Notes:
I have been promising to write this for ages and now finally have the time and inclination. Thanks to the Lady Legrace for spurring me on.

For some time, I have had a love-hate relationship with the Stephen Maturin of the O'Brian novels. That evolved into utter adoration when I watched Paul Bettany, an actor I admire greatly, bring him to life. In undertaking this fiction, however, I am truly stuck between canon and the movie-verse. I have always had a soft spot in my heart for Tom Pullings, ever since he was described as "a big shy silent master's mate" in the novel Master and Commander and especially after the disfiguring wound, when "a glancing blow from a Turkish saber had sliced off most of his forehead and nose" (Treason's Harbour). The scars on the actor in the movie made him look more attractive, of course, not horribly disfigured. So, which one do I use? Maybe a combination of both.

In fact, it's what I've had to do with everything, take the characters of the movie and adjust them a bit according to my skewed view, then add in a different plotline. I also have a terrible habit of historical inaccuracies, plus I steal blindly from every seafaring story I know – from Odysseus to Horatio Hornblower, from Long John Silver to Marko Ramius. So, I figure I can just do my best and enjoy it and hope that some of you will enjoy reading it.

Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

The Widow

The captain groaned inwardly as the guest came aboard. Not a woman only but a redhead as well! He hated having women aboard and, superstitious as any sailor, considered it unlucky. On dry land, he adored women and was not impartial to redheads; however, the same was not true at sea, and the thought of the long ordeal ahead with this woman aboard blackened his usually cheerful disposition. Had not been directly ordered by Admiral Bellows, he would have tried to find a way out of this cruise; since there was none, he had gritted his teeth and agreed.

Mrs. Stirling was a tall, handsome woman, younger than he had expected, and had a good figure. Dressed in a modest wool gown of deep violet befitting a widow, a cloak of pilot cloth, and a decidedly unfashionable flat-brimmed hat, her striking dark eyes and angular, pretty face were emphasized. The garment flattered her rounded figure; altogether, she promised trouble on the voyage ahead.

"Welcome aboard, Mrs. Stirling." Determined to make the best of a bad situation, he took off his hat and bowed formally.

"It is an honor to be here, captain," she replied with an elegant curtsy. Her voice was low and pleasant.

"May I present my officers? First Lieutenant Pullings, Second Lieutenant Mowett, Sailing Master Allen, Captain Howard of the Royal Marines, and Doctor Maturin." The men saluted her and she smiled and nodded to each one. Then her fine dark eyes were back on Jack. "The men will bring your luggage to your cabin – ah, I see that you have brought a sea chest."

Her servant had heaved the mentioned chest up and set it on deck where they could see that it was carved on the edges and painted with twined flowers. In the center was carved her name:

R. Flint Stirling

The two carvings had been done at different times by different hands and the men studied it for a moment.

"My late husband was captain as was my late father," she informed them. "I am an experienced sea-bird, sir, and am accustomed to shipboard life. My mother used to say that I had sea-water in my veins."

"Then, you are doubly welcome," he added, feeling slightly relieved. "Would you do me the honor of taking a glass of wine with me in the cabin in memory of Captain Stirling, then?"

"I should be delighted," she replied with a smile.

"Excellent. Doctor, Mr. Pullings, will you join us? Mr. Mowett, you have the deck."

Jack escorted the lady with the others following, and he seated her between himself and Stephen. She removed her hat and cloak and they could see she was a pretty woman with the dark eyes they had all first noticed, slashing dark brows, and the windblown pink of health so attractive in a woman used to outdoor activities. Masses of reddish chestnut hair were woven up in a simple style worn by many women who went to sea with their husbands.

"You are very welcome here, ma'am," said Jack as he poured a fine dry red for the four of them. "I knew your husband a little. He was Captain Richard Stirling out of Bristol, was he not?"

A look of astonishment appeared on her face, then a slow smile spread across her lips. "He was, sir. With a brother of the same rank, it is not always my Captain Stirling whom people knew."

"An excellent seaman, as I remember, and very tall. Quite different than the brother in appearance."

"Do you mean to say that there were two men sailing ships out of Bristol who answered to Captain Stirling?" asked Stephen incredulously.

"There were indeed." Mrs. Stirling shook her head at Jack, smiling sadly. "Your recollection is remarkable, sir."

"Let us drink to his memory, then." He lifted his glass. "To Captain Richard Stirling, a fine seaman and a good man."

"Captain Richard Stirling." They all drank and there was a little pause as sadness settled for a moment on the widow. "We lost him four years ago," she said in a wistful tone. Then, she smiled around at them. "Now, both our boys are gone to sea and so I am a sea-bird with an empty nest."

"Have the lads gone to the ship of their uncle?" asked Jack, for it was custom in seafaring families.

"No," she said slowly. She looked seriously at the three men. "I need to speak plainly now, sir, and I hope you will listen to all I have to say before passing judgment."

"Indeed we shall," Jack assured her. "Admiral Bellows was cryptic in his information about you and wrote that you would enlighten us upon coming aboard."

"Before I do, let me say that I was told explicitly to speak freely before Captain Aubrey and Doctor Maturin," she told them. "No mention was made of your lieutenant, though, so I ask you to make the judgment here, sir."

Pullings got to his feet. "Forgive me, ma'am. I shall retire so you may speak in secret."

"Nonsense," said the captain. "Sit down, Mr. Pullings. I assure you, Mrs. Stirling, that you may say anything in front of Mr. Pullings that you intend to say to me."

"Very well." She cast an apologetic look at Pullings. "I meant no offense to you, sir."

"There was no offense, ma'am," he replied graciously.

She nodded, then slowly turned to Jack. "My husband's name was Stirling, but the name I was born with was Rose Flint. I saw how you noticed my old sea chest, and I expect you have deduced the rest."

"Flint was your father?" Jack asked, frowning at her.

"Flint?" repeated Pullings in shock.

"Forgive me, but I don't follow," Stephen broke in. "Who was Flint?"

Her lovely dark eyes turned to him. "My father was Captain John Flint, the pirate."

"Pirate!" exclaimed Stephen in amazement.

"The French and Dutch were so prodigiously afraid of him that honest seamen were proud that he was an Englishman," Pullings told him.

"My mother ran off with a disreputable sailor. They were married and she stayed with him the rest of her life. I was born aboard the Walrus and grew up there. I became a tolerable seaman as a child, and odd as it may seem, I learned social graces from my mother. When she passed away, I was sent to a ladies' school. After that, I returned to the Walrus, which was shorthanded, and my father had me as his quartermaster. The hands had known me all my life, you see, and there have been female pirates throughout history, so it was not difficult taking orders from a woman."

"Quartermaster on a pirate's ship is similar to sailing master in his majesty's navy," Jack explained to Stephen, but he still eyed the lady with distaste.

"I was able to set a course and sail the ship, but I was not of the temperament for battle. Well, the first prize we took was hard fought, though I participated only in the handling of the ship and not in the fighting. Their captain was badly wounded and taken prisoner." She smiled sadly. "That captain was Richard Stirling, and I helped him to escape and hence left that life. We were married and the assizes granted me clemency for exchange of information. Thus, I became an honest captain's wife and informant for the crown."

"Informant," repeated Stephen without inflection in his voice.

"Yes, sir, and it is for that reason that you bear me on this voyage." She took another sip of her wine. "Well, captain, that is the plain truth. I shall leave it to your judgment to decide what you would like your crew to know about me."

"Let me be certain that I understand," said Stephen. "You are a pirate by birth, but you left that life when you fell in love with your victim. You then escaped punishment by becoming a spy."

A rueful smile appeared on her face. "That is it in a nutshell, doctor."

"Extraordinary."

"I was never a pirate," Mrs. Stirling assured them. "I sailed my father's ship and had no taste for battle."

Jack considered her words. "I have no wish to start speculation in the crew, so let us keep this among us and not speak of it. Mrs. Stirling, you are merely my guest on this ship and the widow of a fine seaman."

"Very well, sir. I am quite able to hold my peace."

"Do not think that I hold your past against you, ma'am. We have all done things in our youths that we regret. As the magistrates have passed judgment, so we shall all abide."

After the lady had departed and Pullings went up on deck to oversee the preparations to sail, Jack drained his glass and fixed the doctor with a pointed look. "Well, what do you think of our passenger?"

"It is remarkable that she speaks so easily and artlessly. Did you sense any untruth in what she said? Or guile of any type?"

"I did not."

"Nor did I." Stephen stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The French and the Spanish have spies as we do, and the female of the species is infinitely dangerous. This lady seems hardly the type for the deception necessary in such employment."

"No, she does not." Jack poured himself another glass and took a swallow. "A pretty woman is often dangerous enough. When you add in the word deception, I begin to feel uneasy."

"Then you doubt the veracity of her story?"

"No. Admiral Bellows hinted at this in his letter." Jack got up and paced the length of the room. "This whole business rests ill with me. A gentlewoman, a captain's widow, going into danger for King and Crown. And the mere notion of piracy is enough to unsettle the coarsest seadog."

"She was markedly reluctant to speak of the children. Do you think that after her husband's death they were taken from her?"

"I think not, especially with the brother still alive to protect them."

"True, yet there is some part of this puzzle that is now hidden from us."