift as far as possible without moving his head. It didn't seem that the neck had appeared from the rock as such, now that he looked more closely rather from the other side of it. The flesh was grey and smooth, but ridged with bands of a lighter colour, and there were no other features that she could see other than those two eyestalks. Certainly there was no mouth, and, in his experience, teeth required a mouth, and no teeth meant they had a chance.

"Part of the rock do you think?" he asked quietly.  
"Or maybe come from under it," she replied softly.  
"No mouth."  
"No, nor ears. A burrower then, a worm of some form perhaps."  
Jack looked at the several feet of neck and raised his eyebrows,  
"Bloody big worm!"  
"No reason why it shouldn't be. Not here, I told you there might be other forms of life, kinds that no one has ever seen."  
"Well if this is an example of them I hope the rest stay well away."  
"They won't. Still want to go and find this fountain?"  
"Yes! Things like this around I'm goin' to need it. So where do we go from here?"  
"We could try just backing away, see if it's interested enough to try and get us to stay."  
"Don't like how you put it luv, but I see what you are getting at. If we aren't food then maybe it won't care if we go."  
"Unless it wants to play with us."  
"Well it can keep any playin' to its own kind!"  
"How are you planning on making it?"  
"By running very fast luv, very fast indeed. Up a tree if needs be."  
"Might be worse up there."  
"True, but never say die, eh? Get ready to run, just make sure we do it in the same direction."  
"Which is?"

Jack moved his head slightly, the white eyes didn't seem that interested in the movement, the gaze, if that is what it could be called, remaining fixed and unwavering. Slowly he raised his hand and pointed to a line of thin vegetation to their left,  
"That way."  
"OK, but let's just stay still a while, then see if we can catch it by surprise."  
"I'm with you on that." He said quietly staring back at the pale eyes. "I've a nasty feelin' that the beastie might be bigger then it looks, and where's the rest of it I wonder?"  
"Under the rock I expect. That's probably why I didn't see it at first, this thing moving uncovered it. But why didn't we feel it?"  
Jack repressed a shudder remembering something else that came from below,  
"Aye, well, that's for later, for now let's just get us away before the rest of it breaks free."

The minutes stretched like hours as they stood and stared back at the watching eyes, then finally Elanor drew a deeper breath and barked,  
"Run!"

Jack had been ready and they both jumped back at the same time, he bent and scooped up his backpack as she sprinted passed him, allowing them to avoid collision as they headed towards the trees. There was no sound from behind them but suddenly the ground was rippling, trees bending with the movement and sending boughs slapping against each other. They tried to speed up but the the trees didn't seem to come any closer.

Suddenly there was a mound in front of them, small at first but growing every second, more boulders appearing from within it and tumbled towards them. Yet the ground seemed calm again, no heaving to explain the rising obstruction, just a cloud of what looked to be dust hovering low over the surface. The dust seemed to swirl more franatically for a moment and the leaves danced as if in a rising wind, and then the creature's tail was in front of them, that same banded grey and smooth like the head, but all along its length was a triple line of tubes, the centre row topped with what looked to be circular spines, the out rows still seeping soil and dust.

Wide eyed they both stared at the barrier between them and escape, before looking at each other and moving closer together.  
"Not looking isn't going to change it." Elanor said shakily.  
"I know that. Doesn't mean we need to look before we have to though."  
"Longer we leave it the harder it might be to escape."  
Jack drew a deep breath,  
"No denying that I suppose."  
Elanor reached out and caught his wrist,  
"On three then, we turn around and face whatever it is."  
"Aye, on three."  
"One. Two. Three."  
In a single movement they turned.

For a moment they stood in frozen silence then Jack groaned,  
"I don't believe it!"


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30 - Monsters**

"And I says that we be lost!"  
Pintel glared at Cotton as if daring the parrot on his shoulder to comment, as it had every other time they had had this discussion, which had been roughly every watch for the last two days. This time it simply squawked and flew up to perch on the yardarm, itself a comment that brought an even more pugnacious frown to the sailor's face.  
"Lost." he repeated.  
"Well we're still at sea." Murtog offered.  
Raggtti smirked as Pintel rolled his eyes,  
"O'course we're still at sea, haven't found anywhere not ta be at sea at!" He spoke between clenched teeth, "and we're not like to find anywheres in these here doldrums."

"Well whose idea was it to head for Tortuga anyway?" Mullroy chipped in.  
"We has to go somewheres." Pintel growled, "can't just go sailin' in circles. Bound to meet the navy if we does."  
"Not sailin' anywheres now." Raggetti mused.  
"I knows that!"  
"No use us tryin' to go anywhere without a navigator it seems." Marty said, "best we look for land as soon as the wind picks up, skirt the coast until we sees where we are. Unless we can stir Barbossa."  
"Can't, we tried it. He just lies as if he's dead." Raggetti shrugged, "Breathin' though. Not dead yet."  
"No more use than if dead I'm thinkin'." Pintel added glumly.  
"Could throw him over the side," Raggetti suggested with a sly smile, "offer him to Calypso, maybe she'd see her way to blowin' us to Tortuga then."  
"Na, if she wants him she would have took him by now." Marty replied, then shrugged, "seems ta me tat she want him here."  
"That's as might be but he be little use to us, an' none of us can read a map." Pintel growled.

"But there are rocks near the shore, aren't there?" that was Murtogg, "we might run aground."  
"Aye," Raggetti nodded, "and I don't think I want's to be a visiting Mr Turner yet awhile."  
"Well you might be visiting him anyways if we don't head for shore," Pintel snapped. "Water almost gone and the rations be getting thin."  
"Caan't fix that at Tortuga neither, nor elwheres. Nat got any coin for supplies." Marty frowned. "Capt'n Jack would have found a way, sweet talked someone into provisioning us, but that don't seem like without him."  
"Then what happens to us?" Murtogg asked nervously.  
Marty shrugged,  
"Could try and find a settlement somewhere, take wat we need at knife point. Nothin' else for it. Tis tat or starve."  
"Might be best if the navy do finds us, at least they'll feed us until they hang us." Raggetti added, then ducked his head as Pintel glared at him.  
"Barbossa might have gold somewheres, must have, if not then how did he expect to do the necessary when the hold be empty? Captain's job to provide the necessary for crew and ship. Must be a stash somewheres. I says we search ever bit of this here ship until we finds it."  
"Aye," Marty nodded agreement, "We've naught else to do tat's fa certain while tere's no wind."  
With that they dispersed to begin the search.

In the shelter of the shadow of the scuttlebutt a pair of crabs exchanged looks then sidled towards the nearest rope and began to climb.

***

Mr Gibbs sat in the shade of the little group of trees and wondered how his brace of captains were doing.

Easing his back into a more comfortable position he took another swig of water and though longingly of rum; but there were no rum of course, for Jack had agreed with Captain Cavendish that it would not be wise to bring it. Not given the heat and the need for him to stay awake. No way of knowin' what they might face down there and it would not do for him to doze when they might have need of him Jack had said. He'd agreed willingly enough for he did not want to let them down. So for now it was water and wakefulness, and plenty of yearning thoughts for the rum that awaited him when this business was done.

He was glad he had been left above ground, the thought of going down those tunnels fair scared the wits from him; even Jack had seemed a mite paler than usual as he had begun the climb. No sayin' what was churning in Jack's head at the moment though, for all he seemed to have himself well in hand. But that was Jack all over, play the fool at every chance in port but never a truer captain when matters required, aye and his father's son too when it really needed. Jack would do just fine, and the lady would watch his back as well as any.

Even so he wished that this matter was settled and they were back on the ship and weighing anchor, for this place was strange and it made him more than a little uneasy. But he trusted the captains and would wager that if anyone could find this fountain it would be them. Jack and Captain Elanor seemed to have reached an understanding of sorts again, the earlier threats seemingly forgotten by the both of them, though he doubted that either of them ever forgot much at all. But Jack seemed content enough and the lady not looking to make waves. So peace reigned, for the moment, and there was none of the shouting and hard words that had accompanied Jack's sailing with Barbossa, nor even the tension and impatience that had sometimes marked his doins' with Will or Miss Elizabeth.

Though women and the sea didn't sit well with him he had to admit that the lady captain was a grand sailor and as at home with the sea and her ship as any man he'd ever sailed with. For a moment he wondered what Calypso made of her, then decided it was probably better not to know; he'd never fathomed the doin's between women, was hard enough to comprehend their doin's with Jack.

He'd not expected Jack's even temper to survive the lack of port and company, but despite that and the loss of the Pearl, and for all the dark tunnels and weird places that awaited them below, Jack was as calm and easy and he had ever known him. Him being willin' to leave the rum behind was as clear a sign that were back to his old self as you'd get. Rum was Jack's preferred escape and a companion of solitary hours, but it was not his master, at least not when he was hisself; that he was so easy about forgoin' it told its own tale. Some of that was down to the death of Beckett to be sure, that seemed to have settled Jack in a way he had not realised at the time. Something in that last battle between him and Jones had changed things too. Jack was himself again, back to the man he had known before the debt to Jones fell due and the trip to that bloody Turkish prison.

A shiver ran through him as he recalled the sense of dread that had stolen over him as they were goin there, and the horror when he realised that Jack had returned to the Pearl in a coffin. One with an occupant too. Portent if there ever was one he'd told himself. others had seen it the same and it had taken all the skills he'd learned over the years to hold back the fears of the crew. Jack hadn't helped of course for he had not been quite himself after that side trip, drinking more rum than usual when at sea and more frequently, sleeping little and having disturbed dreams when he did lay down. They hadn't thought much of it at the time, for Jack was known by all to be both fey and strange, but there had been something different, 'twere as if some part of him had known what were comin' even before the Kracken was mentioned.

Of course they had not known about Jones beast then and those of them who had seen the inside of a prison for themselves, and that was a fair few of them, thought it only the shadow of the noose passing over him. That Turkish hole had a terrible name, a place where men died and none of them easily, not surpring that the captain had been a little odder than usual when he returned. But Jack'd taken to the rum hard then, as if it were the only way he could see past the shadows of that place to the day. Never seen him so drunk or for so long as during the weeks they sought the key. Will's coming hadn't helped, even though he had played a fair part in getting them off that damned island.

Jack had had his back against the wall even then, sittin' on that throne while watching and waiting for is own fire to be built and unable to save his crew. Having to sit there as they were feasted upon would have been a festering sore on his soul. Were a captain's duty to see to the safety of his crew and he had not been able to do it, few would understand what that would mean for Jack who took his title and his role a mite more seriously than some might expect. Still did, for he had heard him muttering about it in restless dreams here on this very sand. Had been the worst time for Will to come making demands, particularly when it was the compass he wanted, the one thing that might prove Jack's salvation, and that of the Pearl. Jack had complicated things further by not telling the lad about Jones o'course; though what change that would have made was hard to see, William cared far more for Miss Elizabeth than for any of them and Jack knew it. He'd not have weighted Jack's life in the balance at all. Still with them both being caught in Beckett's toils the lad had little choice in the matter, no more than Jack did. But if Jack had known about Beckett earlier then maybe he would have been able to do something to change things, for he knew Beckett of old and had daily reminders of the nature of the man.

Sending Will to the Dutchman had cost Jack dear, and he'd drunk steadily after that, particularly when Miss Elizabeth was aboard; were as if she were a constant reminder of his betrayal, though were hard to see what else he could have done. He knew that Beckett would do nothing without the heart, but knew too what would befall them all if the bastard got it. They were all playin' a high stakes game and Will had seemed set enough on taking whatever risks it took; but it had not gone easy with Jack when he had failed to persuade Jones to free the lad who had saved him from the noose.

Teague now, he would not have given the matter another thought, no more would Barbossa, but Jack was not his father and while he would do what it took he would prefer no casualties if he could manage it. Was he himself not livin' proof of it? Had not Jack come and snatched him from another prison and the shadow of the rope when he could have left him to rot, as the navy already had? Had Jack not risked himself to free a man who he knew little of but who needed his help, just as he had with Miss Elizabeth? The legend of Jack Sparrow was as much about not being a pirate as it was about being a thief, as much about those strange flashes of goodness as it was about the cleverness and the ships stolen.

He smiled to himself, and the man who had made that legend was back, even if he had misplaced the Pearl again. Aye, and more. Jack would never be like most men, and he was as crazy and unpredictable as ever he had been, but there was also a sense of storms successfully weathered and passed over that hadn't been there before.

Gibbs wiped his brow and raised the water bottle again, the heat haze was setting the sea a shimmer and rippling the outline of the ship beyond the reef. The temperature was rising and he spared a thought to wonder how hot it was in the world below him, Jack was surely mad in risking so much for something that might not exist, but that was the legendary Captain Sparrow for you, as much adventurer as pirate when given the choice. Captain Elanor now, she didn't seem to find him either crazy or mad, or even unpredictable, it seemed, and she had taken up this weird quest with a will, for all the danger it might bring. Maybe Polly were right and that she was cut from the same cloth as Jack, one that had a strange weft and a twisty and complicated weave. Not an entirely comfortable thought when he recalled some of the scrapes that Jack had got into in his time, if that were true then there could be no way of knowing what the pair of them together might manage.

But it were clear that there was something about the lady captain that seemed to make things easier for Jack. Maybe it lay in her understanding of a man's need for rum, or something like, and a great boon that be it were true! Maybe it was just that she took him for what he was and made nothing of it, nor expected anything unusual because of it. Maybe it was that something he couldn't put his finger on, that whatever it was that told him that she might have seen her own storms and would hold her judgement on others tossed by fates winds until she was given reason not to. Maybe Polly was right and was no more than her own certainty in who she be herself, a sureness that allowed Jack the same.

Certainly she was more peaceful than Miss Elizabeth, more ...knowin' and contained too, and there was an air of rightful command about the woman that the girl had lacked, even when she was at her most hoity. The lady captain now, she might be from beyond the edges of the map but there was no uncertainty about her at all. There was something in the very tone of her voice that made a man take notice and, if needed, obey. Somethin' about her that eased a man's doubts and told him to trust to her for all her womanly looks. A hint of steel perhaps, aye that was it! Like a blade all bright and shiny and happy to just sit at the hip when things were calm but a true and dangerous friend when things got wild.

Just like Jack now he came to think of it, that underlying sharpness and the sense that she saw more than you did and would always be one step ahead; the feelin' that even when she was at her most innocent seeming there was a watchfulness behind her eyes. There was an aura of danger about her that you couldn't quite put your finger on, just like Jack that was too. Whatever the reason Jack seemed to have found a good measure of accord with Captain Cavendish, perhaps more than was wise. But that was Jack for you, as savvy as it came in most things but as trusting as a babe in some others, not even been eaten alive seemed to have changed that.

Gibbs smiled to himself as he remebered how he had found the pair of them propped up against the mast when he woke early that morning, arm to arm, head against head, wrapped in blankets and still sleeping. It occurred to him then to wonder whether the lady and her ship were the rocks that Jack would finally founder on, or if she really was the sun after the storm. If she proved to be the rocks then he was sure it would be by no choice of hers. He had a lot of respect for Polly's judgement and she liked the lady captain,  
"She's a true lady that one and a good woman too." Polly had said, "You make sure you remember that Joshamee Gibbs, what ever happens. Jack Sparrow will take no harm from her, not if it is of her choosin'. Though she might shake him up a bit for she'll stand no nonsense I'll be bound."  
"She's a sharp tongue Pol, and none of the winsomeness of Miss Elizabeth."  
Polly had wagged a warning finger at him,  
" That's as may be. Bein' a good woman don't mean that she will always be kind or forgivin'. Nor always nice I'm thinkin'. But then which of us be so? Other that the blessed saints? We all have our needs and wants, and our demons too. Not given to man or woman to be always kind, nor always givin,' not unless we be fools or hypocrites. Her be a captain too, and of a fine ship by what you say, and no needy girl neither, a commander of men perhaps, you say, where she hails from. Be not right to expect her to be all soft words and dewy looks. She'll not let him have things all his own way, but 'twill do him good to sail with an equal for a while, for he is too canny by half and has too many things go his way as a result."

He'd smiled at that,  
"Aye, you'd be right enough about that Pol, crazy Jack may be but he wins more often than he loses. Even Will and Miss Elizabeth knew that, they trusted to Jack to make it right in the end, and he didn't fail them."  
The smile had died as he remembered the outcome of Jack's one mistake in the matter and he turned away to refill his pot, no one could know of that, not even Polly, Jack had been most determined on that. Polly didn't seem to notice his change of mood, thank heaven, for she was a persistent woman when she got her suspicions up, but she was still fixed on pronouncing on Jack,  
"Well he be a pirate lord, not come by that easily, nor held on to easily neither. Learns from his mistakes he does, and that be a rare thing to my mind."  
"Didn't learn about Barbossa Pol."  
"Aye, well, that's as maybe. But you said that Barbossa had changed since she brought him back, as I recall; perhaps Captain Sparrow had misread how much he had changed? Even so he took precautions I'll be bound?"  
"The chart? Oh aye, he knew that Barbossa would not take the Pearl far once he knew that the chart was gone."  
"Well then, all's not lost, Your Captain Sparrow will find his ship again when the time be right. In the mean times he'll take no harm of that lady strange thought she be, and she'll take no harm of him I'm thinkin'."

He had nodded at that.  
"Aye Jack'll not harm her even if he could, and anyways her ghost guards her close. Never seen Jack harm those who are content to let him be. Travels light does Jack, even in the matters of scores and reckonin'."  
Polly had pursed her lips in thought,  
"I'd guess she be similar. But from what you say Jack Sparrow be a powerful adversary for all of that if he goes agin' you and I'd reckon that she would be no less. Stay out of the line of fire if they come to arguing would be my advice to you."  
That had given him pause for thought, for what did he know of her when it came down to it? But Jack seemed to trust her for all her strangeness, as much as Jack ever trusted anyone that was, and for himself he could not complain of her, nor even of her ghost. While he didn't understand some of their more quicksilver conversations, nor wanted to, it appeared that a mite of teasin' was as far as she went. Jack had likened her once to the commodore, but he had never met Norrington when he were that, all he could remember of the man was the dirty, rum soaked, self-pitying deck hand. No similarity there at all.

Not for the first time Gibbs wondered how Norrington had met his end, Miss Elizabeth had told them that he had had died, and on the Dutchman, but had been mum on the matter of how. Seems that he had fallen while Jones were still captain and he doubted that the commodore would have deigned to sail with such a captain. The thought of Jones brought a frown and he wondered how William was faring aboard the Dutchman and if he knew of his new wife's fate. Not that it mattered, the Dutchman was gone back where she belonged and it would be ten long year before she returned. With a shake of his head he pushed the thought away and returned to his wondering about the commodore and the lady

He had deserved his fate though, playing into Becket's hand like that, and all for a gold laced coat. Somehow he couldn't see the lady captain falling in that way whatever life flung at her, or maybe she had done her falling long ago and had risen to her present self like that mystical bird Jack had talked about. Maybe the commodore would have done the same had he been granted the chance.

With a sigh he took another swig of water and settled himself more comfortably, easing the sweat soaked shirt from his back and adjusting the sit of his belt. Beyond the reef that strange ship sat serene, riding the swell without effort, with her white sails furled yet still bright against the blue haze of the horizon. An image of Calypso appeared in his mind and for a moment he thought he caught a hint of her voice in the waves as they rolled into the shore. With another surge of longing for rum he banished the idea and went back to wondering what was taking place below.

***

The creature was still watching them but it had wrapped one coil of itself around the boulder that was now showing signs of breaking up, though the creature did not seem to be holding it tightly enough to explain it. The explanation was not long in coming though for as the shards of glass like rock fell away a smaller head was emerging. Perhaps of more concern was the fact that beyond the first creature a second, larger, one had appeared. The newcomer's neck was thicker and longer, and though the eyes were a similar opaque milky tone they were flushed green around the edges.

"I don't believe it!" Jack sounded both fascinated and appalled.  
For herself Elanor felt all the horror but none of his fascination.  
"Believe it," she breathed, "seems likely that we've been sitting on their most treasured possession. We've intruded into their nursery" She looked at the other black boulders that were rolling out of the ground, "hatching time by the look of it. Bad news."  
"Then I'm glad they haven't got teeth!" Jack muttered still staring at the little group in front of them.  
"Neither has a boa constrictor, but they are pretty nifty predators all the same." She replied still speaking low and slow.  
Jack shifted slightly and turned a look of wide-eyed outrage upon her.  
"Thank you for the erudite observation! I was tryin' very hard not to think of that," he hissed.

She shrugged,  
"Sorry, but we both know the score."  
As she spoke she watched the movements of the creature's eyes, for the moment they seemed to be turned towards them. No saying what was on the cards when they had no way of knowing what the creatures were or their approach to parenting. Maybe as the eggs hatched they would go away satisfied, if that was the right word, that their job was done; then again maybe they would feel the parental need to provide food for the new arrivals. Either way she and Jack were currently in a bad place at the wrong time. Silently they edged closer together, Jack easing his pistol in his sash while she wondered which to strike for first should they make a move this way, but those hides looked tough and she doubted they would be able to do much more than give the creatures pause for thought if they moved towards them.

But as the emerging infant freed itself from the remnants of what they must now assume was an egg of some form the adult's attention seemed to switch. She felt Jack's hand on her arm and turned her head to look at him, he was still watching the creatures carefully,  
"Seems to me that this is a very private moment we have intruded into all unwittingly. Would not be polite to impose ourselves any further," he said softly.  
"I'm with you on that. But we will not get over their tails without seriously imposing ourselves. They might not appreciate our impoliteness."  
"Agreed. I'm thinking that it behoves us to be considerate guests at this joyful moment and take another path away from here," his smile flashed for a moment, " and quickly. Before the realisation of their new responsibility dims the pleasure of it and turns their mind to duty, protective duty."

Elanor nodded slowly,  
"I agree wholeheartedly with your masterly assessment of the situation. How fast do you think they can move?"  
"Fast enough if a snake is the measure of them." Jack looked at them with narrowed eyes, remembering other times and places, "too fast for comfort."  
"I think you are right. So we need to go in the opposite direction to the one they are positioned to move, it will only buy us seconds but it might be enough."  
Jack inclined his head slightly, his fingers still tight on her arm  
"Aye, but I'd guess that our real hope lies in their unwillingness to leave the hatching. Best go while it is still impeded, you might say."  
"We appear to be of the same mind. So we go that way?" she moved her arm slightly in the direction of a patch of thicker vegetation.

The movement brought the two pairs of eyes back to them and the white of them flushed pink.  
"Don't like the look of that." Jack muttered just loud enough for her to hear.  
"Nor me."  
The two heads swayed for a moment then the long necks began to extend forward in their direction. The movement was slow and sinuous but worrying all the same  
"Bugger!" Jack swore and shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and released her arm.  
Elanor prepared to sprint but the heads were moving faster now and with more decision, the pink flush had become more obviously red.  
"I think we are running out of time," she hissed, and then her eyes widened, "Bloody hell!"  
The skin below the creature's eyestalks eye had parted to form two thick lips that curved outwards, and from the hole between them a long tongue had appeared, forked at the end and edged with more of the strange scythe lined tubules. As they watched in disbelief the scaly scythes began to flex.

Jack froze and the world seemed to grow dark, the ground tilting beneath him. The sound of the air moving around the creatures became the hiss of the Kraken's digestive juices as they washed into the gaping maw, the light glinting on the sythting spines turned them white like the serried ranks of teeth, the sound of the trees moving was the creak of the jaws as they prepared to close on him. The underground world faded away and he was back there waiting for his death, knowing that he stood on the brink of the locker and was destined for Jones revenge. He braced himself for the pain, feeling the heat in his blood rise, his hearing overtaken by the thud of his own heart. His hand closed around his sword hilt as he struggled to find his footing on the softness of the mouth, feeling the first fire of pain as its belly acid spattered his then he was moving forward.

'No' a voice shouted in his head. 'this is not real. This is done and gone. The creature is dead, killed by Beckett like so many others, there is nothing to settle between us any more. It did what it had to do and I did the same, let it rest at peace. This pain is past, let it go back to darkness where it belongs, I'll have no more of it. Dying will never be like this again.'  
With effort he sheathed his sword and stepped back.

Light returned and the creatures were still moving towards them. He looked across to see Elanor give herself a small shake as if awaking from a dream, a bad one judging by the set of her jaw, in the strange sunless light he thought he saw the flash of tears in her eyes but it might have been the mist in his own,  
"Elanor," he hissed, "don't much care where we run to but I suggest we do it now."  
The last work came out as shout and he grabbed her and pulled her around as he started to sprint away.

Elanor wasted no time in wondering what was happening to them, though Jack had looked stricken for a moment, but threw all her effort into running. They felt the air blast as the twin heads moved faster, tongues flickering, and she knew they would never out run whatever it was. Nor could they hide as some part of her mind was telling her in desperation, these creatures would flatten any cover they made it to, and while they couldn't know what their intentions were she had no desire to stick around and find out. Even in curiosity those tongues would flay the flesh from their bones if her guess was correct. Jack seemed to have no more doubt of the danger than she did, and while he was not the most economical or elegant of sprinters he managed to cover a lot of ground very quickly. He had kept hold of her arm and she had the feeling that if she hadn't have been able to keep up with him he would have trailed her along the ground like a matadors coat.

The trees ahead of them were swaying with the creature's movement and there seemed to be a slithering noise in the air, she saw Jack look back for a moment and grimace before spurring them both to an even faster pace. The trees were close now but she hadn't really expected to make them, the hair on the back of her neck was standing up and her heart was pounding but all she could do was focus on where they were going and spur her muscles to even greater efforts.

Then suddenly they were pushing their way through undergrowth, fern like plants slapping their thighs and brilliant flowers catching in their hair. In front of them a tall, broad, tree rose from the ground cover its trunk fluted like the column of an ancient temple. Without a word they both flattened themselves against the far side of the trunk and peered around it to see how close the creatures were behind them. But they were not there and through the haze of leaves and flowers they could just see them curled protectively around the now fully emerged young one. Elanor tilted her head back and looked up towards the brilliant lime green canopy and struggled to catch her breath. It seemed that the danger might be over, for the moment at least.

Jack waited to see how long it would take her to point out it had been his choice to sit there, but to his surprise she didn't seem inclined to mention it. Instead she straightened and ran her sleeve over her eyes then cast another look behind her before leaning heavily against the tree again.  
"The attraction of the new born," she gasped, "never understood it myself, let's be grateful they aren't like me."  
"Tis different if it's your own they says." Jack smiled at her despite his heaving chest, the hair plastered to his neck and the sweat running into his eyes.  
Elanor nodded, still breathless  
"So they do. Frequently, where I come from at least. You believe it?"  
The smile became a grin and he shook his head setting the beads slapping against the tree trunk.  
"Can't say that I do. Seems to me your own is no less noisy and demanding than any other."  
Elanor gave a faint laugh,  
"I think you might well be right about that. Can't hand them back either."

Jack stared up towards what should be the sky in any sensible world.  
"No more you can. Give me a fast ship, the sea and the horizon. I'll leave domesticity to those with talent for it."  
"And rum?"  
"Most certainly rum, rum is good" he cast her a hopeful look, "speaking of which I don't suppose.."  
"No, believe me if I had it would out of that backpack already, even though I don't like the stuff.  
"Aye suppose it would." His breathing was coming easier now and he pushed himself away from the tree and stared at her, "want to go back up top?"  
"Past them? No thank you, I'd rather not push my luck there." She straightened and eased her pack to a more comfortable position, "time to move on I think, but we mustn't let out guard down again. This is a dangerous place and next time we might not be so lucky. Sooner we get what we came for and get back to the ship the better."  
"Agreed."  
Elanor looked around them,  
"Which way though? What does your compass say?"

Jack pulled the compass from his belt and flipped it open only to watch the needle flicker and hover. A sinking feeling took hold of his belly, he remembered only too well what followed the last time it was so unsure. He pushed the thought away; after all it wasn't spinning, not really. When he looked more closely he could see that it wasn't swinging aimlessly either, more oscillating between two points, both in the general direction of...over there.  
"That way, " he told Elanor with a confidence he didn't quite feel.

If she noticed anything amiss she gave no sign, just nodded and gestured him to proceed ahead of her. With one last hurried look backwards he set off though the trees.

***

As they disappeared into the lushness of the burgeoning forest the Lady stepped out from the shadows, smiling slightly as she watched them go. As they faded from view she turned her approving smile, and a benevolent look, at the little family they had left behind. Unbeknown to them the creature's life spans grew in that moment.

Then, satisfied with what she saw, she snapped her fan closed and strolled into the trees


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31 A very strange world**

They moved quickly, at least a quickly as the thickening vegetation allowed, both of them on the alert for any sign of real, or imagined, danger.

Elanor found herself wondering what it was that Jack had seen back there, for she was sure he had seen something more than the danger in front of them, just as she had. For the first time she doubted whether this place was real at all, everywhere she looked she seemed to see, or hear, or smell things that echoed of the past. But her wondering didn't last long, as she watched Jack halt for a moment to mop the sweat from his neck and check the compass she realised that real or not it had to be dealt with, just as he and the rest of this world did.

But that didn't alter the fact that she would like to know exactly what he had seen and if his experience had been comparable to her own. Now, however, was not the time to press the matter.

The trees were getting thicker and taller and there were vines strung between them like fairy lights at a summer ball, the feathered leaves bright as tinsel in greens and blues and purple, their trumpet flowers screaming for attention in hot orange and deep reds. They had now reached the edge of the canopy they had seen from above and the gentle slope was leading them inexorably down into its depths and towards that shimmering cloud. Every step took them further into the unknown and away from the ropes and their hope of escape back above.

For all the heat and uncertainty Jack still moved with confidence. She watched him as he tracked between two trees, swaying slightly to avoid the lower branches and then striding forwards with a bouncy, swaggering walk of the kind she thought he might use to unsettle opponents, but by accident or design he stayed slightly ahead of her and she couldn't see his face. She realised that despiote the swagger he was also walking carefully, on the balls of his feet and with a slight forward stoop that spoke of a readiness for flight. His pistol was in his hand now, not pushed into his sash.

The moss that had clothed the upper slope was gone and the ground was covered with a springy shrub with clover shaped leaves, knee high in places and stippled with small clusters of lily like plants. Not lilies as she knew them though for these had wide platter shaped leaves and a heady scent that caught on the back of the throat. Pollen and spores from flowers on all sides drifted on the air, more of it rising in clouds as they brushed the odd petal or leaf, but it was impossible to avoid doing so as the vegetation got thicker and more densely packed. The dust was like the glitter powder she had used to decorate the Christmas tree when she was a child and the world was a safer and simpler place, red, yellow, blue, silver and even gold motes danced on the hot air. It powdered their legs and shoulders with a multicoloured mist that dissolved in their sweat and stained the fabric of their shirts, turning the white to a tiedied patchwork. It irritated their eyes and clogged their lungs, making their breath come in short fast gasps and slowing their progress to a stroll.

It was not the only irritant either for the rising humidity made the air oppressive, and she knew that there was a significant body of water somewhere close. Though whether it was the one they were seeking was anyone's guess. The thickening undergrowth seemed to trap the heat too, wrapping the air around them like a wet blanket. Jack's shirtsleeves were pushed up his forearms and his skin was filmed with sweat and with more of the dust trapped in the fine dark hairs of his arm. Even the brand and tattoo on his forearm were softened by a layer of it, and more was clinging to his beard and braids. Occasionally he would stop and wrinkle his nose as if to sneeze, before raising his arm and wiping the thickening pollen layer from his face with his sleeve.

Though plant life teemed all around them they saw no animal life, no insect or reptile or mammal crossed their path. In places there were signs that there might be other life, a fallen tree splattered with bore holes, the cast of something that might be a much smaller cousin of the worms they had left behind them, and the occasional leaf that looked to be chewed by tiny jaws; but nothing stirred beneath them or around them either on the floor or in the canopy.

The whispering noise was getting louder, but though the leaves moved with their passing there seemed to be no wind.

For more than half an hour they walked in growing discomfort before they stopped again, both in need of water. In that time neither of them had spoken, both tuning every sense to the possibility of danger. The light was still strong yet Elanor had the feeling that it was not as bright as it had been, and not only because of the thickening canopy above them.

As they collapsed against a tree Jack spared a glance for his companion, seeing his own unspoken anxiety reflected in her eyes, for all the calm of her face. The heat was showing in her too, for the faint tinge of pink in her skin had darkened to crimson on her cheekbones and the skin of her throat above her shirt was flushed. Her pale hair was drenched in sweat, damp tendrils escaping from her braid to curl in shivering spirals about her wide brow. Both her hair and brow were tinted in bright parrot colours by the clouds of pollen; even the diamonds in her ears were dulled by it

For a moment doubt flickered, and he wondered if she would be willing to go on; even, treacherous thought, whether it was wise to do so. He was in no better state and he knew it, for his shirt was plastered to his chest and shoulders and his hair likewise to his neck. Sweat was running between his shoulder blades and down his brow, his scarf was already soaked with it. Even his sash was damp, and his hand on the pistol was so slippery that he'd not be sure his grip would prove good enough to fire straight. 'Which in this place might not be good', he told himself. How much did he really want to go on?

But memory of a distant desert stirred and he banished the very idea of giving up.

With a sigh he drew his sword and slashed two large leaves from a nearby vine, fanning himself with one and handing her the other. She took it with a silent nod, pulling the hem of her shirt from her belt and wiping her face. Tired she might be but the way she looked around her suggested that she was far from spent. Not for the first time he wondered what world it was that had bred her, for though she had the look and speech of a lady it also seemed that she had the endurance of a seasoned campaigner. He hid his smile as she carefully tucked her shirt back into her breeches and resettled her belt, accepting the water back with a slight nod of thanks. She was used to being around men too he'd bet, and not in the drawing room sense of around either. He had to admit that his curiosity about her, and the things she didn't tell him, grew by the day, but curiosity, though a fine thing in its place, was not for now. When they had the fountain there would be plenty of time to persuade her to divulge her fascinating secrets.

"It looks like some form of rain forest." Elanor said as she pushed the canteen back into her pack.  
"A what?" Jack stared at her with raised brows.  
"A tropical forest, like the Amazon."  
"Oh." He looked around him with renewed curiosity, "Well I've seen that and I can't say this looks familiar. Seen a swamp or two as well, but not one like this."  
She nodded as she looked around,  
"I know what you mean, it's familiar and then again it's not."  
Jack leaned back against the tree and tilted his head up to stare into the branches above them, the movement brushed his shoulder another raceme of bell like flowers, blue this time, sending more of its seed billowing into the air. He grimaced as it layered itself on his hair and tickled at his nose,  
"Profligate place this, greenery everywhere, flowers larger than they ought to be and as for this..." he flicked some grains from a braid close to his face, "bloody stuff seems never ending. Much more of it and we'll suffocate on this spot."  
She shrugged and brushed the fairy dust pollen, if that's what it was, from her brow,  
"I don't think I've ever seen anything like this." Wiping her fingers on her breeches, she frowned, "the way it clings you'd think it sticky but it's not."  
Jack was silent for a moment as he rubbed the leaf over his forearms, it did little to absorb the sweat or the pollen and he primped his mouth in a moue of distaste as the gaudy colours spread and merged like a badly executed oil painting.  
"Looks like someone let off a firework in a spice market." he said eventually.

Elanor turned and stared at him wide-eyed,  
"Have you ever seen one? A spice market I mean," there was a faint hint of wistfulness in her voice.  
Jack, still occupied in scrubbing at his arms, shrugged casually,  
"Aye. A few, why d'you ask?"  
She sighed, and not in a manner he'd heard her do before.  
"This world of yours must be a very colourful place. Mine is not."  
Her tone caused him to look at her with surprise, and that became concern as he detected an unusual pensiveness in her face. He straightened and dropped the leaf, wagging a warning, if dust stained, finger at her.  
"Now don't you be goin' and doin' that to me," he rasped. " Not here and not now."  
"Doing what?" she seemed puzzled but she did not look at him and her expression was still far away,  
He edged closer to her and narrowed his eyes in a stern look,  
"Goin' all soft eyed and romantic on me. I've had my fill of that, and I'd thought better of you Captain. Sensible woman I'd got you marked as, not some flighty girl with a head stuffed full of romantic stories. Colourful it maybe, but life ain't easy and mostly the colour comes from dirt and blood. Not much romantic about those."  
He tilted his head and stared at her with a prickling of unease for she had a strange and unfocussed look, she turned back to look at him but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. Jack swallowed uncertainly,  
"Oh, there are those high toned ladies and gentlemen in their bright silks and feathers and all, but that's not most people's lot," he went on, more to say something and give her an opportunity to banish that worrying look. "Those silks though, better not ask how they got them. Though most neither know or care."

Elanor continued to gaze at him but the strange look on her face didn't fade and it occurred to him that her eyes had never seemed so dark, nor so mesmerising.  
'They are not like you' he thought, 'not clean and bright and savvy; not even the fine ones. Most are twisted and stunted, mired by their own desires and imprisoned by their lack of thinking. Slave to the necessities of life, or dull as a poorly executed water colour most of them. While you.. well you're a bolt of Chinese silk, or a ream of Brussels lace. Or a fine tempered blade, a beautiful piece of art with a hard and sharp edge. Like the Pearl you are, perfectly balanced and right for your purpose.'  
She was still looking back at him with that strange soft focus look and he moved closer to her, staring into eyes that suddenly seemed to fill the world.  
'Once I would have done anything for a lass like you,' he thought, the memory, coming from a place he thought he'd barred. 'I'd have battled sea and wind without complaint if there had been such as you at the end of the voyage. I'd have brought you that silk and lace just to see the pleasure in your eyes, aye, and to hear the whisper of it when they fell to your feet. Scented oils from India too, and soft leather for your shoes and fine linen to lie on. I'd have fought the world if you had asked it and thought of no reward other than you. Just like William.' That realisation brought some surprise and a sudden shock of grief, 'Just like Will. Where did the dream of you go? When was it lost? Did Beckett steal it, or Jones? Or did I just put it down to drink the rum in some tavern then forget to pick it up again?'

"Jack? What is it?"  
Her voice, so unlike the one he had somehow expected to hear, cut through his thoughts. He blinked, sending a drift of pollen dust from his eyelashes down his cheek, and then stiffened as he realised that she was no more than a few inches away from him and that his hand was on her arm. She was still looking dazed but the soft and unfocussed look was gone.

For a moment there was silence and then he shook himself slightly and took a pace backwards, wondering what it was he had been thinking about tp go so close all uninvited when she had that lightening on her belt. He swallowed hard again, pushing himself back into the present, trying to remember what it was they had been speaking of.  
"Remember Tortuga," he told her with another flicker of his finger and a toss of his head as he turned away.  
"Tortuga. Yes." She said with resignation.  
Where ever she had been a moment ago she was back in the here and now, the disturbing expression was gone and she was all brisk sense again,  
"You are right, I know you are. But just for a moment there..." her words trailed away.  
Jack turned back towards her seeing the confusion return to her face for a moment, knowing only too well how she felt but not knowing why, or how he knew it.  
"Yes, luv, I know what you mean. Just for a moment things were.. Different."

Elanor looked around her with a frown,  
"This place is dangerous Jack, the sooner we are away from here the better."  
Jack smiled, but uncertainly,  
"Aye, agreed. But not without what we came for. Eh? To come so far and then leave empty handed makes no sense at all. We go on, but carefully."  
She stared at him for a long moment seeing something almost desperate in his eyes, she sighed and pushed strands of escaping hair back from her face,  
"Very well. But let's move quickly, I have a feeling that the sooner we are away from these, " she flicked a finger towards the arches of flowers, "the better it will be for us."  
Jack just nodded, he'd come to the same conclusion.

In unspoken agreement they set off down the slope.

***

"We are to return to Tortuga sir?"  
There was dismay in Groves voice and Hathaway repressed a smile, for he knew very well how the man must feel. To be a navy man in Tortuga would be as uncomfortable as to be a pirate in Port Royale.  
"Yes. Not a place I wish to frequent I assure you, but the trail of Sparrow and the Black Pearl has gone cold and we must try and pick up the thread of it again. The ship at least must be somewhere, they will need to provision and where else would they go but there?"  
He would not mention the rumours that the Spanish were returning to search there again. Nor the governors concern's about the slow pace of progress, or his own worries and suspicions.  
"You and I will go ashore and see if there are any new rumours."  
"Yes sir."

Hathaway looked at Groves seeing the concern in his face, he'd do as ordered but it was too much to expect him to do it willingly. But it was a natural enough fear, a navy man couldn't expect anything other than a knife in the ribs in Toruga, and Groves had sailed with Beckett, so he could expect even less mercy, nor a quick death, if he were caught and that fact became known. Which was one reason why he had decided to go ashore himself this time, that and a deepening desire to meet Jack Sparrow.  
"When, sir?"  
"We sail on the next tide."  
"Yes sir."

Groves turned away but stopped, hovering in the doorway. Hathaway knew something else was bothering the man and so he bided his time. But he seemed uncertain about whether to speak or not, even when Hathaway adopted his most reassuring face.  
"Something concerns you?" Hathaway asked eventually as Groves continued to hover,  
"Yes sir." he turned back to face his captain, "Admiral Norrington sir. Admiral James Norrington, I mean."  
"What about him?"  
"Tortuga is where he met Sparrow, and joined his crew. If we were to hear word of him and his doing there..." the words faded away but his unhappiness was clearly written in his face  
Hathaway smiled gently,  
"There is no purpose to be gained by repeating any rumours we might hear." He paused for a moment watching the man opposite with friendly eyes, "to any one Mr Groves. He was a fine officer and a loyal servant of the king, and he was deceived by Beckett just as Governor Swann was, that is all anyone needs to know."  
Relief washed across the younger man's face.  
"Yes sir, thank you."  
Then he turned on his heel and left.

Hathaway leaned back in his chair and wondered how much James Norrington had known. His letter to his uncle suggested that he had had no real suspicions of Beckett when they set sail to find the pirates, but then his resentment of Sparrow might have blinded him to the truth. Certainly it would have predisposed him to believe Beckett's claims. Or had Beckett truly started this venture in honesty only to become corrupted as the power Jones had offered became clear to him? There was no way of knowing but the very possibility warned of the dangers that might await them all if any one found the heart. Empire depended upon the seas, and as Beckett had realised controlling them offered the possibility of power and riches beyond a man's dreams. Who then could be trusted with such a thing? He had seen the same thought in Governor Thynne's eyes, that and the other one that troubled Hathaway's sleep, could even a king be trusted with such a thing? The Governor was an experienced diplomat and an intelligent man, and he knew too much of the follies of power to be sure. Hathaway knew it too, though neither of them would ever speak such a doubt.

But what of Sparrow? Who and what was he? The stories painted a romantic picture, unlikely in many ways but they couldn't be entirely wrong, Hathaway himself had a fair idea how the sacking of Nassau had been achieved and he had raised a glass to the pirate when he had first heard of it. The man seemed to have a reputation as both a rake and a drunkard, and yet he had never been drunk enough to be easily caught, or held for long, nor had he ever been cock led enough to be trapped by the whiles of a whore. What their lordships had told him of the pirate spoke of a man both clever and sophisticated of thought. Devious to some perhaps, but not to one in his own position, who would often have given much for a company of men of similar talents.

As would their lordships, though it had taken them some time to come to this view. The pirate seemed to be a strategist rather than a thug, and a man with a surprising streak of honesty or honour, Hathaway wasn't sure which. He, being a sophisticated thinker, did not confuse the two qualities as James Norrington seemed to have done. Whatever else Sparrow might have been, or could have been, he was now thief who could not be trusted alone with your plate. But perhaps you could trust him with your life and liberty, even your daughter, and maybe even with something as powerful as the heart of Davy Jones. If that was the case, and if it was not then why had he not made his play or stated his demands already, was it really in any one's interests to find him?

Hathaway sighed, maybe it wasn't, but that would not stop the Spanish or anyone else who saw it as a route to power. Sparrow was a great prize, perhaps the greatest on the seas at present, and sooner or later someone would find him, and then there would be the devil to pay. Therefore it behoved him to find Sparrow first.

But he wished he could be sure of what he would do when he did.

***

The ground was dipping more steeply now and the spaces between the trees were smaller than before. Noises around them suggested that there were insects and birds hidden by the rampant plant life, and once or twice Elanor thought she had caught sight of small mammals scurrying for cover as the approached. The whistling sound was louder too; though the air was still, almost pressing on them, wet and heavy and without a sign of a breeze. Above was a roof of green, more shades of green than she had ever imagined, layer upon layer of them. Water dripped from every leaf and vine but the flamboyant racemes of flowers of the higher slopes were disappearing, their arching sprays replaced by trumpet and star shaped blooms sprouting from barbed stems or erupting from spreading bunches of leaves. The heavy pollen dust had thinned but the perfume of flower and leaf was as thick and heady as before, and it was hotter still, the cloying air now soaking their clothes and strangling sweat. The humidity was their biggest enemy, for their rising body heat meant that frequent stops became unavoidable if they were not to keel over with exhaustion.

Even Jack's enthusiasm was dimmed, his earlier swagger had been replaced by a weary sway and he'd removed his sash, belts and waistcoat and stuffed them into his pack, but his sword still sat on his hip and his pistol never left his hand. Even so his shirt was plastered to his torso and his breeches clung damply to his hip and thigh; whether it was that, or the dripping hair, he looked as close to uncomfortable as Elanor had seen him. 'Not that I can be looking any better' she thought. Her hair was no less soaked and her own shirt stuck damply to her ribs, she'd retained her belt and it's weapons and it chafed against the wet skin, as Jack's baldric must do. She could only be glad that her breeches were not worsted, and wondered if Jack was too used to it to notice or if he was now regretting his insistence on wearing his own clothes.

Then suddenly the path stopped, disappearing over a ledge with little warning. Jack sidled carefully up to the edge and peered over.  
"Is a fair drop," he said.  
Elanor frowned,  
"Can you see how far?"  
"No, nor what it drops into. Just a lot of treetops, no sayin' how tall the trees are. Ropes might reach, then again they might not, and there is nothing I can see to drive a grapple into. But I think I can see water down there."  
He turned to look at her,  
"So what now? Do we climb or do we try to walk around it and find another way down?"  
Elanor grimaced and chewed at her lip for a moment,  
"I feel like I've been walking forever as it is. Time for a little advice I think. Assuming Ariadne can still hear us that is."

She flicked the toggle on the communicator,  
"Can you hear us."  
"The signal is weak," came a faint voice, "but for the moment I can hear you."  
"Glad to hear it." Jack's voice suggested that he wasn't too sure about that.  
Elanor sent him a hard look and he folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes but said nothing more.  
"Can you judge the drop?" Elanor asked.  
"Not with certainty. The scanners are giving readings now that you are boosting the signal but the calibrations are still uncertain. Indications are that it is no less than thirty feet and no more than seventy."  
"A pretty wide margin." Jack protested.  
Elanor nodded,  
"Yes. I don't know what's going on, this should not be beyond Ariadne's abilities. Something about this place is very strange."  
"The scanners are being interfered with by some form of field effect." The voice came back, "but I cannot judge whether it is a natural effect or an artificial one."

Jack glared,  
"What does she mean, artificial?"  
Elanor shrugged,  
"Its not clear whether is a by product of the rock or if someone has made it that way, if someone at sometime shielded this place."  
"Shielded? What's that supposed to mean?" he huffed, "I wish the pair of you would speak the King's English. 'Tis impolite to be so bafflin' in your speech."  
"Why?" Elanor looked at him with a broad smile, "you do it all the time. Don't you?"  
Jack frowned for a moment, then a reluctant smile tugged at his mouth,  
"Well... mebbe..a little... sometimes." The glare returned and he raised a protesting finger at her, "but only when...," he caught her eyes and the words trailed away as he shot her a narrow eyed look, "but this is not the same at all."  
"Of course not," she soothed with a smile, and then she became serious, "though to be fair it probably isn't."

Jack goggled at her in mock surprise,  
"Fair! A woman being fair! Well there's a novelty."  
"When have I not been fair to you?" Elanor shot back suddenly both angry and upset. "I've been nothing but bloody fair to you since the day I pulled you out of the sea."  
"Have you now?" Jack tilted his head feeling a strange annoyance take hold of him, "and who was it that put me in the bloody sea in the first place? Answer me that!"  
"Well it was hardly my fault you took to sea in a dingy now was it! I didn't get drunk and let.. Whatissname run off with your ship."  
"No. It was you who sailed over the top of me." Jack clenched his fists as the anger mounted. "It was you who didn't look where you were bloody goin', even with your ghost to help you."  
"Don't you bring Ariadne into this," Elanor spat back, "it's not her fault you were in the way."  
"Not her fault! Then whose fault was it? Eh? There I was mindin' me own business and suddenly there's this ship mowing me down!"  
"Well if you hadn't been drunk you might have seen us coming and got out of the way!"  
"I was not drunk! One bottle was all I had with me, one bottle. That's not goin' to keep a man drunk for three days and more! When have you seen me drunk enough not to get out of the way." He put his hands on his hips and looked down his nose at her, "WELL?"

Elanor felt the sudden frustration boil over,  
"Only because you don't trust me. I mean what is it with you? I pulled you out when I could have left you to drown, I've fed you, looked after you when you were sick, put up with the sly remarks and innuendo and without complaint. Why? Because I know that this is a different world, that I can't expect you to be like anyone I knew in my own world. Because I am a rational, intelligent, human being."  
Jack stared at her in surprise, which only made the pent up feeling worse,  
" And what do I get for it?" her voice was rising, "Dragged out on a wild goose chase that might kills us, taunted, lied to...,"  
"Lied to!" Jack was shouting now too, "When have I bloody lied to you. My whole life has been laid before you." He pointed at her and gave a bitter laugh, "You are the closed mouthed one, the one that keeps secrets! What do I know of you? Eh? You are the one that hides behind a ....a.....ghost!"

Elanor almost ground her teeth,  
"Well if you would stop playing the drunken fool every time I try to talk to you maybe I wouldn't."  
"I do not play the drunken fool." Jack was passing though the heat of anger to the cold side of fury.  
"Oh yes you do." Elanor countered, " Half the time I don't know if it's aimed at me or just so much of a habit when you are threatened that you don't know you are doing it. But it makes talking to you very hard work. Let me tell you."  
"Talking to me?" Jack was speaking through clenched teeth now. "When do you ever talk to me, other than to try and find out things that are no business of yours?" He took a step back from her, cocked his head and glared at her, "I treat you like the Captain you are but I'd be very much obliged if you would stop behaving like a. ......woman."  
"What do you mean by that?"  
"What I said!"  
"Which was nothing! Or rather nothing that makes any sense. Why wouldn't I want to know about you? You're on my ship and you are a pirate by your own admission, you even seem proud of it! By my reckoning that makes you a threat! Why wouldn't I want to know how much of one? I mean, how do I know how close to madness you are?"

Rage flared hot again and Jack took a step forward catching her arm in a hard grip,,  
"Threat? When have offered you any harm? Threat! Ha! To you with lightening on your belt and your fire throwing ghost?"  
Elanor pointed a shaking finger at him,  
"You said you'd kill me if I had Ariadne hit the Pearl!"  
"So I did and so I would. And you, missy, would expect nothing less. Why should...."  
"Don't you missy me," she hissed.  
Jack ignored her, tightening his grip on her arm and pulling her against him  
"Why should I not defend the Pearl from you? She's my ship. It was a fine lady like yourself that sent her to the bottom and me to be ripped apart alive in the jaws of a monster."

Elanor stared at him aghast, barely able to get the words out for the outrage that engulfed her.  
"Are you comparing me to Elizabeth Swann?" Her voice was suddenly low and dangerous, and her fingers gripped his arm like slim steel bands, "Are you daring to compare me to a spoilt, self righteous, finicky little miss who'd never done a day's work in her life? Never as much as drawn her own washing water? A daddy's girl with delusions of grandeur who thinks that the world revolves around her and her lovesick boy? Are you daring to suggest that I would chain a man and leave him to die in such a way, unable to defend himself? That I lack the guts to face him down and tell him I'm not dying for his choices?"  
She let go of him and shook off his hand without even noticing it,  
"I'll have you know that I earned what I am Captain Sparrow. I was an officer in the navy at an age when Miss bloody Swann was sewing samplers and learning to flirt with her fan!"

Jack glared at her and spoke from between clenched teeth,  
"Oh fine! A naval officer and a woman!"  
"What's wrong with that?" her glare matched his own.  
At that he span away from her his wet hair flying and dust painted hands whirling,  
"What's bloody right with it? " he demanded, "Navy want to hang me out of hands and I've never met a woman yet who didn't want something, nor one who knew what she wanted. Tell them what they want to hear and they slap you, tell them the truth and they slap you, treat them like you care about them and they slap you, treat them like you don't care and they slap you, want to spend time with them, they slap you, don't want to spend time with them, they slap you." He was bouncing with rage now, "And when they don't slap you they bloody kill you!"  
"Well you must do something to deserve it." Elanor snapped.  
He came close again, grabbing her wrists and pulling her against his chest, his eyes blazing as she met his look with her own angry fire,  
"Deserve it?" he hissed, "Deserve it? Well maybe I do, and I'll thank you for the elucidation if you can tell me what it was that earned it. I've never struck a woman in me life Captain Cavendish, and I've never taken one who was not more than willing. But I must have done something powerfully bad somewhere because a woman sold me to Beckett, though I'd never done her wrong, a woman thrust Barbossa on to me, though she had no score to settle with me, and a would be woman killed me!"

"Well who said life would be fair," Elanor drawled, "because I'd certainly done nothing to harm the man who killed me."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32 Murderous Hearts**

It was calling to her but she couldn't reach it, whispering to her, but she couldn't hear the words. She could walk the shores of its prison in the human form that had been her own, but she could not approach it now she was returned to herself.

More years than a man could imagine had passed since it had been a part of her, yet still she could hear it, feel the pull of it. But it would never be hers again. It was too dangerous now, beyond even her control, and the old ones, the ancients who had guarded it so well, were long since gone. Only the secrecy of this place had ensured its safety this long.

Nothing but the moon, and the strange flux of the earth, could influence it now, all else would wither at its touch. Jack was no exception to that, but there was nothing Calypso could do other than trust to the Lady to see them safely through. It had set its price long ago, before the world of men and their kin became all powerful, in the dream days when she and her kind had wandered the world without fear. Its power was not lost, nor was its price changed, and only the Lady might still have some dominion there.

Calypso hovered on the surf, watching Mr Gibbs as he sat in the shade, his brow creased with thoughts that appeared to give him no comfort. She did not approach him, though she could have assumed human form, for there was nothing she had to say to him now, or him to her. Jack might yet prove of importance, but beyond than that men and women who walked this world were of no significance any longer. Not even for revenge, while the horrors of her entrapment would never be forgotten those memories were dwarfed by the joys of being her true self again. The petty concerns of men had never mattered much, sand on the winds of time as they were, and now the power of older and larger forces had drained them of what little interest they had ever held for her.

Yet still her concern for Jack persisted, entwined now with a small new shoot of interest in the Lady's captain, and she wondered how close the two below them were to their goal. They were near, she was sure of that, and it would already be testing them. She would have given much to know how they would weather the storms below, yet she was sure that they would, which raised the question of why. Though the Lady guarded her own to go to such lengths as these spoke of larger plans. Calypso still remembered the days of that single form well enough to feel some curiosity as to what those plans might be.

***

"Well who said life would be fair," Elanor drawled, "because I'd certainly done nothing to harm the man who killed me."

For a moment there was silence, only the hiss of their angry breathing joining with that ever present wind like sigh. Then Jack released her wrist and stepped back quickly with something close to fear in his face,  
"You're dead?" he whispered his eyes wide and dark and he stared at her.  
Elanorgave a him a haughty look,  
"Why should that matter to you Captain Sparrow? Since, amongst your many stories, you claimed to have been murdered and brought back by your murderer, though you have never been very clear on how. In the circumstances I can't see how my corporeal status can matter much to you."  
"You're dead." Jack raised his arm and stared at his hand, "Am I then? Dead? Still dead?" he looked around him, "is this all a dream? Am I still in the locker?"  
Elanor gave a long and theatrical sigh,  
"Well if you are then so am I," she took a step towards him and glared, "and since I wasn't when I started I can only say thank you very much for dragging me here!"

Jack was ignoring her, staring at his own hand again and talking more to himself than anyone,  
"Am I dead? The battle, Will, the Dutchman, did it happen? Did Elizabeth repent or did they leave me there? Is this all Jones doing?"  
Elanor felt anger stir again and rolled her eyes in exasperation,  
"Well how do I know? I don't even know if I'm dying slowly of head injuries! They have to be bad to stir up an illusion like you."

Jack dropped his arm and stared at her as if suddenly catching up with what she had been saying,  
"Why would I drag you to the locker?" his voice was sharp with outrage, "What makes you think I'd want you there with me missy?"  
Elanor pointed an angry finger at him,  
"I've told you not to call me missy!"  
Jack put his hands on his hips and returned her look with his head and shoulders thrown back,  
"Will call you so if I wish to! Missy."  
Elanor was close to grinding her teeth again,  
"Don't make me do something we'll both regret Jack!"  
He flapped a hand in her direction,  
"Regret! Ha. Well that's a fine thing! I'm the one with cause for regret. You sailed over me. Why should I not regret being with you? I know plenty of women I'd rather be with."

Elanor made a sound that even she had to admit was a snort,  
"Like Elizabeth Swann perhaps? Your murderer. Oh yes, I've heard all about her from Mr Gibbs, and about you and her I might add!" Her smile became a smirk, "A girl of that age, it's little better than cradle snatching, in fact where I come from we'd probably have an uglier name for it! Getting to the point where you need an easy target are you?"  
Jack's dark brows drew together and his mouth thinned,  
"Nothin' about me and Elizabeth to hear about. Other than the fact that she killed me, but only after she had near pestered the life out of me."  
"Oh yes?"  
"Oh yes, " he shot her a hard look, "missy. Another ungrateful female wretch she was. I saved her life and she told me I was despicable, and then, despicable or no, suddenly she comes over all romantic about pirates and expects me to save her beloved William for her. When I try to he complicates matters, which he was always going to do o'course, him being cock led by her and not overly bright as a result, and she then blames me!" He raised an emphatic finger, "Quite happy to deceive the Commodore though, and to lie to her newly betrothed about Barbossa, never mindin' how many poor fools might get killed for her wants."

Elanor stared back in wide eyed mockery,  
"And you weren't I suppose?"  
Jack pulled a face that might, or might not, have been regret, but it faded quickly and a grim annoyance replaced it,  
"If your bloody ancestor had done as I told him there would have been no problem."  
He paused for a moment and shifted his head to stare at the ground, "Well wouldn't have been if they had gone for the boats as I expected they would. " He shrugged, "Don't see how I could have known they didn't need breath at all, or that they would chose to walk to the Dauntless. Walking, even on the seabed, not being the pirates way."  
Elanor was having problems in remembering which version of the undead pirates story she had last heard, but she caught the meaning of this one easily enough,  
"So the legendary Jack Sparrow got it wrong!"  
That brought his eyes up to hers again, but there was no anger in his face anymore, just a reflective sadness,  
"Aye, I did. Have you never done so? I'm sorry for it but nothing I can do to change it. Seemed the best I could do at the time, given the overall circumstances and other .. things."  
He raised that emphatic finger again,  
"I did warn him about Barbossa and his crew though, least I tried to, but Norrington was a man of the here and now and he didn't believe me."  
"I wonder why?" even as she said it some part of her mind knew that the taunt was unjustified.

That brought a momentary frown, but other thoughts seemed to take hold of his attention and he tossed his hair and glared at her, finger jabbing at the air,  
"But there was no Elizabeth Swann and me!"  
His hand dropped and he gave a smirk and a quick nod that sent the objects in his hair rattling,  
"Indulged meself a little I'll admit, might even have been tempted for I'd been a sea a while as you once kindly pointed out, but that's as far as it went. Wouldn't do that to William's boy," he frowned again, "though it would have served her father right if I had, given that he was eager to shoot or hang me, even as I was standing on the dock drippin' from saving her."  
He seemed to brood on the iniquity of that for a moment then he pointed at her again,  
"But that's as maybe, you've still not explained why I would wish you in me locker!"

Elanor felt an almost overwhelming desire to hit him, but she bit down on it, knowing that it would lose her points in this verbal sparring match given the propensity other women seemed to have for slapping him,  
"I don't know," she growled, "you are the one who asked if this was still the locker. But if it is then I have to be there too. Thanks to you." It was her turn to frown, "maybe you wanted to get at my ancestor as you call him, and got me instead."  
"How?" he sounded genuinely confused.  
"I...don't...know. It's your locker and you are the one press ganging people into it."  
He bared his teeth at her but it wasn't anywhere close to a smile, and he spoke through clenched jaws,  
"I's done nothing of the sort. If I was goin' to pressgang a woman into it, and I'm not sayin' that I would, it wouldn't be one like you. Would be someone far less marble like and much more accommodating." He gave her an appraising look, "you're a beauty there is no denying it, face of an angel and the body of a succubus, a heady combination 'tis true, but I'd prefer me female companions to be a trifle more warm and human."

He had been taunting her, afterwards he knew that he had and was sorry for it, but he hadn't expected the pain and rage that flooded her face. Nor had he expected her hands around his throat. But she seemed to spring like a cat and he had no time to back away.

She was a formidable opponent, and while some part of him had known she was strong the feeling of it was a different matter; as it got harder to breathe he knew that he was lucky, for she had been hasty about it and if she just got a better grip she would either snap his neck or throttle him. It went against the grain to fight back, he had always liked to be on friendly terms with the gentler sex, but there was nothing gentle about her at the moment and if that was how she wanted to play it then she'd find that Jack Sparrow would not stand back and let a woman kill him, not again.

***

His last visit to the port, if you could call it that, of Tortuga had been a more relaxed affair Hathaway recalled, for he had not come ashore with Groves on the first Sparrow hunting foray.

Then he had been gathering intelligence on the Spanish privateers that had been menacing the new colonies and he had been alone, shabby and dirty, and indistinguishable from most of the other men who clustered about the wharves looking for a berth. He had come in on a merchantman but not left with her. Instead he had spent near two weeks prowling the taverns and doss houses drinking with anyone who had been sailing these waters in the previous months and that could be approached without raising suspicions, before taking berth on another merchant bound for Nassau. Amongst those he had sunk a drink or three with had been a man by the name of Gibbs, a fount of information about all manner of things, and a source of many stories about one Jack Sparrow. That had been nearly five years before, and more than a year before Sparrow had made off with the Dauntless and sailed her here to collect a crew; though it seemed unlikely that the story would have palled on the residents of this place just yet.

Then it had been winter, well as much as this place ever got one, and the rain had been frequent and the winds brisk; now it was the hottest part of the year and the alleys were like ovens and even the flags on the ships in dock hung limp for much of the time. The sun blazed down on their unprotected heads as the cart rattled its way from the bay where Intrepid was sheltering to the motley collection of driftwood and mud that made up the town. Without the usual wigs the tops of their heads felt as if they were scorching and the sweat ran in dusty rivulets down neck and shoulders to soak into their shirts. Hathaway had taken care to make sure they did not look out of place before they left the ship but even without his efforts the dust and heat would have made them almost indistinguishable from the more respectable occupants by the time they arrived on the outskirts of the sprawling scab that was the town. Hathaway was glad of the hat, for the glare of the sun was fierce and his fair skin was less accustomed to the sun than the bronzed Groves, even though it ensured that his fair hair was darkened with sweat before they had gone a mile.

It was a way from the bay to the town and it was well beyond midday when they arrived. Even so the place had a sluggish air about it, the market was already deserted and the alehouses were doing good business. The few people who were about more energetic business moved slowly, keeping to the shade as far as was possible. In the shadow of a doorway a couple of whores, not yet curled or painted, were fanning themselves with tawdry fans. Without the thick layer of paint they would wear later the pair looked tired and their faces were whiter than their grubby shifts in the poor light. They cast the two men a cursory glance as the cart rumbled by, but it was early morning for them and too hot for them to bestir themselves for such paltry pickings as Hathaway knew they must look to be.

As the cart headed towards the docks Hathaway touched Groves shoulder and the pair grabbed their coats and leapt down to the dusty street, one benefit of the heat was the lack of mud, though the stench was worse than Hathaway recalled it. He cast a quick nod to the carter who slapped the reins and urged the mule on; the man, one of the few who had joined in such games before, would return it to the farm from which they had borrowed it, and make sure that the owner's palm were suitable greased.

He would return in three days time but until then they were on their own.

***

Elanor felt the muscles of Jack's shoulders bunch and tense but she already had the softer tissues of his neck squarely in her hands and she knew it would take more than that to break her grip. His throat was strong, the tendon beneath the bronzed skin corded under her hand, but he had been too slow to react and she had him.

Every sense was heightened, her finger tips could feel the scrape of hair beneath her nails even as they shifted to find the most vulnerable place, and the heat of him, the racing thud of his pulse against her palms, merged with her own and fuelled the anger. She felt his fingers, strong as her own, clawing at her hands but knew he had been too slow, that it was too late for him. Eyes dark as night seemed to bore into hers, just as the blue grey eyes of her dead brother once had, but these eyes still held the bright spark of life and a rage that looked to be near equal to her own.  
'So he wanted humanity did he,' she thought, 'well fine, he can have it and let it be the death of him as it had so nearly been the death of me.'

He let go of her hands and she felt his shoulder move as he broght his arm back for a punch to her belly, but she turned slightly, blocking him and the blow, swift and hard and certainly meant, was lost in her ribs. She barely felt the pain of it, every part of her mind being concentrated on keeping her grip on his throat. Now his hands were round her wrists, hauling on her arms, but still the rage kept her hands locked.

She could hear that his breath was more laboured now, that thud of his pulse was less regular, and she knew that it would take only a little more pressure to shut it off completely. Yet her muscles seemed unwilling to obey her, unwilling to tighten that small degree needed to finish it. He'd fail soon, pirate or not she was the measure of him, and why should she not be what they said she was, what he said she was. He'd made it clear enough that he found her inhuman and he was far from being the first. Why? Because she didn't indulge her weakness at every passing moment? Because she understood discipline and duty and honour? Was that so inhuman? If so then let him understand the full measure if it. Elanor drew a deeper breath and tried again to find the will to finish it.

***

The blow had barely registered, she'd seen it coming ofcourse and done what was necessary to deflect it, some part of him approved that while another part despaired. He grasped her wrist and tried to prise her fingers away, she winced but held on to him. Gritting his teeth he managed to get one hand past the guard of her forearms and closed his hand around the front of her throat feeling his fingers bite into muscle and sinew.  
'Bloody woman' he thought, 'wrecks me boat, breaks me head, then expects me to treat her as if she's the greatest friend I ever had. Not enough that she has to look like every fantasy a man ever had, oh no she has to be a captain too! A real one, by her own right and with a ship that she can sail." The world was darkening and his head was pounding, ' Worse than that' the thoughts surged up from some dark place, 'she takes my side and says nothin' about it! She has to be so...reasonable, and clever, and.. and ....reasonable. Up to most things she is, her and her bloody ghost! Bugger! Why did she have to be so perfect, and so bloody reasonable! Damn her, why did she have to look at me as if I was just another captain, not a scallywag at all? Remindin' me of things better forgotten. " he thought bitterly, Her fingers were like the noose around his neck and he couldnt shake them off. 'And why is it that just when I thought I was getting used to her she has to go and try to kill me?'

***

She felt his hands take hold of her but knew that he was too late and that his strength was already fading. He was close against her now and she could feel the heaving of his rib cage as he fought for breath. He was stronger than she had expected and showed more tenacity than a man so flamboyant had any right to, but those seconds of surprise would win her the round. Not fair perhaps, but then nor was his treatment of her, given that she had offered him no harm. Why could he not accept her for what she was as she accepted him, why did have to try to taunt her when they both knew that things could not be different. He was aboard her ship, dammit, she was his captain whether he liked it or not! So why was he so wary about her all the time? As if he expected she was going to throw him overboard, or read his mind or......chain him to the mast!

Suddenly the anger cooled, memory damping the flames. He had reason though, didn't he? Unlike those others. If half of what Gibbs had told her was true then he had no reason to trust. Unlike them. Thought they felt they had reason too, and given what she knew could she truly say that she was sure that they were wrong. Fear taught long lasting lessons and not always the right ones, so could she really blame him, or them? What lessons was fear trying to teach her now, which ones was it trying to make her forget?

***

Jack tightened his hands, her skin was soft and warm, he could feel the hammer of her pulse and the sheer power of the life in her and he wished for a moment that he could take back the careless words that had fuelled this.... whatever it was. But there was still murder in her eyes so he held on. The pressure of those slim but powerful hands on his windpipe was telling and it was getting hard to breathe, he tried to tighten his own grip on her and to force her arms apart hoping to ease the pressure, but with little success. Even as he struggled for breath some part of his mind was wondering why his words had brought on such a rage. She still had a firm grip and dark spots were swirling in front of his eyes, even as other darks spots were forming under his hands, red welts starting to show on the white skin beneath his fingers. He looked back to her eyes, the fury was still there but he couldn't help but feel she was not looking at him, the realisation was like a shock of cold water and without thinking of the consequences he eased his grip.

As he did so the face before him changed, the planes of it reordering themselves until he was looking not her but Elizabeth, the expression the same one she had worn on the locker sands. He heard her voice again, 'we've come to rescue you'. Rescue! As if she was some white knight come charging in to carry him away from the dragon's den, she who was the dragon itself! The final insult that, her, the little governor's daughter, offering him, the bold pirate, the legendary Captain Sparrow no less, rescue. After that there was nothing more she could do to destroy him. He felt his fingers flex again, taking a tighter hold on the soft throat, 'I could make it different,' he told himself, 'I could forget everything but revenge and treat her as she deserved.'

But as the skin of her neck flushed redder the rage failed him. Suddenly he recalled the sight of Barbossa looking down at the red staining his shirt, remembered the feeling that had brought, not at all what he had expected. He released her, realising with a sudden relief that the hands were gone from about his own throat. Elizabeth's face was gone too and it was Elanor there again, staring down at her hands in horror.

***

As he gasped in air she looked at him as if seeing him for the first time in a while,  
"Jack!" she whispered, though whether that was shock or the effect of his own attempts at strangulation he couldn't be sure.  
He nodded,  
"I know. What are we doing?" his voice was husky and uneven.  
She gave a shaky laugh,  
"Other than trying to kill each other you mean?"  
Jack nodded and rubbed his throat, watching closely as her shoulders sagged and she ran a hand over her sweat soaked hair,  
"Having a row I think," she croaked, rubbing her neck.  
He nodded again, and gave a crooked smile,  
"You could say that. Worse than any old married couple, if you will pardon me language. But why? Why are we arguing?"  
She shrugged again,  
"I don't know. I was just suddenly so angry."  
"At me?"  
"Yes, but not just you, at everything. You just happened to be there, and all I could think about was what an irritating, devious..manipulative bastard you can be."  
He gave her another wry smile,  
"Ta, you don't do badly on that score yourself."  
"And you?" she prompted,  
"Pretty much the same really."  
Elanor nodded,  
"It's this place, just like it was before," she looked at him sideways as she rubbed her own bruised throat, feeling a surge of shame as she saw the black bruises forming on his skin, "you saw your death back there, didn't you?"  
He looked at her for a moment then inclined his head,  
"Aye, as I'd guess did you."  
"Yes."

For a moment they were quiet, each lost in the after shocks of the emotional quake of a moment ago. Around them the green of the trees seemed darker and the heavy scent of the air had changed taking on a lighter, more woody note. Elanor looked up and sighed,  
"I think it's getting darker. Maybe there is night here."  
Jack nodded,  
"Maybe, best get on then. Don't want to be on the move in the dark."  
He turned and looked at her, waiting for the objections he was sure would come, but she just nodded,  
"Yes." She cast a grim smile in his direction as if reading his thoughts, "be damned if I'm letting this place and its tricks beat me."  
"With you on that luv." He cast another look around then pulled the compass from his belt and checked the bearing, "that way then."  
She shrugged,  
"Good as any other," then she started to move.

Jack reached out and caught her at arm as she passed him, looking at her with anxious eyes,  
"I have to know. Are you dead? Am I dead, or am I not?"  
Elanor turned and stared at him for a moment  
"It was true wasn't it?" she said quietly, "She really did kill you. You were in the locker. Gibbs told so many stories, on top of the ones I heard from you, and I wasn't really sure what to believe. But it was true, you were dead."  
"Was? Are you dead or not?"  
"I'm not dead, not now. At least not as far as I know. So I'd guess that nor are you."  
He opened his mouth to ask more but she shook her head,  
"Not now Jack. I will tell you, but not now. Let's just get this thing done and get out of here. I might not want it to beat me but I really don't want to be here longer than we have to be either."

She turned and moved off through the trees. With a sigh he admitted to himself that there really wasn't anything he could say against that and followed her.

***

In the trees above them a golden gowned figure sat and watched, she did not smile or frown just waited and watched until they found themselves again and moved on. This price she could not pay for them, and it remained to be seen if her choice was wise or not. But it would be decided soon.

As they moved away she spread her fan and inspected it. The pictures of the two ships were still there, and they seemed a closer and a little brighter than they had been. But now another picture was forming, though to human senses it would seem that its outline was blurred by a mist of silver. She inspected this with far seeing eyes that were in no way human, and decided that, for the moment, it was good.

***

Outside in the surf Calypso felt the change and smiled. 'Witty Jack could be relied upon to do the unexpected', she thought, and the lady captain seemed no sluggard either. It was not over yet, but the second instalment was successfully paid


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33. Unfamiliar territory**

There was no doubt about it now. the light was failing. How quickly was hard to judge because they were well into the jungle, if that was the right name for it, and several layers of green were between them and what counted as sky. But the light seemed to have a paler, washed out, look, and all about them the colours were fading as the sunless day aged. The vegetation was responding to the change, some flowers were furling petals, their scent dying as they did so, while others were opening out as if preparing to hunt, their perfume adding new notes to the smell of the place.

The prey was stirring too, a host of rustlings and scratching starting in the canopy above them and in the undergrowth on either side, and small insects were taking to the wing. Jack cursed as a hazy cloud of blue specks rose from a tree on his left sweeping across his face and hair as they passed.  
"So now we are to be eaten alive as well as driven mad," he muttered as he batted them on their way with ends of his sash.

They had set off into the trees rather than climb down the ledge; though nothing was said neither of them were willing to take the risk of whatever it was that was playing with their minds convincing them to let go of the rope half way down. But the heat and the thickening vegetation meant this was far from being an easy option and now it seemed that other dangers might be added, and a few irritants too. Elanor swatted away an insect cloud of her own and wondered what the point of all this life was.

But that was not her main concern.

"It shouldn't be this big," she said to Jack as they stopped for more water, "Ariadne got it wrong, that's not so surprising in the circumstances, but I can't help feeling that its got bigger since we got here."  
"Agreed," Jack was frowning down at the compass in his hand, "seems to grow as we walk. I'd swear it was not this large when looked at from above." He glanced up and gave her a wry smile, "maybe that's because its not finished with us yet."  
"Nice thought!" She grimaced as she refastened her water bottle, "I don't think what's happening to us is random. Do you?"  
"No," he said softly, looking around him, "maybe we should see what your ghost makes of it."  
Elanor reached for the comms switch then stopped at the prompting of some inner voice,  
"Perhaps," she said slowly, "but I think I'd rather hear what you think first."  
That brought a startled look from him, the black brows rising so far that the movement wrinkled the wet scarf about his forehead. She smiled at the look,  
"You've had much more experience with the weird and wonderful than Ariadne has, or that I have come to that. So what do you make of it?"

The flash of pleasure in his face was fleeting but real enough, then a frown replaced it as he circled his hand at the surrounding flowers.  
"Not so weird maybe. These, their scent or pollen, is like opium, it twists the mind, paints pictures in the head. Stirs things best left un-thought."  
She had surmised something similar,  
"Seems more than likely. Wish I'd thought to bring gas masks, but who would have guessed it from up there." Her voice became hesitant, "Random do you think?"  
Jack turned and gave her a long and thoughtful stare,  
"Maybe, maybe not. What's on your mind is bound to be most easily got at, but perhaps it finds the things you are tryin' not to think about too."  
Elanor nodded, that was pretty much her own conclusion,  
"Yes. I've never taken hallucinogens but I suppose it might well thin the walls of repression."  
Jack gave her a sideways look, and his voice was far away and thoughtful.  
"Not quite sure what you mean by that, but if you mean that it shows you things you'd rather not see then I'd say you are not far off."  
He looked back down at the compass.

"Have you? Ever taken opium I mean, or anything like it?" Elanor asked after a moment.  
"Many times, " Jack looked up again and smiled at her startled look, "no clever little things to chill the skin into unfeeling in my world luv. Rum or poppy syrup is all there is."  
The words stirred a slight sense of shame at her assumptions and she sighed,  
"Of course, I was forgetting. But never just to escape?"  
Jack gave a short laugh and shook his head,  
"There is no escaping Elanor. Not for the likes of me. Anyways it's always there when you come back to it. Opium? Well I tried it once but it nearly got me hung, so rum is enough now. But from what I remember the things we are seeing are not unlike it."  
He turned another thoughtful look upon her,  
"Unless you are suggesting something else."  
"Such as?"  
"That it's not just what happens to be in our heads, that it's testing us in some way?" His tone was hesitated for a moment, then sighed  
"It has crossed my mind," she admitted. "Stupid I know. There is no way that could be the case, but this place has a feeling of .. well......intent."  
Jack nodded and looked around again,  
"I know what you mean darlin'. Like it's watching us. But that would suggest this is a very remarkable place indeed." He tilted his head and looked at her from under his lashes, "Just the sort of place you would find the Fountain," he purred.

She raised her eyes to the branches above them and sighed more deeply,  
"Well I'm not sure about that, I can't see why the one follows from the other, but certainly it's a very singular place."  
Jack gave a broad smile and stepped across to her side to put his arm around her shoulders,  
"Stretching things a little, don't you think? To have such a singular place where my compass says the fountain is and for it not to be." He gave her a quick squeeze, "and you know it."  
"I suppose so."  
He gave an exaggerated and wide eyed start that made her smile her capitulation,  
"Well if you really have been murdered by Kraken and sent to the locker and come back again, I suppose I have to accept that your belief in the Fountain is not so irrational."

That brought a shout of laughter and he released her shoulders, but only to wave his finger in her face,  
"Finally." He tilted his head and smiled, "remembering the Quantum eh?"  
Elanor shrugged and nodded.  
" You win. Let's see how far we can get before it's too dark to move."  
As they set off once more, Jack looked back at her over his shoulder,  
"One of these days you are going to tell me you know."  
"Am I? About what?"  
"This bloody quantum thingy, sounds fascinating."  
Elanor laughed and shook her head,  
"No Jack, I don't think I am. God alone knows what you'd come up with if I did."  
He grinned again,  
"You will, just wait and see."  
She watched him stride away, jaunty swagger back in force despite the shirt clinging to his ribs and the soaking hair, and she shook her head again,  
"Heaven help me," she muttered, "if you are a figment of my imagination then I must be madder than I thought."

***

Nighttimes in Tortuga were noisy and violent affairs and Groves felt himself to be in more danger than he had at almost anytime on the Endeavour.

It was not more than two hours after sun down and already the doorways sported a crop of insensible drunks and the alleys a knife fight or two. The smell of food floated out from the taverns and cookhouses, mixing with the tang of the mud flats and powder and the middens to produce a stench that rivalled even the slaughter shed and market smells of the morning. Shots echoed at intervals, sending Groves into a frenzy of stiff lipped anxiety, and more than one brawl forced them to take a detour on their walk to the quayside. He might not be wearing navy braid but he was sure that those around him could see the shadow of it. Hathaway however seemed totally unfazed by his surroundings.

They had taken a room, if it could be called that, in a lodging house on the edge of the docks, a mean little cubicle with a cracked ceiling and patched walls and with a tiny unglazed window that looked towards the smoke sheds. A couple of flea ridden straw pallets with rags for sheets and a rickety chair were its only furnishing and Groves had looked around in horror as Hathaway shut the door and jammed the scuffed chair back beneath the lock. It was clear that it was not the first time it had been used this way.

"How can people live like this?" he said with moue of distaste.  
Hathaway gave him a dispassionate look,  
"Many do Mr Groves, and there are no doubt as many who would kill a man to get a chance of even this. I've seen worse."  
He pulled out his pistol and began checking it. Groves had paused in his opening of the battered shutters, the room was like a bread oven, and smelt as if the bread had been standing there uncooked for several weeks at least.  
"This is not new to you sir." It was a statement not a question.  
Hathaway gave a small smile and went on inspecting his pistol.  
"No sir here, remember that, such a slip might get us both killed." he said quietly, "Gil if you can remember it, if not then it had best be captain, there will be plenty of men claiming that title and it should pass."  
"Yes ...captain," he had intended to use the name then found that he couldn't. He could no more use the Christian name of this cold eyed man than he could have called Commodore Norrington James. Which had always been unthinkable. Groves gave a silent sigh for James Norrington as turned his gaze down to the dusty street where the whores were just coming out for the evening trade. Maybe he had sought refuge in a room like this one. A strange and depressing thought.

In the street below him the better class girls, those still young and pretty enough not to work the cheaper trade were sauntering, skirts trailing in the hot dust. Most were parading in twos, swaying their hips at passing marks and at this distance their dresses looked bright and their painted faces pretty, only closer scrutiny would show the truth, and few of their clients would care. Groves had seen enough of their sisterhood to know the realities of their business, and the lies of appearance; the truth, for all the tawdry glamour, was that more than one of the girls parading below him now might be dead before morning. Several of them, and as many of their clients, would certainly be so by the end of the week.

He sighed again as he watched a young girl in dark blue, her hair glossy and skin still smooth looking in the flares of the taverns, as she sauntered from one man to another before taking the arm of a burly fellow with a bright red beard and a shaven head. Her bold eyed confidence showed she was no newcomer to her trade and for a moment or two Groves wondered what her story was, then sighed realising it would be common enough, parents with too many children and not enough to eat.  
"You have been on such business before, captain?" he asked as the pair drifted into the shadow of an alley.  
There was a click as Hathaway eased the pistol hammer,  
"Many times."  
Groves turned from the window to look at him.  
"Pirates?"  
Hathaway was pushing the pistol into his shirt as he replied and didn't look up,  
"No, not pirates."  
It was clear he didn't intend to say more, and Groves was rather glad of it.  
"This Gibbs, where will we find him?" he asked instead.  
Hathaway shrugged, and began on his second pistol.  
"Hopefully in the taverns on the waterfront, if not then we will have to search further back into the town where we might be more noticeable. Let us hope that Mr Gibbs is flush and drinking in the sailor's taverns or penniless and dossing in the pig sties."

Groves shook his head,  
"How did the man come to this? He was navy once, wasn't he?"  
Hathaway shrugged again but kept his eyes on his task,  
"Rum. It's not an unusual story, certainly not in these parts." He pushed the pistol into his pocket, "But Mr Gibbs did not regret his eviction from his majesty's navy over much it seems, Jack Sparrow seems to hold far more of his admiration and loyalty than ever the navy did."  
Groves nodded,  
"So it seems. But I've seen enough of Sparrow not to be surprised."  
Hathaway gave a small smile and turned his attentions to the knife in his belt,  
"So I have heard."  
Groves shrugged,  
"I made no secret of it. He really was the best pirate I've ever seen, a more than worthy adversary. Even Beckett thought that. Enemy or no he deserved some respect."

Hathaway sheathed the knife and reached for his jacket,  
"I agree. Which is why we are looking for him."  
"But we have looked before si... captain."  
"One day and two nights and you didn't find Gibbs. This time we stay and keep our ears to the ground. Sooner or later someone will say something that we can use to find them." Hathaway frowned, "Or the ship, the Black Pearl. News of any one of them is what we need. But be careful who and how you ask, and remember that it's unlikely we are the only ones looking."  
"And if we don't find it.... them?"  
That earned him a hard look,  
"Pray that we do, Mr Groves, just pray that we do."

***

The first living thing of any size that they saw was a winged creature unlike anything they knew but reminiscent of both bird and moth. It appeared from above them and several yards away, gliding down towards the forest floor. More than a foot long it was easy to spot in the fading light for the overlapping, feathery, scales on its slim body were trimmed by glowing mosaics of colour, mostly yellow and red, which shone brightly even in the deeper shadows, and the outline of its back and wings was picked out in light emitting patches that tapered into a tail of reflecting hairs.  
'Almost like a droid ' Elanor thought as she watched it spiral downwards.  
The frantic scurrying around them suggested that it was a predator come to feed and a familiar sight to the other occupants of the area.

Jack was still slightly ahead of her and he reached back, catching at her arm and pulling her into the shadow of a tree, drawing his sword as he did so, watching it glide past with steady and watchful eyes.  
"Not large enough to do us any harm, but better to be unseen if we can," he said quietly. "No point in declaring war on anything yet, might draw attention we'd rather not have."  
She pressed closer to his side, trying to reduce the target they presented, and nodded slightly,  
"Well it answers one question, there are larger creatures down here. I was beginning to wonder."  
Jack eased his sword arm, taking a firmer grip on the hilt and grimacing in disgust at his slippery hands,  
"The day may be too hot for them, if that's so then this place could be teeming before too long."  
Elanor nodded,  
"Moving in the dark might not be a good idea," she looked around, "but nor might staying still be."  
"No way of knowin'" he agreed, "still my choice would be to stay on the move for as long as we can."

The scurrying quietened as the hunter passed by, but the silence of the lighter hours was gone and now the upper branches were swaying as things woke and ventured out from hole and nest. To their left a line of insects, spider like and heavily furred, made their way down a tree trunk and set off across a patch of the same blue black rock they had seen earlier. Jack watched them wide-eyed for a moment then shuddered,  
"Reminds me of some cousins of theirs, naught but the size of a pea they are but those little beasts could bite the hell out of a man. It didn't do to be without your boots, or not to have a bucket of water close to hand, around them."  
Elanor smiled as she turned to look at them too,  
"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but why a bucket of water?"  
That earned her a solemn look,  
"Because they had a taste for more . ...delicate. flesh if you take my meaning, and they could be up your leg before you could blink."  
Elanor grinned unashamedly  
"Or get off the bed?"  
Jack's smile flashed,  
"Or get off..... the bed," he agreed with a wink.  
"I see," she said calmly, "and where did these little biters occur?"  
"Southern Americas," came the laconic reply as his eyes turned back toward the marching column, "and before you ask, no I don't recall exactly how I came to be there. Other than that I was looking for the Pearl."

Elanor eased herself closer against his shoulder as they watched the creatures set off to forage,  
"Your ship. Did you spend a long time looking for her? Gibbs said ten years or so."  
Jack didn't look around but she felt him shrug,  
"About that, little less perhaps."  
"And while you were waiting?" she said hesitantly recalling his earlier complaints about her questions.  
This time he seemed unconcerned by them,  
"Made shift to get by."  
"Sailed other ships?" she ventured.  
"Aye, a few."  
"Stolen?"  
That brought his head round again and he quirked an eyebrow as the golden grin flashed unashamedly,  
"Pirate," he said jauntily.  
She stared back at him steadily for a moment but his look didn't change,  
"Of course" she said eventually, then as curiosity stirred again, "Who from?"  
His smile took on a smug edge,  
"Who ever were careless enough. A Spanish merchant or three, same number English. A Frenchman once." He looked back towards the insects as the tail of the column disappeared under the vegetation, "a warship or two." A thought seemed to strike him, "No make that three. Two Spanish and one English."  
"You do like living dangerously don't you?" she said faintly.  
That just brought another shrug,  
"Do what's necessary, no more than that." He sheathed his sword and edged out of the shade, "Come on they've gone, we may get a little closer to our goal before it's too dark to move."

***

"Gibbs? Nat seen him for more'n a month. If you are looking for passage off you'll need ta find it for yornsel'."  
The barman palmed the coins tendered and turned away to serve two whores who were set on spending the pennies they had just earned as quickly as they could.

"Might nat be so good't idea to find Gibbs. Nat as things stand."  
The voice at Hathaway's shoulder was slurred but not so much so that he could be sure that listening to it would be time wasted. He looked across into grey smudge eyes, bleary, red rimmed, but not without intelligence. The man gave him a black toothed smile in return for the look,  
"Gibbs was with Jack Sparra, and a powerful lot of people be looking for Sparra. Some of them people a man might not want to be meeting yet awhile."  
Hathaway cast Groves a warning look as he turned slightly towards the speaker, lounging easily on the rum sticky counter.  
"Sounds like you're a man with a tale to tell. But all I wants is to find Gibbs. I was told he had walked a similar path to our own and that we could trust him to do right by us."  
The other man nodded a greasy tousled head,  
"Ay, though you might have at that, but that's as maybe. And I'm not sayin' he wouldn't, but he ain't been seen for a while, rumour has it that Sparra came looking, and he went with him, and then others came looking for Sparra."

Hathaway took a swig of his grog and shrugged as if it didn't matter to him either way,  
"I heard that Sparrow was back on the Pearl and on the far side of the world," he said.  
The man frowned in consideration,  
"Aye so he were but he come back. Some big set to with a high and mighty gentlemen from the company so says."  
"I've heard the stories, " Hathaway scoffed, " they says that Sparrow downed the man's flag ship and scattered his fleet, now does that sound like to you?"  
The man sucked in a deep breath and blew it out noisily,  
"Who knows with Sparra? Certainly the word on the dock a while back were that the song had been sung and the seas were cleared of pirates, all headin' for the Cove they was."  
"Where might that be?" Hathaway asked, though only because it was so obviously expected.  
The man shrugged and stared down into his drink,  
"Only a pirate lord could tell 'ee that, or a trusted captain."

"Which is Sparrow then?" Groves curiosity won over his desire to be elsewhere.  
Hathaway tensed but relaxed again as the man seemed to see nothing strange about the question. Tortuga, like all such places, seethed with tall tales, and listening didn't seem to be any reason for suspicion for the answer came easily enough.  
"Lord o' the Carribean he be, so say, and if there be a pecking order amongst the lords then that's as high as make no matter."  
He shot Groves a serious look.  
"Canny man is Sparra, must be to have stayed away from the rope for this long."  
He took a swallow from his pot and smacked his lips,  
"But that's as maybe. Stories are that Jack Sparra is a dead man walking now, and that heaven and hell be havin' words over the takin' of his soul."  
He drank deeply and frowned,  
"Not a good time to be around Jack Sparra, and Gibbs went after him, so not a good time to be around Josh Gibbs either."

Hathaway emptied his own mug at a gulp,  
"Heaven and hell sounds a cause for concern right enough, but it's only a tale after all. Dead men don't walk."  
The drinker seemed to debate on something for a moment then looked meaningfully at his near empty tankard. After a moment of careful hesitation Hathaway shrugged,  
"Well it seems we'll not find Gibbs this night and I'm not adverse to a good tale."  
He picked up the bottle before him and tipped a good slug into the other's mug.  
The man sidled closer still and raised the filled pot in toast, the rank stink of him setting Hathaway's nose itching.  
"Story goes that Jack Sparra was killed by a lass he saved. Some governor's daughter so say. Well, I tells ya, rape is one charge that's never been laid against Sparra so I'm not so sure, mind though there are those who say it was done so that she and her lad could steal Sparra's ship."  
He shook his head at the perfidy of it and took another drink before showing his blackened teeth again in a smile,  
"But anyways Sparra was seeming alive when he came here last month."  
Edging his head closer he stared at Groves while waving his mug towards Hathaway.  
"But then so were Barbossa, and both Gibbs and Sparra says he were dead, and at Sparra's hand. Yet there he were, large as life and as mean lookin' as ever when the Pearl docked. Something were wrong which ever way ye look at it."

"So what is it they say about heaven and hell?" Groves asked uneasily.  
The man grinned as if seeing his discomfort,  
"Say that Barbossa was brought back from hell to help fight the company and that now he won't leave without taking Sparra with him. Stole the Pearl so that Sparra could not escape beyond the map."  
He took another swallow and was silent.  
"And heaven?" Hathaway prompted after a moment or two.  
Their companion shivered and took another deep and convulsive gulp of grog,  
"Well seems heaven is unwilling to let hell have him, for they've sent an angel to find him and watch over him."  
To Hathaway's astonishment the man crossed himself.  
"And I knows that to be true. I tells ye," he said softly, "you'd not find me goin' near Jack Sparra these days, not when he has an angel at his shoulder."  
Groves frowned,  
"How do you know it's true?"  
The man shivered again and took another gulp,  
"Because I seen her meself, when she came here lookin'. No doubt about it, I tell you, an angel she was and looking for Jack Sparra."

***

Darkness here was a strange as light. The dusk, if it could be called that, was pale and blue and somehow pearly and unreal. It was also without moon or stars andso maybe it should not have been sirprising that every living thing they saw seemed to carry its own light with it. They watched a march past of ant like insects with glowing heads carrying the corpse of a very large cricket, lizards with well lit spines and tails scrambled on trees trunks and over the odd outcrop of rock, moths and flies with glowing bodies dancing amongst the leaves, and all the time flowers pale as moonlight gleamed from bowers of darkening leaves. Some of the lights were so bright that they threw the shadows of the leaves around them onto the ground.

Jack treated them all warily after one closer encounter with a branch squatting tree rat that earned him the swipe of a curious and luminous tongue across his nose. He had leaned back in almost comical outrage as he continued to stare it down and eventually it had got the message, or realised he wasn't on the menu, and sauntered away.  
"They have never seen people." Elanor said as he returned to her, rubbing his nose in irritation, "they aren't frightened of us just curious."  
"Well you know what that did." Jack muttered darkly as they moved away.  
"Yes, so don't let yours take you too close. God knows what types of poisons they might be capable of delivering, the plants are bad enough."  
He scowled at her but kept his distance from the emerging wildlife after that

The slope of the path had been shallow for some time, but now it was becoming steeper and the trees seemed to pack around them more closely. In many places they had to bend to avoid the cut or fluted edges of the lower leaves and to twist and turn to escape the reaching tendril of the vines. Elanor had jumped on more than one occasion as their passing sent the liquid contents of one of the wide mouthed trumpets slopping across her boots, they could only be glad that these little reservoirs apparently held nothing more dangerous than water. New plants appeared as they progressed deeper, their pale flowers ghostly in the fading light. The scent was getting heavier again, but the notes of the perfume were changed now, amber and wood taking the place of the musk and rose of earlier.

The air was hotter than before despote the failing light, and they both found that it was becoming harder to breath. Jack found that he was struggling to keep his mind on the present, for the past kept rising from dark corners to taut him. At least once as he caught himself talking to the head on his sword hilt, explaining things as once she would have had him doing in life. A quick glance back to where Elanor was following reassured him that she not heard and he wondered fleetingly what memories were taunting her. He had no hesitation in blaming it on the scent, but unless they were to give up breathing there was nothing they could do but grit their teeth and go on.

Time seemed to hang heavy as the flower scent here, a gradual twilight surrounding them rather than the warm swift coming dark of the world outside. Jack wished it would get on with it for he was tired and would welcome some reason to halt. He slowed his pace to wait for Elanor to join him,  
"How much more of this?" he demanded irritably as she came as stood beside him, "I swear we've walked far enough to have crossed an ocean."  
She nodded,  
"I agree. By my reckoning we should have walked across the full width of thing by now but we don't seem to be making much headway at all."  
"But why?"  
"I don't know Jack."  
"We'll ask the ghost then!"  
"Very well, but I doubt that she can give us reliable answers." She thumbed the comm. switch, "Ariadne, can you hear me?"  
There was no answer,  
"Ariadne?"  
Still there was silence.  
Jack watched as Elanor frowned then pulled a device from her belt and stared at it.  
"There's no reason for us to have lost contact," she said eventually, "relays are working fine. Ariadne.. are you there?

Nothing came back and after a moment she looked at Jack and shrugged.  
" I don't like thist at all, but it seems that we are on our own."  
"Aye," Jack said staring around with wary eyes, "I wonder why now? What has it got in store d'you think?"  
"No idea, but I think we would be better waiting for the light to return before we move any further."  
"When will that be?"  
"No idea, but it has to eventually." She peered around, "There appears to be a clearing of sorts up ahead. We'll settle there for the night." She looked at Jack. "That alright by you?"  
He grimaced his reluctance but when she said no more he sighed heavily and nodded,  
"Agreed, these plants and their tricks are bad enough in the light, in the dark they could be fatal. Best face whatever lies ahead in the daylight. The clearing it is then."  
With a sweep of his arm he indicated that she could go first.

As she moved away from him he squinted at the plants all around them, then shivered.  
"And I'd be grateful you lot would keep your nightmares to yourselves," he muttered as he followed her.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34 Improbable possibilties**

"An angel! What on earth do you think he meant by that?"

Hathaway considered the other man calmly from his position on one of the filthy pallets. Groves had already noted, with some awe, that the captain coped with the dirt and squalor with sangfroid, it seemed that he had spoken no less than the truth when he claimed to have been in such places before.  
"It could mean anything. Once I would have staked my commission on Davy Jones and his Kraken being a myth, and a sea goddess a sailor's drunken fantasy, but it seems I would have lost the wager. An angel seems unlikely but I'm less willing than I would once have been to say it is impossible."

"Sparrow might be a good pirate, and in some ways a good man even, but he's hardly someone heaven would go out of their way for!" Groves protested.  
Hathaway laughed at that,  
"More rejoicing Mr Groves, remember, more rejoicing. Sparrow certainly isn't a law abiding man, though to be fair to him the choice was somewhat taken from his hands by Beckett, and as a result of an action some people might see as being more than merely good. "  
He picked at the edge of the mattress where a straying piece of rotting straw spoke of its age,  
"But the bible warns us not see man's law as our salvation, does it not? Who knows how heaven, or history, might judge any of us," he said thoughtfully, ignoring Groves open surprise at his comment about Beckett.  
Then he shrugged,  
"But I agree that sending angels to look after him seems a little more partisan than Sparrow would warrant even at his most ..honest."  
"So what do you think he meant?"

Hathaway stared out through the window to the early morning sky, the more respectable townsfolk would be stirring soon to begin their daily toil and he needed sleep, for they had spent most of the hours of darkness chasing rumours of Sparrow. But Groves was right, it was a strange remark, and as more than one person had spoken of angels in the context of Jack Sparrow there must be something behind the stories. He didn't believe it was a metaphysical being though.  
"The most we can be sure of is that a woman came looking for him. A somewhat singular woman," he cast his mind back to the second whore their story telling man had called upon to verify his tale. "Not local, not a pirate, for if she were then I'm sure we would have heard of her before now, not known in Tortuga, and not a .usual sort of person. "  
He smiled wryly at his companion,  
"Just the kind that Sparrow would find in fact, if what I hear of him is true."

Groves was looking at him with a kind of appalled hope,  
"Could it be Miss Swann do you think? She would seem strange here. Could she be alive after all?"  
There was no mistaking the eagerness in his voice and Hathaway stared back at him wordlessly for a moment, seeing the longing for it to be so written in the younger man's face, suddenly understanding his desire that at least one cause for self recrimination might prove to be unfounded. It saddened him to have to remove that fragile hope but he could not let it grow when he knew that it could not be so.  
"I don't think so," he said gently. "From what I have heard of Miss Swann the descriptions do not match, even allowing for exaggeration. Nor can I see any way that she could have escaped Sao Feng and found her way here, had there been reason for her to do so. But even if she lived she had no reason, she would have tried to return to Port Royale, for she cannot have known that both her father and Commodore Norrington were dead. She is a young woman without experience of the world and with no money, even if she were alive why would she coming looking for Jack Sparrow in so dangerous a place as Tortuga?"

Groves turned away towards the window his shoulders slumping,  
"No captain, I know that you are right."  
He turned suddenly with the hope of a new idea,  
"Maybe she came looking for the Commodore? Maybe she expected him to be here."  
Hathaway gave that some thought, he knew a little of what had happened to James Norrington in the months between losing the Dauntless and joining Beckett's armada, and he had heard a little more in the inns they had visited that night, though he was keeping those snippets from Groves, but it changed nothing. He shook his head,  
"But she knew he had joined Sparrow's crew, you told me so yourself, why then should she think to find him here?"  
Groves sighed and nodded,  
"Yes, I was forgetting." He was quiet for a moment before drawing a deep breath,  
"So who was she, and was she real at all?"  
"The stories of Barbossa being here cause me to wonder what, if anything, we heard last night has any value," Hathaway mused. "James Norrington's report to England was quite clear on that matter of Barbossa, he was most definitely dead, killed by Sparrow." He reached for his jacket and wadded it into a pillow before lying back and closing his eyes, "But it is strange that more than one person should mention him as being aboard the Black Pearl."  
Groves frowned thoughtfully recalling conversations of the past.  
"Pirates take others names sometimes ..don't they?"  
"Yes, " Hathaway opened his eyes again, "Stupid of me. If Barbossa was a pirate lord then his successor may have taken his name, if Sparrow is already a pirate lord then he may have passed Barbossa's title to another. That might explain the reports of him being here I suppose, if that successor sailed with him against Beckett then he might still have been aboard the Pearl when she came into Tortuga."

He settled himself more comfortably, and smiled wearily at Groves,  
"But who was the angel? On balance I think that she was real enough. For the moment I have no idea at all as to who she was, but it is clear that she has opened a whole new chapter in the legend of Captain Jack Sparrow. Which may, or may not, have been the point of her. If she was there just to bolster his legend then Sparrow himself was probably behind her appearance, if he wasn't... then it seems likely that some of those others who wish to find him have chosen a novel way of doing so."  
He considered that idea for a moment and then smiled,  
" It's not a bad idea at all now I think about it. From what I've heard of Jack Sparrow it seems likely to bring him out of cover if he is here, he could not resist such a story."  
"But that would mean that whoever did it knows him well. Wouldn't it?"  
"Maybe, then again maybe whoever arranged it is just such another as Sparrow." He saw Groves baffled look and smiled, "an astute student of human nature," he explained as he pulled his hat over his eyes.  
"Wake me when the cook shops open."

To Groves astonishment Hathaway then folded his arms across his chest and apparently went to sleep.

***

The darkness was a strange as the dusk, without moon or stars it was still not as black as might have been expected, more a deep purple than inky black, and lit on all sides by the insect light. Sitting in the gloaming, Jack silent and watchful at her side, she had wondered why they carried something that so clearly marked them out for the hunters, but having watched a vine reach out a snapping tendril to take half a column of glowing ants she realised that it was only a risk if the hunters found their prey by sight.

To say that they made camp would have been to imply more activity than it involved, in reality they simply found a spot away from trees that might hide enemies and predatory vines and settled down to rest. Around them the sound of the thing that might, or might not, be a wind was slowly drowned out by rustling leaves and chattering insects. Both of them were on edge, jumping at ever new sound, and both tending to silence.

Jack had withdrawn to one side of their resting place, settling himself on the sodden moss with apparent unconcern, but tensed as if he expected to have to leap to his feet at any moment. He had drawn his sword and laid it on the ground beside him within easy reach, his pistol he had settled on his knee, and, despite his silence, it was clear that he was on full alert, his eyes constantly sweeping the vegetation around them even as his fingers were busy with unfastening his pack. Elanor found it reassuring, reminding her that for all his easy manner and elaborate mannerisms he was still a pirate, a man accustomed to living with the constant threat of danger and death; and a man who had survived such a life, intact as far as she could judge, for a significant portion of his adulthood. She reminded herself, yet again, that regardless of the era he might live in his resourcefulness, and his ruthlessness, should not be underestimated. As he was on her side, for the moment at least, that was something to be very glad of.

For his part Jack noted that the lady settled herself in the position that gave least access to her unprotected back, and maximum view of the dangerous world around them, as a matter of reflex, and that she made sure the lightening on her belt would have free rein before turning her attention to other matters. The observation eased a little of his concern, for it was clear from the casual way she sized up the potential threats that she was not new to danger and was quite capable of watching her own back. He saw her eyes dart around them marking the points from which a threat was most likely to arise and he smiled to himself, for she had settled on just the same points that he had marked as being worthy of watching. That, and his memory of the strength of her grip on his throat, was comforting, for it was clear that she was a companion who would look out for herself should the need for it arise. But it increased his curiosity about her, stirring new imagining about the possibilities of her past.

For the moment though such thoughts had to be put aside. The heat has declined only a little with the dimming of the light and they were both tired and thirsty. It was impossible to judge how long it had been since they first descended the rock face from above, for Elanor's time piece had proved unequal to the world within this island and, like her ghost, had stopped communicating. Without sun or stars either time seemed to stretch without marker. To Jack at least it felt as if it had been days since they first dropped over the edge, and he was glad that he was accustomed to going without sleep, though he found himself thinking of his comfortable bunk back on her ship with some longing.

That thought caused him to frown for becoming accustomed to her way of living was unwise when retaking the Pearl would mean returning to a harsher world. But he was determined that once the fountain was within his control then the Pearl would be recovered. Yet, in his more honest moments, he had already admitted that learning to live with lice and fleas once more would be hard, and he had decided that he would take steps to discover what was in the strange oils she provided to banish them. Losing the waterfall would be a wrench too, but he already had ideas about how he might minimise that loss, with a little help from the lady. It seemed that there were many reasons for staying in her good graces.

But for the moment living long enough to find the fountain was the most pressing matter, that and placating his rumbling stomach. Jack turned eager attention to the contents of the back pack, her ghost might be a cause for alarm in some circumstances but there was no denying that she knew how to look after a man's creature comforts. Well some of them. He cast a surreptitious look at his companion and pushed the thought away with an uncomfortable stirring of an unfamiliar shame, instead he concentrated on the needs of his belly. Eating also removed the need for speech, and therefore the questions that hovered on both of their tongues. Jack was very aware that neither of them had said a word since sitting down.

In the end Elanor decided she might as well just get it over with, waiting wasn't going to make it any easier,  
"I'm sorry Jack, I really wasn't trying to kill you. Not you personally I mean."  
"Hmmm," was all he said for a moment, then he gave one of his shoulder twisting shrugs and a sideways look at her, "nor I you."  
She couldn't read his face in the half light, but guessed that was as close to an apology from him as she was going to get. Given his past she couldn't really blame him if it lacked enthusiasm, but she hoped that whatever resentment he had harboured towards his killer when they entered this place was now burned out. Him killing her for her own actions was one thing, him killing her as a substitute for Elizabeth Swann was quite another.

Silence returned for a while longer as she stared up at the void that was not sky, but she could feel his eyes on her and eventually the compulsion to look at him again was too strong to be resisted. He was staring at her with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity, leavened, or so it seemed, with something close to sadness. Seeing her look he shifted position and regarded her with tilted head,  
"So who were you trying to kill? And why then?" he hesitated for a moment, still watching her closely, "What was it that I said to stir such murderous impulses?"  
As she shifted uneasily and looked back towards the tree tops he raised his hand and pointed at her accusingly,  
"Later you said. Well it's later now, and as good a time as any given that we don't know how long it will be before the light returns."  
She sighed in resignation, well she really couldn't argue with that, and looked back at him. But what exactly was it that she could say when she wasn't sure that she could remember what it was that had seemed so important at that moment? But she recalled the generality of it and it was better to try for something than annoy him by obvious evasions.  
"Who? I can't recall exactly, but it could have been one of many."  
The words faded away and she turned her eyes back towards the trees.

"Captain Cavendish," he almost growled at her, eyes wide with impatient irritation, "that is not enough! An explanation you promised, and, given that you near throttled me, an explanation I will have from you. It is the least that I am owed, do you not think?"  
He smiled as her eyes came back to meet his and her eyebrows rose to her hair line, admitting to himself that the choice of words was possibly not of the best, but he was determined that he would get an answer. He sidled closer to her trying to ignore the damp clamminess of the ground and the sucking noise as the moss and leaf litter shifted beneath him,  
"Come on luv," he wheedled, "I'll admit that it was Elizabeth Swann I was seeing when I had me hands around your neck, so tell me whose throat was it you were crushing in that most unfemale grip of yours. Must be a powerful score you have to settle, for I swear that a noose could not take a tighter hold than you had on me."  
Jack saw anger spark in her eyes again and rapidly reviewed what he had just said, suddenly seeing the similarity with his words of earlier,  
"Ahh," he said softly as he watched the suddenly rapid rise and fall of her chest, "is that it then? It is mention of those things that are so different about you that lights the powder? Why is that, when we both know how singular your good self is, even aside from your ship and ghost?"

She got to her feet in a sudden rush, as if she would run, turning away so that he could not read her face, the set of her shoulders and her quickened breathing betraying her anger.  
"Leave it Jack," there was naked threat in her voice, "this is not the best time or place. You know what happened earlier, it might happen again." She cast a quick and wary look around her, "I don't know what this place is about, but it's not a safe place to be and it makes people unsafe too."  
He watched her for a moment then got slowly to his feet and crossed the few paces between them, being careful not to make any move likely to startle her, for it was clear to him that her mood was balanced on a knife edge,  
"Elanor think about it for a moment, " he said as soothingly as he could, pretending that he wasn't noticing her wide eyed anger, nor the very pleasing curve of her neck despite the wet hair that was plastered against it.  
He put one carefully gentle hand on her shoulder,  
"If we are not be at each other's throats at every second then I need to know what it is that has you so fired up. Be fair luv, I know so little about you that I can't know what it is that I shouldn't say. Assuming that there is something that I shouldn't say that is, or things that I shouldn't say, or that you would rather that I didn't say, and that I might say in all innocence, and so offend you, likewise in innocence, in the saying of them."

The shoulder beneath his hand sagged and he heard her draw a deep breath,  
"True, I suppose." She turned and smiled faintly at him, ignoring the fingers still draped across her shoulder, her voice calm and wry, "I do so hate it when you are reasonable Jack. It offends my sense of history, pirates should not be reasonable."  
He let his hand drop but returned the smile,  
"If it's unreasonable that you're seeking luv, I'll introduce you to Barbossa some day, he's unreasonable enough for half of piratedom."  
Turning back to where he had been sitting he sank down onto the leaf litter again and picked up the water bottle, raising it to her in mock toast, and grinning.  
"The other half is accounted for by Teague."

Having drunk a little he threw down the bottle then crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knees, looking up at her with the same solemn and bright eyed attention that a studious eight year old might give to a favourite teacher.  
"So tell me? What is it that I am not to say on pain of death?"

***

Breakfast had been a strip of fat pork belly and a scoop of some grey pottage served on a trencher of stale bread. For a farthing more they could have eaten it from a scarred wooden platter but Hathaway was dubious as to when the splintered surface had last seen hot water, at least the bread could not have been used more than once before. Groves pulled a face as he realised that he had a choice of washing it down with the contents of a rather dubious looking butt, or a mug of rancid, cloudy and probably watered small ale. It was clear from his expression that he was not convinced that he would survive the food even if they weren't found out in being servants of his majesty. Though a night and day had already worked its grubby magic, their worn shirts were now sweat stained and flecked with rotten straw, and their hair was lank and plastered to their heads and throats by the humid air; though still a long way from the derelict status of some of the people around them they could now pass amongst the crowds with greater ease, at least in this part of town.

They had made their way to a more respectable quarter, in as much as Tortuga had such a thing, in pursuit of a certain chandler. The shop had been closed still, no doubts its owner had not been sitting by his hearth that evening, but Hathaway had managed to strike up a conversation with the skinny matron who stood behind the counter of the cookshop opposite. Groves had watched his flirtatious banter with the blowsy creature with appalled fascination, wondering, not for the first time, about the nature of Captain Hathaway's commission.

"Aye Josh Gibbs was here a month or so back," she said as she wiped the planking with a cloth no cleaner than it was, "buyin' a pile of stuff so I heard. Grapples and ropes and the like."  
She shot Hathaway a knowing look,  
"Didn't say what it were for, but I'd guess that Jack Sparrow would have been involved somewheres, for Gibbs he never has two pennies to rub together for long, 'ceptin when he bin with Sparrow. Takes him a little longer to drink it then. Bin away a long time he has, more than a two year so my man says, and he'd know given that Gibbs owes him a shillin'. But he was here, so it seems Sparrow may well be settin' off a new venture."

"I heard a lot about this Jack Sparrow, seems the whole town is humming with the stories of his doings " Hathaway drawled into his nearly empty mug, "don't believe the half of it myself."  
The woman smiled as he indicated for her to refill it, Hathaway knew that if he would just go on passing her the farthings for ale then she would talk all day and only wonder about his interest later.  
"Well there be a lot o' tall tales about him, but my man he says there be more truth in them than you might give credit for if you've nair met him."  
"You met him then?"  
"Well I'd say not. I stay clear of the waterfronts and boat yards meself, but my girl she says it were he who were in here not long after Gibbs were about." She gave a tolerant smile, "One thing the lasses around here know about its Jack Sparrow, no matter who they are. Pirate captains are not that plentiful even here, certainly not ones like he be."

Hathaway shook his head,  
"Was it him though? From what I've heard he don't hide himself."  
The woman thought about that for a moment,  
"Not in the normal way o' things, " she lowered her voice and leant across the counter, bringing with her the obvious tang of fried onions and the less agreeable stink of stale ale and even staler sweat, "but there be some very strange stories about his recent doins', and not all from Josh Gibbs neither."  
She looked around and leaned closer still, dropping her voice to close on a whisper,  
" A man came looking for him not long after the Pearl left harbour so say, insistent he was and not someone you'd want to be sayin' no to, so it might serve Sparrow not to be seen for the moment. Then there were tales that a gang of Spanish sailors came looking for him too, seems they were veeery insistent about finding him, if you take me meanin'. So he might have doubly good reasons not to want to be seen."  
She straightened and wielded the dirty rag again,  
"But as for whether it were him? Well I've never seen him closer than a street width away but I'd not say me girl was wrong." She narrowed her eyes in thought for a moment then shrugged,  
"Certainly the man in question were mighty fine lookin' for a farm hand. Can't see any farmer's wife misusing him, not in any way a man might object to that is, if you understand me, though that were the story he told."

Groves had opened his mouth to ask more but bit his lip in pain as Hathaway's shoes made sharp contact with his ankle bone. In stead he concentrated on forcing himself to swallow the last of the small ale before he followed his captain out it the warmth of the street.

"Sparrow you think?" Groves asked under cover of the bellowing of a passing oxen and the rattle of cart wheels.  
"It might well be." Hathaway agreed. "Sounds as if he is up to something too. Let us hope that it doesn't involve the heart of Davy Jones."  
He caught hold of Groves shirt and pulled him back into the shadow of an alley,  
"We can't ask anything more here without being seen to be too curious, and we had better make sure we come back and ask the chandler about Gibbs later and without making remark about Sparrow, unless he says something."  
He frowned at the dusty ground,  
" If Sparrow is planning some venture then he must be in search of a ship. So we will pay a visit to the taverns around the boat yards and the smoke yards tonight. We will need all our wits about us if we are to get out of such places alive and so we had better get some sleep."  
He looked up at the sun,  
"It's too early to return to our lodging without it being suspicious. I suggest we try a little ferreting around near the market . if he was looking to provision a ship then that's where we will hear of it, then find ourselves a hole to sleep in for an hour or so."  
Hathaway gave Groves a serious look, ignoring his grimace of distaste,  
"I doubt that the Spanish have abandoned hope of finding him and so we need to act quickly."  
That just brought a glum nod and he clapped the other man on his shoulder,  
"No need for such a look, if they haven't found him we still have some time. There is plenty we have still to try and no cause for despair. We have a job to do so let's get on with it."

***

"Where I come from there are three kinds of people. The first are people who are.. as nature created them, they call themselves the 'naturals'. The second are people who have been changed before birth to remove as many ... errors of nature, and other undesirable attributes, as possible, they call themselves the 'perfecteds'. Then there is the middle group, the group who have had some things changed but not all, they are called the 'augmenteds'."  
She shot Jack a weary look,  
"I'll leave you to imagine what the three groups think of each other."  
Jack nodded, he'd seen to much of humanity to have much doubt,  
"They don't like each other much."  
She gave a small huff,  
"That is an understatement. The perfecteds call the naturals the 'raws' and the naturals call the perfecteds the 'machines'. Each views the other as not really human and increasingly acts accordingly. In fact the 'naturals' view the 'perfecteds' as an obscenity and an offence against God who should be destroyed, while the 'perfecteds' view the 'naturals' as little removed from animals who have no other purpose than to be servants for them, or worse. But both of them reserve their greatest resentment for the middle group. I belong to that middle group."

Jack's "Ah", contained a wealth of understanding.

She sighed,  
"It wasn't always that bad of course. When it started, more than a hundred years ago, it was just about preventing the worst diseases, and many people welcomed the opportunities. But it was never going to stay that way of course. Most people couldn't see why it could be wrong to make their children a little prettier and a bit stronger at the same time as making them healthier. It did no harm as far as they could tell and they didn't want to be told otherwise. Then it was, 'well if we can do that then why not make them beautiful, why not make them very strong. Why shouldn't they all have things that nature only gives to some, surely that's only fair?' "  
Elanor shook her head slightly,  
"Of course it didn't stop at that either, science seemed to rush headlong to all the answers and next it was 'why shouldn't they be clever too, why shouldn't they be nicer and kinder? Why shouldn't we make them better people?' No one considered what might go wrong, no one even asked what 'better' was supposed to mean. So it went on until there was little that could be altered that wasn't altered by 'perfected' parents in search of a better child."  
Jack shook his head,  
"Stupid if you ask me. Can't make people perfect luv, if you could then god would have already done it."  
She nodded,  
"I agree, and so they found out in the end. Some saw it coming and stopped while they were ahead, they are the middle group, but others went on, never realising they were doing as much damage as good. Never thinking about where it might be taking them, or about the costs."

She looked up to the tree tops again  
"Where I come from most people are altered in some way, though not all to the same degree, but there are many places where that's not the case. It's expensive even now, and outside of a few nations there are not that many that can afford it, which only deepened the divide."  
She sighed,  
"The religious always hated it of course and they tend to be strongest and most active amongst the 'naturals'. Christian, Muslim, Jew it doesn't matter, their zealots all agree on one thing, its against Gods wishes and therefore those who do it are an insult to God. It got out of hand years ago and it has now reached the point where many who see themselves as devout have little hesitation in killing someone who is altered, or in justifying those who do. Why should they when they don't see them as the creations of god?"  
She rubbed a weary hand across her eyes,  
" Not that they are the only ones who cause problems, even in my society the 'perfecteds' are constantly gathering more rights and privileges to themselves at the expense of everyone who isn't. They are just as narrow minded as the religious zealots and some have even gone so far as to say that those who are not modified are not real people, that they are only fit for menial tasks, and that they should not have the rights of citizens."  
She gave a bitter laugh, "having congratulated ourselves on abolishing slavery it seems we are coming full circle back to it, just giving it a new name."

Elanor turned to the silent Jack and was taken aback by the depth of the sadness in his face, she had not expected him to understand what it was that she was saying but from his look it seemed that he might. That sadness, and something else she couldn't put a name to, enabled her to go on,  
"I'm not excusing myself for trying to throttle you," she said softly, "but my brother was killed by people who didn't see him as human, I only escaped that time by chance. We were children but it didn't matter, not to them, it didn't reduce our offence. The man who did kill me didn't know me, and I'd done nothing to harm him, but he knew what I was and that was enough for him to feel he had the right to end my life. To him I was inhuman, an abomination, and killing me was no sin because I was not a child of his god."  
She got to her feet and went and stood over him,  
"It wasn't you I was trying to kill, but there were so many faces in my head at that moment, so much hatred, so much bitterness, that I couldn't tell you who it was I was trying to kill or why. I'm not proud of it Jack, but that's how it was. I hope you understand, Miss Swann killed you to save the man she loved, the man who killed me did it for an idea, for something that neither of us had any control of."  
Jack stared up at her without expression saying nothing, giving no clue as to whether he was excusing her nor not.  
"Anyway, I'm sorry for what I tried to do to you, but I don't take being told I'm inhuman very well, however true it may be. So I'd be grateful if you avoided the word." She looked at the plants surrounding the clearing, she would have sworn that some of them were listening to her, "particularly while we are here."

Jack sat still as she fell silent and pursed his lips, apparently lost in thought. Finally he looked up at her,  
"That explains." he wriggled his fingers in her direction, "the singularity of your appearance does it?"  
"Yes, you may think me beautiful but believe me I'm nothing very special where I come from."  
Jack gave that some thought and decided it was better not to think of it, the idea that she was beautiful in other ways than her face was distracting enough, and he hurriedly reminded himself about the events that had given rise to this conversation,  
"Ah. That accounts for the vice like grip too does it?"  
"Yes, I'm probably stronger than the average man here, my muscles work slightly differently you see."  
"Oh," he looked at her sideways, "anything else work differently?" he asked with false innocence.  
She grinned for the first time since their fight,  
"Nothing you might consider important Jack."  
The tone of her voice was dulcet but the cynical gleam in her eye unsettled him and he drew a deep breath, his eyes sliding away from hers. He picked up his pistol and began to check it, deciding that his curiosity had better be put aside until they were in a safer place,  
"Well I can see why the word might bother you," he inclined his head graciously without looking at her, "and I'll be sure to avoid any such suggestion in the future Captain Cavendish."

She didn't answer him and he stared up at her again in sudden suspicion. But she wasn't looking at him, her eyes were wide and lined up over his head, her gaze steady and searching,  
"Jack," she said softly, "I think you had better get up. Now. But do it slowly."

***  
They ran. Ignoring the dangers of darkness and vines and the slope of the path, they ran. Jack had caught her hand and they laced to fingers in a desperate attempt to stay together despite the press of vegetation, and to ensure that neither of them fell. Around them the trees swayed and the unseen life fled for burrow and tree holes, the flowers too seemed to know the danger and furled petals and leaf. The half-light strengthened to an eerie glow as they ran, as if to light their way. Neither bothered to look back, one glance at those orange eyes had been enough for them to read the malice and danger there and to know that escape depended on getting as far away as quickly as they could. So with labouring lungs and pounding hearts they ran, not bothering to look back.

The slope of the ground was steeper now and the drop on them to quickly for them to halt. Suddenly there was no ground beneath their boots and they were falling. Elanor caught sight of Jacks flying hair and wheeling arm as she started to fall and knew that he could not save her even if he would, realising with some surprise that he still had hold of her hand. The they were cart wheeling, bouncing off tree and rock, momentum carrying them forward, rolling over spiky flower and succulent leaf, spattered with mud and leaf, hair tangled and shirts flying. Above them the forest seemed to scream, a wild shriek that no human throat could ever produce, flashes of green and blue exploded around them, silver light glared and shadows seemed as solid as stone as they passed.

Then the falling was over and they were sprawled in a tangled heap on something that felt to be sand. The silver blue light surrounded them and the air seemed alive with sounds that neither could name. Each of them raised their heads slowly, minds numbed by the light and the sound and confused by the falling. Around them was a fog, its curling tendrils every colour of the rainbow, the touch of it the caress of spray from the incoming tide, the sound of it beyond hearing, and through it they realised that they could see the sea.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35 Ghosts on the shore**

The Lady had watched their tumble with shaded eyes, she had exerted herself to steer them from the larges obstacles and the most dangerous plants but there was little else that she could do for the moment. The course she had plotted was still running true, and so far the players had not stumbled, but for the moment the fate of the venture lay with them. What she knew of them told her that the greatest danger, anger and its spawn revenge, was behind them, though what waited ahead would not necessarily be kind. But they were well forged these two, and well tested and balanced, worthy vessels for the task if they could but cross this bridge.

Her mind reached out to feel the shape of events just ahead, just fragments of a melody, even to her, as they were etched against the song of this place. Her pieces were close to their goal now, but that didn't make it certain. She looked down on them again as they lay sprawled upon the sand, the grains of it glowing like moon dust in the light of the cloud enveloping them. Where they were now she could not follow, but she would do what she could.

The Lady spread her fan, studying the pictures forming there for a moment before snapping it shut and turning her eyes back to the two soft bodies wrapped in silver light. She smiled and dipped her head in acceptance, the bodies she could preserve, but the spirits within in them she must trust to the old ones.

***

It was like every morning he had ever seen, and yet every sunset too.

He was standing on the edge of the sea, feeling the water swirling round his feet, eddies of sand clouding the shape of his toes and tickling at his ankles, the spray white as her lace and just as delicate. Laughter, his laughter, echoed across the sands as the current sucked the ground from beneath him and tugged at him like a puppy urging him to come and play. There was no reason to be afraid for his hand was gripped firmly, fingers strong as the tide held him fast and he knew that even if the sea did its worst he could not fall. Not while this hand held him fast. His mother's hand.

She was singing to him, her voice carried on the wind and in the sound of the waves. Words that no one else around them understood, that no one else in the whole wide world understood; but he understood, for she had taught him the words and it was their special language, private to them, a barrier against the rest of life. Only he, his mother and the sea understood it, and that knowledge bound the three of them together with ties that could never be broken.

Only when the three of them were together, Jack, her, and the sea, did she sing in this way. His father hated the words he could not understand, and she would not use it in his presence, for though she did not fear him she loved him, as she loved Jack, and would not hurt him by excluding him in such a way.

Jack did fear him though, and the sound of her song was all the more wonderful for it told him that his father was not near.

For now there was no fear, just the song, the sea, and her hand in his, keeping him safe.

***

The rumours of the marketplace were as baffling as the ones of the waterfront, for where the whores and sailors spoke of angels the farmers and herdsmen spoke of ghosts, specifically ghost ships. What gave Hathaway some pause for thought was that no one had offered an explanation for either that didn't include Jack Sparrow, and yet no one could put him with either ship or angel for certain. The power of his legend was becoming something more telling than reason it seemed.

But he wasn't totally sure that there was nothing in the whispering. If Sparrow wasn't on the Black Pearl, as it seemed he wasn't, and he wasn't in the town, and as yet there had been no sign of him, then he had to be somewhere; everything they knew of his past suggested a ship as the most likely place. So a ship somewhere where ships usually weren't might indeed be connected with Sparrow. The problem being that as it was farmers who had seen this ship, not sailors, it was hard to get a description that meant anything.

Their most helpful informant was a young lad, about twelve or so, and one apparently brighter than the usual occupants of the market place. They had been directed towards him by a handsome woman of middle years who was selling some of the best looking sweet meats on display, it was some time since Groves had seen marchpane and he couldn't help but wonder which ship it had been taken from and by whom. Not Sparrow most certainly. The boy had told the woman a story, or so she said, in return for a slice of a similar treat and it had taken little to induce her to pass it on to them, shaking her head in disbelief, but pointing out the boy as she did so.

They met up with him on the rough and blackened bench of a tavern, where, over a mug of home brew and a plate of goats cheese, they fell into a favourite pastime of the Tortuga poor, story telling. For a lad raised on an isolated farmstead the chance to talk, rather than listen, was as heady a treat as the marchpane, and after the initial contact had been carefully engineered Hathaway had done little more than sit back and let him chatter.

He had seen the ship, or so he said. A month or more ago as far as they could judge, he had brought a couple of goats to market and had nearly lost them on the road. His pursuit of the fleeing animals had taken him close to the cliff edge several miles up the coast and it was there that he had seen the ship.  
"Out in the bay she were, just sittin' there like a hen on a fine clutch, all happy and proud. Never see big ships there so at first I thought it were a dream, " he waved his mug in a knowing manner, "that bay is nor big and there be some powerfully unfriendly rocks not far out. I'd never seen more than a fisher there afore."  
The boy gave a gap toothed grin,  
" Can't say I thought much about it then, for I'd had a skinful of ale that night and me head weren't entirely comfortable, if you understands me."

Hathaway had nodded and turned his attention to the dark honey coloured ale in his mug, for it wouldn't do to be seen to be too interested,  
"I knows them kinds of dreams," he had agreed, settling himself more comfortably on the bench, "can lead a body to see things that aren't there. My first captain was a real cove for em', caused no end of hard work he did because of them too."  
Beside him Groves was frozen in incredulous immobility at the change in his speech. Hathaway could only hope that the man would have the sense to follow his lead, and stay quiet if he couldn't.

The boy had grinned and swallowed a gulp of home brew then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, belching his satisfaction,  
"Oh she were there right enough, still there a day later when I went back, and I were sober enough then, no choice in it for the missus would have skinned me if I'd drunk any of the price."  
He caught Hathaway's sceptical look and slapped his empty mug on the table top in annoyance, no doubt he was accustomed to being disbelieved but disliked it for all that,  
"I tell you she were there. Fine ship I'd say, not seen her like afore. White she were, all shiny in the sun, too white to be real if you were to ask me. Like one of them shells they polish and sell, if ya take ma meanin'"  
Hathaway gave an impatient shrug,  
"Were she real or not? Make up yer mind!"  
"No ship like that is real," the boy scoffed, obviously concerned to make the most of his tale.

He looked meaningfully at his mug and Hathaway grudgingly slopped a little of the ale from the jug in front of him into the proffeed vessel.

The lad grinned again,  
"No she were a ghost right enough. What else could she be, in that place and all aglow? No ship of wood would make it there, and there were nary a sign of man aboard her for all she was whole and prettily trimmed."  
He raised his mug in salute,  
"Now I'm not sayin' what type of ghost ship she were, just that she were a lot bigger than any fishing boat. Three masts she had, and she were broader across the beam than a fisher."  
"Like a warship?"  
The boy shrugged,  
"Can't rightly say, havin' never seen a warship. Lived all me life here see. Don't get many warships here. Leastways not up where I live, the farm's up't other end."  
He frowned as he thought back, the ship suddenly more interesting than maybe he had thought at the time.  
" Never seen a ship like her truth be told, she looked fast to me but I didn't notice if she had gun ports, nor how many" he shrugged, "but either way she weren't good news for someone I'm thinking. A fine lady like her in such an out of the way place could only be because she was waiting for someone and didn't not want to be seen, ghost or no."  
Not being a sailor the boy couldn't tell much more that was useful, though he was free enough with wild tales of where she might have come from and who it was that she might be stalking, Jack Sparrow prime amongst them.

Yet it gave Hathaway some pause for thought, as he explained to Groves as they settled down in the shadow of a dilapidated barn to get some rest,  
"The boy was shrewd enough, and he was right when he said she probably didn't want to be seen. It's clear that it wasn't the Black Pearl, and it doesn't sound as if she was a merchant. She might have been Spanish of course, or French, though she would be less likely to hide if she were, but the lad was sure she was white and I've not heard of them painting their ships white as yet."  
"And shiny." Groves chipped in as he settled himself somewhat gingerly on a pile of pilfered straw, "What do you think he meant by that?"  
"I'm not sure. It might just have meant that she looked new, but it might not. Either way it was clear that she wasn't something he would have expected to see here, which, given that two unlikely events occurring at the same time in roughly the same place are more than likely to be connected, makes me inclined to say that the ship went with the lady."  
"Why?"  
"Singular lady, singular ship, neither were probable, so their being unconnected seems even less than improbable, wouldn't you say?"

Groves thought about that for a moment,  
"Perhaps you are right si....captain. But why were they here and where did they come from?"  
Hathaway settled himself more comfortably,  
"I don't know."  
"But you are sure that they are connected with Jack Sparrow? As the lad thought?"  
"As the lady was looking for him she must be connected to him in some way, in which case if the ship goes with her then the ship is also connected with Jack Sparrow."  
Groves was silent while he added that idea to his wondering,  
"But why would Sparrow want another ship?"  
Hathaway shrugged,  
"To go after the Black Pearl perhaps, if this Barbossa took it from him? Why the lady should assist him is less clear I'll grant."  
Groves frowned,  
"There were rumours that Jack Sparrow was dead, sunk with the Pearl, but that both were brought back from the locker by William Turner and Miss Swann, with help from the sea goddess," he said slowly. "Beckett seemed to find the idea credible and as you say who can tell what is not possible any longer." He looked at Hathaway with wide eyes, "Could she have come from the same place? Or might she be the sea goddess herself?"

Hathaway didn't scorn the idea as Groves had half expected, instead seeming to examine it from all sides,  
"On balance I think not the goddess, why would she need such a ship? But another voyager from the locker, that is a possibility, though not one I feel comfortable with." He considered the matter in silence for a few moments, and then shrugged and settled himself down to sleep,  
"Though the truth is that the lady worries me more than a little, wherever it is that she comes from." He admitted as he closed his eyes, " If Sparrow has control of the heart of Davy Jones, then the last thing the situation needs is him getting help from some other supernatural agency. But I would no longer put it past him Mr Groves, I really wouldn't."

Groves leaned back against the straw, his brow furrowed and his heart heavy. It wasn't only the lady that caused him to wonder, nor their quarry, for he had some concerns about the man beside him too. But he had to agree that on past record he wouldn't put it past Jack Sparrow to have found another supernatural agency either. An image of Davy Jones swam up before his eyes, quickly followed by a memory of James Norrington. He groaned, but Hathaway was already asleep and there was no one to hear. Groves stared at the insect chewed lintle above his head, cursed Cutler Beckett and wondered how his life had come to this.

***

Elanor watched the sun sink down across the horizon, the red rays slit into streamers and trailed across the decks by the stark elegance of the masts and yardarms, the tight furled sails barely softening their lines. This ship was as much her home as the house on the bluff and she knew its moods better than she knew her own, it was hard to think that it might be years before the four of them sailed out of this bay again.

"Are you sure this is what you want? You are very young to commit yourself to so much."  
Her mother's voice was calm as ever, the question just a gentle enquiry without sting or challenge.  
"Yes, I'm sure. Are you disappointed?"  
"No, you know that. If it is what you want then that is enough for us."

She turned away from the sea and towards her mother, scanning the familiar lines of the face in search of the truth,  
"But I'll be away so much, are you sure you don't mind? I always thought that dad at least wanted me to take up research and work with you."  
That brought a shake of the golden head, but there was a hint of sadness in the accompanying look,  
"If that's not what you want then he doesn't want it for you, any more than I do. We only wants what's best for you," with a sigh she turned towards the dying sun, "and being here might not be best. Things are going to get difficult, everyone with any sense can see that. There is no way of knowing how it will go, but we fear for the future. It will be worst for the young and we could not do much to protect you from it."

Elanor's mother looked out across the sea and watched the sun, her green eyes flecked yellow like the wave caps and her hair turned molten by the sunset light as she stretched out a hand and closed strong slim fingers around the hand resting on the rail,  
"At least in the navy you'll have a place to grow and be what you can be," she looked back to her daughter and smiled, "and you have always loved the sea. What more could we want for you but a chance to be yourself and in company with something you love?"  
The sense of dread was suddenly suffocating,  
"It may not be that bad. Surely they will come to their senses?" Elanor pleaded.  
That brought a grimace from her mother and a shake of her head,  
"Not necessarily. It's not about what is, it's about what they feel, and they all are vying to feel more than anyone else, to feel too much and think too little." She sighed, "Sense has been surrendered in the worship of sensibility, and nothing can be more vicious and mindlessly cruel than that, particularly when they have also convinced themselves they have right on their side. Even here."  
Her mother sighed again, more heavily this time,  
"At least in the navy you will be amongst people who have something better to do than dwell on their own emotions, maybe that will keep them human. No, it is probably better that you go, I doubt that your father and I could do more for you."

The dread was growing so strong that it almost chocked her,  
"But you will be alright, won't you?"  
"Us? Yes. We have work to do, and that work is valuable. We will concentrate on that and leave the arguing to others."  
She smiled again,  
"We will be here, waiting for you when you come home. You will always have a home here, and we will keep it safe for you."

They had tried so hard to honour that promise, but in the end they had failed. The feeling of dread had been only a faint warning of what was to come but she had never forgiven herself that she had not listened to it while there was still time.

***

She was gone, and he would never know where or how, for his father would never tell him. That much had been clear from the closed trap mouth and grim look as he brandished that head, and the way he had declined further conversation on the matter, just pushing the grisly trophy into his hand and striding off back to the table to supervise the removal of the codex.

He had known what Teague had meant when he had held up that trophy, and though he had done his best to play the part, to avoid showing the anger and revulsion he had been intended to feel, he had felt it all the same. His father had known him better than he had thought and he had known what he was doing. The sick dread of the truth and the bitter knowledge of a chance lost and another avenue closed, the loss of the one human love he had been sure of, had bitten deep.

Not that Jack had felt any desire to explore matters further, not then, not with a battle looming and the need to think out the last details of the stratagem he was struggling to build. Not while thinking was harder than it had ever been, while parts of his mind still seemed to be missing or un-cooperative. Negotiating his way past the shallows and rocks of Barbossa's plan and bringing the Brethren court to the necessary conclusion had exhausted him, but there had been no time to rest or even draw breath, and certainly no time for remembering. Certainly none for grief, no matter the cause or magnitude. That, as always, he had put aside for later.

Avoiding his father had meant spending time plotting with Elizabeth and Barbossa when he would have preferred to be alone; but then he was accustomed to doing his thinking while his mouth pursued another tack so it shouldn't have been so hard. But it had been hard, very hard indeed, only the habits of a decade of surviving had got him through it; that and the continuing confusion that had followed him from the locker. Splintered as he felt that very shattering kept many of his memories behind a screen of smoke as white and harsh as the desert he was desperate to escape.

He'd needed his wits about him despite the weariness and confusion, with Barbossa not yet reconciled to giving up on Calypso as a source of rescue and with Elizabeth driven by a fury at her father's death, and only that holding her back from guilt and grief. No saying which of the pair of them had been the most dangerous and deluded at that moment, and Jack would have preferred to be free of both.

He had rolled his eyes but said nothing when Gibbs had told him that Barbossa had the witch imprisoned in the brig of the Pearl, even with Jones so close. Jack knew Tia Dalma well and had little doubt that her true self would be no less capricious than her human form, which meant that there was no saying what she would do once she was free. He had no fear of her for himself, for reasons he had no intention of explaining to anyone, but he knew that this was the worst of times to break the binding. For they were, he had no doubt, facing a formidable human enemy what ever happened.

Elizabeth on the other hand had been sure that Beckett could not have enough ships to threaten the pirate fleet, and, while he had again said nothing, he had wondered what she thought the man had needed herself and her father for. He had no doubt that Beckett would not have come and risked himself without being sure of victory, and therefore he had been equally sure that the vicious little snake had commandeered every vessel he could get his hands on, and some he shouldn't have been able to.

No, there had been no doubt in his mind that a substantial flotilla awaited them.

Which would mean they would have to parley, or rather, as he had realised as he read the code, Elizabeth as king of the Brethren court would have to parley. To which meeting Beckett would no doubt bring Jones to taunt him, and probably Will as well. With Elizabeth there he wouldn't be able to resist it. So even if Jones did not demand they give him up, which he might not with Beckett there for fear of being seen to plead, then William or Elizabeth would no doubt propose a trade, and he would still end up on the Dutchman. Which was where he intended to be. The plan had the advantage that it would ensure that the Dutchman would remain the one place that Beckett would not expect him to wish to be, and as long as he could maintain Beckett's belief in that then he had a chance of success. For everyones sake, and not least his own, he had to make it work.

But it had been a hard and wearying night, running over it over and over again in his mind while his mouth spoke other words and his head worried about what he might be missing; yet at least the effort had kept memories of her at bay and closed off the void that he knew waited for him.

On a wave of despair he had gone to face Beckett, to play the final hand and take the Dutchman, and it was that grief, unspoken and unacknowledged, that had cost him what he wanted most. For when faced with the sight if it in another he had found that he could not turn away. That surrender of his prize had, perhaps, been his restitution for so many other acts never performed, for goodbyes never said and apologies never made. His repayment for a neglected love never regained elsewhere.

Later, when the battle was over, the presence of Barbossa had kept him occupied and on his toes and by the time they had made Tortuga he had thought himself reconciled, for he had done as she would have wished and found his way back to himself again. Yet he could not have been, for only that could explain his oversight with respect to the Pearl. As he watched the sea roll into the sands, and watched the water flare red in the sun, he suddenly wondered if the loss of his ship, his one other love, had been some form of self punishment, even though he had known that she would not have wished it. But it seemed the matter was not settled after all, even with the loss of the Pearl, and now there was no holding the memories, or the guilt, back.

The shore was the same, the sea still capricious, the sand between his toes as soft as ever, still running with the tide and calling him to play, but her voice didn't mingle with the sound of the surf now and never would again. She was gone. There would be no secret words any more, no strong fingers wrapped around his own, only the sea would keep him safe now for she was gone. The one person in the world who had truly known him, and who had been his without question and without price, was gone, and the words that had not been said in many a year now never would be.

Knowing that she would not have blamed him or ceased to love him did not ease the grief, nor yet the sense of being lost, and as the sea darkened from blue to purple his mood followed it.

The sea stretched out towards the sky, the smooth surface broken by the heave of the swell and the breaking of wave tops, as the scabbed over wheals opened up to the salt of the waters the pit inside him was growing bigger than the horizon. The pain took hold of him and he was a child again, lost on shores he had long ago left behind, wailing for a song he had abandoned without a backward look and that he would never hear again.

***

The world was dark and cold and surface of the sea grey as gunmetal. Elanor tore towards the advancing waters with fury in her heart and tears in her eyes.

They had done nothing wrong, all they had tried to do was make people see the road they were walking and the old sins they were in danger of revisiting. Their only crime was being brave and honest. Yet their honour hadn't saved them. They would never come back and the time she had thought she had was just an illusion. Their ship had gone beyond her reach and in that moment all she wanted to do was follow them, for it seemed that there was nothing for her here. She did not want a world that had killed them in such a way. They would never take to the seas again yet in the sea she might find them.

The sand shifted beneath her feet as she ran, the horizon was a far mist she could not see. The waters called and though the seas were and as cold and grey as her heart she fled to them, for she was alone and there was no where else to run to.

***

Jack was not sure if the sound that filled his head was the wind blowing off the sea, or the crashing of the surf on the sand, or the seabirds wheeling above him or his own grief. The sand was white as the locker but the sea as blue as any in the Caribbean and the sun as warm as the tears that ran down his face. He closed his eyes and felt the surf nibble at his feet as the salt dried on his face. She was gone and would not be coming back.

In that moment he despised his father for not knowing what he had had, and hated him for the having of it, for his son had searched the world and known more women than he could count without ever finding the same. Yet the grimness of his father's face rose before his closed eyes and told him of the lie of that, Teague had most certainly known what he had lost.

Maybe then he was wrong in assuming he could not find the same. Perhaps he was just looking in the wrong places. He turned his face towards the sun, eyes still closed. Maybe, just maybe, he was not beyond the finding of it even now, if he wanted to. Perhaps that was the issue, if he wanted to.

The bird cry sound was getting louder and it stirred other memories, things that he must do and that would not be put side. He felt the sun on his face drying the salt on his skin, somewhere there stirred the knowledge that he could not change the loss but that there were still calls upon him that must be attended to. Calls that she would have wanted him to answer. Wearily he opened his swollen eyes again.

The sea was gone and where it had been there was a silver blue haze and beyond that a stretch of water like none he'd ever seen before. A figure ran passed him, pale hair streaming behind her, boots scattering the silver grey sand in great clouds, her sobs carried like the bird calls on the wind. His mother's voice joined them on the wind and he felt a sudden urgency as if another door was slowly closing and he started forward without thinking.

The woman in front of him ran on and he followed her, boots sinking in the sand, arms failing as he sought to match her turn of speed, still not sure why either of them were running or what he proposed to do if he caught her. All he was sure of was that he had to catch her, that his future depended upon it.

Then she was in front of him and he reached out, catching her around the waist and pulling her down beside him onto the sand that was suddenly hot and white. She flailed at him, her cries strident as the gulls wheeling over the Pearl, and he caught her wrist and pulled her towards him, trapping her against his chest and wrapping his arms around her, holding on to her as she fought to break away.  
"It's not the sea Elanor," he heard himself say, his voice hoarse and ragged as if he had been shouting or crying for years.  
Jack pulled her face against his shoulder, she was Elanor he suddenly recalled, catching her hands in his and holding them tightly as once strong finger had held his own. He spoke into her hair as he fought against her attempts to break away, his mother's song echoing amongst her tears,  
"Look luv, look," he tightened his grip on her hands, "it's not the sea. You can't run to it, it won't aid you. It's not the sea."


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36 Mind games**

They sat on the sand and avoided looking at each other, both silent, neither sure what there was to be said, nor what there was that was wise to say. Somehow they were both certain that the other had seen something important and something similar to their own vision. The mind games played by this place, if that was what they were, appeared to have a set of rules and a worrying degree of consistency. Neither of them wanted to speculate much on why that might be. Though for the moment neither of them was thinking very much at all, for though the vision had passed the feelings it had stirred were less quick to fade.

Elanor couldn't have said how long she had stayed there, held by Jack and lost in the past and her private misery. She thought she might have put her arms around his neck and sobbed at one point, but she wasn't sure, and didn't want to be. Just as she didn't want to be sure that he had allowed it; though she thought that he had sat holding her, gently, and without a word, for some time, with his eyes wide and sad and fixed on another place. She was sure that her face had been pressed to wet linen for a while and that beneath that she had felt blood heat and a heart beat, her relief at the reality of it too great to explain. He was alive then, unlike the subjects of her imagining, and so therefore, in all probability, was she, which might or might not be something to be glad of. In the uncounted time she sat there submerged in her sense of loss there was no feeling of gladness at that survival only a greater sense of guilt, that she lived while they did not.

Elanor wasn't certain that Jack knew that she was there, circled by his arm, for after those desperate words he seemed to retreat, to become lost in his own world again. She thought she had felt a slight but constant tremor in the arms around her shoulders and he might have laid his face against her hair for a moment or two, though she wasn't certain of that either.

But eventually she had turned her face away from the body warm shirt and moved to sit straight. He had drawn a deep breath as she did so and released her immediately, and without comment. They returned from those long ago places then, and had risked a single look at each other, both uncertain, almost ashamed of what the other might have seen, before turning away to stare at the water that was not the sea in silence.

That look had been enough for her to know that his eyes were reddened and strained in the silver blue light and that faint but visible smudges marked his cheekbones. The water droplets glistening on his eyelashes and at the corners of his moustache could have been condensation, or they might have been something else entirely. She hated to think what her own eyes were like; they felt bad enough, hot and swollen, as if her eyelids had been bitten by a thousand gnats.

When he got to his feet, she followed him, pushing her hair behind her and braiding it fiercely. For a moment they stood, side by side, and stared at what they had taken for the sea.

Now it was clear that lake was more the word for it, and then again it was not. Maybe the word was lagoon, or swamp, or inlet, for it was all of these and yet none of them. The boundary of it was uncertain, its shape and size seeming to shift in the hazy light. Though there was an e between the water and the sands that enclosed it that too was unstable, the two merging into one another then separating again as if they were both land and water at the time, as if their differences were only surface deep. The air above it seemed opaque as if it absorbed the little light that there was, the atoms of the air becoming thickened with a wrapping of light, and the surface of the water had an oiled sheen with an almost metallic edge to it. 'Like molten steel' she found herself thinking. It had a silent and secretive air about it too, perhaps in part because it showed no sign of life, unlike the chaos of the world above it. But the water was water, sea or lake, she was sure of that and the colour of it, a clear, but dark, watered green, suggested that it was very deep, whatever else it was.

Looking at it made her uncomfortable, stirring fears of monsters and sudden death that she thought she had conquered long ago. It was so still, no wind rippled the silken surface, no birds wheeled across it, and no fish jumped within it; and yet there was somehow the strong impression that it was not dead. Elanor shivered slightly as she looked at it, something about it suggested that, for all its stillness, it was very alive indeed.

Jack moved a pace or two closer and stood, hand on hips, watching the play of light across the smooth surface. 'It looks cold' he thought, 'despite the heat of the air. Very cold. But alive, almost as if it is watching us.' The thought brought a sudden shiver and send his hand reaching for his pistol butt. Yet there was something that drew him towards it even as his fingers closed over the familiar stock, a pull as insistent but unknowing as the pull of north for a compass needle. He took another step towards it and away from Elanor,  
"Strange place for a lake, if that is what it is," he said eventually.  
He spoke quietly, almost to himself yet loud enough for her to hear if she wished to listen, but was annoyed to find that, for all his attempt at world weary insouciance, his voice carried a harsher rasp than usual. She didn't reply and in some way he was glad of it, for he found that he was uncomfortable with her presence and resentful of her intrusion into his sorrow; of all things that should have been his alone. Something she might have seen more of than he liked. He wanted to pretend that she wasn't there and yet he couldn't, any more than he could forget the grief of moments before. But it could not be changed, just like the cause of it, and all he could hope was that she had been occupied enough with her own loss. Remembering her flight to the water he felt a little reassured, there was no doubt that she had been as distraught as he might have been, whatever it was that she had seen.

Jack didn't really need to ask to know what that had been.

Elanor watched him silently, almost seeing his thoughts in his frown. The stiffness in his shoulders spoke volumes about his discomfort at her presence, at her seeing what he thought she might have been seeing, and he was obviously uncertain about how to go forward while he felt so exposed. Jack Sparrow was probably unused to people seeing things of him that he didn't want them to see. She knew just how he felt.

Warily he cast a wary glance back at her over his shoulder,  
"You'd have though that it would have spilled into the sea when the island sunk. Or did whatever it did to create this place."  
He heard her draw a deep breath, and then the whisper of shifting sand as she came closer. When it came her voice was husky but the words followed on from his and in a similar manner, calm and controlled.  
"I agree, but then the whole place is strange." There was a slight pause before she resumed, "this blue light is different to the light up there but I can't see why. There is no moon or stars, nor any lamp that I can make out, so why is there light at all? If there is then why is it different down here?"  
Jack shook his head,  
"Can't help you on that." He gave her another hesitant look, "but it seems as keen on mind games down here as it was up there."  
"Yes." She let a long breath out in a hiss on the word. "I noticed."  
They both knew that nothing more would be said on the subject.

Between them and the waters edge was a wide and shelving beach that, as far as they could see, circled the whole way around. Certainly it seemed to disappear into the distance on both sides, but the oddly shifting light made it hard to judge how far that might be. Whatever the distance it would not be an easy walk for tongues of rock, sharp and wide with ridged and folded surfaces, stuck out into the waters on either side of them. 'Like liquorish larded tongues' Elanor found herself thinking, 'as if the land is mocking the water.' But they would be a hard climb and she was aware of the reaction to the trauma of the grief sending spears of fatigue into her blood and muscle. There was little choice though, unless they tried to climb back up to the forest hanging above them. Knowing what waited there was not much incentive to do that. She looked at the rock bones again; it might be worth the effort of the climb for they should prove a good vantage point from which to decide where they should go next. Maybe they would even give them a sight of the fountain, assuming there was one here to be seen.

They were standing on the back edge of the beach and behind them the slope they had tumbled down showed black and glassy where they had torn the plant life from the underlying rock in their fall. The sand beneath their boots was no more commonplace than that rock or the water in front of them, for it shone a silvery grey in the strange half light and its surface looked as cold as the water. Like shattered pearl it seemed insubstantial, a disconcerting surface to walk upon. Jack stared down at it for a moment, knowing that he didn't trust the look of it but also knowing that they had little choice if they were to finish this matter to his satisfaction. Certainly he had no intention of climbing back up that slope for a while yet.

He found himself strangely disinclined to move, wondering what waited for them if they set out on a trek across these sands, a benighted strip that reminded so much of things he wished to avoid. Yet there was no other way that he could think of. Nor would it be good to be seen to hang back, for she might decide to cut and run given her anguish of moments ago. Jack pushed the echoes of his own aguish away and squared his shoulders; turning back towards the lake he waved a fluttering hand in its direction, his rings sparking all colours of the rainbow in the silver light.  
"Is this it then do you think? The fountain of youth?"

Elanor gave that a moment of thought before shaking her head, even though he was turned away from her,  
"Can't see a fountain Jack, but I'll grant you that might just be a picturesque description rather than a factual one."  
He shrugged and looked down, frowning and kicking his toe into the sand for a moment or two, then he shrugged again,  
"Only one way to find out. We'll have to walk around it. The compass says its here, the fountain, whatever it looks like. "  
He pushed away a sudden memory of the compass's past confusions. Was he so sure that he wanted to find the fountain after all? Was there something here that he didn't know about but that some part of him would want more? ''Course not ' he scoffed at himself. There was nothing more important than ridding himself of the gnawing fear of the locker, a fear that had been his constant companion, sleeping and waking, since he had sailed back to the living seas. No the fountain was here.  
"So it is here." he heard himself say, "It might be on the other side."

Something tightened in his chest and he turned towards her, his face stiff as his shoulders,  
"You don't have to come with me if you chose not. I'll agree this place is not safe and if you want to stay here I'll not argue with that."  
She gave him a faint half smile,  
"And staying here alone would make it safer?" She shook her head, and straightened her shoulders as if preparing to face an enemy, "No I'll come with you, I can't tell you why but I've a strong feeling that we are safer when we are together."  
Jack frowned briefly again then nodded before spinning around and starting out across the sand, but not quickly enough to hide the relief in his face. Half a dozen paces away he stopped again and threw a challenging smile back over his shoulder,  
"Well come on then, no sense in delaying. Sooner we move sooner we gain our treasure."  
Then with a flick of his head he sauntered away.

With a faint sigh, and a feeling of relief at the resuming of normal relations, she followed him.

***

As another evening fell Hathaway and Groves extended their acquaintance with Tortuga, an experience that Groves at least could well have done without.

His fear of discovery was somewhat lessened he had to admit, for even his mother would not have recognised him now. The sweat had turned his hair to rats tails and the dust and sand blown on the hot wind had gathered on his scalp like the crust on an old and unused canon, his shirt was patched with dark sweat stains, and ale stains too where they had been brushed by some of the towns more inebriated occupants. His sweat slicked skin shone as if greased in the light of the tavern flames and more dirt and dust had found its way into the creases at wrist and elbow and under his fingernails, joining the layer they had engrained there before starting this venture. The men and women who passed them in the narrow alleys didn't even give them a glance.

Looking across at Hathaway Groves could not be surprised, knowing himself to look no better he could only be glad that the port was very poorly provided with mirrors, or even window glass come to that. For the first time it occurred to him that Sparrow had always been remarkably tidy, and even clean, for a man who lived with little benefit of civilisation and frequented such places.

He wondered for a moment if James Norrington had managed to maintain his fastidious neatness in such a place, if he had then Groves could not imagine how.

They had swilled their heads and forearms in a water butt beside the barn where they had slept the afternoon away, but that was as close to washing as they had come since they had left the Intrepid. Groves was sure that he stank, for the heavy air did not dry the sweat the effort of moving produced. Though they had returned to their lodgings as the day faded towards night it had been to do nothing more than collect a coin or two from the small stash Hathaway had secreted beneath the floor boards, and to be seen. Then they had set off to find food and ale as any other male occupant, and many female occupants, of this town would do at this hour.

The sound of shouting and the rasp of steel on steel had steered them away from the quay and towards a quieter area; getting killed in a street brawl formed no part of their orders, at least as far as Groves was aware it didn't. The cook shops were doing good business and it took them time to find one where they could find a safe place to sit. After a bowl of thin stew, 'better not to think of the likely contents' Groves reminded himself, and a surprisingly good sweet suet duff, rich with banana and molasses, washed down with a passable ale, they set off to seek information once again.

But the rounds of the taverns provided no new information, at least none they could find without asking too many questions, at least not until they came across the woman.

***

The pearly sand was soft and deep, running over their boots like something alive and catching at their ankles as they walked. Each step seemed to take forever and the muscles of her legs were aching well before they made the first of proved to be bountiful rocky obstructions.

They had crossed the first rocky tongue with little more than scraped hands and knees, for though the rock was deeply ridged and folded it was not sharp. Looking at it more closely Elanor noted the glass like nature of it, as if it had been softened in great heat and had flowed towards the water until the weight of it, or something now gone, had brought it to a halt.

They had climbed the crest of it and stared out towards the water but in the end they had gained little by the effort, for all the vantage point had shown them was a seemingly larger stretch of placid water, its edge curving much as it had done when they stood on the sands and with more of the rocky outcrops dividing the continuing sweep of shore. Jack had sworn long and emphatically in a language she did not recognise, at least she had assumed from his thunderous frown that that was what he was doing. He had caught up a small pebble and cast it towards the water, but it had fallen far short of the edge even though she would have sworn that it should not have done so. That had brought another curse. Drawing a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, glared in the direction of the shoreline and then spun around and set off again without a word. Slithering down the far side of the rock to the sands as if he didn't notice the drop.

They had tried again at the second one and the third but by the fourth they were exhausted, leg muscles turned to lead and knee and hip joints screaming protest. The sand seemed to have become thicker and softer, requiring that they wade through it rather than walk across it, and it seemed that they had been wading for hours. As they slithered rather than climbed down the side of that fourth impertinent tongue of rock both of them knew they needed rest. The air was hot and lazy, even this distance below the forest, and the shore line was still shrouded in the silver blue light, it seemed to soften the line between land and water and rock and sand and there was no sign of a return to the brighter light that they had seen in the forest above them.

They collapsed into a heap on the sand and leant back against the glassy rock,  
"Seems like we are getting nowhere," Jack grumbled as he dropped his pack onto the floor beside him and pulled out the water bottle.  
"I know. Each stretch of sand looks just like every other and the view of the water doesn't change either. Even these rock outcrops look the same. So how do we know if we are half way around or even if we have arrived back at where we started?"  
He shrugged, thought for a moment and then clambered to his feet, after a second ot two more thought he pulled a long thick thread from the frayed sash around his waist, rolled it into a little ball and stuffed it well down into a small hole in the rock,  
"Each time we check, if we don't see this then we know we are still on new ground."  
He collapsed onto the sand again, leaning back and rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand,  
"I don't know how long we've been here but it feels like days."  
"Yes, it does. I need sleep. You need sleep too."  
"Aye, but not both of us at once. I'll not have some conniving beasties catching us unawares."  
Elanor looked around at the barren shoreline,  
"I agree, though I'm not sure where they would come from."  
Jack considered the silent green waters through narrowed eyes then nodded his head in its direction,  
"I'd say that has a trick or too up it's watery sleeve."  
He sighed, then with a sudden bound got to his feet again sketching a bow before indicating the shelter of the rock spar with a circling hand,  
"Your couch milady." He quirked an eyebrow and smiled, "rest easy, I'll stand as your ever watchful guardian."  
Elanor suppressed a smile, and graciously inclined her head before stretching out on the sand. There was a moment when she wondered why it was so cold when the air was so warm then she was asleep.

***

Groves wasn't sure which of Captain Hathaway's skills he admired, or feared the most. The man's ability to fit himself to his surroundings had to be high up the list, but maybe not any higher than his ability to get people to talk; this second skill certainly made Groves nervous when alone in his company. How and where he had honed such a skill was something the nervous lieutenant didn't want to think much about, for he was sure that was a course that would lead into very uncomfortable waters. It said much for those skills that he managed to get them a place opposite one of the few people in Tortuga who might know what Gibbs and even Sparrow were up to, and to keep her talking when she had other calls upon her time. For it was likely that she was no lady of leisure.

Her name was Giselle, or so she claimed, and it was clear that she was what he mother would have described as a ruined woman, however it was also quite clear that by Tortuga standards she had some way to go to ruin. Whore she might well be, probably was, but she was as far from the drabs they had seen haunting the poorer parts of town as his sister would be from her. Yet she was not the youngest of her profession they had seen, as he let his eyes wander the room he could see girls who were barely of an age to put up their hair and let down their skirts curled in the laps of drunken men and whispering enticements to pay to climb the stairs to the tawdry rooms above. But the woman opposite was no young girl, in his circles she would have been married some seasons ago, or having nightmares of being forever being a spinster.

Groves looked her over carefully as Hathaway provided her with a wine, taking care not to meet her eyes. They had heard that she was one of Sparrow's favourites, that she and one other woman commanded all his attentions when he was in port, and he wondered how much of her prosperity depended upon that. For her relative prosperity was flaunted for all to see. Her dress was more than fine by Tortuga standards it was glorious, the golden coloured watered silk of the tight bodice and flowing skirt almost unmarked and the dark embroidery, bows and floss and lace trimming were intact. All of which suggested that this was not her only dress. As simple attire it was a mile away from the dark homespun and soiled linen shifts of the other street walkers they had come across, but more that that for it had a style and refinement unusual in one of her probable profession and in such a place. Her carefully painted face and elaborately arranged hair also spoke of her status, it seemed unlikely she had ever tussled for a coin in a dark alley dressed this way. The fine pendent earrings she wore might not have been diamond but they were good imitations and set in gold, certainly they would not have remained her possession for long had she been a street walking drab. Someone had provided the lady with some very expensive and fine attire and ensured that she kept hold of it, Groves doubted that it had come from a dockside pimp. Not a whore then, more a courtesan if such a thing could exist here. Most telling was that Giselle had an air of independence about her, and that she looked a man in the eye and did not cringe or jump when a voice was raised across the room. No, if it hadn't been for the very quality of her dress, and the low cut of her neckline, far lower than modesty decreed, and that careful face paint he might have taken her for the widow of a wealthy merchant or the spoilt daughter of a successful captain.

But whatever else she was it seemed that she was indeed a favourite of Jack Sparrow. Or that she hoped that she was. For it had not taken Hathaway long to get her to talk on the subject of the man.  
"Jack's not been in port for more than a two month now. That means he's got something profitable underway for he never stays away that long unless he's up to something."  
"Always profitable is it, what Jack Sparrow gets up to?"  
Her smile was almost proprietorial and certainly proud,  
"Not wanted on three continents for nothin' is he?"  
"Heard he were in port near a month ago, " Hathaway drawled, then watched her closely over the top of his tankard, "with a woman so says."  
"Not true. Can't be otherwise I would have seen him." She raised her glass to Hathaway with a wry smile; "if he'd kept company with Scarlett instead then she would have made sure that I knew of it."  
Hathaway shook his head,  
"Maybe he didn't see either of you, maybe he kept hisself to this woman they talk of."  
Giselle snorted,  
"Not Jack, if he were here Scarlett or me would have known, " her hand strayed up to those fine earrings, "He'd not come and go without dallying a little." A sudden thought occurred to her and a frown creased her forehead, "though he was strange the last time we saw him 'tis true."

"From what I hear he's always strange." Hathaway scoffed seeming uninterested as he refilled her glass, though nothing could have been further from the truth.  
Giselle shook her head as she took a gulp of wine,  
"Only those that don't know him say that, or those that don't understand." She set her glass down with a snap, and looked down at the scarred table top "Jack's a clever man you see, more than most, and he had an education," she said the unfamiliar words with pride as if in some way it reflected on her. "Reads does Jack, books and things and not just what he has to read. He makes maps too with the most wonderful drawings and a fine script," the pride emerged again, "he can write just like a gentleman. Uses words I ain't never heard before as if they were ordinary!"  
Her eyes came up to meet Hathaway's and Groves was surprised to see the look there, pride again and affection and something else that softened her look,  
"He's a pirate but he ain't like most, he ain't a bully. Never asked what a girl might not want to give, nor raised a hand against me or Scarlett, or any other woman I ever heard of, and I'll admit that on occasions ..well we might have given him some cause. What another man might think cause anyways. I've slapped him more than a time or two, aye and refused him when I was weary, but he's never hit back with hand or word, nor given sign that he might. I've seen him angry, and made him angry a few times, but he's never given me cause for complaint. "

"Your protector is he?" Hathaway asked slowly,  
Groves didn't understand what he was saying until he saw the anger flare in the woman's eyes,  
"Jack's no pimp." She hissed. "If he were.... well there's more than one woman who would be weeping into the night. Took a governor's daughter some time back he did, and never laid a hand on her, handed her back to her father in the state he found her. Not many would do that. Not if they knew the price he could have had for her here or in one of the bawdy houses of the east, even if he'd taken his pleasure first. There's many a Spanish nobleman, aye and gentleman too, who would enjoy the rape of an English governors daughter. He could have had his fun with her and some profit too."  
Groves swallowed hard and tried not to think about the fate that Elizabeth had found, not much better in the end than the one the woman opposite spoke of, and it had been Beckett who had sold her into it not the pirate. He looked up to see the glare fading from Giselle's face,  
"Got a good heart has Jack, and there are those who will tell you that he never chose this life. I don't know about that, but I do know that he's no devil or beast for all the posters say about his crimes."  
She took another swallow of wine and pointed a finger at Hathaway,  
"But don't go thinking that means he's soft for he ain't, pirate he is for whatever reason and clever man that he is he's good at it, possibly the best there has ever been, and I ain't forgetting about Morgan and Bartholomew neither! No pirate he is sure enough and pirate Lord too. Can be a hard man, but always fair, even those that have taken again him admit that. "

"Owes a lot of people money so I've heard. Maybe they'd have a different view." Groves spoke for the first time and she seemed surprised at his temerity, for she looked him over haughtily before she inclined her head in his direction, for all the world like a dowager duchess accepting a man's hand in the dance for her daughter.  
"Maybe he does, but that doesn't mean he ain't got no money. " She spoke kindly still in duchess mode, "he don't carry it around with him that's all."  
Her hand stroked the silk over her thighs and the duchess look gave way to the saucy servant girl. She cast an uncertain look from Groves to Hathaway and back again but the wine was wearing down her caution and she suddenly smiled and leaned forward across the table, though taking care to keep her dress from touching it,  
"And for good reason. Jack likes to owe people money, more than the reward for him that is, he says that livin' in the hope of being paid disinclines them to sell him to the authorities." She giggled and leaned closer, "Once when he was in a really good mood he told me that he when he became a pirate lord he made sure that he owed all the other pirate Lords a lot of money so that it gave them and their captains a motivation not to attack him and to help him stay alive."  
"He said that did he?" Hathway said faintly, "My, my." his words tailed off uncertainly.  
Groves repressed a smile for Hathway was looking uncharacteristically stunned.

Giselle sat back in her chair smiling at Hathaway's look.  
"Aye he did. Told you, Jack's a clever man." The pride was back in her voice, "Cos he's right, if he's dead they don't get paid and nothing like the hope of being paid to keep people on your side." She winked at the two men over the rim of her glass, "at least when you've got a pistol or two and sword at your belt, and enough grit to prevent them taking it out of your hide."  
"But strange." Groves spoke up again, "You said he was strange the last time you saw him, maybe one of those people he owed money too decided they would settle for his hide instead."  
Giselle shook her head,  
"No, he weren't worried or afraid, even when he saw his ship were gone." She frowned in recollection, "but surprised like and then sad, and sort of weary. That ship meant it all to him or so it seemed. When he saw it gone again it.... well ... it were only then that he said some strange things, it were like...like he were goin' away and never coming back. So he were sayin' things that he'd thought before but not said, or that he'd never dared to say before Slapped him real heard we did." Her look changed and suddenly she seemed upset, "Like he were never comin' back again so he were setting the record straight."  
Both Hathaway and Groves suppressed a flinch at the sudden fear flaring in her eyes, and not just fear, for as she spoke the last words tears brightened her eyes and both men wondered just how much Jack Sparrow was her in reality her protector, even when he wasn't here, and how much she dreaded him being gone. Certainly she was horrified at the thought that he might never return and her fingers strayed up to those earrings again as if touching some form of enchanted talisman. They seemed to give her some reassurance because she straightened her back and took a deep swallow of her wine,  
"But o'course it were just Jack nonsense. He'll be back, he always does. When he's got his ship back again he'll make port here soon as he can. I'm sure of it."

But they were not sure that even she believed it.

Jack wasn't sure how long he stood sentinel, staring out towards the still water, for there was nothing to mark time in this place, nor was he sure why he decided to climb the rock sheltering them again. But climb it he did, checking at intervals to make sure Elanor was still sleep. She did not stir, lying curled in the sand with her hair splayed behind her and one hand resting on her belt, as if ready to summon the lightening even in her sleep. He smiled lazily to himself as he climbed, there was no denying she was a useful ally, she and her ship and he with his would make for a legend to rival that of the Dutchman.

Yet the Dutchman's legend was fading, for all the eyes that had seen it. Jack had expected nothing less, for men had always been good at discounting that which was uncomfortable. There was no denying the ferryman was that, for if he existed after all what else might not be as they had thought? More than the parson in his pulpit had cause to banish such thought in a hurry. The days in Tortuga had revealed that the legend of the Flying Dutchman was already changing, old stories and new ones fusing to produce a hybrid that did not really reflect past or present. One thing was clear though, to the common sailor the name of Davy Jones lived on while Will Turner remained unknown.

Only those with cause to recall the Dutchman still, and motivation to remember what she was and had done, hung on to the undeniable truth of her. But they, too, did not know of Will and assumed Jones still to be at the helm; which was why they were hunting him of course, for they must believe he had forced Jones to destroy the Endeavour, or freed him to do so. Believing that they must also believe that he had gained a hold over Jones. A misapprehension he would not correct, for many reasons. Though it had been hard to persuade Teague to agree, he had not taken to Elizabeth, nor Will, and only the reminder that their Lordships belief in such a hold would keep the Navy from Shipwreck had convinced him.

But he had given his word and, like Barbossa, he would stick to it. Jack had been careful to make sure that the bargain he stuck to was, in all detail, the one that was necessary. Only Teague and his crew, and Jack, knew where Elizabeth was now. He had hoped that soon even they would be able to forget, but what he had seen and heard in Tortuga raised uncomfortable possibilities,and it might yet be wise to move her beyond even Teague's knowing. For though the man would keep to his word he might not hold his tongue, not when in his cups. One man at least had survived the sinking of the Endeavour, maybe more, and there was no certainty that they hadn't seen Elizabeth, nor even that they had not seen William. With enough time to think about it a clever man might work it out. Even the navy must have some clever men, one that had surviced Beckett.

He needed the Pearl, once had found the fountain he would set his mind to taking her back again. He looked down again at Elanor still sleeping below him, would she lend him her aid again after this trek? Would she help him regain the Pearl? Perhaps for maybe she would want rid of him? Maybe she already wanted rid of him, for she must regret the presence of another captain on her ship however silent she had been on the subject. If he explained to her that he needed the ship to netter hide Elizabeth then perhaps she might help him, though in truth he had seen no sign of motherly instincts in her at all and she might well not take to the Governor's daughter.

Jack grinned to himself as he let his mind wander over the possibilities involved in the meeting of the two of them, an encounter with interesting possibilities of various kinds.

But he needed the Pearl for he could not take herself and her ship with its ghost to Elizabeth and risk them being spotted. That would draw a lot of very unwelcome attention, just when he would most need to avoid it. He halted in his climb, but if he took the Pearl then he would need a crew, and they would know what he didn't want them to know. Bugger! He could kill them he supposed, but was he really ready to do that? No, he knew he was not. He had every intention of having to live with himself for a very long time yet, and killing a crew to protect Elizabeth's safety would mean that he couldn't. It seemed that he had no choice, not even if they found the fountain, he would have to plead with Elanor and hope they didn't get spotted. Bugger!

In a spurt of irritation he leaned against the rock and stared out towards the silent water. Well offshore the air was thickening and a haze hung above the surface, like a sea fret. Through the mist he could see a shadow, it took several moments for him to realise it was a ship at anchor. Tall and dark, sails reefed, her mast clawing black fingers up towards the featureless sky, the Black Pearl sat on the green water and waited for him


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37 : In the eye of the beholder **

The Pearl!

He felt a grin form, stretching ear to ear, the joy of the sighting sending shocks along every nerve ending. The Pearl had found him. He should not have doubted her.

Ten years they had been separated, ten years of plotting and planning and grieving at every bloody raid he had heard of. The Pearl had deserved a better fate than tattered sails and infamy, and he had been unable to help her, just as he had been unable to help when Beckett... No he would not think of Beckett, or of Jones, not now. They were gone, all that stood between him and his ship now was a stretch of green water and one very human pirate, and Barbossa would discover that Jack Sparrow had learnt a lot in those ten years.

But it was clear that the Pearl did not intend it to be another ten years of parting. He should have trusted her, and for a moment he was ashamed that he had not. They had escaped the locker together and it was obvious that she intended that they would be together again. He would not make her wait.

He scanned the shoreline impatiently, but there was no boat there. Still he couldn't expect it, she had found him here but she couldn't force the crew to come and get him. No matter, the distance wasn't great and he'd swum further. A little effort and her decks would be beneath his feet again, her ropes beneath his hands, and he would not lose her another time.

With a laugh he set off across the sand, shedding those things that would slow him down as he went. There was a moment of sudden doubt as he knotted his sash around his sword, he'd better know where to find them once he had the Pearl back, a feeling that there was something else he needed to take care of. But the memory eluded him, all that shone in his mind was the recollection of the loss that was about to be washed away. With a final flourish he tied the knot and headed out across the remaining sand towards the water and his waiting lady.

***

On the waters the Lady stood alone and still, the shadow of her hat hiding her frown even though there was no one to see it. She could feel Calypso in the world beyond, but knew that the sea goddess has spoken no less than the truth when she said she could be of no help here, for these waters had passed beyond her reach long ago. Passed beyond the reach of all but the old ones and they too were long gone, and even their legacy was failing now. Failing perhaps, but not fast enough for the changing world outside.

There was little that even she could do here, the old ones had set down the rules and she could not change them, though given her intentions she would not do that even if she could. But the game would never be more perilous than it was at this moment, if they survived the machinations if the silver blue cloud they would be prepared for what remained to be done, but they might yet fail. Her captain slept, wrapped in dreams, while Calypso's captain wandered, a lost soul, along roads she could not fathom. Danger stalked them both but he was in greatest peril, for his loss was most recent and so the wounds still raw for all his smiles and playacting.

She could not see what he saw but she could read the yearning in him, the longing for that which was gone. She could feel them coming but she could do nothing to stop them, and if they caught him alone and unawares, trapped beyond the safety of land, then he would be lost.

The Lady watched as he advanced upon the waterline, if he ventured beyond his depth then she would lose him. But she was not helpless; none were less so, for of all of them she was not restrained by rule or allegiances. She stared past Jack to her sleeping captain and spread her fan, watching the images there shift for a moment before she turned her head back towards the advancing man, and the sleeping woman he was leaving behind, and smiled.

***  
Elanor had been dreaming, she had been back in her early days in the navy, on her first sea voyage as an officer. The dream had been vivid and bitter sweet, the familiar faces so real, the events so well recalled; and yet as she had drifted across the decks and through the corridors some part of her had known that it was a dream. Known too what was to come and the sadness that was waiting, the sadness of a loss that would never be forgotten however many there had been since then, or were yet to come.

A cascade of dirt and pebble woke her, another clout of earth disturbed by the shifting in the forest above sending a shower of debris to the sand before landing there beside her with a dull thud. The sound dragged her from sleep, from the past to the present. She sat up slowly and looked around for Jack, realising with a surge of something close to panic that she could not see him. It seemed that her guard had deserted her at the first opportunity.

Elanor struggled to get to her feet, her joints protesting as if she had been sleeping for hours in a draught, a heaviness in her limbs that suggested that her sleep had been very deep. Running a hand over her eyes she struggled to throw off her lethargy.  
'I'm was a fool' she told herself! Why did I believed him when he said that he would stay? He wanted the fountain so very badly, why should I believed that he would have the sense to wait for me?'  
If half his stories had even a grain of truth in them then he had no reason to rely on any one but himself, so why had she been fool enough to assume that he would trust her to see him through this! No doubt he thought that he could do it better alone, and, for all his words about safety, in the end that need had mattered more than her well being.

Elanor raised her head to stare across the sand, a little worm of doubt uncurling itself in her mind and swamping the anger. This place might well take the choice from him, from either of them come to that. She looked up at the spar of rock above her, and then back up to where the hanging forest waited, shrouded in mist. The worm became a snake and her anxiety grew, though she couldn't say how or why some part of her had become certain that what was happening to them here was not random. Jack might not have realised that he was leaving her.

Either way he was gone and she would have to look to both their safety because she doubted that the place was finished with either of them yet, whatever it was about. With a sigh she scanned the finger of rock, the nearest ledge was little more than three feet above the level of her head and there were folds aplenty to use, with another sigh she flexed her fingers and began the scramble up. From there it was a little climb to the next shelf and then a steep walk up to the lowest part of the backbone of this outcrop. In the dim light she could barely see across this division of the beach to the next rock spar and she hadn't really expected to see him, for there was no way of knowing how long since he left and he could be half way around the lake by now.

But he had not gone far.

Jack had shed his baldric, boots and pistols, leaving them as a forlorn looking little pile on the moonshine sand, his sword was standing proud beside them, point buried in that sand, his sash tied around its hilt. The owner of these discarded effects was striding down the beach obviously headed for the water, walking with what could only described as a joyful swagger in his step, his head cocked and with his eyes locked on something out in the lake. Elanor scanned the lake but all she could see was water, and, as the mist thinned a little for a moment, somewhere in the distance a column of black rock. She rubbed her eyes, not quite believing what she was seeing, but there seemed no doubts that he was heading for the water, and little doubt that he was intending to swim out to something he thought that he could see. Jack was good swimmer but the water looked to be cold, and even if it wasn't why would he suddenly decide to swim when there was nothing and no where for him to swim too? Wearily she folded her knees and sat, it might cause less trouble to let him get on with whatever he thought he was about than risk his annoyance at being prevented. She would wait.

Then her last conversation with Ariadne before they left came into her mind.

"The map indicates the water of life, not the fountain of youth. "Ariadne had almost sounded concerned, uncertain even, "the difference may mean nothing or it may mean everything."  
"You mean that there may be two artefacts there?" she had asked.  
"Perhaps, though that seems unlikely." The words seemed to come unwillingly as if Ariadne did not want to speculate. Which was unlikely. But then Ariadne had seemed a little strange these last few weeks, which was, of itself, more than a little bizarre.

Elanor had sat on the edge of the console, swinging her leg as she thought around the implications  
"Or one thing that has acquired more than one name," she said finally.  
"Yes. That seems more likely." Ariadne still sounded uneasy.  
"Which means. anything important do you think?"  
"That depends upon which description is more accurate in the long term. Also the degree to which it is truly accurate."  
"Riddles Ariadne? That's not like you, but then you sound as if the whole business causes you more problems than it should."  
"Define problems." Ariadne did not sound as dismissive as Elanor would have wished.

She thought about that for a moment,  
"What is it that makes you so hesitant about your conclusions?" she asked eventually.  
Ariadne was silent for a moment as if debating what to say,  
"There is too little known about the mind set of the people who named it. Or indeed of the people who drew the map. There are .. features of the map that warn that taking care in coming to conclusions about it would be advisable."  
The replies were coming more slowly than usual, if she hadn't known better she would have assumed that Ariadne was worried.  
"Specifically?" Elanor prompted,  
"What did they mean by life or youth. The water of life could mean many things after all."  
Elanor sighed, she had already spent more than one disturbed night thinking about that fact,  
"I know. It could mean that it gives it or it might not. It might mean that it animates the inanimate, or brings back the dead. Or even that it absorbs life, takes it to itself."  
If Ariadne could have nodded she would have done so,  
"Yes, that possibility is of particular concern, yet it is a valid interpretation of the words. The illustration on the original map does not help in determining the meaning of the name, for though it shows life and death touching it does not indicate which way the exchange, for want of a better term, is."  
"Which might mean that they simply assumed that it was life to death, or that they knew it was and expected every other reader of the map to do the same or it might mean something more threatening."  
"Yes. Or it may mean that it can run either way depending upon conditions we have no knowledge of, but that they assumed the map reader would have."

Elanor rubbed a hand over her eyes,  
"It gets worse! I shouldn't have agreed to this. If everything here is a hallucination I must have one hell of a fever!"  
She drew a deep breath,  
"So do I back out? He'll go alone if I do and I'm not sure that I could stand back and watch him do it. Gibbs will go with him whatever I decide and I'm not sure I am willing to lose the pair of them."  
She sighed,  
"Actually I know I'm not willing to lose either of them. Jack can be a.. challenge, but I've grown used to him. He's trying to avoid rubbing me up the wrong way and in the circumstances I'm not sure I can expect more than that. Certainly he's done nothing that warrants me leaving him to die. Even if he wants me to."  
"I had noticed that he has become less confrontational since you returned from Tortuga."  
Elanor gave a small chuckle,  
"He's given up trying to shock me. Being captain means a lot to him and I think he's accepted me as such. Jack seems to judge people by what they can do, rather than what they are. Maybe it's a pirate thing, maybe it's just him, I don't know enough to tell which. Either way, I'm not letting him go alone, which means either I go to or I hit him over the head, lock him below decks and get the hell out of here before he manages to break the door down!"  
Ariadne had been silent for a moment, but when she spoke again she astonished Elanor.  
"Assuming you could leave here if you wish to."

Elanor stared at the console,  
"Why wouldn't I be able to?"  
Ariadne seemed to think about what she said next,  
"It was remarkably difficult to find this place. Almost as if it is not usually here to be found. The scanners show no shipping in the vicinity at all; in fact they are showing nothing of the world beyond a few miles out. It is almost as if we are in some form of bubble that separates us from the rest of the world."  
"What! How long has that been the case?"  
Ariadne ignored that comment, again something unusual, and continued,  
" While this makes it more likely that this is all a fevered construct produced by your mind that does not mean that it won't obey certain rules, and there is no way of knowing what will happen if we try to break them. But it seems likely that if your subconscious wishes us to be here, as it must, then here we will stay here until its objective is achieved."  
"And if it's not my mind generating this place?"  
"Then it may be that we are here for a reason and we will not be allowed to leave this island until we have achieved what is intended."

Elanor was silent while she absorbed that idea.  
"So you don't think that we can leave?"  
"I think that there is a distinct possibility that we could not. Or that we would find ourselves returning here one way or another even if we did manage to get away."  
"In which case we might as well avoid the wasted effort and get on with it."  
"Yes, which might be what we are intended to assume of course."  
"Ariadne, stop it! You are giving me a headache."  
There was silence for a moment, then she sighed and shrugged,  
"So we go on, do you have any advice about how we proceed?"  
"With extreme caution,"  
"Naturally. With Jack around anything else would be suicide any way. Any thing else?"  
Ariadne seemed to hesitate but eventually she responded,  
"I would advise that you take nothing for granted while you are there. I would also strongly caution you to drink nothing other than the fluids you take with you and to avoid any contact with any body of water you may find. While we do not know the true meaning of its name any fountain or water of any kind must be assumed to be dangerous."

Now, far from being cautious, Jack was striding towards a very large body of water with the apparent intention of submerging himself in it.

Elanor sprang to her feet and slithered her way back down to the sands, suddenly sure that she must not let him do anything of the sort. Catching up her backpack she set off after him calling his name as she went, but he carried on apparently oblivious to her presence. The sand was soft and deep and it made walking hard, let alone running, yet she would have sworn that she was moving faster than he was, fast enough to catch him before he made the water's edge, yet he was there before she had closed the gap between them at all.  
"Jack! Jack!" her voice echoed across the sands between them but he ignored her.  
He was on the edge now, his face turned towards the horizon, his step still jaunty and his intentions clear.

She struggled to increase her pace but it was not enough and, as she ran, she saw him step out across that shifting divide and into the water beyond. The still surface swirled around his feet and ankles as he stood for a moment as if unsure, then he was wading, the water rising to his knees, then his thighs. There was no wave or spray only the steady creep of the water up his clothes, there was something almost stealthy about it she found herself thinking. Jack seemed unaware of anything other than his unseen target. Without noticing she had left the dry sand behind and was on the wet, her heels sending clods flying behind her, the thuds as they fell drowned out by her own heavy breathing.

Now he was hip deep in water and she saw him lean forward arms extended to push away from the shore. With one last spurt she too threw caution to the winds and crossed the divide between land and water, reaching down and catching at his ankle as the water rose over his shoulders and tightened like a noose about his neck.

***

"Why does Sparrow exert such a fascination for them all?"

They had sought out the woman called Scarlett when they had left Giselle, finding her in a place that called itself a hotel and in company with a prosperous looking and youngish man with a swelling belly. She had been regaling him with tales of their quarry when they found her, like Giselle it seemed that acquaintance with Sparrow was both part of her stock in trade and a large part of her security too. More than one person lingered by their table to listen for a while and, though she was clearly not a lady, no one made any move to detach Scarlett from her mark nor to eject her from what appeared to respectable premises; by the standards of Tortuga that was. Hathaway wondered what action Sparrow had taken in the past that allowed these two, his favourite women, to live with something that appeared to be close to safety in such a place. Somehow he thought it might have been both violent and bloody, certainly unfriendly, and reminded himself again that, though neither murder nor rape appeared on his charge sheet, Sparrow had survived ten years or more as a pirate and was therefore no milksop by any one's reckoning.

They had taken seats behind the pair in an alcove usually used for illicit meetings, which if they were seen the observer might well believe they were engaged in, and listened to the tales unobserved. It was soon clear that like Giselle the woman had not seen Sparrow for some time. As the wine flowed and the man's head moved closer to the flame hair of Giselle's rival and friend, they rose and left, sidling out of the back door towards the pissplace as if their only concern was finding anonymous darkness.

Now they were sitting on a wall in the shadow of a worm eaten shack on the edge of the mudflat, and Groves was longing to be somewhere else. Yet they had another two days before the Intrepid would look for them, which meant at least one more day in this god-forsaken place. Hathaway seemed less bothered and his reply and accompanying shrug was lazy,  
"He's a pirate Lord. Then there is the fact that he has a large reward on his head, that alone means that he is a person of some distinction in their eyes. They follow his affaires in the same way, and for the same reason, that the ladies and gentlemen of society read the court circular with their chocolate each morning. His doings add some vicarious glamour to their lives. Jack Sparrow and others like him are their aristocracy, they are people of note and will do things and go places many of the people here will never do or see for themselves."  
"So all pirates get the same interest?"  
"Probably not all. But the ones who last more than a year or so without dancing at the end of the rope will attract interest I should think, though possibly not to the same degree. Sparrow is a somewhat colourful character after all, apparently clever, educated and audacious. Flamboyant and fair of face too from what I hear of him, he will have a special cachet in their minds I expect, and attract more interest as a result of that."  
Hathaway stared up at the sky through the tossing leaves of a dusty palm, watching as that wind sent clouds hurrying between the stars,  
"Though recent events will have further sharpened their interest." He added thoughtfully.

Groves cringed inside himself,  
"Because of Beckett you mean?"  
"Yes, and Jones. The stories are bound to have reached here by now."  
"You mean that everyone will know, about the heart? But if they do then we have no hope!"  
Hathaway smiled slightly,  
"Oh no, I would doubt that they know much of that. Beckett will have kept the knowledge of that to a small group of people, only those he couldn't hide it from." He rolled his head to one side and looked kindly at the other man in the fitful moonlight, "and as you well know most of them are dead, either on the Dutchman herself or when the Endeavour went down. Those that survived are either back in the navy fold or prisoners somewhere, probably Singapore."

Groves though about that then drew a deep breath,  
"The battle then?"  
"Yes they will certainly have heard of that, and I doubt that any one other than Jack Sparrow figures strongly in the stories. Which is one reason their interest in him is so strong at the moment. After all it was only the Black Pearl that went to battle in the end, so the glory, as they see it, belongs to her and her captain. Sparrow's stock will be running high at the moment."  
Hathaway picked up a small stone and bounced it across the dusty lane and against the crumbling wall opposite,  
"They won't know about the heart but the stories of Jones will continue to circulate for some time."  
Groves frowned in the direction of the stone,  
"Will that matter?"  
"No, I expect they are already getting more than a little wild. If Sparrow and Gibbs lay low for much longer then they will get so outrageous that the truth of it will be lost for ever."  
"So we still have time?"  
"Let us hope so."

Above them a thicker cloud had shut out some of the stars, and as he looked up Groves could see that others were racing in to join it.  
"There is a storm on the way."  
"Yes, and in more ways than one. Best make our way back to the lodging house, tomorrow we need to turn our attention to who else is looking for him." Hathaway got to his feet and frowned, "but I'll not deny it worries me that we have heard no word of his whereabouts. I was nearly sure that we would find that he had taken a ship and gone after the Black Pearl, but it would seem that he found no ship here."  
Groves made a half hearted effort to brush the new layer of dust from his breeches, but straightened as the first fat drop of rain landed heavily in the cartwheel ruts.  
"Do you think he is dead?"  
"I don't know."  
"Will it matter if he is?"  
"That depends on if others can be brought to believe that he is, but without a body that might be hard to do. Alive or dead he might yet bring war upon us unless we can find some evidence of him, and even if we do they may not believe he has not passed the heart, or whatever it is that he holds over Jones, on to someone else." A harsh note entered Hathaway's voice, "It appears that Beckett's treachery may cost yet more lives."

Deep in thought the two men wandered back down the road towards the quay.

***

Never had she been more grateful for her inheritance than at that moment, for had she been of this time and place he would have kicked free of her and struck out towards the centre of the lake. But her grip was strong, and though his convulsive movement wrenched her shoulder she held him, only to watch with horror as his head dipped below the level of the water for a moment. All she could do was pray that instinct took over and he didn't swallow any!

"Let me go!" he hissed, "I'll not let Barbossa get away with her again!"  
Elanor held on to his ankle as he kicked back at her,  
"With what?" She gasped as she pulled him back, dragging him like a landed fish further towards the shore.  
He twisted in her grip again turning over and landing on his hands and knees in the water.  
"Me ship o'course."  
"What ship?" Still she was towing him back towards the beach.  
Now he began to fight her in earnest, sending water and sand flying up into her face.  
"Damn you woman, The Pearl. Can you not see her?" he panted as he pulled against her.  
"No I can't. There's nothing there Jack!"  
That brought another convulsive movement that almost landed her beside him in the water.  
"Then look! There's nothing wrong with my eyesight and I can see her plain as I can see you."  
Elanor grunted and shifted to tighten her grip on him, glad that he'd shed his boots and there was no risk of him slipping them and wriggling free.  
"There's no ship there I tell you! You are seeing what this place wants you to see," she panted.

There was a sound like escaping steam as Jack scowled at her, but she thought she saw the first sliver of uncertainty in his face,  
"And why would it want me to see the Pearl if she's not here!"  
"I don't know. But how could she be here Jack? In an underground mountain in water that hasn't seen the sea in centuries?"  
His scowl deepened further and he kicked more violently,  
"She's here I tell you. Why won't you let me go? Haven't you imprisoned me long enough!"  
Elanor nearly let go of him with the shock of that, but one look at the strained face draped with soaking braids told her that he meant it, for the moment at least. She gritted her teeth and wished she understood what was going on here.  
"Imprisoned you?" she panted. "It's your choice we are here not mine. You could have stayed in Tortuga."  
He shook his head vigorously,  
"Not with the Pearl gone. I must find her and make it right."  
He stopped fighting suddenly, sitting in the water looking up at her with sorrow in his face.  
"Twice I've sent her down. Twice she has died for me. No ship should sink below the sea twice. Don't you see? But she has forgiven me, she's here and I must take her back from Barbossa. You who captain a fine ship yourself, can you not see that I cannot lose her a third time?" There was desperation in his voice, "Please! Please let me go and claim her."

This was closest she had ever seen him come to pleading and she felt a stab of sorrow for him, and though she still held him firmly her voice was soft as she replied,  
"Jack The Pearl isn't there! Look."  
He didn't take his eyes from hers,  
"Please." implored once more.  
She shook her head sadly,  
"I can't Jack, you saved me from it would you have me do any less for you?" she met the desperate eyes with a sinking heart, wondering what it would cost him to see the truth, this place had not chose the image of his ship lightly, "please look again Jack, your ship isn't there."

For a long moment he just stared at her then his shoulders slumped and reluctantly he turned to look back to the direction of the Pearl.

She was still there her canvas tidy, the black lines of her masts clear against the silver blue light, but as he watched the angle of her hull shifted, the prow rising up as she began to slip beneath the waters one further time.

Jack stared at her in disbelief, the sight of her sending waves of hurt and anger through him, a feeling that found out the newly healed places in his mind and tore, blade like through the joins. For a moment there was panic as he felt the parts separate, spinning away from each other, leaving channels of dark space between them, the separate fragments coming to rest as islands in a dark sea. Dark seas surrounded by sands so white they hurt his eyes. One part, stranded by the widest beach turned in anguish towards Elanor where she lay sleeping by the rock and screamed at her to wake and help him. She did not hear.

Then the voices arguing with each other, each one trying to shout the others down as that anguished part struggled to make itself heard, putting hands over ears to block out the strident calls of the others. He was losing her again, and with her he was losing himself. He screamed at the sky and tried to free himself from the Kraken's hold, but the tentacle held fast. The water was around his head now, the taste of blood and salt in his mouth, that and the bitter taste of failure.

The tentacle gripped tighter towing him down towards the depths. Spluttering he reached for his sword but it was gone, knocked from his hand. The others were gone, in the having of him the beast would leave him alone, so that only left Elanor and he if he screamed loudly enough then she would wake and escape.  
'But she cannot be here.' The soft voice of the tattoed Jack separated itself from the hulaballo and whispered in his ear, 'if this is the Kraken then she cannot be here, and if she exists at all then the Kraken is gone, and so is Jones and Beckett.'  
Jack looked up to see the man, the self, that he had run through staring at him with patient eyes, hand extended, 'if she exists then that cannot be the Pearl and you are yourself again and I can return to where I belong.'  
Jack looked into his own smile, saw kindness in the familiar eyes and reached for the hand.

The hand that gripped his was not his own, though it was as strong and steady, and the face that he now saw was that of the woman he had thought sleeping. He did not need to look to know that the Pearl was gone. With a sigh he allowed her to pull him to his feet.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38 Complications**

The reaction started almost as soon as they regained the sands, though Jack did not realise that any thing was truly wrong for some time, thinking that the strange sensation was nothing more than the tingling of cold water warming on his skin.

He had resumed his boots, sash and belts in silence and had not looked at her when she had handed him his baldric, though he had managed to mutter a brief 'thank you' that sounded ungracious even to his own ears. As they made their way back up the beach to the bulk of the jutting rock, where he had left his back pack, he was aware of being strangely cold despite the heat of the air. But as he sank down on the pale grey sand and buried his head in his hands he had shrugged off the thought, believing it to be nothing more than a reaction to the inventions and tortures of this place, and being unwilling to raise it with her, or to ask for time to recover. He was Jack Sparrow, he reminded himself as they set off again towards the next rock spar, he would be fine.

That did not mean that he was comfortable though, he was soaked and the heavy humidity of the air meant that his clothes would not dry, but then they had both been damp for some time and survived it. He'd soon forget the discomfort, for he had other things on his mind.

First and foremost of which was the Pearl.

He had striven to avoid thinking about his ship from the moment he had convinced Elanor to come in search of the fountain, knowing that the decision meant recovering the Pearl would have to wait. He knew that there was nothing to be gained by worrying about that which could not be changed, for there never wam and yet all the time since the thought of her in Barbossa's hand had eaten at him. This place had just reminded him of that in full measure.

He had chosen to come after the fountain now because he could not be certain how much of the chart Barbossa recalled; in fact he couldn't be sure that his rival had not made a copy, it was after all exactly what he would have done had their roles been reversed. But then Barbossa had never done things that Jack considered to be obvious. It was also true that the woman beside him might have been less willing to risk damage to herself and her ship chasing the Pearl than she was to come and find the fountain. In the weeks he had been in her company he had said little about his ship or his losing of her, and not much of what he had said had been strictly.......accurate. Now, of course, she would want to know all of it, inquisitive female that she was. Aye she would want chapter and verse if he gave her the opening! He could only hope she would wait until they were away from here before she began her inquisition, given that he wasn't sure that this place would not force him to tell her things that he had no wish for her to know. It wasn't as if she were that easy to lie to at the best of times, and this place was not the best of times

If only she were a little more gullible, less likely to see what he was about, slower to follow his drift. More like Will.... or Elizabeth.

That thought brought him to a standstill for a moment as he wondered if this place still counted as the sea. If he were to die here would he go to the locker? Could the Dutchman collect those who died here? 'Why not' he thought 'after all these waters are well below the sea.' He wasn't sure quite how he felt about facing Will again, they had not spoken since that last stand off on the spit of sand before the battle. But being collected by Will had got to be better than the locker... hadn't it?

Another thought stirred and he scowled to himself, 'I'll have a word or two to say to young Mr Turner if I see him,' he thought savagely, 'fancy him handin' his heart to Elizabeth in that way. Who is goin' to have to save the day again I ask? It's goin' to cause me a fair piece of trouble to bring us all safely through this time.''  
Then he was suddenly reminded that if he saw Will again he wouldn't be seeing anyone through anything.

But Elanor did not begin the expected inquisition, in fact she was behaving in a most unfemale manner in his view, for she had said nothing since he had turned away from her after she had pulled him to his feet. She had let him shake off her hand and accepted the rebuff with grace, standing away from him as if understanding that he needed time to accept this latest loss. Understanding too that he did not want to be seen while he did it. Instead of berating him or pestering him with questions she had strode back to the beach, drying her hands on her shirt as she waded, as if she couldn't wait to be rid of the water. She had stayed close to the edge of the sand while he had slogged back to the shelter of the rock and dropped down with his back against it, his head sunk in his hands. He hadn't stayed there long but even so she had shown no desire to interrupt his thoughts, just waiting patiently until he got to his feet and strode passed her, grabbing his sword from its sandy anvil and setting off towards the next rock spar without further word. If his angry silence bothered her she said nothing about it, just followed behind him, far enough behind for him not to have to look at her. She didn't even ask why they were continuing to skirt the lake, apparently accepting that there was nothing to be done until they were sure that it was all there was here to see. Not even the dimming of the silver blue light brought any comment from her. Jack was trying to pretend he hadn't noticed.

The light had turned to purple now and they had both switched on their lanterns. They kept to the sands, staying away from the rocks, and the ambush they might allow, as much as far as was possible but at each section of the shore there was another rocky barrier that had to be crossed. By the time they reached the second one Jack was aware that the skin of his neck, chest and groin were itching so much he wanted nothing more than to tear at the skin with his nails, and it took some effort to ignore the irritation and keep on.

For close on an hour they skirted the lake in silence, only the dancing lights of the lantern betraying that the other was still close to hand.

As they climbed the fifth or sixth rocky spine Elanor spoke for the first time since she had hauled him from the lake.  
"There it is."  
Jack stopped abruptly and spun around to face her, his expression one of irritation,  
"There's what? I'm not in the mood for riddles."  
Elanor ignored the pique and drew closer to him, pointing out towards the centre of the lake,  
"Back there, when you saw the Pearl I saw a column of rock. I wasn't sure at the time if it was a mirage, a trick of the light, or something it wanted me to see, but it seems that it was real after all. Unless I'm imagining it again now."  
Jack turned and stared in the direction of her pointing. In the shadows of the lake he thought he could see a more solid shape. He gave a small nod, ignoring a stab of pain as he did so,  
"I think I can see it too. Not that it means it's there you understand."  
"No, nothing can be taken to be real here it seems. But it looks as real as anything."  
"True enough."

Jack edged closer to the lake edge, changing the angle of his viewing. Out in the centre of the still waters was a tall pillar of something, black and sharp against the soft lilac shadows. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes trying to focus the thing, it looked as if it had something attached to it, something that ran towards the shore, something that looked almost like a bridge.  
"Think I can see a causeway too, between the shore and that tower, if that's what it is."  
Elanor looked at him curiously,  
"Why do you say tower Jack? That would imply that someone made it. Why not just rock?"  
"Don't know now that you come to ask. Why do you.... ask I mean?"  
"Because I'd had the same impression, and I can't say why."

Jack was silent for a while, his eyes screwed up in concentration then finally he shrugged the waved an airy hand.  
"I say we head out to it. Only thing of any note we've seen down here so far," he turned round and gave his first grin in several hours, "maybe it's home to the fountain!"  
Elanor sighed,  
"Maybe, or maybe the home of more nasty dreams!"  
She saw the haunted look flit across his face then disappear into nonchalance, he opened his mouth to protest but she cut in before he could speak,  
"But I agree that if we are still going after this thing then that, whatever it is, warrants investigation."  
Jack pursed his lips in consideration for a moment then spun around and began to climb higher,  
"What are you doing?" she hissed after him.  
"Trying to get a better look. Stay there and I'll be back soon."  
"Jack it's too dark for climbing!"  
He paused and looked back at her,  
"I'll be fine, " he reassured, "Climbed many a cliff in no better light. Remember? Pirate!" then he resumed his climb.  
Elanor shook her head in resignation and settled down to wait.

***

As he climbed Jack wondered if this had been a good idea, but at least it gave him a chance to be unseen for a moment. The itching was even worse now and he wanted a chance to explore his possible hurts away from her prying eyes.

On a smooth platform some twenty feet above her, the overhang obstructing her view, he stopped and pushed back his shirt sleeve, shining the lantern at his arm. He swore quietly, the skin was spotted with small wheals, each a circle of red surrounding the hairs that seemed to bristle with cold despite the heat of the air. He chewed on his lip for a moment then pulled the water bottle from his pack and splashed his forearms liberally with water. The fire of the spots cooled as it washed over them and he sighed with relief and after a moment of revelling in it he pulled his shirt from his sash and inspected his torso, his heart sinking as he saw more of the spots spreading up from beneath the band of his breeches and out across his belly. He splashed more water down his chest, drawing a deep breath as these fires too were damped down. Finally he poured water into his hands and splashed it across his neck letting it trickle its way down the heat of his back, then with a deep sigh he pushed the water bottle away and turned to look out towards the lake.

She had been right, and so had he. Three, maybe four, more rock outcrops down the beach there was a ledge that ran out across the water to join a tall spire of rock, that was what she had seen for it showed proud above the water like the mast of a newly sunken ship. Yet it was not so slender, this was not a silver of rock rising to the sky though its circumference could only be guessed in the poor light. A most singular sight it was to be sure. If there was a place down here that might play home to the fountain then that seemed a likely candidate.

In which case there was only one place for them to go. Wasn't there?

***

Their lodging house was on one of the half way alleys of the port, half way that was between respectability and penury, or between morality and depravity, depending on your perspective. There were no flares in the doorways here, nor lanterns under the eaves, and the occasional tallow candle smoking in a window was the only man made light to be seen. Now the he clouds had put out the natural lights the alley a dark and shadowed and dangerous place. Yet no more dangerous than any other than they had walked and perhaps that made them careless, that or the ale they had consumed.

Neither had intended to drink so much but there had seemed to be no way around it. Not if they were to escape being noticed because in Tortuga not drinking was a sure way to attract attention. It had been their intention to return to their lodgings several hours earlier but they had found themselves caught up in one in one of the minor dramas of Tortuga. In fact it had landed at, almost on, their feet as they had approached the dockside.

The two men looked no different to the drunken throng around them, but for some reason, or maybe no reason, they had fallen foul of one of the town's lower grade madams and been thrown into the dusty street, to the amusement of a clutch of skinny, skimpily dressed and grinning whores. One of the two fell heavily, landing not half a foot from Hathaway's boots in a shower of reddish dust. Like any good Tortuga citizen Hathaway had merely moved to step over the sudden obstruction, but as they wandered away the eloquent curses cast in the direction of the now barred doorway from which they had been ejected left all those within hearing in little doubt about the origin of the men yelling them. If there had been any doubt of it the muttered oaths of a man lounging against the rotten timbers of yet another dingy hovel claiming to be an alehouse convinced them. He spat into the dirt, missing Grove's leg by little more than an inch,  
"Spanish," he growled to no one in particular, "Can't abide the Spanish." Then he buried his nose in his tankard.

Hathaway exchanged a warning look with his companion then turned as if surprised. For a moment he stared back towards the staggering and cursing seamen, then he nodded slowly,  
"Sound to be, or maybe just sails with 'em, though 'tis true they seems to be fair fluent in the lingo. If Spanish is what it be."  
The man grunted and waved his mug in their direction,  
"It's that alright. Got sunk by the Spanish. Cost me a leg." He spat at the ground again, "can't abide them. Time was when there was nary a Spanish tongue heard here, these days they seems to be everywhere."  
"That so?" Hathaway prompted slowly, "Not noticed meself. Why's would that be are you thinkin'?  
The man shook his head,  
"No sayin', worlds gone mad these days. But there seems to be far more of them around these parts than there used to be."  
He took a slow swallow and belched thoughtfully,  
"Were a whole crew of 'em here nigh on a month ago. Lookin' for Jack Sparrow, or so they says." He swore eloquently but it was unclear whether it was the Spanish he was cursing or Sparrow for being sought by them.  
"Were they?" Hathaway tried to sound disinterested.  
"Ay but then so were lots of other people." He casually scratched a flea bite and frowned. "Wonder what he's been up to now?

Hathaway jerked his head at Groves indicating that he should go and find them some ale, and lounged in the shadow on the other side of the doorway.  
"Jack Sparrow you says? Now theres a name to conjour, heard a lot about him but never that he sailed with the Spanish. Why would the Spanish be alookin' for him then?"  
That brought a snort of something that might have been laughter or might have been disgust,  
"Who knows? Maybe he stole their ship." The man's face contorted in the smoky light of the door fare and Hathaway assumed that he had grinned his approval of the idea. The man belched again then looked in Hathaway's direction and tapped his nose. "More'n likely that is, took one from his majesty's navy once he did. Brought it here, 'tis true for many saw it."  
Hathaway grunted,  
"Why'd he do that then?"

The man shrugged and took another long drink.  
"Who's to say. Sparrow's a strange sort. Flash, if you take my meanin' and more ready than most to have a man take him as a fool. Long enough to get what it is he's after at least, no sluggard is Sparrow if the truth be tol'."  
"You know him then?"  
"Whole town knows him, in a manner of speakin'. More stories about him than the rest of them put together.  
"Them bein'?" not that Hathaway had any real doubt.  
"Pirates o'course! Sparrow's a pirate." He shrugged and looked down into his mug, "Warrants for him everywhere so they says. Can't read so I don't know." He scratched his chin then grinned again, "Must have stolen a powerful amount of gold in his time to be wanted that bad. But ya can never tell with Sparrow."  
The man gave Hathaway a long hard stare then sidled closer and lowered his voice,  
"They say he fought some of the Spanish in an alley not far from here," he looked around as if afraid to be overheard, "had a she devil by his side so says."  
Hathaway noted the presence of the woman again, though it seems she was a devil not an angel this time, and nodded thoughtfully at that,  
"Maybe so, then again the authorities don't much like pirates and there aren't so many left in these parts these days. Real pirates I mean, not fishermen who takes their chance with a flounderin' ship or merchants who don't want to pay to tie up."

He let the silence hang for a moment easing his shoulder against the rotten door and doing his best to look like a man bored and settling to while away the time in some gossip. As Groves returned with the ale he squinted across at the other man.  
"So why would the Spanish be looking for pirates?"  
"Not pirates, just Sparrow. Got good reason it seems."  
"Has they now? Well we was looking for a ship and had been told that Sparrow might take us. If you knows why we should not sail with him then we would be glad to hear it."  
The man looked meaningfully at his mug and Hathaway stifled a sigh and indicated that they should proceed indoors.

So they had spent another hour or more drinking sour ale and rotgut spirit, but the tale had been worth the hearing. Sparrow it seemed had indeed returned to Tortuga looking for the man Gibbs, though it was less than clear why. He had been seen cavorting himself with the wenches in a tavern that would not normally expect to enjoy his patronage, Groves swore silently as he realised it must have been around the same time as he had made his first abortive visit to this hellish place and that he had missed his man by so little. Sparrow had made no attempt to hide as far as they could judge but he had left at some point during the evening, for some unspecified reason, and had vanished into the night. A woman had come looking for him, one who fitted the description they had already heard and she had left with the landlord and some young sprig in pursuit of him.

At some point they had found Sparrow and they had all ended up in a fight with a large group of Spanish sailors in an alley, the woman taking her part with a blade just like the men folk, for all that she had not looked to be a pirate. But they had been outnumbered and almost overborne until, so the story went, the woman had shown herself for the devil that she was by blasting their opponents with invisible fire and leaving them writhing in the fumes of hell on the alley floor. Their informant was a cooper it seemed and had heard it from one of the tavern wenches who had heard it from the friend of the landlord himself. Certainly the landlord, a man called Sampson with a reputation as a fair but hard man, had returned to his inn some hours later with cuts and bruises a plenty and in a foul temper, swearing long and inventively about the Spanish. But the landlord had not stinted in telling the tale, warning all who heard it that none should cross Jack Sparrow or co-operate with his enemies now for fear of what his demon companion might do.  
"Seems the tales were right enough." The man had said. "Jack Sparrow came back from the dead and he did not come alone. Nor empty handed for he brought something of great value that the Spanish want."

Hathaway had spent another half hour spinning a yarn about their arrival in Tortuga and their need of a berth, he'd even hinted that he had known Josh Gibbs yet without actually saying so. But he had screwed his mouth up and expressed a disinclination sail with, or even to meet Sparrow in light of the she devil, and requested information about another ship likely to sail. By this time their informant had consumed several glasses of ale at their expense and seemed inclined to repay in kind, providing them with information about a Dutch merchant just docked to make repairs, and who would no doubt be looking for hands when the time came to sail. Then he had got shakily to his feet and accompanied them to the door. The last they had seen of him he was staggering into an alley that ran towards the marketplace. Hathaway had watched the alley entrance for a while, a thoughtful frown on his face, before heading back towards their own lodging.

He had been silent for the first few minutes, and then he sighed,  
"We leave at first light."  
"Why? We have another day before we need to return."  
"Because my instinct tells me that we have asked one question too many. Time we were gone."  
Groves stared at him in surprise but before he could ask what that question was he heard the scrape of steel behind them and then the hiss of indrawn breath and an oath from his companion. Over Hathaway's shoulder Groves saw two pieces of darkness detach themselves from the shadows, a sliver of grey light all that betrayed the steel in their hands. There was no time for thought, or fear, Hathaway already had his long knife in his hand and was pulling the second from his boot; Groves did the same without a second thought. Four by his reckoning, two behind then and two in front; not impossible odds then, depending on the quality of the opposition, but not good. But as he and Hathaway prepared to battle for their lives two more men arrived in front of them, one with a cutlass in one hand and a flare in the other, the other man large and stocky but carrying no weapon. The large man stood with the flare at his back, thrown into shadow by its light, balanced on the balls of his feet like a fighter as he tucked his hands into his belt. Behind them Groves heard the sounds of two more men arriving and his heart sank.

But their assailents made no move towards then just waiting as the man in shadow nodded in their direction,  
"So tell me gentlemen, why be ye searching so assiduously for Jack Sparra?"

***

They had resumed their trek around the lake moveing carefully closer to the one place they might get access to that spire of rock. But long before they made the next rock spar Jack knew that his impromptu ablutions had not solved his problem, whatever it was. His eyes were becoming sore, as if rimed with sand, the itching had returned with a vengeance. To make matters worse the skin of his armpits and groin was tight and uncomfortable. He gritted his teeth and told himself that it was his wet shirt and breeches chafing, but as the discomfort extended to his scalp and thighs he knew that it was more than that. Jack gnawed at his lip and stifled the desire to explore his hurts again, instead striding out in the hope that movement would pull the wet fabric from his skin and ease the discomfort.

They arrived at the base of the causeway, if that was what it was, in silence. Looking up the tumbled rock appeared remarkably close to a stair way, and while it would not be a hard climb they had no way of knowing what waited for them on the put out a hand and caught at his arm,  
"We have to stop Jack, the light is getting too poor to do anything more. Even if there is something to see we run the risk of missing it. Or falling off that into the water."

Angry words had started a rushed towards his tongue, because at that moment he wanted nothing more than to find what ever there was to be found and head back to the comfort of the ship, but the truth of that observation stamped on them. Falling into that water was not something he had any desire to do. However he had brought them here, and he was not going to admit any error, and he was certainly not going to own up to the horror of this place that he was beginning to develop. So he drew a deep breath, wincing as the skin across his chest pulled tight in the movement, then turned the grimace into a smile.  
"Aye, it is. A rest might be in order." He gave her the best grin that he could manage, "get some sleep maybe, before the light returns."  
Elanor nodded, but both of them were thinking of the last time one of them had tried to sleep.  
"I'll take first watch." He saw her widening eyes and glared at her, "unless mi'lady doesn't trust me to do the necessary any more?"  
"I slept last time, its your turn now," was all she said and her tone was mild enough.  
The rising anger died as quickly as it had stirred and he nodded,  
"So you did," he admitted, "very well, you take first watch and wake me when it seems best to you. The light must come back sooner or later, perhaps it's linked to the sun after all."

Elanor shrugged,  
"Maybe, that might be how it works. I'm going to try and talk to Ariadne again, maybe she will have some answers."  
Jack inclined his head graciously,  
"A fine idea, " he made shooing movements with his fingers, " as long as you be off doing it somewhere I don't hear you. Precious little sleep I'll get with you and your ghost chattering like a couple of tavern wenches."  
Elanor cast him a suspicious look but he met it with raised eyebrows and a wide-eyed gaze of bland innocence. She egarded him searchingly for a moment longer then turned away and moved a little way back across the sands. Jack watched her first few steps then he slipped into the shadow of the rock, sinking down onto the dry sand with a gasp, gripping his hands into fists against the pain that was beginning to spread from his groin, spilling a sensation like hot ash between his legs and down his thighs. Fumbling a little he pulled out his water bottle and liberally splashed those parts of himself that he could reach, letting out his breath in a hiss as the pain surged higher before falling back. Finally he let his head loll against the rocks and tried to sleep.

But he had little success and his fitful dose was disturbed by images of fire, images that became more intrusive as the discomfort worsened. When the dreams became of branding irons he woke and reached for the water bottle, spilling some as he hurried to uncork it. Though the water cooled the blaze on his skin for a few seconds the heat began again all too soon, and much more quickly than before. Jack tried to settle himself more comfortably but the infero raging on his skin seemed to be sinking down into his body, down into his blood and bones.

"What is wrong Jack?"  
Elanor's voice broke through his attempts to squash the pain. He turned his head quickly and winced, his neck felt stiff and the movement set a far off bell ringing in his head. Worse than that the there was a noose about his cods that was slowly strangling them. But he'd be damned before he'd tell her of it. He kept his eyes closed and tried to relax,  
"Nothin' why should there be?" he growled instead.  
"You've not been still for more than a minute in the last hour, it's as if you can't get comfortable."  
He opened one eye and gazed at her balefully,  
"I'm sittin' against a bloody rock in darkness that's not darkness and in a world that seems to want to send me mad. Which bit of that am I supposed to find comfortable if you please?" He closed his eye and wriggled his shoulders trying to find a more restful position, raising a languid hand in a dismissive gesture, "and I don't need to be told it was my choice to be here, I think we've agreed on that."

She was silent for a moment then he felt her hand upon his forehead,  
"But you are more than uncomfortable and you are very hot. What is it?"  
He cursed her below his breath for he knew this tone of her voice, she was not going to let it go. Drawing a deep breath he strove for a light and easy reply,  
"'Tis nothing luv, just that the water was cold and this fug means that I've not dried out."  
"I'm pretty wet too but I'm not as uncomfortable as you obviously are."  
Jack summoned his strength and rolled his head around to look at her with a devil baiting grin,  
"Aye love but there are differences in the bits of us that are wet." His voice softened and became confiding, "I'll wager there is less of you to chafe, where it matters," he cocked an eyebrow at her, "or have they changed that too?"  
But it seemed that she was not to be distracted.  
"No, you were wet earlier and it didn't bother you so much then. It's only since you took a dip in that." She nodded in the direction of the lake.  
He shrugged and with some effort swallowed the cry that rose to his lips at the movement,  
"Told you, it were cold. That's all. Now, can I get some rest? Eh."

For a moment she said nothing then, without warning, she reached forward and caught at his arm, pushing his shirtsleeve up above his elbow. He couldn't hold in the hiss of pain that brought, but it didn't matter because it was drowned out by her curse,  
"Bloody hell Jack! Why didn't you say something?"  
Her eyes were locked on his arm and he looked down to see that the pinpricks of earlier had become red spiders, their legs spreading across the tanned skin of his forearm, the marks standing out like small corded veins and extending tendrils up into the paler skin of his upper arm. With another curse she caught hold of his other arm and pushed that shirtsleeve up too, the marks were just the same.

She said something under her breath then ran her hands over him, fingers pressing into his neck then his chest then edging down below his belly. With an indrawn breath he slapped her hand away,  
"Oi" he cocked his head and looked at her sideways, "easy on the goods! I know this place does strange things but if you've decided to come down from your lofty angelic heights you've chosen the wrong time, darlin' I'm not in the mood."  
Her worried frown faded for a moment and she grinned at him,  
"And there can't be many people who have heard you say that!"  
He scowled at her, but in the face of her un-offended amusement the anger faded and he felt the corners of his mouth lift,  
"Almost none at all luv."  
"Almost?" she said provocatively, "you mean I'm not in a club of one?"  
He squinted at her in mock outrage,  
"I have me standards I'll have you know. More than one I've refused such freedoms to in the past."  
She stared at him for a moment,  
"Beckett?"  
The word was a question and for a moment he was taken aback, trying to recall what he'd told her of that business. Still there seemed no harm to speak of it to one who hadn't known him, not now...  
"Aye, he were one."  
"How long ago was that?" she was suddenly serious.  
"Nearly... . " he thought about it for a moment, "fifteen year ago, allowin' for me time dead you understand."

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes appraising but kind,  
"Fifteen years.. You must have been.... quite something Jack Sparrow, then, at the beginning."  
He looked at her in confusion for a moment, trying to understand her meaning, then he gave her a strangely sad smile,  
"I was young, and untried and stupid. That's all it takes luv. For the Beckett's of this world."  
For a moment her eyes seemed to slide away from him and a cloud of sadness passed across her face,  
"It is indeed." She drew a deep breath and her eyes came back to his, "but these, " she indicated the welts, "these, and the fact that all your glands are up, means something is going on."  
He gave her a smile, sickly sweet in its mockery,  
"I'd realised that. Nor do I need you to tell me it was that, " he flicked a hand towards the lake, "For I'd worked that out for meself."  
"Not your fault. You didn't know you were going into it. But it looks as if this place might win after all, whatever its reasons."

That seemed to galvanise him and he surged to his feet as if there was nothing in the world wrong with him,  
"I'm not giving it the satisfaction luv. Did you speak to your ghost?"  
"No, I don't understand why, but I can't reach her."  
"Then there is only one course of action to follow."  
Elanor sighed and looked up. Jack nodded,  
"Aye we try again, this time up there."


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39 Close calls **

'It's a good thing I'm a pirate, and a legend to boot,' Jack told himself, 'had I not been, had I been a sailor of his majesty's navy for example, then I might not have made it at all.'

But he was a pirate, and a legend, and he had made it up the folded stem of rock to the edge of the road leading out across the water, out to that mast of rock. Body protesting all the way it was true, and with the fire set to consume him by the time he made the top, but he had made it.

Yet now he was there, where he had wanted to be, he was standing hesitant and uncertain, easing the damp shirt from his protesting skin and narrowing his eyes against the darkness, wondering if this was a fools' errand after all. He sighed quietly thinking of rum, knowing that this was not a course to be followed as sober as he was, nor in cold blood.

The roadway was smooth, and wider than it had looked from the ground, wide enough for near on six men to walk abreast, but there were no handrails and the span across the waters was longer than it had seemed when he first suggested this course. Too long for him to see what waited at the other end in this dim light. These lanterns of hers spewed light far further than any he had ever used before but even they were not enough, and the road disappeared into shadow well before it reached its destination. Buried in those shadows was a darker one, a rising spar of featureless darkness that seemed to tower over the waters now they were looking into its' mouth.

Jack drew a deep breath and took one deliberate step out onto the bridge, letting the same breath out in a gust when the rock didn't crumble to nothing beneath his boots.  
"Seems solid enough, here at least," he said, and was glad his voice sounded to unconcerned.  
A timely reminder, if one were needed, that he was getting far too good at lying to himself.

Behind him Elanor simply grunted her assent. He heard the scrape of leather on stone as she left the shadows, and the strange interest she had shown in the wall behind them, and came and stood at his back.  
"For the moment, though I'd not take bets on what its' got in mind," she muttered  
Jack cast her an uneasy look over his shoulder,  
"You still think that this place does...? Think I mean?"  
She shrugged and turned away as he shone his lantern towards her, but still he saw her frown,  
"I don't know," she said, "but I'm not at all convinced that what that happens here is random."  
Jack thought about that for a moment then nodded, smiling slightly,  
"Let's hope it has no evil intent then, for it would seem that we are on our own."  
That brought a sigh from her and another nod,  
"So it would seem," she had tried to reach Ariadne once they had scaled the height of the walkway but there had been no reply that they could hear.

Jack turned his lantern back towards the rock tower,  
"We go on then?"  
He got no reply and when turned to demand one he saw that she was down on hands and knees, lantern at her side, inspecting the surface of this hanging roadway  
"What are you doing?" he demanded in astonishment. "This is hardly the time to get housewifely on me, the place might well need sweeping but I don't see a broom to hand!"  
That sally bought him a swift and withering look before she turned her attention back to the stones. After a moment of frustration Jack joined her, crouching down to inspect what she was inspecting despite the feeling that stretching his skin in such a manner would break it.

She said nothing as he came closer but continued her scrutiny of the roadway.  
"So tell me what are we looking at? If not the dust of aons?" he said with weary resignation.  
Elanor reached out a hesitant hand and brushed the surface with a gentle finger, then inspected it carefully in the lantern light,  
"I don't think this is natural."  
Jack shot her a sideways look,  
"Whole place is unnatural, why should this be different?"  
"I mean that I think it was put here deliberately, that this isn't natural rock." She rubbed at the surface again then looked intently at her fingertips, "not melted like the stuff on the beach, not glass or heat changed. Some form of resin I think, looks like rock, maybe based on rock, but not rock. It's certainly different to the rock down there."  
She nodded down and towards the tongue of rock jutting out onto the grey sand beneath them before turning her attention back to the walkway.

Jack, however, was more interested in something else he had seen in the lantern light, and with a rapid grab he reached out and caught at her wrist.

Elanor met his narrowed eyes with a steady look but did not pull away, not even as he pushed her sleeve up. In the bright, white, light of the lantern the red marks were clearly visible on her pale skin. Jack sighed through a clenched jaw,  
"It got you too then?" he muttered.  
"Seems so."  
He inspected the marks, far fainter and fewer than his own, probing with gentle fingers, noting that her skin still lacked the heat of his.  
"Why so much slower?" he said eventually, but still not releasing her arm.  
"I didn't go in as far as you did, and I wasn't in for so long. I kept my boots on too so only my hands got really wet. Maybe that's why, or maybe it's the fact that I've been changed already."  
He pushed her arm away from him with a movement that was almost savage, then surged to his feet and took two angry paces back from her,  
"You shouldn't have come after me!" he said, though it was not clear if his tone was mockery or regret.  
That brought a shrug, and she turned her eyes back to the stone,  
"Easy to be wise after the fact. I didn't know anymore about it than you did."

He wheeled and flicked an accusing hand in her direction,  
"You knew it was dangerous!"  
She didn't look at him as she replied and her voice was carefully neutral,  
"Suspected Jack, not knew."  
"And if you had known? Would you have come anyway?"  
She sighed and sat back on her heels, looking up at him now, her face grave in the bright light of the lantern,  
"I don't know. Maybe it would have made me even if I hadn't wanted to. I don't know what's going on here, I've already told you that."  
Jack smiled a dangerous and bitter-eyed smile.  
"Not you," he said softly, "you're like your bloody ancestor." His tone became savage, "Noble!"  
There was challenge in his face and a hint of something that might have been mockery. Elanor just tutted slightly, then sighed again,  
"As you never are of course."

She cursed herself for her stupidity as she saw the stiffening in his shoulders and the shutters closing down across his eyes. Wearily she wiped her hand across her own, sore, eyes, and tried to deflect him,  
"We don't know that your commodore was my ancestor."  
Her laboured patience was itself a mock and it had the desired effect for the shutters snapped up again and he gave a sharp 'ha' as he raised an eyebrow and pointed at her,  
"I'd say that we do. You even sound like him at times."  
"Well.......maybe that's just guilt on your part?" she smiled, the expression, sweet and false, sitting strangely on that perfect face.  
Jack dropped his hands to his hips and struck a pose, chest out and shoulders back, staring down his nose at her,  
"Guilt! What have I got to feel guilty about? Eh? Certainly with regards to said commodore?"  
He waved an emphatic hand in her direction,  
"I didn't make him sail through a hurricane and lose his ship. I didn't make him resign his commission and slink off to wallow in self pity in the pit of Tortuga. I didn't even make him betray his friends and his unrequited beloved and flee back to comfortable dishonour with Beckett! I'm totally innocent of his downfall luv, whichever way you slice it."  
Elanor watched him in the lantern light for a moment then shook her head,  
"True enough I suppose," was all she said.

His sudden energy seemed to fail him, and he looked suddenly sad,  
"But I did bring you here, can't deny that. Truth be told I thought it would be easier than it is, but that can't be mended. Seems that it will kill the both of us."  
She shook her head and got to her feet.  
"I came of my own choice Jack, you couldn't have made me come. Nothing and none here could make me do what I didn't choose to and you know it. Don't claim more guilt than is really yours, it's not becoming, even in a pirate. I made my choice and I'm not looking to blame you for anything."  
He leaned away from her and the lantern, his face suddenly in shadow,  
"Commodores spawn indeed," he said softly, "Do you know what a terrible woman you are I wonder?"  
"Terrible?"  
"Aye, terrible, and that word I'm not allowed to use on pain of death."  
Elanor was silent for a moment trying to see past the shadows to his expression, but she couldn't and there was no flash of gold to betray a smile. Without warning he had reached out and caught at her arm again, and she stared down at the red veined fingers gripping hers for a moment before looking up. His eyes were sombre and all expression was washed from his face, this blank and guarded expression was rare but when he used it there was as much chance of seeing through it as there was of seeing through liquid chocolate,  
"Yet you came here for me?" there was a hint of something treacherously close to hope in his voice, and she wondered what was going on behind that flat dark stare.

But she could not allow this fey mood to grip him while they were still in so much danger,  
"My world is a long way from yours Jack, and some of us there still believe we have free choice. I don't blame anyone for what I chose to do freely."  
He let her go then and the shuttered look faded a little, replaced instead by a softly speculative, and slightly sad, stare  
"World of novelty it must be then, for that's a rare state of affairs in any world I've ever seen," he replied quietly, "but it changes nothing, it will claim you too."  
"I know. Unless we find a way to avoid it."  
"Think there is one to find do you?"  
"I don't know but we have to go on as if we do."  
Jack turned his head, looking back towards the deeper shadows between them and the rock spire,  
"To there then?"  
"To there," she agreed.

****

"So tell me gentlemen, why be ye searching so assiduously for Jack Sparra?"

Hathaway cursed silently as he looked towards the bulky and looming shadow, for he had no doubts that this was the landlord Sampson and that they were nere seconds away from death. The certainty that he had pushed a tale too far had come upon him while they were listing to that last story, for it had seemed far too good to be true that they should learn so much so easily. He had been right to think so it would seem. He saw Groves face, pale and strained, reflected in the flame of the torch, and cursed himself again, knowing only too well that he had given too much weight to the love of a story so obvious in the occupants of Tortuga and too little to their likely suspicion of new comers. Now it seemed that both of them would pay for that error unless he could find a way to defuse that same suspicion. His only hope lay in that he had played this game before and for similar stakes, and not for the first time he hoped that Groves would follow his lead or stay quiet.

Hathaway spread his hands and leant forward, shoulders hunched, trying to project as much defencelessness into his posture as he could,  
"Not to do him any harm sir," he said submissively, "merely so that I might carry to him a message from my employers, and one that he might well find to his advantage. I was instructed that it was for his ears only and that I should not let anyone know that I sought him least they discover our business."  
Sampson flexed his shoulders but did not come closer, nor did he order his men to close on them,  
"Message you say, from your employers? What employers might these be that they have business with Jack Sparra?"  
"Merchants sir. Wealthy men with interests to protect. Men who have heard that the East India Company is making a bid for these waters and are not pleased by the thought."  
Sampson stiffened slightly for a moment then relaxed, and as he did so Hathaway thought he felt a slight lessening of the tension in the men around them.  
"Why would you masters bother about the Company then? Where lie their interests?" Sampson growled. His stance was unfriendly but at least he was listening not killing.  
"My masters sail out of the new colonies sir and would not care to be required to pay taxes to the Company as well as the crown." Hathaway looked up to the shadows where he thought Sampson's eyes would be, "The Company is known to be a rapacious beast sir, never satisfied. My masters are free men and do not care to be forced to trade for the Company's profit."

There was a short silence, the only sound the wind fanning the flame of the torch, and then Sampson spoke slowly, grudgingly,  
"I can see that they might not. Why would that involve business with Jack Sparra?"  
Hathaway shrugged,  
"My masters have heard stories that Jack Sparrow defeated the Company's fleet and that he has some leverage over them."  
The man in the shadow of the flare stretched his neck and shifted his stance, his shoulders broadening, suddenly threatening again,  
"Then if the Company is driven away why are you sent here?" he snarled.  
The men around them shifted too and Hathaway tried to choke down a sense of panic, knowing if he played it wrong now they were certainly dead.  
"My masters do not know if the stories are true sir. But if Sparrow has some influence then they would ask him to use it on their behalf, and they would pay him well for the doing of it."  
"Ask a pirate!" Sampson laughed, "Jack Sparra is a pirate, and you tell me they would trade with him? All they would want of Sparra is his neck stretched by a rope!"  
Hathaway spread his hands in acceptance,  
"Once maybe that were true sir. But these are changing times. If the Company comes, then it will not be just their depredations my masters must labour under. Nor those of pirates, Jack Sparrow or any other. Spanish privateers will come too, to prey upon anything that sails under an English flag, and that will mean the navy will patrol more freely. In such a world men like my masters, men of enterprise, might find their freedoms disagreeably curtailed. If you take my meaning."

Sampson seemed to stare at them for a moment, when he spoke the threat had retreated slightly again,  
"Aye I suppose I do. Merchants be unchristianly greedy people to my way of thinking. But why should I believe that your masters would trade with Jack Sparra? Why would I believe such men would trade with a pirate?"  
Hathaway knew this was the sticking point and with fading hope he reached for a wild card and prayed that his reading of the situation was true. He looked sideways at the landlord,  
"My masters have dealings with the burghers of Nassau, and other such places too, and they know of Sparrow and his doing from them. They are of the opinion that if Sparrow gives his word then he keeps it, provided he is dealt with fairly and is suitably rewarded."

The landlord seemed to think about that for a long moment, then he came closer, the man with the flare following him. Two arms length away he stopped and peered closely at them for a moment,  
"Sparra is not here, but should he return I will pass on your message. But you gentlemen will be gone from this town by sunrise,"  
He nodded once and sharp steel was suddenly at both Groves and Hathaway's neck.  
Sampson turned away and retreated up the alley, speaking over his shoulder as he went,  
"If you are not gone, I will know, and you will be dead within the hour of me knowing it."

He jerked his head and hard steel pressed deeper on soft necks then was drawn away leaving a ribbon of blood in its passing. As Sampson and his light disappeared from view Hathaway and Groves were sent sprawling to alley floor, and by the time they got to their knees they were alone.

***

Calypso felt the shifting of it, the sudden hunger and hope. Then came the stirring of the things that had become since the parting, though the sense of them was faint for they did not form a part of her world. Yet the power of them was also considerable, and it carried to her like the hint of smoke on the early evening breeze, unformed but present for those with the senses to feel it. Only through that did she know that Jack and the Lady's captain at arrived at the edge of it, only through the eddies of that smoke did she know they were in danger.

Calypso frowned, the purpose of this place did not make for safety but the old ones actions were never malign, all she could hope for now was that enough of their influence remained to keep these fragile humans safe. But the old ones had been gone a long time and many things may have changed, and much that hadn't been then had come to be since. The Lady could only assist so far here, and they must both hope that it would be enough, for they must rely upon it, that and the courage and wiliness of the players she had chosen.

The sea goddess wondered again what purpose the Lady was about. For, though she saw the shadow of it, little more than the bare outline was clear to her. Out at sea in the lady captain's ship she could feel another force that she could not fathom, one whose every shape was alien and impenetrable, but who seemed stirred to unusual anxiety. There would be no help from the ghost either it seemed.

Spreading herself into the surf that crept nervously up the sands she edged closer to Gibbs, now dozing in the shade. He seemed unaware of any danger to his companions, lost in dreams, caught up in images that seeped up from the rocks below, his mind no doubt wandered places far from this isolated place. With a sigh she retreated back into the waters to watch and wait.

***

Gibbs was indeed dreaming, his mind back in the locker, back in the nightmare he would not admit, that he was still there, that were all still there, trapped forever by Davy Jones.

Until he had stepped into Tia Dalma's shack that day he had thought he had known what the world was. True he had heard Jack's stories of undead sailors and not found them strange, for he knew the seas were a wild and strange place and that creatures not spoken of by the preachers still lurked in places that few men went. When Barbossa, dead mor'n a year, strolled down those stairs he had been shocked, as had they all, but the sharpness of his grief for Jack had kept him from wondering about the greater meaning of that appearance.

He had not trusted Tia Dalma, but then he had always feared her and marvelled at Jack's ease where she was concerned, but he had not wondered on who and what she was that she could bring back the man who had died in the caves at Isle de Muerta. His one fear had been that Barbossa would prevent them reaching Jack and once that fear was eased he had given the matter little more thought.

Other, smaller, things had occupied his mind in the days immediately afterwards as they salved their injuries and planned their course. Will's strange behaviour occupied him most, the boy's anger at Jack, and the sudden obsession with his father, was nigh inexplicable to one who despised a mutineer.

He had tried to explain to Will that Jack had been between a rock and a very devil, for had he not seen Jones, and had he not heard how the fiend spoke of Jack? He had tried to explain that it had never been Jack's intention to abandon Will, that he had been sorely hurt by that deal with Jones, a deal that Jack had believed he could undo when he found the heart, but the boy would not listen. No, Will had been strange about that, and his distance from Miss Elizabeth was as odd, though it had been some days before that observation had made it past his own sense of loss. It had been mightily puzzling even to his sorrowing mind, for though Will was a mite simple and priggish in his judgements it were only his youth that were his fault and he was not unkind. Why then could the boy forgive the abandonment and betrayals of his father yet could not do the same for Jack? When Jack has not been a mutineer and his need had been far more pressing than ever Bootstrap's had been. This had puzzled him mightily for Will had known Jack to be both pirate and good man and had seen Jack risk all for others. Was not the proof of it standing there all chilly pride and tragic eyes? Why then could he not accept that Jack had not meant him deliberate harm?

Only later, when he had overheard her words to Jack, had he remembered Will's hesitation at the long boat and realised that Will might well have see her leave taking and misread it. Then he understood why Will could not forgive Jack.

Her avoidance of them all had been something else that had kept him from thinking about the strangeness the world had taken on. Yet even that had not seemed so strange then, for in his own grief he had assumed that hers was like to be greater still. For had not Jack had been her girlhood hero? With him gone so was some part of her past. Harsh it would be to see him die in such a way, and when she was bereft of her father too, or so he had thought. He had learned differently on the locker shore of course. But at that time, as they laid their plans to sail to Singapore, his heart had spared a thought or two for a young lass deprived of her past and future and cast adrift in a world she had not been raised for. He'd been angered by it later, that he had spared sorrow on her. But then he had thought her honest in her grief and different than her class in her love of Will, even though he had known that bondsmen laboured in her fathers house and that she would have stood by and watched Jack hang.

No, there had been much else to occupy his mind then other than the enormity of death turned to life. Like many he had heard of the green flash and the souls returning, aye and seen it once, though he had not met the soul returned, but he had never given any thought to the mechanism of it as you might say, nor what it meant for the reality of the world he thought he knew. Only as they toppled over the edge of that world had he wondered about what was real and certain if life and death could be exchanged in this way.

Yet he had wanted it to be so, for only then could they fetch Jack back. Seein' the Pearl come sailin' home to the seas as she did, Jack back where he belonged at her mast, had filled his heart with gratitude. Yet those first words had killed the drops of hope, for he knew Jack the captain as well as he knew Jack the joker, and that was better than most, and knew too that his ships were run as tightly as any, if with a little more compassion than most. But this man was none of those Jacks knew, and as they sailed out on the sea's of the dead he had wondered what manner of wounded creature they were dragging back to the hard light of livin'.

Now as he walked the sands of the locker shore again in his dreams he wondered if they had returned at all, or if all since had been a dream. If that were so then who was this lady who sailed alone, this lady who reminded him of someone that he couldn't quite put a name to? If he awoke again would it be she who walked the decks or Elizabeth? Was Will gone to the world beyond or was he not?

Gibbs shifted in his sleep and wondered which Jack they had brought back, and why his return had been allowed at all.

***

One hundred feet across the cause way the change in the air began. It started as a strange illusive smell rising up from the green waters below them and setting the air shimmering in the lantern light. One hundred feet further on and the smell was acrid in their nostrils and caught with razor nails at the back of their throats, and now the air seemed misty and faint wraiths danced on the edges of their vision. They exchanged looks but said nothing and just quickened their pace.

Another hundred feet and they realised that the spire of rock looked to be no closer, but that the air seemed thin and weak, while the stench was much stronger, its' tendrils reaching into their lungs to scrape the surface with ice and fire. One hundred feet further and they were catching at their chests in the effort of breathing and below them the lake seemed even darker, but now it was not so smooth. Jack swung his lantern over the edge and thought he saw a flash of silver dart away.

Fifty feet more they struggled, the red wheals on their skins burning hotter than ever but the spire seemed just a little closer. Now they were hanging on to each other for support, racked by coughing with eyes and throats on fire as the misty air seemed to wheel and dance around them. Below the waters were stirring, the movement visible even in the shadow. Their pace had slowed to a crawl but some inner prompting kept them moving even as thought seemed to desert them. In front of them the rock spire beckoned even as the chances of reaching it declined.

Then came the sound, a faint whooshing that they both first thought to be their own blood in their ears. But as it got louder they realised it was coming from above, and they halted their painful creep and shone the lanterns upwards, not really wanting to see what new obstacle was being put before them but knowing that it would be better not to be caught unawares.

The nature of the approaching creatures were unknown to either of them for they were eagle beaked and swan necked, four feet long and carried on scaly bat wings, the colours dark yet iridescent, blues and purples and greens. They came without hurry, ten or maybe more of them, heads swaying side to side, the slow beat of their wings only stirring the misty air a little. There was no way of judging what the target was but Jack wasn't taking the risk, and with a muttered curse he fixed his lantern to his belt, drew his sword and pistol and dared them to come on. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Elanor clear the line of her taser and pull a long knife from her boot, the sight of it stirred a smile and a sudden gladness that he hadn't come here alone.

As the creatures came closer the sounds of movement within the lake became louder, the surface of it thrashing and splashing as if something large was stirring. The flying ones were close now, necks reaching and red nostrils flaring as if they were scenting prey. Then the pack spilt, half going one side, half the other, yet they were synchronised as they made the first pass, the draught of their passing setting Jack's hair bead's shivering and whipping at Elanor's shirt sleeves.

Below them the turmoil in the lake grew louder as the winged creatures turned lazily and came back towards them. Jack and Elanor exchanged a glance and began to back towards the rock spire as quickly as they could move, though the churning of the lake had thinned the air still further and catching their breath was now an effort. Jack tightened his grip on his sword and raised his pistol sighting carefully along the barrel, cocking it as he did so,  
"Be careful Jack!" Elanor gasped, "Not a good idea to enrage them unless we have to."  
"I know that," he answered shortly but he didn't lower the pistol.

Then suddenly they were not alone in their danger, below them the waters boiled more loudly and a flash of silvered blue leapt across the causeway snatching one of the winged creatures from the air and dragging it back into the cold waters below. Elanor and Jack exchanged a startled look, then Jack yelled,  
"Down," and they both hit the floor as three more of the creatures made the leap across the bridge.  
Jack's pistol discharged and one of them fell onto the causeway, where it thrashed for a second or two before slipping back into the green whirlpool below. It had been still long enough to see wide and strong jaws, rows of serried teeth and a tassel of powerful tails.

Now there were more of them leaping, and another of the flying creatures had disappeared below the water, but its companions were going on the attack now, increasing height they began to dive down towards the causeway as the leaping creatures came. Beneath their bodies talons shone like steel in the lanterns and small flight scales were deployed along the their wing edges, allowing them to shift direction and speed quickly. Two of the lake creatures were caught and speared and borne away, and three more of the flying creatures appeared from the shadows to take the place of the ones departing or lost. Jack lay on his back and watched them wheeling above, following the dart and turn as they attacked, the slow, easy flight away when they had what they wanted. As he watched them he remembered another killing field and smiled to himself.

It seemed the two creatures were more interested in each other than the man and woman sprawled on the bridge, and both Jack and Elanor knew that this might be their best, or only, chance. Scrambling to their feet they crouched low and began to run as fast as their labouring bodies would allow towards the rock that waited, promising some form of safety, at the end of the bridge. They were not likely to be fast enough, and they both knew it, but the effort had to be made; as long as the fish came the flying creatures would concentrate on them, for it seemed they were their natural prey, but if they stopped leaping then other flesh might become more interesting. At which point they would be dead.

Jack sheathed his sword, ignoring the raging fires in his chest and limbs as best he could, his strength was failing and hers would be too, the rock spire was too far away and the fall to the lake to easily caused as the creatures wheeled around them, they had only one chance that he could see,  
"Elanor!" He hissed, "come here!"  
Something in his face or voice warned her that there was some reason for his demand and he sent up a silent prayer of thanks for sensible women when she crossed to him without hesitation or comment.  
She frowned into his face as he pulled her to his chest and wrapped her arms around him, but said nothing.  
"We'll never make it on foot," he muttered as he eased his pistol so that it was not between them,  
"Agreed."  
"So, hold on to me, and make it tight luv," he jerked his head in the direction of the successful hunters cruising past them, "because we are begging a ride, if you take my meaning."  
She looked up and he saw understanding light her face, then she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his chest,  
"I do indeed, " she said into his ear, "can you hold it alone or should I help?"  
"Best not, might unsettle the load so to speak. Just hang on."  
She grunted her agreement and buried her head in the curve of his neck, gripping him tighter still.

Over Elanor's shoulder Jack watched as one of the flying predators at the far end of the walkway snatched its prey and turned leisurely towards them,  
"Hold on!" he hissed again knowing that the time was now, and that there was only one chance of it, if he missed this time they would topple over into the waters below.  
He drew the deepest breath that he could and prepared himself for the pain he knew was about to come, feeling her breast press harder still against him as she did the same. As the creature passed over their heads Jack caught at the tails trailing from the talons, knotting his hands in them as best he could. The shock of the impact jerked his shoulders and tore at his back but he held on as Elanor tightened her grip on him still further. The stone fell away from below their feet and they were borne upwards and away on strongly beating wings towards the rock spire.

In the green waters below them the Lady watched them go and smiled.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40** **Moving On**

As the sun rose they were already far from the port. They had collected their meagre goods from the lodging in a hurry and left as the moon still rode high in the sky. Neither man was sorry to be gone, though they both felt their failure keenly.

" What gave us away?" Groves asked as they scrambled along a track beside the cliff edge.  
Hathaway shrugged,  
"One question too many. That and the fact that Jack Sparrow is an old hand at the game and chooses his allies well."  
They stopped for a moment to stare out over the shore towards the direction that the Intrepid would take in another day's time. Hathaway sighed as he watched the surf rolling in under the pale dawn light,  
"I had hoped than never going back to the same place twice would be enough to avoid being caught out, but clearly it wasn't. Someone noticed us more than once and wondered. Or maybe they just happened to mention it to Sampson, and I doubt that he is ever a trusting soul."

"But did they know who we were?"  
"No, they can't have done, if they had then we would have been quietly knifed in that alley without any chance to explain our intentions. Sampson was suspicious but he wasn't sure. I suspect that he has let us run to see what we will do, or maybe Sparrow has given instructions that those who come looking for him are to be harried but not killed, for fear of what might be the consequences."  
"And what of our reason for being here? Do they know that?"  
Hathaway shook his head with a wry smile,  
"Oh no, I'm sure of that, Sparrow will be most tight lipped on that subject, whatever he intends to do. A man cannot survive as a successful pirate for ten years, and with a price of that size on his head to boot, and not know how to hold his tongue. No, Sparrow is the only one who knows about that, and maybe this man Gibbs."

"And what of the woman?"  
Hathaway paused for a moment,  
"Ah, yes, the angel who appears to be riding his coattails. Or she devil, depending on whom you believe. Yes, she is something of a puzzle is she not? Obviously she is someone of considerable note, and yet we have never heard of her. Neither the pirates, nor Beckett, nor even Davy Jones explain her presence in this mix, nor who she is. I must say I am fired with a considerable desire to see her."  
Groves shuddered,  
"From what they say of her I'm not sure I share that desire sir. It seems she is prodigiously well armed!"  
"True, and not adverse to a fight either. Strange lady she must be, and I'll take a bet that she is a lady Groves. Not some fisherman's daughter or pirate lass she."  
"So where did she come from sir? Is it possible that she did return with Sparrow from the locker? If that is indeed where he vanished to."  
Hathaway was silent for a moment watching the first rays of day strengthening its hold on the land,  
"I don't know," he said eventually. "The idea that Sparrow truly did die and was brought back is almost too much to comprehend, that he brought some strange being from beyond the maps back with him when he came is truly beyond my comprehension."

Groves thought about that for a moment then sighed,  
"But if he did not bring her with him then why have we not heard of her before?"  
Hathaway nodded,  
"Yes, there is always that question too. But there is a question that is even more important."  
Groves looked at him in confusion,  
"There is? What?.. Sir."  
Hathaway stared out at the horizon with shuttered face and far away eyes, the early light striking a warm gold tint from his sweat straggled hair and the stubble peppering his chin, his mouth tightened as he thought,  
"Why is she aiding him Mr Groves?" he said softly. "What is it that she wants from the exchange? She seems powerful enough for it not to be his protection, and clever enough for it not to be his help, so what advantage does he hold for her?" He looked towards with Groves with a slight smile, "he may have some physical charms but I doubt they are sufficient to explain this lady's interest."  
He turned away, looking back towards the sea,  
"With all the world to chose from why did she come to a scorpion pit like this one, and why in search of Sparrow?"  
Groves eyebrows rose as he thought on that,  
"Why indeed sir?"

Hathaway reached out and patted the other man's arm,  
"The world is become very strange Mr Groves, and my gut tells me that she is a stranger part of it. But I may be wrong, the Admiral may know of the lady and what he knows may tell us why she is with Sparrow. The sooner we lay the matter before him the better."  
He looked up the road at the steep forested hills on either side and then back to the sea chewed rocks on the shore below them,  
"And yet... I am not so sure that anything is as it seems these days. The bay her ship was seen in is on our way to our rendezvous. We'll see if we can find more news there."  
He set off again and Groves hurried after him.

As he took his place at his captain's shoulder again a sudden thought occurred to him,  
"What did you mean back there, sir, about Nassau?"

***

Jack had gambled that his observations of the creatures had been sufficient and not for the first time his gamble paid off. The creatures did not rise so high when they had their prey to carry, and with the weight of two humans added to its catch their unwary benefactor flew lower than it might otherwise have done. Elanor, watching the stone causeway some ten or so feet below her could only pray that their transport did not turn away or climb too high before they reached their target. Pray too that Jack could hold on long enough for them to reach it. So far he had shown no sign of losing his grip on the fish tails but she did not underestimate what it must be costing him, and she couldn't help but wonder how long his failing strength could hold.

Nor could she avoid wondering what they would do if the creatures turned away from the road. She could almost feel the green waters watching and waiting as they were carried towards what, she hoped, would prove to be both safety and an answer.

But it seemed that the hunters were making for the same rock, whether it was their home or simply a marker along the way she could not tell but they seemed to follow the line of the causeway, keeping over it as far as they could.  
'Probably because it gives them a chance to recapture any prey that wriggle free', she thought.  
The leisurely beat of widespread wings was deceptive and the creatures were covering the distance to the rock spire far faster than they had ever had the hope of doing on foot. Elanor clutched Jack tighter still and tried to avoid wondering what it would feel like when he let go and they fell back down to the road.

As the spire came closer they could see that it was not smooth, but nor was it rocky and it had not the look of a crag. Instead it appeared like a fluted column of volcanic glass, wider than it had appeared at a distance. As they were taken closer still the surface took on a metallic texture and colouration, a midnight blue base colour with flashes of silver, indigo and green buried within it. The glitter of these hinted that somewhere within the body of the spire there might be a powerful light of some kind.

As they approached within thirty feet of the spire Jack felt the slight increase in the downdraft that betrayed the creatures intention to climb, and knew that it was time to part company with their ride. He turned his head and spoke into her ear,  
"Hold on, we're going down .. Now."  
With that he closed his eyes, held his breath and let go.

Gibbs woke with a start, knife springing to his hand as he wondered where he was. Then he remembered and settled back against the hot rock with a sigh.

The fountain of youth they had come looking for, he remembered, though Captain Elanor had spoken of it as something else. He stared out towards the reef and the ship waiting there and wondered if such a thing could truly be here. He'd seen many such islands, and few had held anything more eldritch than a fresh water spring. But after sailing over the edge of the world he was less than willing to say it might not be, and if Jack thought there were a chance then he'd better a flagon of rum that it were here.

For Jack's sake he hoped that it were, and that they found it. The man he knew was back again but there was something about him that suggested his fear of the Locker was not dead and buried.

He knew that ut had not been easy for Jack to give up command of the Dutchman, and more than once he had cursed himself for not following Will over, for sendin' Miss Elizabeth over. If she had just stayed on board the Pearl matters might have fallen out quite differently, though at the time there had been little choice in the matter. But he couldn't help but wonder what might have changed had he gone over with her. But then again someone had needed to keep the Pearl's crew together with Jack gone and Barbossa behaving more than a mite strangely. He sighed, t'were easy enough to want it changed, think on how it might have been changed, sittin here, but at the time..,,, well that had been different.

He'd not expected Jack to stand against the Armarda when he came back, and he'd delayed the order to fire longer than had been comfortable for any of them, but his instinct had been right. No doubt his instinct about this place were no less right. Captain Elanor now, she obviously thought so, she and that ghost of hers, elswehise they would not be here. He turned his eyes back to the white ship and wondered what the ghost was up to at this moment. Fine ship it were and that was fact, but where did they come from? No denying he'd be more comfortable if he knew that. Jack said it weren't the locker but he weren't so sure. Strange place it must be wherever it was, that lightening of hers was surely the stuff of the gods.. Was she some relation of Calypso then? No, he'd like to know more about this lady, for he'd never known her like before.

Though when it came to it just how much did he know about Jack? For he had never realised that Jack were the keepers get, though it answered a question or two. Barbossa now, he must have been real shaken when he realised how matters stood. Maybe that were why he had left them where he had, rather than abandoning them to die somewheres. But then again Barbossa was scarce hisself either now was he? Hadn't been since She had brought him back.

Gibbs frowned and swallowed another gulp of water and wished it were rum, these thoughts were both uncommon and uncomfortable and he would feel better if they would go away.

With a grunt he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to the hole in the ground into which the two captains had disappeared, staring into the shadows with a feeling of sudden fear Whatever they were doing he hoped it would be over soon.

***

The falling seemed to go onto forever, hanging between nothing and forbidding rock with the sight of Jack's flying braids visible at the corner of her eye telling her that he was still with her. Then, with a sickening jolt that seemed to splinter bone and rip sinew, she hit the causeway.

Their landing was inelegant and it sent them tumbling over each other before leaving them like landed fish, gasping from breath and sprawling, dazed, within the shadow of the spire. The world darkened for a moment as pain exploded and she didn't hear the curse as Jack landed or feel the slap of his hair across her face as he slid over her. But she was briefly aware of the heat of him through her shirt and felt the thud of another heartbeat against her ribs before she was alone again.

Elanor rolled over on to her back and watched the hunters pass over her before they rose effortlessly to vanish into the shadows on the far side of the spire. Beside her she could the rasp of Jack's breath as he struggled to sit up, but she continued to lie immobile as he pulled the lantern from his belt and sent a beam of light across the causeway still between them and the base of the spire.  
"Well we've arrived where we wanted to be, and in something approximating one piece. Can't ask more than that in the circumstances."  
There was relief in the familiar voice, but the rasp of it, and the breathless hiss that followed the words told her that he was hurting just as much as she was. Remembering the sight of his fingers just before they took flight she wondered for a moment how much more than her he was hurting.

If he could sit up then so could she!

With an effort, but a silent one, she hauled herself upright pushing her palms against the rock to lever herself to her feet. The air was thin here making their lungs labour for breath, but the stench was gone and though they could see tendrils of mist closing in behind them there seemed to be none between them and the tower. Jack stayed kneeling for a moment, shining the light down at the dark waters below and frowning, before he, too, scrambled upright. She pulled her own lantern free of her belt and thumbed it alight. In the sudden glare Jack's skin had the tint of a demon from hell, even the whites of his eyes were taking on a bloody colour. The deep vertical lines between his brows, just visible below the edge of his scarf spoke volumes of his discomfort and his lips looked cracked and dry. Water, he needed water.

It was only then that she realised what was missing, that somewhere in the confusions of the hallucination, the climb or the sudden appearance of the hunters they had lost their packs. Elanor swallowed on the sudden sinking feeling, going forwards would be hard enough, getting out would be harder still, but without water then both were probably impossible, for the air here was if anything hotter than it had been on the shore.

Jack saw her widening eyes and wondered what was happening now, a quick look around showed him that the causeway was deserted but for them and the hunters had all now passed. What then caused her momentary look of despair?  
"Water, we've no water. We left it behind," she whispered.  
He bared his teeth and swore, it was not only water they were without, there was no food, nor shot either, other than the little had had on his belt. Fool that he was, why had he not kept a better check on things? Why hadn't she come to that, though he thought he might know the answer to that, had he not seen the same concern in her face back there as he had that day when her little animals had attacked him? It was a long time since anyone had cared for him at all, he made sure of that, and he didn't want anyone starting to do so now. Brought all sorts of uncomfortable feelings and responsibilities that did and he would not have any part of it, didn't want any part of it.

At least he didn't think he did, but there was that moment when he had returned from the locker hadn't there? When he had not been himself and it had all felt different. He always went cold when he recalled that moment, just as he had on the dockside as he realised that the crew had stolen his ship and abandoned him again for Barbossa's less than tender mercies. That feeling had driven him to an unusual spurt of anger, a luxury he rarely allowed himself, both with Gibbs for allowing it and the ladies for not caring, for seeing and not seeing. No he didn't want her care, when the time came she would take her ship through her door without a second thought, better not to have than to have it and then have to do without. Care was a dangerous quanitity in their situation, brought all sorts of uncertainties that could cost a branded man his life. Had not the commodore demonstrated as much on the dock at Port Royale in what truly had been a life time ago?

That she, of his blood no less, had forgotten the practicalities in her caring was only more proof, if he needed it, that such care softened the brain, for look where it had left them!

But then he had not done so very much better in his not caring, had he?

He swallowed on the angry words and sighed, looking up to where the sky should be.  
"Bugger! But nothin' we can do about it now. Not unless you fancy the walk there and back again."  
The despair vanished from her face and she squared her shoulders with a slight smile,  
"No. I think I'll pass on that."  
"We'll just have to hope there is fresh water here, though I'd shrivel rather than drink that devils brew," he indicated the lake with a flick of his hand.  
Though the fire on his skin warned him that yet may prove to be a lie.

Elanor felt a sudden sense of inevitability, avoid all water Ariaden has said, and not content with bathing it now it seemed they would be drinking it too! Assuming that there was any to drink. She would not drink that lake water either.

"Well no use standin' here bemoaning matters." Jack said, easing his shirt against his burning skin, before drawing his sword, "best get on with it and see if we can find some."

***

They crossed above the bay where the lady's ship had been seen as the sun reached towards noon. The day was hot but the scudding clouds suggested that more rain would arrive before nightfall. Both men felt a pressing need of refreshment and, as they had not even stopped to fill their water bottles before leaving town, they were glad of the sight of the farmsteads clustered about a small dip in the land just off the cliff path.

It would be over grand to call it a village for the small cluster of buildings probably encompassed no more than half a dozen small farmsteads strung out on the flat land between the wooded hills and drop to the shore. Chickens scratched amongst the sandy dust and goats could be seen grazing in the hedges beside the path, but there were no signs of people. One little cluster of roofs was slightly off to the side, a slightly larger establishment by the look of it, with a couple of small barns and a still room as well as a one story house of moderate proportions. If a pirate were to come ashore here then that would be the place they would head for. Groves and Hathaway exchanged a look and set off in the direction of this homestead.

As they approached the garden wall a girl appeared, not yet eighteen Hathaway guessed by the firm look of the unlined pale skin, she had buckets in both hands and her skirts kilted to show sturdy, sun glazed, ankles. Catching sight of them she stopped and stared then looked around as if seeking help. Hathaway raised his hand to his forelock and saluted her politely,  
"Morning miss, we were not meaning to startle you, but we would be glad of the opportunity to purchase a mug of ale." He gave a disarming smile, "the road is all dust and the day grows hot."

The girl stared at him for a moment then she put down her buckets and half turned away from them, calling to someone in the building behind her,  
"Ma, we have customers for your home brew at the gate."  
A woman appeared from the shadows, wiping her hands on her apron as she did so; off to their left a young man appeared beside the hedge, scythe in hand and a wary look on his face. While the girl had looked only curious neither her parent, nor the lad who could be her husband or her brother, looked to be friendly and Hathaway quickly abandoned any thought of asking questions here.

Yet when they took up the road again they were better informed than they had hoped to be, for the girl had been bored and had revelled in their admiring looks while her mother and brother were so close to hand. Her chatter had been artless enough, but her giggles when Hathaway had assured her that they were not pirates suggested that she had been in the company of pirates at some time in the not so distant past, and her comments that not all pirates were so bad suggested that she had not minded the experience. Sparrow, Hathaway was inclined to bet, for the great days of the swashbuckling buccaneers were sliding into history, even Beckett must have known that, and Jack Sparrow was surely the last of those remaining that might have any claim to romance in a young girl's mind. Though it was always possible that she had just heard of him rather than met him, but given this was the bay where the lady's ship had been seen he was almost sure that seen him she had, and possibly recently.

As they lingered on the cliff edge and looked down at the steep climb up those cliffs Groves wondered what would inspire a man to climb them, and anyone coming ashore from a ship anchored here would have had to climb. If Sparrow had come ashore from that ship here then why had he done so? He could have docked in the port unmolested, so why come to this out of the way place? Was it possible that he had brought the heart of Davy Jones, if that was his leverage, here? If so where would he have left it?

Looking around them Hathaway could see no possible hiding place unless it was a in a cave on the cliff face itself. He went as far as lying flat on the cliff edge, trying to see where one might be, but gave it up deciding that Sparrow would not risk it to such an open and vulnerable spot. No, if he had come ashore here then it was not to hide the heart. In which case there was another reason why he had not sailed openly into the harbour? Something to do with that angel who had come looking for him perhaps? With a sigh he picked up his bag again and set off up the path towards their rendezvous.

***

The tower, for that was what she thought of it at this close range, was round as far as she could judge and broader than it had looked at a distance. It rose from the waters like a reed, the base lost in the deep green depths of the lake, and the causeway joined it rather than being a part of it. The structure looked to be in two sections, the second level slightly narrower than the first though it was possible that a third was lost in the shadows. The top of it would be near the same height as the forest they had fallen from.

If she had doubted that the cause way led to this then the sight of the doorway resolved the matter. They moved closer, lanterns raised high to maximise the light.

The causeway entered through a square lintel in wall then was lost in the deeper shadow within the walls. There was no door, just a wide opening where, once, some barrier had obviously stood, but what kind of barriers was less clear. There were no rotted timbers to be seen, no rusted nails, not even any dust to suggest that something else had fallen to nothingness here.

Elanor advanced on the doorway carefully but the place seemed silent and deserted. No animal stirred nor bird fluttered and, with a quick glance at Jack, she moved closer to the lintel. Her fingers brushed the surface lightly, it was smooth and cool in the humid air, no moisture adhered to it at all. She held the lantern closer still, shining it one way then another and was not terribly surprised when she saw traces of those same lines and clusters she had seen in the walls of the tunnel where they had first entered. Whatever the barrier up there had been there had been something very similar down here.

"What is it?" Jack said quietly coming to stand at her shoulder,  
"I don't know but I think it was the same as what we saw up there," she ran her hands over the surface again, "I think there was a door of some form here once but I doubt that it was a door as we would know it." She gave him a warning look, "it's gone I think, but that's not to say there aren't others barriers around here, the place might be falling apart but it may still have a trick or two up its sleeve."  
Jack grimaced,  
"Thanks for that thought luv!"

With a smile she straightened and brushed her fingers on her shirt.  
"Glad to be of help. So do we go in?"  
"That's why we came her wasn't it?"  
"True. But are you still sure that you want to?"  
Jack came close to her, staring into her face with that gold flecked grin, yet, despite the broadness of it, it was a tight and unyielding as a manacle while his eyes seemed as darkly red as hell fire might be. His voice was soft hiss,  
"Elanor, darlin, after all this place has put us to I think it owes us something in return, don't you?"  
"That may be so, but there is no saying what it could still take from us, our lives for example."  
Jack put out a hand and took one of hers, looking down at the red lines marching, ever thickening, across her skin. His own hand was now wrapped in a cobweb of pulsing wheals, the heat of which seemed to be burning his bones. He traced one of the frailer lines on the back of her hand with a finger, even his rings seemed red in the dim light.  
"It may already have done so. Never thought it would be this hard, " he said softly "I'm thinking that we won't escape from here unless we find the fountain."  
She looked at him in silence for a moment then drew a deep breath and nodded,  
"I think you may be right about that. I can't see us making it back to the surface in our current shape and it is likely to get worse rather than better."  
He went on staring down at her hand for a moment, then he look up to meet her eyes, his fingers still wrapped around hers,  
"We go in then?"  
"We go in."

***  
As the two men strode away they were watched into the distance by a wary Ben and his equally wary, and suspicious, mother.  
"Why did they stop here Ma? Amos's place is closer to the path if they just wanted ale."  
"Ay, so I thought, though I'll not deny that I have reputation for brewin' and the coin is welcome." She shrugged, "Perhaps they did not want to be dealin' with an escaped slave. There are those who feel that way, even here."  
She watched them as they climbed a small rise,  
"But if they be vagabonds they are new to it, their clothes were a mite too whole for them to have been scrounging long."  
"Escaped bondsmen maybe?" Ben offered.  
"Perhaps, 'tis possible they are new runaway's looking for a place, yet their hands did not speak of recent toil."  
Ben nodded, proud as always of his mother's wit,  
"They were mightily interested in the bay Ma, the tow haired one almost fell down the cliff lookin'"  
"So I saw, but I'd wager it were not the bay that interested them but what might have been there."  
Her son looked down at her with a frown,  
"The lady captain and her ship?"  
Polly sucked her teeth for a moment then shook her head,  
"Jack Sparrow more like. Somethin' about them called Josh to mind, so I'd says navy."

Ben goggled at her in astonishment,  
"Navy! Here? They'd not dare Ma!"  
Polly gave a knowing smile,  
"Normally they'd not, but what's been normal of late? Jack Sparrow is deep in something and mark my words they are a part of it."  
She saw her son reach for his billhook and grasped his wrist impatiently,  
"Ben, do not be a fool! Let them be! They have done no harm, and they've not found ought here. Do not seek out trouble for no reason! Let them go, " she turned back to look up the path, "but warn our neighbours to be on the watch, if they come back we may need to ask them to explain themselves. Until then leave things be as I bid you, but warn your sister to keep mum." She stared hard at the retreating backs, "let's hope that's the last we see of them. Whatever it is I don't think I want any part of it."

With that she withdrew back to her still room and the newly fermenting rum, trying not to wonder what it was Josh Gibbs was involved in this time.

***

The first bones they found were in a tumbled heap by the far wall.

They had entered from the causeway into a large space with a ceiling high enough to disappear into the shadows. In the middle was another, smaller, circular structure, a tower within a tower, and made of the same dark and glassy rock as the outer walls. All of the walls, those of both the inner and the outer tower, seemed to be marked with a similar pattern of crystals to those they had seen beside the main door and in the tunnels above, but there was no more sign of what they meant than there had been before. They walked slowly around the inner tower and then the outer walls, examining each surface carefully, wondering what this place had been constructed for. Then they found the remains.

The huddle of bones was lying beside a shallow indentation in the floor on the other side of the inner structure, this hollow was one of several others and similar in size and shape to the several slabs of some lighter coloured stone.

Jack stirred a skeletal foot with his toe, hurriedly covering his first look of horror, and the shudder, with a look of nonchalance,  
"Not the first here then." He said brightly.  
"No, but then there is no reason why we should be. The map has been around for centuries and it may well have been copied from others even older. Others may well have found their way here."  
"Hmm," Jack responded as he stirred the bones again, "So what killed this one? Hunger and thirst? The lake water?"  
"Maybe either, or all, or none " she joined him by the remains, studying it with an experienced eye. "Whoever it was has other injuries too;" she reached out a finger, "see here, a broken leg, arm and collarbone. There may have been others that are no longer visible."  
Jack peered at the bones she indicated and nodded,  
"Aye and not sword made either. More like from a fall." He looked around, "but a fall from what." he tipped his head back and stared into the shadows, "There must be a roof up there but not even an undead monkey would scale these walls. Would take Cotton's parrot to get up there."

"I know, but there must be a way up, why else built the place at all."  
Elanor wandered away from him as she spoke, the sudden spat of light as the lantern passed over a stretch of wall behind one of rock slabs attracting her attention, here the pattern for crystals seemed more intricate, more purposeful, reminding her again of something that she couldn't quite recall.  
"What fascinates you so?" Jack was standing beside her, and the irritation in his voice suggested that he had said something to her and that she hadn't heard.  
She got no chance to answer him though, for as she opened her mouth she realised that the rock beneath them was moving, and it answered his earlier question about the body for it was moving upwards into the shadows.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41 Rising Up**

The impossibility of a levitating stone slab froze them where they stood.

The silence lasted just long enough for Elanor to realise that there was no sound accompanying their movement, no hiss of hydraulics or clunk of mechanical hoist, then to wish that she hadn't noticed that.  
"Up, we are going up! Why are we going up?" Jack demanded, sounding both confused and outraged as they both broke free of the shock.  
They dropped to their hands and knees, though the thing was moving smoothly enough, and he scuttled carefully toward the edge and peered over to see the floor disappearing,  
"The floor's gone. Why is the floor gone?"  
Wide eyed he leaned further out until she caught hold of his arm and hauled him back beside her.  
"Jack, for god's sake! Do you want to end up like that pathetic heap of bones? He probably fell from something similar!"  
He frowned at her as he shook off her restraining hand,  
"I've been on many an edge, I'm safe enough. What did you do? This bloody thing seems to think it's a flyin' carpet!"  
"I didn't do anything that I know of. But stay away from the edge if you don't want to end up like whoever is down there, heaven only knows what happens when it stops! Or before it stops come to that. Maybe our weight will tilt it!"

Jack paused for a moment, then he gulped and scrambled closer to the centre, laying himself flat on the stone as if that was the only way he could placate the rising rock as it continued silently into the shadows. After a momentary pause Elanor crawled across and sat beside him. He did not look at her, just went on staring upwards as if moving his head would bring some further catastrophe down upon him.  
"Where are we going?" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.  
"Up."  
"I'd noticed that! But flying rocks? Where does it stop?"  
Elanor decided to take that remark literally, though she wasn't sure that was how he meant it,  
"I've no more idea than you have," she said wearily as collapsed beside him, "It may go all the way to the top or it may not. It may stop and let us off before we get to the top or it might just toss us off when it gets there."  
"Or splatter us against the ceiling?"  
The anxiety and resignation in his voice betrayed that this was no a casual comment and Elanor squinted up into the darkness, but was not really surprised by what she saw. A roof of some form was taking shape above them. The slab was moving slowly but fast enough to do them fatal damage if they were to meet a solid surface on the way up. What was forming in the shadows had the look of a very solid surface.

"No way up and no way down. So it ends here after all." Jack sounded both sad and resigned. "Does this count as dry land do you think, or, given that we are surrounded by water and beneath the sea, will it be back to the locker for me after all?"  
Elanor swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight and dry,  
"I wouldn't like to offer an opinion on that Jack." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as she thought about the world she had known, "But you saw the other side didn't you? I mean that you saw them didn't you? The ....souls passing on?"  
"Aye, why?"  
"Then whatever it is we know that it doesn't end here, at least not in this world. I wonder if that will apply to me too?"  
"Why should it not? You're here aren't you?"  
"I don't know, but then that might not matter. The rules of this place make no sense to me at all!"  
"Ha!" his exclamation was half hearted, "Rules! Just like your officerly ancestor, got to know the rules!"  
The stupidity of the conversation struck her, but it seemed better than a silent drift up to being crushed.  
"I like to know them Jack, doesn't mean I play by them. At least not always, and we don't know that he's my ancestor."  
"Bet you a bottle of rum that he is. " he flicked a finger but kept his hand firmly on the stone as if afraid of tipping himself off. "Assuming there are bottles of rum wherever we are about to go. Wish I hadn't thought of that."  
"Rum?"  
"No rum."  
"Oh."  
For some, unfathomable, reason that made her smile. Jack could be such a simple soul. Did he really think that she hadn't noticed that he drank far less of anything than he liked people to believe?

On impulse she reached out and put her hand over his, feeling the marks on his skin pulsating with each heart beat. His fingers stiffened for a moment and he turned his head slightly to look at where her hand lay on his,  
"Shouldn't do that Elanor, if I'm for the locker then I might take you with me."  
Her smile widened and she tightened her fingers around his,  
"Well wherever I might be going I doubt if I'll know anyone, eternity with only strangers doesn't sound so appealing."  
There was a split second's hesitation then his hand closed on hers,  
"So it might," he said softly, "and they might all like to play by the rules. Can't let you be spending an eternity in boredom." He remembered the white expanse of the locker and frowned slightly, "at least not on your own. Nor trapped with a crowd of brass and braid. Related or otherwise." He thought for a moment then sighed,  
"Might not like the company of course, but better than that anyways."

The shadow had become a ceiling now, solid and substantial, and still the slab they lay on showed no sign of stopping or even of slowing down. It continued the gentle upward drift as if the way was unimpeded. But it wasn't, the roof looked to be rock or maybe the same resin as the tower walls, for it had no more texture than that. Less now she came to think of it, for the metallic glitter was gone replaced instead by a matt blue sheen. Heavy looking though, and unyielding. As Jack's finger's tightened around hers she found herself wondering how long it would take for the meeting of the two surfaces to crush them.

***

"She worries you sir, nearly as much as Sparrow does. Why is that?" Groves asked as they stood at the rail and watched the island slide by, quiet and peaceful in the darkness.  
Hathaway went on staring at the shore.  
"I had expected Sparrow to be hard to find but I had not factored in supernatural help. Will anyone believe us if we try to say that the man who controls Davy Jones cannot be found because of an angel or a she devil?"

Groves stared out at the coastline with its huddle of buildings and thought about the implications of that. Once he would have said that he did not fear war, nor dying with his men for his king and country, but having seen the effects of the Flying Dutchman at close quarters he knew that he could no longer say that with such certainty. Having seen Beckett's war at close quarters, and having learned the dishonour of it, he was no longer certain of anything at all. His one consolation was that Hathaway did not appear to expect anything different. As he watched the moon bathe the land in silver he wondered if Hathaway believed in anything at all, or if he too had faced his own illusions.

The Intrepid had plucked them from the sea when the night was younger and the moon obscured by clouds. On Hathaway's order they had hauled down the colours, doused most of the lamps and followed the coast back to the bay where the white ship had been seen.  
"It would not be easy to anchor here at night, and yet they must have come by night. How did they get passed the rocks and into safety, just the two of them, if they had no supernatural help? How could they sail a ship of that size at all, just one man and a woman?"  
Groves had shrugged,  
"Sparrow got the Interceptor here with just the help of the lad Turner and he was no sailor."  
"Which only goes to prove that he should not be underestimated. But a woman Mr Groves? A lady at that, at least if the stories have any truth to them. How many ladies do you know who could take to crewing a ship?"  
"None sir. But we do not know that they came alone, they might have a full crew aboard."  
"They might indeed, but if that is the case where did that crew come from, and why did the lady herself go in search of Sparrow?"  
Groves thought that over for a moment,  
"True sir. But it is not impossible and what other possibilities are there?"

Hathaway was silent for a moment then he turned away from the rail,  
"But does that make it better Mr Groves? Does that mean that a whole ship full of such beings awaits us?"  
He started across the decks towards the helm, not staying to see the other man's reaction, knowing that there was nothing more to be learned for the moment. As he went he heard Groves put into words the thought that had haunted him since first hearing of Sparrow's strange companion, a thought he would not speak.  
"Dear Lord! How will we fight them if there are?"

***

Death had not claimed them this time, though neither of them could say why.

The slab had risen to meet the roof with no pause and they had tensed ready for the first pressure, both knowing that the imminent dying might not be quick or painless.

But there had been no pressure, no crushing of bone or splattering of blood. One minute the roof had been before them and then it was not. There was a moment of chill, a feeling as if they were on the edge of a powerful storm and then there was only shadows above them again.

Jack edged to the side of the slab and peered carefully over the edge, then he edged back to sit beside her, a very thoughtful look on his face.  
"Stone, we just went through stone. And we're not dead. You want to explain this?" he said slowly, frowning into the darkness.  
Elanor gave a laugh that sounded hysterical to her own ears.  
"I'd love to be able to!"  
"Not something of your world then?"  
"No, though.. "  
"Though what?"  
"Nothing."  
"Nothing?" he snapped, "Something occurred to you, I know it. Is it so terrible that you can't name it, or is it that you just don't want to tell me?"  
"Not terrible, just unlikely, and don't start taking it out on me, it's not my fault that the world has gone mad. We both knew that it had well before we arrived here."  
There was a moment of quiet then he sighed heavily,  
"Can't argue with that I suppose. Does it matter, this thing that's unlikely?"  
"Doesn't change things if that's what you mean?"  
"It is." He sounded very tired, "Bugger."  
Neither of them felt the need to comment on the matter further.

Elanor turned her head, out to her left she could see the curving wall of the inner tower, the look and shape of it unchanged. She wondered idly what it was and why it was here, and if she would live long enough to find out. Then wondered if she even cared any longer. At that moment, with the lake water brand tracing spider's webs of heat on her skin and with flames starting behind her eyeballs, she longed to be back on her ship. 'If I have to die here in this world then so be it, but please let it be on my ship.' It occurred to her briefly to wonder with whom, exactly, she was pleading. If she had ever doubted that she understood Jack's pining for his ship she did not do so any longer, to die with the wind at her back and the horizon spread out before her seemed a very different matter to an ending here, encased in rock and sand.

To be free just one more time.

"Elanor, we've stopped. Well I think we've stopped, I'm nearly sure." Jack's voice was a laboured rasp. He sat up slowly and looked around, "Nowhere, we are in the middle of nowhere? Why?"  
She pulled herself to her knees and peered towards the edge of the slab, sure enough it appeared to be stopped, hovering in mid air with just shadows above and below them. They exchanged a look and both crawled to the edge, peering up then down before looking at each other in confusion.  
"Why here?" Jack asked the question for both of them.  
"No idea. So what do we do now?"  
"Well either we jump or we wait here and die of thirst."  
Looking across at him she wasn't sure that would be such a long wait. His skin now seemed to be one raw, red scar, only the brand on his wrist showing white, and she could feel the heat coming off him, hot as she was. His eyes seemed darker than before, almost black against the reddened eyeball, and he appeared to have problems in opening them for he was looking at her through narrowed slits. That, and the dark growth of his beard, made him look like some fantasy painting of the devil. All he needed were the horns.  
"There is no way down Jack, even if we tied all our clothing and belts together it wouldn't be long enough."

For a moment he seemed to think about a salacious reply, but then recollection of the situation, or weariness, put the thought from his mind. They both knew there was no need for playacting anymore, for the situation had long since passed such a point.  
"True enough, so it's the slow way, is that it?" he looked across at her with a sad and sombre expression, "Fortunately luv, this time I have shot enough for two. He frowned, "it's probably better I despatch you first, you might not manage the pistol."  
For a moment she looked at him in silence wondering about the time when he didn't have enough shot for two, then she nodded.  
"But not immediately."  
He smiled and shook his head,  
"Never say die eh? Agreed, not immediately. Would be a sad thing to die when a little thought would save us. Would it not?"  
She gave a short laugh,  
"Yes it would!"

Not that it seemed likely that there would be any other way, a pistol shot or a slow death. Instead of being crushed, or falling to their deaths like the poor wretch on the ground they either died by a bullet or stayed here and faded away, their bones falling with the slab when it finally surrendered to gravity. Elanor looked over the edge again. How far down was it? Was that the only chance? How far could they get before they had to take a chance on that same gravity.

Gravity! A ceiling that wasn't there!

Slowly she put out her hand, reaching out into space, while Jack watched her with weary confusion. There was the edge, there was the beginning of the drop, and there was... a floor! Or at least something solid. Carefully she spread her finger out and felt around, the solidity extended in towards the edge of the slab then out beyond it. As if the stone had risen into a hole, a pre-programmed resting place that they couldn't see. But it seemed to be there.

Jack, realising that something was not as it looked came closer, gingerly extending his own hand, fingers dancing in the air for a moment before spreading out and mapping what was there but not there.  
"More weirdness," he said softly, "Seems to follow me about these days." He sat up suddenly, looked at his hand then got to his feet, "Still this looks to be a good weirdness, gets us off this bloody rock at least. Spares us the pistol for a little while longer."  
With that he stepped to the edge of the slab.  
Elanor caught at his ankle,  
"Jack we don't know what it is, or if it will bear our weight. We most certainly don't know how far it stretches."  
He looked down at her with a smile,  
"I know that. A floor that isn't there, certainly counts as stupid to go walking on it. But..." he looked at his hand for a moment and then pointed a steady finger at her, "seems to me we've been doing a lot of unwise things for some time, and according to my reckoning its my turn to do something stupid this time. So."  
With a flourish he stepped out into the void.

***

Intrepid was heading for Port Royal again with the wind full astern and making good time. But not a half day's sail away from Tortuga they met Admiral Norrington coming the other way, and, responding to the other ships signals, they hauled in canvas and dropped anchor. Taking a long boat Hathaway and Groves crossed the water to the other ship in silence, both wondering what it could be that brought the Admiral here, so obviously seeking them out.

Silence was maintained until they were in the Admiral's cabin.

"The Spanish have despatched half a dozen war ships to the Caribbean." The Admiral said as soon as the door closed behind them. "Our spies are not sure why, but it seems likely they are increasing their efforts to find Sparrow. We believe that they have ordered three more towards the South China Sea, apparently in search of the junk previously captained by Sao Feng."  
He sank into his chair and rubbed a hand over his eyes,  
" Why they should think the occupants would know of Sparrow I cannot say, and there may be some other reason for it, but our spies have told us that they captured a pirate vessel some weeks back and that they have been holding one member of it's crew in Havana. It may be someone who claims to have been at Shipwreck at the time of the battle. It is not clear how much they have learned from him, if they have learnt anything, but there is no doubting the move does not bode well. The king has ordered six ships out to watch them and try and intercept any vessel they show interest in, but there is no denying that the matter is entering a grave stage, gentlemen. I had hoped you might have good news for me but it would seem not."  
Hathaway shook his head,  
"Sparrow hasn't been seen in Tortuga for more than a month. But his last visit was not without interest sir. It would seem that he has found some unusual help."

Groves thought he heard the Admiral groan before he dropped his hand to the desk and looked at them,  
"Then you had better tell me all about it."

***

Elanor didn't think that she would ever get rid of that image, of Jack stepping out into nothingness. She held her lantern out to light his feet, as if it might stop him falling, until he waived it away impatiently,  
"Bad enough to walk on thin air, worse still to see me feet while they do it!"  
In the light his face looked as if he had paled, but it was not possible to be sure given the devil like flush.

She pulled the lantern back and scrambled up, he was several feet away from her now and whatever it the surface was it seemed able to support him. In the quiet she could hear him mumbling to himself, words about ropes and yardarms and beasties, at least she thought he said beasties, filtered back to her. Though she couldn't make out all of them she got the feeling that he was chastising himself for being so timorous.

Hearing him she took herself to task, she could not stay here so she might as well get it over with, as long as she didn't get too close to Jack the thing should take her weight. With a deep breath she stepped out too.

It was not as terrifying as it might have been, for the shadows hid much of the drop. She could see no further than the distance from the topsail to the deck, why then should it look so far? In silence they circled the slab but it looked no different from outside than it had from within; then they both moved carefully towards the outer wall exploring it by sight and fingertip as they slowly circled the space. But space was all it seemed to be.  
"Why here? Why did the thing stop here?" Jack demanded of thin air.  
"I've no idea." She raised the lantern high shining it around her as she edged closer to the walls.  
There were more of those strange markings, the clusters of crystals making a different pattern here. Carefully she reached out and ran her fingers over them, these were smoother than those below and felt cold beneath the heat of her skin. She was lost in thought when Jack's hand grasped her wrist,  
"Careful there, we don't know if you set that flying carpet off last time in your exploring."  
Elanor shook her head,  
"Whatever this place is it's too old for me to do anything that matters."  
Jack huffed a little at that but said nothing more, wandering away towards the inner wall instead,  
"Temple do you think then? Designed to placate some long forgotten deity?" he turned and smiled at her, "Saw an old temple once, not unlike this it was, all great stone pillars, empty rooms and strange carvings." His smile became suggestive, but not as much as the images his hand sketched in the air, "interesting habits the priests must have had."Elanor hid a smile,  
"Where was it?"  
"Southern America's. Got chased there by the Spanish a time or two. Got chased out too."

He reached out to touch the surface and sprang back as the room was flooded with the same silver blue light they had seen outside.  
"Now who is setting things off?" Elanor crossed to join him as she spoke.  
"Didn't touch it!"  
"You must have done."  
"Did not I say!"  
"Well something is happening."

The return of the blue light was not the only change, behind them the slab they had arrived on was moving again, rising up from the floor like a feather wafted by a breeze. Jack took one more look around the empty room and then caught her arm, pulling her with him, only letting go when he took a leap onto the rising slab.  
"Come on!" he insisted, "there is nothing here, but there might be where this is going."  
Elanor frowned in annoyance but flung herself upwards, catching at the edge of the slab as it passed, cursing as Jack dragged her unceremoniously up beside him.  
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," she hissed as she rubbed at her scraped legs.  
"Nothing to stay here for luv. Can't be any more dangerous where this is going."  
"Want to bet on that?" she asked blandly as yet another slab emerged from the shadows and passed them travelling in the opposite direction.  
"Ah." Was Jack's only comment as he drew his sword and eased his pistol in his sash.

The passing slab's surface was decorated with three small piles of bones.

***

Report completed Hathaway and Groves had returned to the Intrepid and resumed their journey to Port Royale.

Groves had stood his watch then sought his bed, sighing gratefully at the familiar sight of clean bedding. It would take some time ashore to rid himself of the passengers he had acquired in the stews they had left behind, and, as he shook out his uniform, he wondered again how Jack Sparrow had managed to retain his flamboyance in such a place when he could hardly have carried a change of clothes. Navy broadcloth was hot and heavy but at least he got a clean shirt when he needed it and there was usually water enough to swill the Caribbean sweat from his skin. How had James Norrington managed all those weeks on a pirate ship with no clean linen and no one to brush the flies and lice from his coat? He thought that it would take a lot of water to wash the stink of his own sweat from his nostrils.

The thought of the Commodore was followed by the thought of Ms Swann, painful though it was. The girls in Tortuga had reminded him most painfully of her fate, or rather her likely fate he corrected himself for they had not seen her again after she was seen to board Sao Feng's ship. He wondered what had happened to Turner that he had let her go. Until he turned up on the Endeavour Groves had assumed Turner to be dead and beyond protecting her, but he had been alive it seemed, so what devil's pact had brought him to allow her to be traded in that manner? Sparrow could not have been the cause of it for he had still been in Beckett's hands when the pirate's junk had taken her aboard and departed.

As he pulled the bedclothes up to his chest his mind flitted away from the governor's lost daughter and back to the pirate they were seeking. The Admiral had offered them one ray of hope in the darkness of their failure; the Black Pearl had been spotted and behaving very strangely, more so than even Jack Sparrow might be expected to behave.

He was still wondering about that when he fell asleep.

***

The stone rose up without sound or vibration just as it had before. Jack looked wary but this time he remained standing while Elanor sat, crossing her ankles and winding her arms around her knees hoping that this one could pass through ceilings too, and that it knew where to stop. That or whatever had set it moving would stop it in time. The blue light was getting stronger now, flickering around them like lightening, sparking flashes of silver from the crystals in the wall. The inner tunnel seemed transparent, showing curls of something that looked to be smoke within it, in which diamond bright drops rose and danced. They could not see what the dancing motes were, nor where the light was coming from. She looked down at her hand at the pulsing marks, the redness seemed to be seeping even into her fingernails, they looked blacker in the light than they had in the shadows.

Jack saw her examine her hands out of the corner of his eye and swallowed down on the surge of guilt knowing that it would neither of them any good. The habit of years was slow to take over and for a moment his courage failed, for he could not imagine how this creeping evil that devoured them could ever be stopped. 'Time to think of that when there is nothing else to be thought of' he reprimanded himself, by which time it would it not be worth thinking of. It would not hurt to distract her a little while this strange bird took them where it was going, and himself too if he were more honest with himself than he knew it might be good to be. Perhaps she might feel in need of a little comforting now, for he knew that he did! A man could only do what he could do after all.

He sheathed his sword, raised his lantern and looked her over critically,  
"Do I look as bad as yourself does?" he said after a moment.  
She looked up at him with a considering expression, eventually she smiled slightly,  
"You look like the devil with a bad case of sunburn if that's what you want to know."  
"Ah. Do I now?" he bowed to her, flourishing the lantern like a handkerchief, his smile glinting in the odd light. "Well you look like a particularly fetching demon if I may be so bold."  
Elanor crossed her arms and stared back at him,  
"Why not? You usually are."  
He straightened and wagged an eyebrow at her, shaking his head in mock reproof,  
"Now, now Captain Cavendish, admit it, I have been a model of decorum when in the presence of your good self. Have I not?"  
"Bullshit Captain Sparrow, when given the inch you have never failed to take the warned of mile."  
Jack struck a pose, looking playfully affronted  
"Have I now! And when exactly did you give the inch necessary to enable said mile taking then?"  
She just smiled with false brightness.

He edged a little closer hand fluttering, tracing what looked to be close to her shape in the air, before he sank down at her side with a surprising grace  
"But here . in the jaw of death itself, that mile looks very much worth the walk," his voice dropped lower, "and I find myself wondering what a captain demon might taste of."  
Carefully he put his hand on her shoulder, his fingers sliding up towards her neck, brushing the soaking strands of her hair away from her skin before sliding around the curve of her neck, looking into her eyes with an intensity that was unusually straightforward.  
"The sands are running out on us, and we've nothing to do for the moment but wait, so can you not find it in yourself to wonder the same about a captain devil? Hmm?"

Her smile dimmed, then faded as he raised his other hand, his fingers brushing against her skin, the heat of him was a solid wall even before his hot skinned touch added to the fire that was already flaming her nerve endings. 'What could it matter now?' she thought to herself, their strength was fading fast, and they both knew it for all the bravado. 'We're likely to be dead within a few hours. Keeping him at arms length can hardly matter now, and if he feels half as bad as I do he isn't going to be pushing his luck very far.'  
"Perhaps," she said softly, "but I make no promises. I might not be in the mood, death's door or not," she held his gaze with her own for a moment, "but then again I might."  
He smiled slightly and moved closer still,  
"Then I'll risk all shall I?"  
That brought the smile to her lips again,  
"I thought you already had."

He tilted his head slightly at that and a thoughtful, sombre, look replaced the devil glint in his eyes,  
"Not quite all," he said reflectively, "Never that. But who is to say..." the words tailed off and he turned his head towards her, the brush of his mouth against her cheek so soft she might have thought that she imagined it.  
Elanor put her hand up to catch at his hair, winding her fingers through it, turning his head slightly. She felt a knock against her hip as he hooked his lantern back in his belt and eased his pistol to one side, then his other hand was on her waist, finger spayed upwards towards her ribs. For a moment she wondered if she felt as hot to him as he did to her. How could they burn so hot and still be alive? His skin felt softer than she had expected, so too did those carefully clipped whiskers. Not that she got much more than a fleeting of an impression of them, for a soon as his mouth brushed hers he pulled away from her,  
"What was that?" he hissed into her ear.  
She swallowed a laugh,  
"Well it wasn't the earth moving that's for sure."  
Jack leaned back a little, staring at her with a puzzled frown,  
"You do say the oddest things," he complained then moved closer again.  
Only to have his hand freeze mid caress as the noise came again,  
"What is it?" he demanded into her ear.  
"I don't know," she said equally softly  
The sound had been faint but she had heard it too.

They stayed silent and still, ear to ear, chest to chest, head leant against the others. It was still faint but growing, a sound like waves washing against the shore. Suddenly Elanor knew what those dancing motes had looked like, they had looked like sea spray.

They broke apart without a word and stared at the source of the blue light, then Jack turned and looked at her,  
"Water!" he thought for a moment, then grinned, "rising up!"


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 43 Dead men and silent ladies**

The light was bright, sulphur yellow and neon orange to begin with, changing to red then green on an apparent whim. But Elanor didn't think there was anything random about it all, nor did she think the light was natural. Down below them something very planned and purposeful was happening and the light was merely a by product.

She and Jack had ventured onto the top of the crucible itself, peering down through its diamond cap to watch the water rising almost stealthily but with great speed. Below them the lights shifted and flickered in unpredictable patters as the level rose, sending strange shadows across the crucible and their faces. Other than that there had been nothing to see.

As the crucible had started to fill so the air around it seemed to get even warmer, yet the surface of the tubes beneath them had started to get colder. With a warning look at each other they had turned and returned to the mezzanine, they could only hope that it offered sufficient protection from whatever was about to happen.

But not before they had caught sight of something both intriguing and depressing. On the far side of the mezzanine there was an alcove in the rock wall and as the light rose and dipped it threw shadows across what looked to be human bone.

When they arrived back on the floor they both turned in that direction without a word.

The distance was not far but it was a longer walk than was comfortable, Elanor felt the hot air scalding her lungs and the hiss and thud of her own blood in her ears drowned out the sound of the rising waters. Twice she tripped and nearly fell as her feet seemed unable to remember the requirements of walking. Jack was obviously exhausted now and though he had drawn his pistol he kept one hand on the wall as they felt their way around the mezzanine. Even so he stumbled every other step or so and in the bright light it was clear that he was shaking. Knowing better than to offer help she pretended not to see, some part of her mind reminding her she might yet need all of her remaining strength to get out of here, assuming that was even an option.

The alcove they had seen was open to the rest of the floor, and to the side of one of those tubes. Elanor found herself wondering if there were more alcoves hidden from them, perhaps one beside each of the plates.

This one was ten or so feet long and about seven feet front to back. The rock seemed to magnify the light around them so that it took her a moment or two to realise that the alcove itself was not lit. Most of the space was taken up by a platform, roughly waist height and about eight feet in length and four feet wide, it was smooth and matt and along its edges were lines of small holes. Jack peered at them in apparent concern,  
"Don't like the look of those." He stepped back, "saw something like that on an altar once, pictures made it very clear what they were for. Not nice, not nice at all." His mouth twisted in disgust, " they call pirates cruel and barbaric and yet half the gods worshipped by humanity, and their priests, have us well beat on that. At least most of us"  
He turned and nodded at her,  
"Fair bit of the law too. Can do some very nasty things in the name of the king, they can."  
Elanor sighed,  
"Can't blame the gods for that though, their followers have only got the priests words about what is wanted. No saying that it is what the god wants, and short of a visitation how is it supposed to tell anyone otherwise? The law on the other hand.." she shrugged, for she'd done enough history to know there were somethings in her own people's past that didn't bear too close examination, a few of them from her time and place too.

She bent closer to the surface,  
"But I don't think these are for blood Jack, there are no grooves to collect it."  
Jack frowned at the offending slab and ran a wary finger over the lines of holes,  
"Then what are they for?"  
"Don't know. Decoration maybe."  
"And is that a part of the decoration too?"  
He indicated the skeleton with a nod of his head, the remark being accompanied by a shudder.  
"No. I'd say it's a later addition." Elanor said dryly, then sighed again, "though there is no way of knowing how long it takes for things to decay here."  
He gave her a reproving look and then drew a deep breath before reaching out a careful hand to brush the dull grey fabric of the jacket away from its chest,  
"Strange," he said quietly, his squeamishness of a moment ago apparently forgotten, "flesh decayed yet this is whole."

He was proved right for the fabric neither tore nor fell to dust and when Elanor brushed the sleeve it felt as if it were new. Which judging by the state of its owner it most certainly wasn't.  
"Fountain of youth the compass says and yet all we have seen is death." Jack said slowly.  
"Well the map wasn't clear Jack, maybe youth isn't guaranteed. Or maybe what it gives to one it takes from another."  
He nodded slowly and stared at the body again.  
"Looks like he just laid down and went to sleep. Got no weapons neither."  
"I'd noticed. Maybe this is whoever accounted for those others we saw, got injured and lay down here to die."  
"No blood." Jack said succinctly. "Why ever he lay down he weren't bleeding when he did it."  
"Ah, true. So not a fight. But you're right whoever it was arranged themselves quite neatly. Starvation maybe then."  
"Or this." Jack's voice was bleak as he raised his arm to the light.  
"Mmm. Or that."

There was silence for a moment then Jack drew himself up to his full height,  
"Well I'm not waiting around for that. There must be a way out of this place. Time for us to find it I think."  
With that he backed out of the niche and strode off along the mezzanine.

Elanor cast one more puzzled glance around her and followed him.

***

The look out saw the navy at first light and sent everyone to stations. Yet no one expected to make a fight of it, for there was no one to issue orders and as soon as one did someone else countermanded them. It reminded Marty of that first day out of the locker when Barbossa and Jack Sparrow had struggled for control, though Jack had seemed to weary first leaving Barbossa and Turner to snipe at each other while he sat staring with far away eyes at that chart. But then they had the problem of too many captains, now they had an absence of one at all.

Pintel would have tried for it if he had thought he had any chance of succeeding, but the rest of the crew, other than Raggetti, had made it clear that had no intention of following anyone else who had been damned. Not that it would have helped them had they been willing for the man had no more idea how to manage a ship than he could fly.

Many looked to Marty for the line to take but he was not sure that it were a role that he wanted, not given what tended to happen to the Black Pearl's captains. Cotton remained as helmsman but even his parrot was noticeably silent on the course to take. They watched the approaching ship with trepidation, it was smallish by navy standards but quick.  
"What do we do now?" Murtogg had crept up behind Marty unseen, his friend close on his heels.  
"You know how ta command a sea battle?" Marty asked with a sharp look,  
"Can't say that I do."  
"No mores does anyone else, though we've all fought a few of them. Crew takes orders and captain gives then and does the worritting. Wit no captain ta speak of..." he let the words trail off and shrugged.  
"Doesn't anyone know what to do?" Mullroy asked.  
"Tat's what ah just said. Barbossa would know if ye can wake him. Could try I suppose, though no one else has managed. Nat even tat monkey."

They all stared at the ship behind them, no closer than she had been but no further away either.  
"She's not gaining." Murtogg said eventually,  
"Ay but we're nat loosing her neither and we don't know where we be goin'.  
"So what do we do?" Raggetti, closely followed by Pintel had joined them at the rail. "She'll hound us until we run out of water or hit rocks."  
"We're the faster." Pintel stated.  
"Aye but where does that get us? With no course and no captain all she has to do is sit on our tail until the weather turns agin us." Raggetti's tone told them all he was intending to squabble.  
Marty rolled his eyes and turned to Murtog,  
"Get the men up from below, even them sleepin', without a captain we need all to be agreed."

In the end, with the wind full stern and the canvas stretched as if to fly, the crew managed to agree to run, as if that wasn't what they were already doing.

***

They had walked the mezzanine twice, inspected each wall for means of escape and found none, not even any way back to the level that come up from. The slab that had brought them up refused to take them down again and they found no stairs or ramps that gave them a way back. Jack had ventured out to the crucible once again but seen nothing there that they hadn't already seen and had returned with no more idea of what to do than he had when before he went. Elanor had occupied herself with investigating the patterns of crystals that scattered the walls even up here, but though she had a sense of what they might be she could not read them and had no idea how they might be used to help

The compass seemed convinced now, pointing steadily at the crucible, but that certainty had come to late and told them too little to be of use. As Jack said the bloody thing pointing at what he wanted most was not nuch use if he couldn't get at it. He shook it a couple of times in resigned annoyance but didn't seem to have the heart left to do anything more.

This was the closest she had ever seen him come to despair.

All the time the sound of water rising continued and the lights changed colour in apparently random ways. The air seemed thicker now, and harder to breath, and the light was so bright at times that it hurt their eyes. By unspoken agreement they avoided the alcove, the one place were they might sit, and instead returned to the slab that had brought them up, collapsed back against the wall and waited for whatever was to come.

Elanor could feel her strength slipping away. Her skin was now red and raw, the raised wounds, if that was what they were, pulsing with her heart beat; worse still her joints felt stiff and rusty while her bones seemed ready to crumble if she made too much effort. Behind her closed eyes her thoughts were chaotic, memories and feelings from past and present chasing themselves in circles until she wasn't sure what she was thinking or feeling. Death could not be far away her rational mind warned and yet some strange and defiant spark told her that life was not done with her yet. Not with her and not with Jack.

Jack, the pirate at her shoulder who had brought her here in a last ditch attempt to escape the demons that haunted him. They did haunt him too, she had heard his night time ravings though she had never mentioned them to him. She could not blame him, for the possibility of an eternity of punishment without escape or chance of redemption was too terrible to think of. She had never believed in the common conception of hell, unable to see why an omnipotent god would need such a thing, but she could well believe that a malicious and bitter man might well construct one. Nor could she offer Jack any hope that it wasn't waiting for him if he died at sea, couldn't offer him any possible alternative if he didn't. Yet he had seen the souls making their way to another world so presumably another world did await him. Could she assume the same?

Or had something else entirely brought him here? With piracy as he had known it fading into history what remained for the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow? What remained for just Jack. If he couldn't be a pirate then an adventurer seemed likely to appeal to him most. He had seen too much to settle down to being a lawful sailor. Not that it seemed likely to matter now, they weren't going anywhere. She opened her eyes long enough to look across at her companion, his skin was starting to crack in places and his breathing was laboured, at this rate it seemed likely that she would out last him and she had no desire to do that. Perhaps now was the time for that pistol. Yet she could not find it in herself to speak the words and in weary resignation she closed her eyes again, admitting to herself that it seemed unlikely that their death would be lingering.

***

The lights flickered blue and silver again, their spark reflected in the sheen of the silver and gold gown of the Lady. Silent and still she observed the pattern of light change before moving to the top of the crucible, watching the level of the water rise up and into the crown of tubes.

Below her the lights turned from blue to some rare and strange shade of purple and the waters rose faster creeping out across the tubes towards the walls. Only then did she turn her eyes towards the two exhausted humans, considering them without expression for a while, her eyes taking in their pain and exhaustion. This path was never easy, not even in the days of the old ones who had built it, but these two had done as well as any she could have chosen. Now it was nearly over.

The Lady watched as her captain turned her head to look at Calypso's pirate, saw him stretch out a somehow fragile hand to catch her fingers. The Lady considered them for a moment, then she spread her fan and studied the flickering pictures there, it was indeed nearly done. Soon the die would be cast forever and she could set the next series of wheels in motion. She snapped the fan shut and gazed back towards the dying man and woman, watching them with serious eyes for a long moment. Then she tilted her head, nodded her satisfaction, and smiled.

***

Jack had been crouched, eyes closed, for some time. The events of the last two years had been playing through his mind constantly since the moment he had first admitted to himself that they were unlikely to get out. Nothing he did could stop the memories and with each cycle they became more vivid and real. Reviewing them had left him with a burning question that he didn't wish to ask, but which kept trying to force its way past his clenched teeth. His jaw was sore with the effort of not asking it. Yet it wouldn't leave him be and he knew that it would win in the end.

He felt rather than saw Elanor turn her head towards him and he reached out without thinking about it, joints rasping and muscles breaking, or so it seemed, as he did so. He felt her fingers hot and weak beneath his own but her hand was steady enough, the tremor was not fear he knew, merely the lake taking its revenge for their intrusion. His own body was racked with the same shakes and some others that owed more to the memories. For a brief moment he wondered what eternity would be like for him, and then, for a longer moment, he wondered what kind of captain of the Dutchman he would have made. With a sigh he offered up a prayer that Elizabeth would prove true and that William would indeed be free as the legend told. Then he smiled to himself as he thought of Will's face should he ever know that Captain Jack Sparrow prayed, let alone for his good self.

The thought was his undoing for the smile released his locked jaw and the question he didn't want to ask skipped past his lips like a dolphin racing a ship's bow wave.  
"Why did you come with me?" His voice was faint even to his own ears. "You did not need to and, as you so honourably pointed out, there was no way that I could have made you."

She didn't answer and he turned his head with a jerk that wrenched his neck, suddenly frightened that she had gone before him to wherever this place would lead. But her eyes were open and still lit with life, staring at the crucible as if looking for an answer. Her breathing was quick and harsh but there was still some strength in her voice,  
"Purpose I suppose." The words were laboured but clear enough, "All my life I've had a purpose. I've never let it define me, I'm not that much of a fool, but I've always had one and its shaped how I've spent my life. Not having one has never been easy for me, and it seemed worse here somehow. Being out of time and place was bad enough but to be adrift, directionless, was more frightening still. This was as good a direction as any other."  
"Hmm, just like the Commodore then." Jack sounded almost pleased, but the look he gave her was kind enough. "Saw what being rudderless did to him, and it was not a pretty sight, being purposeless delivered him into Beckett's hands."  
"I thought you said that was ambition?"  
"Ah well to the commodore the one was the other and the other was the one, if you see what I mean?"  
She raised an eyebrow then shrugged,  
"I might at that."

There was silence for a moment, both staring before them each seeing something other than the place they were in.  
"I don't blame you if that's what you want to know," she said finally.  
Jack gave a faint hiss of what she assumed was laughter  
"Makes you an exception then. Everyone else tends to. He certainly did. The commodore."  
"Was it your fault?"  
"Can't see as how. I did what I do, he did what he did, seemed right enough to me. Plain mad if he thought I'd hand over me crew for him to string up and me ship for him to sink. I ran, he chased, it's how the game is played. He lost, not my fault he lost his perspective along with it. I can feel for his losing his ship and men, but for the rest.."  
He shrugged, the movement bringing another hiss, this time of pain, his fingers tightening around hers."  
"Why do you think he did it then?" she was talking to distract him and they both knew it.  
"I could hazard a guess." He rolled his head ignoring the rusty stiffness of his joints as best he could, and looked at her again, "used to being on the winnin' side was the Commodore and I'd wager he'd not lost much before, not for his own fault that is, and he didn't know how to bear it. Comin' so soon after losing Elizabeth would not have made it easier, but it were not that that did it I'd guess."

She sighed,  
"Perhaps, I've certainly seen it. Men who seem to have the golden touch, who always seem to come out on top, men who find that they don't know who they are anymore when their pedestal takes a shaking. Maybe it's that they never do find out who they are, not for themselves, that they take their sense of worth from what they see in others eyes, from the respect they are given. When that is gone, or even just damaged, they don't know what to do or how to behave. They often look for someone else to blame, it's the only way they can cope with the failure."  
Elanor tightened her fingers on his for a moment,  
"Somehow I don't think that is one of your failings. They might well be legion but I doubt they include that one."  
A flash of gold, caught from the corner of her eye, suggested that he had smiled,  
"Told William that. What really counts is what a man can do and what he can't do." His voice was sombre as one finger stroked the back of her hand, "no different for women I'd think."  
She sighed again,  
"No. When you come down to it, no it's not."

A sense of unreality was overtaking her, a feeling that was heightened when Jack raised her fingers slowly, and with much effort, to his lips. The brush was light but the touch was furnace hot and dry,  
"I'm glad you don't blame me," his voice was faint but steady, "but I'm sorry for bringing you to this for all that. I blame me if that helps. Can't say no more than that, and it's little comfort I know, but I never thought it would come to this. I hope that ghost of yours get your ship away, for I'd not see so fair a lady anchored here till the end of time."  
She squeezed his fingers,  
"Nor I. But I wonder why Ariadne has deserted us."  
Jack didn't answer and when she looked across at him she could see that his eyes were closed; but he was awake for he seemed to humming a song, 'Spanish ladies' she thought it was. As she watched he grinned to himself again and the song changed, though she couldn't make out what the new song was. Slowly and gradually the sound faded away and his fingers slid from hers.  
"Please god don't let the locker have him," she found herself thinking, " and don't leave either of us alone in eternity."

Jack had slid sideways and his hair was splayed against her shirt. For the first time she noticed that it was brown not black and wondered why she hadn't seen it before. Her own body was weakening, the lights seemed to be dimming, and yet on the edge of vision she thought she saw a flash of silver and gold. The pirate was unconscious now, sprawled like some colourful children's toy discarded beneath a Christmas tree. Elanor laid her hand on top of his and listened to his laboured breathing until the world started spinning away from her. The last thought she was aware of was,  
"Will it be the same this time?"

***

The lights faded now, the yellow and green and red giving way to the purple before settling back into blue and silver. It flickered briefly over the two still figures, its light augmented by the gemstone flash of the Lady's smile and the streaming light from her fan, then she stepped away from them, her silken skirts washing like the tide across their touching hands.

The figure drifted across the floor and past the alcove, not looking at the remains of those whose time had been badly chosen. The Lady was satisfied with what she saw.

High above them the pressure was building, the legacy of the old ones had stirred again and the event of five centuries was coming to a climax. The way was clear.

***

Elanor woke to falling rain.

For a moment she thought she was home again, lying in her bed in her childhood home listening to the rain falling against the darkened window panes, as she had once so loved to do. She could imagine that if she opened her eyes she would see the familiar room, the books and charts that has been her companions since her early years sprawled across the table, the teddy bear that had been her first Christmas present propped drunkenly up in the chair.

Then she realised that she was catching the rain on her tongue, and thatm eant she was outside. In the garden then watching the stars strengthening against a darnenign sky before being summponed in to sleep. But there were no stars and she could feel the weight of another body leaning heavily against her shoulder and she knew she wasn't home at all.

Was she dead then? If so then it was not like the last time, so perhaps she had journeyed with Jack to the locker after all. Yet she could not feel the sun he had described on her skin, and the ground beneath her hand was smooth, not sand but nor was it the wood of a ships deck.

But it was raining, the drops running down her face and neck, cooling her heated skin in its passing. At some time she had opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue like a child exploring an ice cream cone and the cool of it tipping down her partched throat was heaven. The fire that had burned her before she fell asleep was still there but its heat was more muted now. Carefully she opened her eyes, they felt hot and gritty but her vision was clear enough. She turned her head; beside her Jack lay as if he were dead but the slight raise and fall of his chest told her that, like her, he still lived. At least she assumed she was alive, given the aches and pains it didn't seem likely she was dead. That settled she turned her attention to their prison.

At first nothing seemed changed, but then she noticed that the tube above her head was now full, the liquid within it a pale and delicate silver blue, like the colour of starlight. Slowly she turned her head and looked towards the crucible; the tubes above it were full too, but above them there hung a heavy mist, tendrils of it stretching out like painted smoke to weave its way around that diamond like cap. Where the mist touched the tubes it condensed falling as water droplets, each one a perfect teardrop and clear as the highest mountain stream. Tendrils of the mist had reached as far as where they sat and it slicked the tube above her head. It was that water dripping that had woken her. As she watched the mist grew thicker and more water started to drip running down the crucible too, sending heavy drops scattering to the floor below.

Elanor pushed back her sleeves and let the water wash unimpeded over her skin, the cold of it easing the tortured nerve endings. She eased Jack from her shoulder and hauled herself to her knees.

Even as she watched the mist grew thicker and more solid looking and the sound of the water dripping became louder. With effort she got to her feet and staggered across to towards the crucible. Closer to she could see that it was full, yet waves of bubbles suggested more water was pressing up from below. She had told Jack that the place was ancient and looking at it, thinking about what she knew of such systems, it seemed that it was no longer in perfect condition. It seemed to her that the influx of water had not stopped soon enough and the pressure in the tubes and whatever it was they led to had now reached a point where a fine mist was being forced out from ancient seams and joins, or maybe even through the walls of the tubes themselves. The question that had to be asked was would it explode? The water was starting to seep from beneath the walls too and in the open alcove she could see that it was streaming down from an unseen place as if another tank somewhere had been exceeded. But the possibility of a more violent outcome had taken hold of her mind and she was not inclined to explore.

She hurried back to the still sleeping Jack and shook him. At first he was as unresponsive as the rag doll he looked to be and she wondered if it was too late for him, then finally his beard twitched, his tongue explored the dripping whisker for a moment and then and with a much mumbled protest he opened his eyes.  
"Wahd ya wake me for?" he slurred.  
He sat up somewhat shakily, then, suddenly realising that he was sitting in a pool of water, he came awake. He looked around with a pained expression before staring up at the source of the water dripping onto his head with a look of disgust. Elanor almost felt like smiling.  
"Well at least you're not dead, and if you don't want to be then it's probably time to go."  
He looked at her owlishly for a moment then sighed,  
"No where to go to. Will be dead soon enough. May as well die here in comfort." He looked at the pool of water spreading around him and sighed, "Well sort of comfort anyways."  
"Maybe, maybe not." Elanor wasn't sure but she didn't think she felt quite as terrible as she had when she fell asleep. "Something is happening Jack and whatever it is I don't want to stay around to see the finale. I could be wrong but I think that it's just possible that the lake isn't going to kills us after all."

Jack raised his eyebrows at that and looked, rather pointedly at his hand. Then he frowned, the red wheals were still there but they didn't look quite as vicious as they had before, and though his flesh was still pulsing with his heart beat he could at least hear his own breathing again. Slowly and with a poorly disguised stagger he got to his feet, shaking the water from his shirt with a pained yet longing look. All around him water was dripping and suddenly looking at it was as much a torture as the burning of his skin had been,  
"Water, need water. Never thought to say it in polite company but I need water" he said hoarsely. With that he went to the pipe and tipped his head and allowed some of the falling drops to land on his tongue.

Elanor was about to pull him away when it occurred to her that without water they would die soon anyway and with no obvious way out this was all the water that there was. Anyway she rather suspected they had both drunk some of it already, and could it do any worse than the lake water had? Her own thirst was telling her that drinking was worth any risk she might care to think of. As Jack straightened up she took his place, allowing the water to slide down her throat with all the sensuous pleasure that once upon a time the best chocolate would have brought.

"Pity we've nothing to collect any in, it would help if we could take some with us. It could take us days to get out of this place even assuming that we can." She said as she straightened up.  
Jack smiled triumphantly and reached into his shirt bringing out a battered flask,  
"Not much but better than nothing."  
"What's in it? Rum?"  
"What else, took it from Mr Gibbs, told him my need was greater." With that he downed half the contents in three convulsive swallows then, with a little bow, handed the flask to her.  
With a snort of laughter she accepted the flask and swallowed the rest. Jack flicked an eyebrow but said nothing instead taking the flask and holding it under the dripping pipe. When it was full he leaned forward and drank some more wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve as he stood aside to let her drink again.

Now they had started drinking their thirst seemed almost unassuagable but finally they stood back and stared around.  
"So where now?" she asked.  
Jack shrugged and began pacing. Nothing seemed to have changed except that the place was much wetter and colder than it had been. The red marks on their skins were still glowing with heat but both of them shivered as the water seemed to draw the heat from the air.  
"Anywhere but here. I'm not sure that thing isn't about to blow." She waved a hand in the direction of the crucible.  
"Fine but how?" Jack crossed to the edge of the mezzanine and stared down, "too far to jump and nothing to use as a rope. But you might be right, something is going on down there too."  
Elanor crossed to join him, gawping a little as she saw the faint trace of light playing over the altar like stones beneath them. She caught hold of Jack's arm and pulled him across the floor to the slab that had brought them, with a surge of hope she stepped on it only to have the hope die as it remained where it was. Jack watched her with concern,  
"You think that these might move now?"  
"I hoped that they would. But it seems its not that easy."

Jack was silent for a moment then he pointed a finger at the slab,  
"That one came up maybe another one goes down. If we can find it and if it is willing to go flyin' again."  
Elanor looked around,  
"Maybe. Maybe this side comes up and that side, " she pointed to the far side of the crucible close to the alcove, "goes down."  
"Worth a try." Jack shrugged.

It took ten minutes of trial and error but in the end they found a slab, just outside the alcove, that shuddered as they stepped on it, and, after a moment of hesitation, began to sink back down towards the floor. As the travelled downwards they watched the crucible anxiously, for the mist above it was growing thicker, boiling across the mezzanine and obscuring all that was above it. All they could do was hope that it would remain in one piece until they found a way out.

As the slab neared the lower floor the water began to drip off the edge of the mezzanine, the flow gathering pace quickly until, as they stepped off onto the lower floor it was falling in horseshoe shaped curtain of water. As the stared up Jack pulled the compass from his belt and watched the steady needle with a growing grin. Finally satisfied he waved a hand at the water tipping down in front of them,  
"Now that is what I call a fountain." .


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 44 Prisoners of the past**

The heat of the sun was as powerful as good rum, and as the shade shrunk so Gibbs drowsiness grew. Twice he had risen and descended into the deep shade of the hole, listening in anxious and sweaty immobility for any indication they were still about their business down there, but there was no sign or sound of his missing captains and so he had returned to his seat to wait.

The glare of the sun on the water had seemed brighter than he had ever seen it before and as the flashes of light began to blur his vision he had wondered if it signified something that he didn't want to know. He'd cursed himself for a fool and set about plaiting several of the scrawny palm leaves into a hat of sorts, but even with its meagre shade it had become harder to see past the waiting ship to the horizon.

He'd tried to occupy his mind wondering what he would do with eternal youth, assuming they found it. Would he sup of it too if they offered it? Once he had had a family, a mother and father and three sisters, he'd lost them all, just as he had lost his wife and child, before he reached twenty one, but he had never doubted that he would see them all again one day. Pirate he might be but he trusted in the good lord's understanding of the trials and temptations a man faced to see him home to them. He was not a religious man but he would trust himself to god, though he'd not give a moments thought to that same god's stuffed faced, vinegar voiced, messengers on earth. No, he'd no doubts that the church had more to do with man's law than God's and he knew only too well what man's law was, a way for the rich to get richer while preventing a poor man from feeding his family. Cutler Beckett had been proof, if it were needed, of the real truth of man's law. The law was not his, for when had a poor man such as himself had any say in the nature of the law?

Avoiding an encounter with that law for as long as possible seemed a most pleasant idea but it didn't change his belief in his ultimate redemption.

Now, faced with a choice that meant he might never rejoin his lost family, he wondered what it was that he really wanted. The sea had always been his life, but was that enough for eternity? For Jack maybe, but for himself? Well he wasn't so sure of that. Wasn't even sure if it would be enough for Jack come to that, but Jack thought it would be and that was enough to send him down into that world below in search of the way. If he came back with it after all, where would Jack go and what would he do?

Would he go with him?

The lady captain now, she might, for where else did she have to go? Whatever strange world it was that she came from it would seem that she couldn't yet go back there, for if she could then why had she not done so? That ghost of hers, gave him the shivers she did, always watching, always there, but not even she could take captain Elanor home. Maybe Jack could sell her the idea of living forever, or at least for a fair slice of it, in search of a way back to where she came from. Gibbs found that he hoped so, for he didn't like the idea of Jack adrift and alone. Whatever else Jack Sparrow might be he was, to Gibbs mind, a good man and a friend, and being so he deserved a better fate than eternity alone.

Not that he'd ever known Jack beg for company, nor seek friendship. Captain Sparrow he was and so he acted, as much separated from his crew and others by that name as any navy commodore. More so when you thought of it, for in the navy there were a raft of officers to share the separation with, but it was different for a pirate captain for he was a man always havin' to watch his back. Jack had learned that lesson the way he learned so many others, the hard way. Only time he'd ever seen Jack a hankerin' for people was after they had returned from the locker, aye and it had shaken him to the core to see it, not that he'd let the other know that. But later he'd wondered if Jack hadn't been up to something even then, tryin' to get away from meetin' Beckett perhaps, though it had not worked if that was what he had been about. Yet for a moment there it had seemed that he was truly distressed that none would say they had come to save him for himself. Few of them there but he had known how portentous his very askin' was. But he had known and understood in that moment how shattered the man was by the locker.

Gibbs turned his eyes towards the dark black shadow of the hole and wondered if Jack was whole even now. He seemed recovered but the locker still hung over him, why else would he have gone down there?

With a sigh he reached for the water bottle, and wished again that it was rum. Maybe he should have gone with them, though they had both said no. Captain Cavendish didn't know Jack, so could he trust her to stand at his shoulder as he himself would? He rose again and returned to the gateway they had toiled over, cursing himself for letting then persuade him to stay behind.

But he could do nothing now, if he followed them there was no saying what he might find. better to wait here as he had promised. With that he returned to his post and stared out towards the white ship, wondered for a moment what the ghost was doing, then closed his eyes.

In the shadows of the hole there was a momentary flash of gold and silver as the Lady watched him thougtfully. She could feel his uncertainty, his fears of this place, and knew that he could not be allowed to run. Whether he joined the game or not he was needed for the moment.

She stepped out onto the white sands, moved closer to him and remembered.

****

"Now that is what I call a fountain."  
"Waterfall." Elanor corrected without thinking.  
Jack looked across at her with pursed mouth and narrowed eyes,  
"It's as much a fountain as waterfall I say." There was an annoyed dignity in his tone, "No reason why it shouldn't be considered a fountain."  
Elanor shrugged and gave him a rueful smile,  
"Doesn't matter much, now does it? Your compass says that is the fountain so that's what it is. Either way we found it, and now we need to find a way out of here."

He stared at her for a moment or two longer then straightened his shoulders and nodded,  
"True enough. Back the way we came then?"  
"Provided we can find a way down, it's too much to hope that we will find one of these slabs that goes the whole way."  
"Aye that's true. But one way or another we must get down if we are to get out."  
"Or up?"  
"No way out up there, least not as I saw it, you see something that says different?"  
She shook her head.  
"So down it is."  
"Then we need to find a slab that's going down."  
Jack's smile returned, and she realised, not for the first time, how much happier he was when there was something to be done.  
"We'll not do it standing here."  
Then he waved her to one side of the room before setting off to search the other.

***

Groves watched the canvas strain against the wind and wondered if this time they would catch the Black Pearl. Somehow he did not think so. The Intrepid was fast but not as fast as the Interceptor had been and the Pearl had caught her when she had tried to run, so Miss Swann had told them, and if he were honest with himself he felt fatalistic about the chase. It was almost as if something was standing between them and the black sailed ship, and that something was not Jack Sparrow. Had he been aboard her persistent escapes might have been understandable, for Sparrow had walked off with the Intrepid from under Norrington's nose with no more help than a apprentice blacksmith, and in a manner as unpirate like as it had been astute. James Norrington had never forgotten how the pirate had read him so easily and so accurately, nor had he forgiven it. Perhaps that had played some part in his actions when he lost the Dauntless to the hurricane, for simply losing the ship could not have driven him to the level of despair needed to resign his commission.

For himself Groves freely admitted he had gained a level of admiration for Sparrow that day, the feeling that he would give much to have so clever a captain to serve with was something he had kept to himself, though he suspected that Hathaway knew it. But then Hathaway was a strange sort of captain when all was said and done and seemed to have in understanding of Sparrow that suggested he was no mental sluggard himself and that he might have some sympathy with Groves point of view.

Hathaway made Groves uneasy, he hd to admit it, and while he trusted him he was not sure he half understood the game that Hathaway was playing. Was not sure either that the Governor Thynne did either, though he thought that Thynne was a clever,man too. Admiral Norrington he was less sure of, for he could not forget that he was the Commodore's uncle and so would have some family feeling in the matter. But it seemed that he too treated Hathaway in a manner that no ordinary naval captain would have received or expected; that Hathaway accepted that without hesitation said all that needed to be said.

As he watched the waters he sighed silently, it would have been pleasant to have forgotten recent months for a while, to pretend he was back under the command of Captain Norrington chasing just another pirate ship across Caribbean waters. To have nothing more to concern him than the chase, the wind, and the chance of delivering another murdering bastard to the rope. But he couldn't and even that memory was tainted now; he'd seen too many hangings, too many uncertainties made brutal fact. He'd watched as the law had been put aside for convenience and he could never feel the same way about a hanging any more, could not even feel the same certainty in the law as he had once known. Beckett had spoken of the law but his actions were driven by hate and greed and many had died as a result. Some no doubt guilty of all he claimed, but some perhaps not. No, given the numbers involved almost certainly some who were not. He found that he could not forget that and knew that from now on he would always wonder if the law was right or whether this death was just to ease the passage of the rich and powerful. The men who had sailed out with Sparrow to find the heart, and those who had faced the armada at the end, had fought and died for their captain, just as he would for his, knowing that it might claim their lives, just as he knew. How then were they different if the law was nothing more than straw to be bent or set aside at a rich man's whim?

Only when he finally saw Beckett for what he was had he understood and that had understanding had taken away his faith in much that he had been so proud to defend, and it could not be taken back.

What was it that had made Beckett hate Sparrow so? For he had hated him Groves was sure of that, for all his protestations of the law, and good business of course. God knew he had not realised until those last words of Beckett how much the man had hated the pirate. Until that moment he had managed to go on believing, but that, and the look that went with it had stripped the truth of the matter bare. Though if had cared to look there had been warning enough before, the look in Beckett's eyes when Sparrow escaped again and when he had asked him if Sparrow planned things out in advance had betrayed something far stronger than inconvenience, looking back he could admit now that they had betrayed that hatred, and some other feeling too that he could not put a name to even now. It had been Sparrow that Beckett had wanted to end, and he had not been willing to wait for the end of piracy to achieve it. What was it that turned a man so cold to such hatred? Money and position seemed the most likely given what Beckett had been, but how had a penniless pirate offended a rick man like Beckett badly enough to feed such hatred?

Not that it mattered now, though Hathaway had been most interested in Beckett's dealings with Sparrow. But then Hathaway was interested in some very strange things, not least the tragic Miss Swann. Groves shuddered, thinking about Miss Swann was worst of all; at least her father had died quickly, he could only pray that her death had not been too slow in coming.

"Will we catch her do you think?"  
Hathaway had come up behind him silently.  
"No sir, I don't think that we will."  
The captain nodded, staring at the black shape on the horizon with calculating eyes.  
"I agree." There was a faint pause, "At least, not unless we are intended to."  
Groves turned his head quickly to stare at his companion but Captain Hathaway was already striding away.

***

They had not found a slab that would move but Jack had found a doorway that they would both have sworn had not been here before.

It was off to the side of the room just behind the last row of pillars but was in no way hidden and neither of them could explain how they had not seen it when they were there before.  
"The only possible explanation is that it was not here before." Jack muttered as they stood and stared at the black hole beyond the lintel.  
"Or that it was closed." Elanor looked around her but nothing else in this hall seemed changed in any way.  
"So why is it open now? I'd don't recall pressing anything."  
"Maybe it was something you said. Open sesame perhaps?"  
Jack frowned at her in disbelieving, and slightly outraged, confusion,  
"Have I told you that you say the oddest things?" he demanded after a moment, "It makes no sense. Why would I go around sayin' such a thing to meself pray? Or even to a wall?"  
"Ah you don't know the story then. I'm still not sure if your world is a direct relation of mine or not and I can't recall when those stories first appeared. Maybe they don't exist here."  
"Stories are not something a pirate has much time for luv," he protested.  
"Unless they are your own you mean?"

His eyes widened for a moment then his mouth stretched in a wide grin/ Elanor returned the smile wityh a smaller and drier one.  
"You'd like this one, its all about thieves and caves full of treasure."  
"Ah, I see the connection then, but what is point of this word?"  
"It opens the treasure cave."  
"Really? Then I will remember it for future use, should I ever find a treasure cave that won't let me in. But since I didn't know it previously you can be sure that no such magical word opened this door."  
"No I rather expect the.. ghost did. It probably stays closed except under certain circumstances."  
"Those circumstances now being fulfilled?" he looked around suspiciously, hand dropping to his pistol as if expecting to see hordes of armed guards appearing from the walls.  
"Seems so. Probably to do with what's happening up there."  
She drew a deep breath,  
"So are we going in?"

Jack peered into the shadows again his mouth turned down in uncertainty, then he shrugged and pulled the pistol from his sash,  
"Doesn't seem to be much choice if we want a way out. Looks like it's this or stay here and starve, or die of whatever the lake water did to us."  
Elanor looked at him closely, the red wheals seemed to be fading, though slowly, and though his eyes were still puffy and inflamed his skin had lost the tight and shiny look. More importantly he was looking if not alert at least capable of staying on his feet.  
"We don't know what's waiting in there Jack, are you feeling up to facing whatever it is?"  
He straightened up and turned to her,  
"That's of no matter Elanor," he sound wearily impatient, "either we go now and risk what's there, or stay and wait and risk the door closing. No saying we'll feel any better in an hour, or two come to that, so what's the point? I say that we go now and face what's there when we have to."  
The impatient look became suddenly thoughtful and he started at her closely.  
"If you can manage it that is. If you can't then say so, I'll not push you if you can't."

She didn't say anything for a moment and he waited for the complaint, the reminder that he had brought her to this, but once again she ran counter to expectation.  
"No, I'll go on," she said calmly looking into the darkness, "I'm not feeling as bad as I did and you are right of course, this door might not stay open for long and once it's closed the opportunity is gone, maybe for ever." She looked at his sideways, "you go first or shall I?"  
For a moment he wondered if she was baiting him but meeting her eye he decided that she meant it literally. 'Well', he thought, 'no ways I'm letting her go in there first, might not be safe.'

On the thought he stepped into the shadows, his feet moving even as he wondered where the hell that impulse had come from!

***

The sun had shifted and the surf seemed even lazier and less inclined to come ashore than before. Not a sea bird flew or sand crab scuttled this island seemingly forgotten by the whole world. All around him the similarities between this place and the locker seemed even clearer than before, even down to the discarded lobster pot that had had appeared on the shore line in the time since he had last looked.

Gibbs took another swallow of water and eased his back against the tree; sweat was soaking his shirt and trickling down his neck. The air felt like the inside of an oven and not as much as whisper of wind stirred the limp leaves above him. This place was surely cursed, even the surf seemed unwilling to make landfall here, the hiss of the waves was muted and the surf dissipated long before it met the sand. Everything reminded him of the locker shore, and thinking of the locker brought more thoughts of the days afterwards. Seemed that hard as he tried he was unable to think of anything else.

He shifted his weight and wiped the sweat from his face concentrating on the past to avoid the present. What was it that Jack had seen in the locker that had changed him so much? Why had he felt that sudden need to be cared about? Jack had never asked for much in the time he had known him, it often seemed as if something had burned all his need for people away. He had often thought that it was something to do with Beckett and the brand but he had not known the whole of it until the night that Jack had told him about the Kraken.

They had all known something bad was up long before that of course, no man would go into such a hell as that prison without having Satan at his back, alone too and with no certainty of come out. Jack been odder than usual for weeks, nightmares whenever he slept and muttering to himself when he was awake. More than once he had come upon him starin' at the sea with a desperate look on his face and whispering 'but how? How?" to himself. Then had come the night when all hell broke loose with Jack turning them from their bunks hardly coherent in his orders. They had all known things were desperate then, couldn't hide it o'course, when your captain tells you to run as if from the devil and then proceeds to give the order to beach the ship you can't pretend the world isn't about to fall about you.

But the men had stuck with him, could have thrown him overboard of course or left him on that island alone as Barbossa once has, and it had been clear when he came back with nothing more than the drawing of that key, that he half expected that they would. But Jack had a knack of binding men to him, even when he didn't seem to seek to, and they had all stayed true. For some that had meant the pot and Gibbs didn't care to think what it would have been like to watch them used in such a manner and be unable to help. Knowing, too, that your own fate would be no different in the end.

From then on Jack had been driven and it seemed that Will's appearance had provide the 'how' that he had been looking for.

Sometimes Gibbs admitted to himself that he wondered if he should have warned Will what they were up again'. Jack had played fair as he saw it, for he had not told them not to tell, but the lad never asked. But then he had kept his secrets too for he had not told them about Beckett, and things might have been different if he had, for Jack might have seen matters differently had he known. It were true that none of them had treated the others entirely fairly in the business but Jack had paid a higher price than most, to die in such a manner.

But it had been the locker and not dying that had done for Jack, he was sure of it.

A surge of more active surf washed the sand and for a moment he seemed to hear a hiss of anger on the wind, at least that was what he told himself that it was, pretending to forget that the absence of wind. He pushed the thought away, along with the feeling that he was being watched, and went back to his musing.

They had gone lookin' for him o'course, at least he and the other crew had, but none of them would admit it, not at all pirate thing to do were that, and in his right mind Jack would never have asked nor even wanted to know. Not Jack. Jack Sparrow in his right mind could be a chilly man for all that he had a good heart and a fondness for the pleasures of life. Distant you might say. Never seemed to need man nor beast, in fact he often wondered just how much Jack really needed women, for he'd seen him take a fair bit of abuse from them, and be left by them, without any sign of the anger or jealousy that other men felt. Many a man in his position would, for example, have taken every opportunity offered to enjoy Miss Elizabeth's favours and then wrung her teasin' neck!

No, in normal circumstances Jack was as far from impulsive and confiding as it were possible for a man to be, he knew that, always had. Knowin' what he knew about him now it were not surprising, no ways he could be anything else when it came down to it, or so Pol had said. The world had set out to make Jack Sparrow a pirate and had made him what he was on the way, teaching him the lessons of betrayal in a harsh and unforgettable manner. Might do a thing because he thought it right but never because others did, nor because they expected it. Jack Sparrow decided what it were proper for Jack Sparrow to do and no one else. Though he would do much, maybe all, for those he cared for he had not a particle of proper feeling in other respects, not as others would see it any way. Nor was he ever likely to for Gibbs had heard him on the subject of other's proper feelings.

Miss Elizabeth now she had never understood the degree of calculation Jack was capable of, no nor Will either. Captain Elanor just might, for he would not be surprised if she were not cut from the same cloth herself.

Not for the first time he wondered what she would have done had she been there.

***

They had steeled themselves for the dark and found that it wasn't necessary for as Jack stepped across the threshold light appeared in the passageway. Not the silver blue of the chambers behind them but the white of normal daylight. After an exchange of startled looks they both set off to explore this new avenue.

The walls were the same as those in the chambers but they lacked the patterns of buried crystals, being uniformly smooth from floor to ceiling.  
"Should be cobwebs." Jack muttered as he edged forward, he indicated the walls and floor with his pistol, "abandoned temple or whatever it's only right that a hidden passage should have cobwebs."  
Elanor smiled though she understood the seriousness of what he was saying well enough.  
"Yes, and dust, inches of it. " She added, "This place looks like it was cleaned only hours ago."  
"From which we deduce .. What?" he replied softly, as if afraid of being overheard.  
"That it's been sealed I expect, completely, and that it was cleaned before it was sealed."

He nodded silently edging forward as he did so, only to stop suddenly and spin on the balls of his feet, facing her with a frown,  
"Why? Your world might be different but this one isn't so finicky about housekeeping, certainly not in abandoned temples." He pointed a finger at her, "Take that from one who knows." His hand fell and his gaze drifted away from hers, taking in the silent passage with its clean, smooth walls, "and not only why but ...." his eyes came back to her face, brows raised, "Who?"  
Elanor nodded slightly as if aknowldgeing the rightness of the question,  
"More ghosts I suspect, as for why..... well it depends where this is going I expect."  
Jack seemed to think about that for a moment then he smiled,  
"And there's only one way to find that out."  
He spun around and set off again.

There were no strange creatures, no knives appearing from the walls, no flight of bats or trails of blood; all in all the passage was dull. Yet that did nothing to soothe their nerves, the very blandness of it convincing both of them that sooner or later they would get all three.

It was a short walk, no more than five minutes from the point at which they had stepped into it to the small featureless room that ended it. Jack stared around in baffled silence while Elanor examined the walls.  
"So what now?" she said as she finished her inspections and turned to face Jack.  
The look on his face stopped her from further speculation for he was staring with disbelief at the wall behind her, she frowned a question at him and he raised a shaking hand,  
"It was rock and then it wasn't, how did it do that!" he sounded more intrigued than upset.  
She turned slowly, almost afraid of what she would see.

Jack was right where a moment before there had been a solid wall now there was another passageway, one that sloped gently downwards into shadow. Behind Jack the entrance they had come through was now a solid wall.

Seeing the look on her face Jack turned around slowly drawing a deep breath as he realised the change,  
"Well that decides it. Sooner we're out of here the better, a place where doors become walls and walls grow doors is not somewhere to linger in my opinion."  
"Not when you don't know how or why," she agreed.  
Without further discussion they moved on to the next passageway.

***

The sun seemed hotter and the sands glowed like glass about to melt, and Mr Gibbs squinted across the glare of sand and surf to the white ship sitting serenely in the bay waiting fir her captain and minded by her ghost. The thought of that ghost turned his mind back to the past again and for a moment he was back walking the Pearl on her return from the seas of the dead and its own ghosts..

The voyage back had truly been a parade of the damned, for none of them had thought to escape the place, and when they had they carried the nightmare of returning there. None of them had doubted Davy Jones rage should he discover what had been done. There had been sorrow and strangeness enough piled on top of that fear too, so much that it seemed that the ship would sink below the weight of it. Miss Elizabeth had sat in sorrowful silence for much of the time, while Will had wandered around like a lost soul seeming unable to settle, constantly making moves towards the lass then falling back again as if tongue tied. All the time Barbossa played the captain yet there had been a haunted look on his face, no more so than when he looked at Tia Dalma, then there had been real fear in his eyes if you caught the look.

Jack had been strangest of all o'course, yet even so it had been a shock to see Jack so apparently needy.

Not the only shock that day either, young Will's actions had shaken him near as much as Jack's. Who would have thought the lad would act so? I He had always though of the boy as fair and straight yet it made him wonder if they knew Will at all. Afterwards, when they knew what he had planned, when he had tried to think of another time when Will had put others before himself or his lass, he found that he struggled to do so. Will's demeanour was noble it was true but his deeds didn't match, not when it were looked at straight. Other than that one dramatic gesture which had saved Jack from the noose Will's actions were no more self-sacrificing than any other man's, so perhaps the betrayal should not have been surprising.

William had fought well though, and died honourably fighting for what mattered to him, couldn't say no fairer than that about any man.

Though why Jack had given up the thing he wanted so badly for the lad was beyond a plain man's reasoning, that honest streak of his again no doubt. Why was it that Jack felt inclined to do so much for those that made no secret of their despite for him and all he stood for? No fathoming it to his mind. But Teague now he hadn't been so surprised, done nothing more than smile that strange smile of his when he knew what had been done, and Jack had cursed long and bitterly hard when it had become clear that his father must know. Yet it had seemed that the keeper were pleased, and with Teague that wasn't an easy thing to achieve.

But what would the keeper make of this venture he wondered?

That thought took him off at another tangent and he found himself wondering idly where Mrs Turner was now and if she would indeed stay true until Will returned. Jack would not be best pleased if she were not, and when Jack was that displeased he could become very.......piratey. Did she know tha,t he wondered? Did she know what Jack expected of her in return for his sacrifice, and what he might do to ensure that she kept her part of the bargain?

He was still considering that when he fell asleep.

***

The second passagway was no different to the first one, it too ended in a small room where walls became doors that led on to another passage way and doors vanished behind them. Nor did it end there, for Jack and Elanor found that the pattern repeated itself, one then another one and another until they began to fear that they were trapped in a shifting maze that might hold them forever. But they went on anyway for the closing doors gave them no choice but to go forward or sit down and wait to die.

Then, without warning, came a change, and not a welcome one. In the final room the door closed before the next one opened leaving them trapped in a space little more than ten feet by ten with no way out.

"What now?" Jack demanded as he stood staring angrily at the rock where the pattern told them that a new door should appear.  
Elanor just shook her head. He leaned forward, forehead touching the rock and slammed his hand against it in fury,  
"Why now? Eh? Why bring us here to die." He spun around and shouted towards the ceiling. "What game is it that you are playing? What do you want from us? Tell us and we'll do it. Just open the bloody door!"  
His voice echoed around the small space but nothing else happened and he fell silent, sinking down in the corner head in his hands. Elanor went and sat beside him in silence. There really was nothing more to be said.

Minutes seemed to stretch to hours and all they could do was sit and wait for what ever was coming, unable to go forward and unable to go back. Neither spoke, their breathing the only sound breaking the silence. Later she would wonder how long they sat there but at the time it seemed like eternity.

Then the lights went out.

She felt Jack's in drawn breath as his hand moved cover her own, his skin was cooler now but the tendon's were stretched tight as a trip wire.  
"What now?" he breathed.  
She just shook her head and moved closer to his shoulder, her fingers gripping his as her other hand reached to clear the taser for firing. Jack squeezed her hand in warning and then loosed her, pulling his pistol free of his sash and half rising to his feet; she tensed, ready to do the same.

The suddenly there was light again, and a sound that might have been something from outside or might have been the sound of their shock. The wall before them thinned, its fading substances allowing light in from beyond it, pale turquoise light such as a diver might see in a reef. Beyond the room they saw a vast shelf of land, a flat and featureless plain, unnatural in its perfection. Or it would have been once, now it was mottled with weed and bisected with columns of coral,while fish danced everywhere and jellyfish floated on the current. Now the plain was beneath the sea.

The light changed again and Elanor had a moment of realisation.  
"Jack," she screamed, "Don't breath."  
Then the wall was gone and the water crashed over them.

**End of Voyage 2**

The story is continued in 'Interlude for two captains'


End file.
