A/N: Hi! I wrote a sequel! Well, am in the process of, I should say. I'm only about 40 pages into it. But its prequel is called "She Was A Phantom of Delight" for those of you who haven't read it. Please review. Thank you all so much.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from POTC. The title of this story is a poem by William Blake, who is one of my favorite authors. The title of the chapter is a poem, or a ballad I think, by William Butler Yeats. Also, this really shouldn't be rated M, but I did just so I wouldn't get in trouble because everyone thinks sex is so naughty.

AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE

Chapter 1: Down by the Salley Gardens

There was nothing like drunken sex with Captain Jack Sparrow. Camille woke up with a massive hangover, stumbling out of bed and dragging some of the sheets with her. She tossed them back onto the naked captain and stretched, holding her hands high above her head.

Thank goodness her mansion was so big, and she and Jack got this wing of the house entirely to themselves. They had been known to be quite loud when things got out of hand. She began snooping about in the closet for something to wear, still completely nude.

She groaned as her headache and nausea remained constant through her primping. As she was untangling some of her hair, there was a light knock on the door. "Come in," she called.

Will Turner poked his head in, glancing at Jack's unconscious figure and trying not to breathe in too deeply. The room reeked of sex. "Are you nearly ready, Camille?" he said in a normal tone. Jack could sleep through anything when he was drunk.

"Just a moment, I'm almost finished," she said, shooing him away. They wouldn't have much time until Jack figured out that the two of them plus Ana Maria had gone missing from the house. Camille finished doing her hair, stumbled over a few more things to get her shoes, hat, and parasol, and was downstairs. She looked like a lady but cursed ugly words under her breath like a sailor would.

Ana Maria looked up at her. "Is he still asleep?" she asked, referring to Jack.

Camille covered her ears, grimacing slightly at the noise. "Yes," she whined. "Let's hurry, shall we? I've got to go back to sleep."

Will looked at her, getting his coat. "Are you certain you want to do this today, Camille?" he offered.

"It's now or never," she replied miserably, following him out the door with Ana behind her. Although her head ached, her heart had been aching much more lately. Jack was brooding over the loss of his ship, and he had been drinking more and more. Shortly after returning from Diablo's gate nearly a year ago, Jack had confessed his love for Camille. He was truly terrible at opening up to anyone, including her, but he genuinely cared for her. He never talked about The Black Pearl, and if mentioned the air in the room would suddenly grow cold and all eyes would see him walking away. It physically hurt him to be away from the sea this long, but given the circumstances there was nowhere else for him to go with his crew scattered, and most likely extinct by now. Hopefully this would pull him out of his deepening depression.

Camille blinked, walking out into the sunlight. She tried to focus her thoughts, remembering what she was going to say as the stagecoach pulled up. The ride did not settle her stomach, and by the time they arrived in Port Royale she needed a minute or two before climbing out. She took a couple of deep breaths, looking at the door to the building she was about to enter.

She turned to Will and Ana Maria. "You know what to do. And if worse comes to worse, just remember that a ship can be sailed with only two people."

They both nodded as the coach pulled away. She steadied her uneasy stride, still being very unused to wearing high heeled-shoes. She straightened her hair and made sure to adjust her dress so that it showed a bit more cleavage than it was meant to. This was it.

She gracefully (although Lord knows how) made her way inside. She smiled as Commodore Norrington greeted her politely. She curtseyed, following him to his office.

"Commodore, I must apologize for giving you such short notice," she said as he gestured for her to take a seat.

"Oh, nonsense Miss Quartermaine," he said, taking a seat. "How may I be of service?"

"Well, just the other day I was looking over my father's will," she said, producing it. "And I noticed that he left me a ship. But I'm afraid I don't know much more than that, especially about sailing or ships."

She had set the plan in motion. The Commodore was more than happy to explain to Camille about the different kinds of ships, and about what she would need to know if she were to have one built. Most of these things she already knew, but every once in awhile he would stumble across something that she didn't. So this little 'meeting' had been somewhat beneficial to her after all.

Meanwhile, of course, The Black Pearl was being retaken by Ana Maria, Will, and other members of the crew as the soldiers were being locked in the cells. They had strategically hidden the ship a few miles off the coast of Port Celebros, where it was anchored in the safety of the many small and uninhabited islands there.

After she had asked all of the questions she could possibly think of, Camille politely thanked the commodore and he saw her to a stagecoach. It would not be long now until Norrington noticed that almost the entire navy was not present by the fort.

Concealing a grin, Camille ascended the path toward her mansion. The children were playing in the yard, and Annie was fluttering about dusting. Ana Maria sat, reading as if absolutely nothing had happened that morning. She looked up at Camille lazily as she came into the house. "Mornin', Camille. Finish your shopping?"

"Yes, I did," Camille replied, smiling at Annie. "Is Jack still sleeping?"

Ana shrugged. "I would expect just as well. He's been drinking like a fish lately."

Camille sighed. "I know," she admitted, ascending the stairs. She wondered what she would say to wake him up. It was nearly noon now, and she regrettably kicked the door hard, almost forcing it off its hinges. She hated to have to be the one to straighten him out. But the bed was empty. It was not made, but the rest of the room was clean and not littered with empty bottles.

She made her way to the windows, drawing back the curtains and letting the light fall on the dark place. She blinked as the sun hit her in the face, reaching up to open the window. Jack was outside, playing with Peter and Sheila below. He and Peter were both swordfighting with small wooden swords, and she let her jaw drop in surprise. The man never failed to amaze her. Sheila, of course, was screaming about something and running all around. But the boys seemed to be enjoying themselves and she grinned.