Disclaimer- I own nothing but that which my mind has spawned.
Summary- Now that the business with the Acheron is done, the Surprise gets involved in a more deadly affair- one that threatens their beliefs and Stephen's heart. slight POTC Crossover
A/N-- I saw Master and Commander and fell instantly in love! I also saw a place to stick an OC of mine in from POTC right away. This isn't going to be a 'heavy' crossover- you won't be seeing the Black Pearl tangling with the Surprise -but since my OC is from that universe and some characters from it will be mentioned, I thought I should list it as such.
This is sort of a sequel to the POTC quintet I'm writing with a friend- but we actually haven't finished writing it yet, even though we know where it's going, so this is ahead of it. I just got so excited writing it I couldn't wait to post it! There's enough info for it to stand on its own, so don't worry about reading the two stories we've already posted. If you're interested, though, they're under my friend's profile (silver wolf of the night).
This story is going to be an odd blend of movieverse and bookverse- I'll probably make references to things that happened before the Far Side of the World (which is the eighth or ninth book in the series) but since I haven't gotten that far yet I'm going off of what the movie says in some cases. It does say that Jack is married to Sophie, but since it makes no mention of Diana Villiers (damn her eyes) we'll all pretend Stephen romanced but never married her.
Enjoy!
For Merry, my Black Wolf, who was there from the vaguest beginnings.
The Lone Star Running
in which Stephen Maturin has a singularly perplexing day
The crew in the topgallants had first noticed the ship an hour before. Since then everyone had been on edge, waiting for colors to appear. Bets as to it belonged to were rampant, and no one was betting or even hoping it was friendly. With the memory of the Acheron fresh in every man's mind even weeks after they parted in Valparaiso, the Surprises were feeling invincible. Whatever she was, they could take her. Lucky Jack would make sure of it.
Then again, no one had bet on what did run up the mast.
"Pirates?" Stephen Maturin asked incredulously, looking at Jack Aubrey over his glasses. "I'm no expert, but aren't they rather obsolete?"
"Yes, but there's a ship on the horizon flying a Jolly Roger. The pirates themselves might be obsolete, but their ship is our class. Very close to the Surprise's age, I believe. Be ready."
"As always."
So Stephenmade ready. He put cotton in his ears and laid out all his tools and threw sand on the floor and then did all a surgeon could in the face of a looming battle- waited for the shooting to start.
Then there was his own private battle against broken bones and flowing blood and his new surgeon's mate, who was no more competent than Higgins. Do good surgeon's mates actually exist?, he wondered. Halfway through splinting a broken leg, he decided to put the question to the captain's table when they dined next. His mind was already that far ahead of him. He, like the rest of the crew, trusted Jack Aubrey to get them out of whatever mess was coming.
His mind caught up abruptly with the rest of the world when he noticed that no more patients had been sent down to him.
"Aren't there any more wounded?" He shouted to one of his patients. He had expected a deluge, the memory of the Acheron as fresh on his mind as it was in anyone else's.
"Not that I saw." The man's returning shout was suddenly too loud. It was as silent as it ever got in a ship.
"What happened to the cannon fire?" Stephen asked. His only answer was confused shouts.
Sometimes Stephen hated being the surgeon. It was unbearable to wait for the shooting to start.
There was a brief clash of weapons and fevered shouts, and then feet crashing about on deck. One or two more shots followed. One more man was sent below, but there was nothing Stephen could do for him. He gave him a dose of laudanum and let his shipmates sit nearby, then listened attentively for more sounds of bloodshed. None came. There was just the sound of creaking wood and shifting canvas, muffled orders shouted and muffled feet obeying.
A little lost, Stephen sent his other three patients- who would live to fight another day, praise be to the Doctor and to God -back to their duties. He packed up his instruments and was just about to go on deck and inquire after the course of the battle when Mr. Mowett appeared at the doorway accompanied by Mr. Blakeney.
"Well, what happened?"
"It was the damnedest thing, Doctor," Mowett said with a bewildered shake of his head. "This frigate, the Lone Star Running she was called, pulled right across our stern and barely even fired an entire broadside at us. She was close enough to board, took every shot we threw at her, and then twelve or so of her people come over and board swinging on lines like monkeys. We took 'em down easy, but about half got back by using some of our lines. Then she just sailed away before we knew what to do. We've begun to chase, but she was fast and she has the weather gauge."
Stephen shook his head. "I really don't see what is so strange about it. Perhaps she thought twice upon seeing the Surprise, decided a man of war was no great prize and sailed off."
"But why send her men to certain death like that?" Mowett asked.
"I'm certainly not the person to ask." Stephen smiled quietly. "If there has been no more bloodshed, I will join you in heading to the captain's cabin to hear what he thinks of this strange incident."
"Actually, we have one more patient for you. A prisoner who got hit with shrapnel in the ribs." Blakeney said.
"Send him in."
"Well, actually, Doctor... it's a woman."
Stephen had faced a lot of surprising days in his life, and this one was starting to rank pretty high. Pirates were one thing. That could've made an amusing tale. But a female pirate?
He was hardly given time to react to this, because then she was shown in. She moved over to the table on her own, limping a bit on her right leg. She was not very tall, but she was well built with strong shoulders and a figure that suggested she wasn't wearing a corset. Her attire was male- a billowing white blouse and black breeches, with boots on over that. Her hair was bound up against her head and covered with a blue bandana, so it was impossible to tell its color. She didn't look much older than twenty.
Stephen cleared his throat as she sat down. Prisoner or no, the niceties begged to be observed.
"What is your name?"
"Coraline Jacqueline Turner."
"And where are you injured, Miss Turner?"
"Cora, if you please, and I have some wood slivers stuck in my left side, along my ribs."
"You're English?" Stephen asked in surprise at hearing her accent.
"Let's clear something up now. My parents are both children of English emigres and while I was born into a life of piracy I am not a whore." She sighed and lay back on his table. "There. Those are usually the first two concerns of anyone who meets me. Now I'd like this shrapnel out, please."
Stephen was taken aback not so much by her speech, but by her eyes. They were wide, soft grey-blue in color, but her gaze was strong and forthright in a way that reminded him oddly of Jack. This Coraline Jacqueline Turner, Cora if you please, knew what she was about.
"Lift your shirt, please." He said when he remembered to speak.
She lifted the thin linen thing without a qualm, despite her assurance that she was not a whore, revealing surprisingly pale skin. Just at the curve of her waist and extending upward he could see the long silvers of wood lodged under the skin. They hadn't gone in deep. It would still take a bit of time to get them out; doing so would cause more splinters to come off of the larger ones, and some cloth had gotten caught in there too.
And I should know what that's like.
"And how did you get these?"
"I was part of the boarding party. A ball from my ship struck the rail as I was going over and the wood got me. I was so stunned I fell to the deck and no one noticed me until the others were dead and the Running sailed away."
"I'm sorry for the loss of your comrades."
"We knew they would die." She said. Stephen tried to look her in the eye but she looked away. The words struck a cord in him; the disinterest with which she said them hid a familiar discontent. It was the sort of concealed displeasure that led to mutinies.
"Relax," He told her. "This could take a few minutes."
She snorted at this and just kept her shirt out of the way.
As it always did, the world narrowed down to only to Stephen's surgery. Jack was right- it was his prerogative to view this world through a microscope, and Stephen was glad of the privilege. Gradually all of the splinters were removed; a little blood welled out of the wounds, and Cora would occasionally suck in her breath and let it out again, but otherwise the world was utterly still. Then life resumed, with all its niggling complexities.
"Many thanks, Doctor...?"
"Maturin. Stephen Maturin."
"Thank you." She held out of her hand and he took it. Then she released him and turned to the two guards at the door who had appeared while Stephen tended to her wounds. "I suppose it's time to go to the brig, isn't it? Clap 'em in irons."
They took her away and later Stephen dined alone and read a bit. Much later that night, small details of the incident would come to him; the fact that her skin was soft, that when they shook hands he could see a pirate brand on her wrist, that he had been oddly conscious of the pulse in his hand after she released it, and that although she was the first woman he'd touched in months he hadn't even noticed the curve of one breast revealed as she moved her shirt or the sway of her hips as she walked away.
Stephen sighed. It was time to end this long and rather perplexing day.
A/N-- Well, I hope this fic is off to a good (if short) start. I've already written the better part of this fic, so if I get a couple of positive reviews I'll post the second chapter tomorrow!