Chapter One

James Norrington leaned over the railing of Seaspray and breathed in the salty sea air. This was his first real assignment as a soldier in the Port Royal's Navy. He was only 22 and had just enlisted last year. He loved the sea. That was why he had known since he was a boy that he wanted to be part of the navy. It was his calling. He would defend Port Royal against all odds, maybe even become Commodore one day. Now, he along with the other crewmen on Seaspray, were to travel these waters searching for any threats to Port Royal. He thought it would probably be a simple matter. They hadn't seen any sign of life since they left the port four days ago.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw something floating in the distance.

"What's that?" he asked Jonathan Blake anther low ranking soldier standing with him. He gestured to the floating object.

Blake shaded his eyes from the sun and squinted. "I don't know," he said slowly, "Piece of drift wood?"

James nodded his agreement and turned to peer off into the other direction. He whirled around when he heard Jonathan's shout. "It's a woman!"

It was. The wood she was sprawled out on had drifted closer, giving them a better view. She seemed to be unconscious. Immediately, James removed his coat and boots. It only took him a few seconds, and he was already in the water before any of the other men could move. When he came up for air the first time, a wave hit him in the face, causing him to choke on the salty sea water. He coughed and spluttered, but kept moving. He knew that if he wanted to reach the woman in time, he could not stop. He began to swim faster than he had ever swum in his life. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the piece of wood that the woman was laying on. For a split second he was stunned by her beauty. Long red ringlets framed a delicate heart-shaped face with full pink lips. She had pale ivory skin. He shook his head and mentally berated himself for wasting time. He could marvel over her beauty later. Right now her life was at stake. And his. He gathered her into his arms and began kicking furiously back to the boat. It seemed miles away, and it might as well have been. He could feel his strength leaving him. The woman wasn't heavy by any means, but carrying her had taken what little strength he had left from the swim out to her. His kicks became more feeble. He looked at the unconscious woman with sorrow. It was a pity that she was so close to salvation, and he had to give out. He tried to kick harder, but it was no use. His strength was gone. A wave came over his head, and as he thrust her up to keep her from inhaling the water, he went under. Just when he thought that his life was over, he felt the young woman's weight lifted from his hands, and someone grabbed him. He looked up into Jonathan Blake's face as he was pulled into the lifeboat. Jonathan pushed him onto his back and pressed on his chest. He thought he coughed up more water than was in the whole sea.

He lay there for a moment in a daze, staring up at the blue sky, and just breathing. Air had never tasted so good. Then realization hit him. He bolted up from where he was laying in the small boat. Where was the woman? He saw her just as the thought came to him. She was sitting up coughing water out of her throat just as he had been a moment ago. She drew a shuddering deep breath and looked around.

"You're the British Navy?" she sounded a little scared. He wondered why. She also sounded dehydrated. He would have to get her some water when they got to the ship. Her accent was definitely Irish. He had never been to Ireland before, but he had met an Irishman once. What would an Irish woman be doing alone all the way out here.

"Yes," Jonathan answered her before James could open his mouth. He sounded proud. Then Jonathan turned to him. "This, milady, is your rescuer."

When she turned to look at him, his breath caught in his throat. She was even more beautiful than he had thought. Her large round eyes were a bright shade of green that he had never seen before. He hadn't noticed before that she was wearing men's clothing. The tight breeches and tunic showed off her body well. He berated himself for having the audacity to stare at her lovely curves. Her full lips curved up in a slow small smile. "Thank you," she said, even though her voice was a little raspy from thirst it still sounded like music, "For saving my life. May I ask your name?"

He gaped at her for a moment before returning her small. "James Norrington, milady. And yours?"

She hesitated for a moment, and bit her bottom lip. "Isobel," she said after a moment, "Isobel Smith. And please don't call me milady. I am nothing but a common woman."

James nodded. He wondered why she had hesitated about her name. What could she have to hide? He thought she might be lying about her name, her last name anyway. If she was she must be very nervous, everyone knew that Smith wasn't an Irish name. None of the other men made a move to accuse her of lying though, and he certainly wasn't going to.

"And what are you doing way out here in the middle of the ocean?" One of the other men asked. James thought his name was Nathaniel. He was a few years older than himself. The way he looked her up and down as he spoke made James's face heat up. Did the man have no manners?

Isobel just eyed him coolly until his eyes rested on her face. She gave him a look that said not to do that again. "I was on a ship headed for Port Royal. We were attacked by pirates. Someone hit me in the head, and that is all I remember."

"You are in luck," James said. When her eyes turned back to him they regained their warmth, "We are from Port Royal. I am sure we can have you there soon."

The other men looked at him, obviously surprised at him telling her something that only the captain could. They truly weren't supposed to be back in Port Royal for another ten days. She nodded and smiled at him again. "Thank you for you kindness."

By that time they had reached the ship. Someone threw down a rope ladder for them to climb up on. James rushed up beside Isobel so that he would be the man to hand her up. She smiled as she took his hand. Her hand was soft and felt strangely small in his. Was it just him or did she let it linger before letting go?