Chapter One ~*~
~o~
The view was spellbinding from where I was.
The bright Caribbean sun glinted off the turquoise water far below the cliff, and a beach of sugar-white sand stretched off into the distance, some ways over to my left.
Seabirds wheeled and dove, feeding hungrily in the shallows, and a pair of dolphins frolicked together in the waves, darting here and there and around the black ship that was anchored a short way off shore, chasing each other in a game of tag around and under the hull.
Surrounding the beach was a jungle – lush trees and foliage, splashed here and there with a myriad of colors caused by the riot of flowers that were in bloom most of the year.
It was a tropical paradise, complete with a soft Caribbean breeze that was tugging at my hair, but it would have been quite a bit more enjoyable, really, had I not been viewing the scene below from where I was hanging, suspended at the end of an old tree root that protruded from the edge of the cliff I have mentioned.
I held on desperately and screamed for all I was worth.
"JACK!"
It was only a moment before the bandana'd head of my companion appeared briefly to peer down at where I was in a very precarious position, several feet below, and then disappeared again.
"JACK! Don't leave me here!" I screamed again, knowing that I wouldn't be able to hold on for very long. I made the mistake of looking down at the breakers that were crashing on the rocky base of the island, quite some distance below where my feet dangled.
Jack Sparrow poked his head over the side again, grimaced at me, and yelled down in return. "But he'll get to the Pearl first!"
"Damn the bloody Pearl, Jack! I need help now!" I cried out.
I knew that he was in a quandary as to what course of action to take where he stood at the top of the cliff over my head. While I know he realized, on some level, that he couldn't leave me hanging over the edge of the cliff, for the moment he was wrestling with the choice of leaving me to fend for myself, and getting to the Black Pearl first, or taking time to help me, and risking the very likely possibility that he would again lose his beloved ship to the one man who had taken it from him twice before.
The root I was clinging to pulled out of the dirt two or three inches, and I knew I didn't have time for him to wage war with himself over the decision much longer. "JAA-AA-AACK!" I screamed again.
"He's going to steal my bloody ship!" Jack cried frantically, appearing at the top of the cliff again, and pointing behind him at the path that led to the bottom of the cliff.
"He's not going anywhere without me, you idiot!" I called up, hoping it was in fact true, and that Jack wouldn't take the insult to heart at that point.
Jack frowned, thinking this over, and then disappeared, apparently not as convinced as I was that I wouldn't be left behind on the island.
Thinking he'd abandoned me to deal with my troubles on my own, I scrutinized the cliff face over my head, trying to see if there might be some way to haul myself to the top.
~o~
I realize at this point that I must clarify a few things before continuing on with this story, so that the reader might have a better understanding of how I came to find myself in such a predicament.
While I am sure that the name of Captain Jack Sparrow is one the reader is well acquainted with, I must take a moment to make a brief introduction for myself.
My name is Madeline Gray, and I am the director of medical services at the hospital in Port Royal, Jamaica. I am the third generation of the Gray family to have become a physician, and I have the distinction of becoming the first woman to graduate from the medical college back home near Wiltshire, incidentally, at the top of my class.
What you need to know for the purpose of this story, are two of my other experiences that will make the reason for my tale more apparent. In another life of mine, some eleven or so years before, I had been kidnapped by the pirate that Jack Sparrow considered to be his nemesis for quite some time, and through a series of unlikely, but nevertheless life-changing events for me, I found myself the only one to ever have been given the title Ship's Doctor to the Rogue Wave.
The Rogue Wave, in her previous life, had been otherwise known as the Oxford, which was the flagship of Henry Morgan, sometimes interim lieutenant governor of Jamaica, and at the time, Pirate Lord of the Caribbean Sea.
When Morgan retired he passed the ship on to his young and ambitious protégé, who had renamed her the Rogue Wave, and set about making a name for himself as one of the most feared pirates and accomplished swordsmen in the Caribbean.
This brings me to the second thing I would have you know before I continue my tale.
While I mentioned that I had been kidnapped in the past by the pirate captain of the Rogue Wave, what I have failed to mention up until this point, is that over eleven years ago, whether or not I had ever previously thought such a thing possible, I had fallen in love with that pirate.
I am sure the reader, although perhaps not acquainted with the entirety of my previous tale, is however, familiar with the name of Hector Barbossa, captain of the Rogue Wave, sometimes captain of the Black Pearl, and presently, Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea.
What you may not know about Captain Barbossa, as there are not many people who do, is that over eleven years ago, he had become smitten with the young doctor he had taken captive. While it would take too much time to explain the entire story in detail, suffice it to say that we had each left our mark upon the other, and nearly twelve years later, that indelible mark remained on us both.
Perhaps I should go back and explain things.
There was a night, a dozen years ago, shortly after I had spent a month and a half on board the Rogue Wave, when I had gone before the governor and the magistrates to present my proposal for building a hospital that the growing colony of Jamaica desperately needed. I had expected some opposition, but was able to overcome it as I already had purchased the necessary land with a chest of gold coins sent to me by Hector Barbossa.
I assure you, it is true – the hospital in Port Royal was entirely funded with stolen pirate treasure. It was a better use of the gold than it being spent on the things that pirates spend gold on, as Barbossa had so aptly put it.
Little did I know that evening, when I stepped through the door to fight for the hospital I wanted, that across the Caribbean another power struggle was underway. By morning, while I would find myself with the right to build the hospital I'd wanted for so long, Jack Sparrow would find himself marooned on a tiny spit of land with a single pistol and a broken compass, and the Black Pearl would have herself a new captain.
Over the next two years, I threw myself into my work at the new hospital, trying to bury my nagging fear that something was terribly wrong, and I began to doubt as time went by, wondering if I should have listened to Lily all that time ago.
By Lily, I mean Lilith Davenport, better known in the Caribbean as Tortuga Lily, mistress of shall I say, entertainment, at an establishment known as the Mermaid in Tortuga. I had met Lily, who was, for lack of a better term, an old flame of Barbossa's, and she had, out of jealousy, warned me not to let myself get too close to him for fear that he would make a game out of reeling me in.
At the time I had no reason to doubt the things that Barbossa had said to me, or the promise he'd made on the Rogue and in his final letter that he'd return, and I put my faith in him and not in her.
However, when the stories of the Black Pearl began to spread across the Caribbean like a shadow, my fear that I'd been long since forgotten grew, and I became convinced that Barbossa had forsaken me at last, for the love of his ship and of pirating.
Heartbreak is a bitter painful thing, especially when it happens very slowly over time, and my heart would break for the next ten years. How many times I read the letter he'd written me during that time, I do not know, but suffice it to say that the writing has all but faded, and the creases have nearly worn through the paper.
I read the letter less and less over time, finding the promise he had made too painful to consider, and though I did my best to carry on with my life, and enjoy what I could of each day, I took no notice of the occasional well to do merchant, or a few of the officers from Fort Charles, that periodically seemed to express an interest in spending time with me.
I kept telling myself that none of them were right for me, but the hard truth I avoided was that none of them were the man who still held part of me prisoner.
Things in Port Royal became more interesting for a time the second year after the hospital had opened. I'd found it necessary to hire two more doctors, one of them another woman, of course, as the population of Jamaica grew.
We celebrated the arrival of new marines at Fort Charles, and a new commanding officer, the young and handsome James Norrington.
The governor had died the year prior, and arriving along with Norrington was our new governor, Weatherby Swann, accompanied by his young daughter, Elizabeth.
I recall meeting Governor Swann at the ball thrown in honor of his arrival, and found him to be an agreeable older gentleman of kindly manner and pleasant disposition. He'd allowed young Elizabeth to attend the ball that night, and I spoke with her for a few moments after she discovered that I was in fact, a doctor.
"That's ever so exciting," she said, with the unfettered enthusiasm that comes from being so young. "I've never met a doctor who was a woman before." Her bright eyes met mine. "I'll bet you're every bit as good as the men."
"Even better," I said jokingly. I smiled back at her, noting that someday she was going to be a young lady of quite some beauty, and I wondered if she looked like her mother. I knew at least that I resembled mine, as I'd known her until I was about the same age as Elizabeth, but from what I'd heard, Elizabeth's mother had died when she was still quite young, and the girl likely had little memory of her.
I would get to know Elizabeth over the next few years fairly well, taking on the sometimes role of older sister, and I'd like to think that I gave her good advice and set a good example for the young lady. Her father seemed to think that I was a positive role model for her, although I am sure he was concerned about my apparent desire to remain independent, and not marry by my age.
What neither Elizabeth nor I would know for the next eight years, was how much more we would end up having in common besides each of us being without a mother, and traveling in the same circles in Jamaican society.
~o~
It took me a little longer than normal to walk back to the hospital to check on a few patients, in the fog that continued to blanket Port Royal that fateful evening. I had finished with the last one and had a word with one of the other doctors, and headed back down the hill toward home.
It was then that the same sound that haunted my nightmares hissed through the darkness, and I found myself ducking involuntarily even before the first cannonball struck the fort. More blasts came from the harbor, and I knew at that moment the town was under assault.
I ran to the edge of the bluff that the hospital sat on and caught sight of the ship below, blacker than the Rogue had ever been, ragged and shrouded in mist that seemed to emanate from her rather than surround her.
I might have made the assumption she was there to rescue Jack Sparrow, who had been apprehended earlier that day, if it weren't for the fact that I spotted the flag that snapped open at that moment at the top of her mainmast, and I felt like someone had tossed a bucket of cold water on me when I recognized the skull and crossed swords.
That flag belonged to one man, and I knew that below me in the harbor, somewhere near the helm of that ship, was the pirate I'd met ten years before.
While I couldn't possibly sum up all the things I felt at that moment, the one thing that became apparent over everything else was the fact that the Black Pearl, as I knew this ship must be called, was wrecking havoc on my home.
As stupid as it may sound, I ran for all I was worth down the hill and toward the harbor. I didn't know why Barbossa would do such a thing, if he knew that I remained in Port Royal, but my hope was that if I could somehow get to the black ship, I might be the one person that could call him off, and save lives in the process.
I ran onward, hoping that my opinion might carry some shadow of its former influence with the ship's captain.
Whether or not I could have put a stop to Barbossa's devastation of Port Royal that night, I will never know. I found myself running toward the harbor past a man that appeared to be dead, and then past another who was bleeding profusely from a terrible wound in his leg. The amount of blood he lost would have been fatal, I am sure, if I hadn't stopped to help him, and by the time I managed to put a stop to his hemorrhaging, the cannon fire had ceased and the Black Pearl had faded into the fog.
Once I realized that the Pearl was gone, I also found that I had my work cut out for me for the next twenty -four hours, as did the other two doctors at the hospital.
I had heard that Elizabeth had been kidnapped, and would have done anything and everything in my power to help, if I was not already doing anything and everything in my power to save some of the lives that were in jeopardy of being lost as a result of the attack by the Black Pearl.
Guilt is a curious thing, and it can play havoc with us whether it belongs rightly to us or not, and in addition to feeling guilty about Elizabeth, I felt somehow responsible for what had happened to my patients. Why I should have felt that way, I don't know, but as I have said, guilt is an odd thing, indeed.
I had resolved to try to get to the jail to speak with Jack Sparrow, the person I thought most likely to know how to go about finding Barbossa, when I had a chance to get away from surgery, but as it turned out, Will Turner had beaten me to the punch and had sprung the pirate from jail and helped him to commandeer the Interceptor.
There was nothing I could do as the days passed except tend to my patients and hope for some word of what fate had befallen Elizabeth and Will, Sparrow and Barbossa.
The day the Dauntless arrived back in Port Royal, I was summoned at once by the governor to see to Elizabeth's injuries, and I remembered the defeated look on Will's face as he walked by me. I offered to examine the wound he had bandaged on his hand, but he merely gave me a weak smile and said 'later'.
The pirates had caused heavy losses to the crew of the Dauntless, and I hurried to see Elizabeth, anxious to verify that she was alright, and anxious as well, to find out what had happened.
She still wore a ragged and dirty marine's uniform when I got to her rooms, and she looked completely exhausted.
"Elizabeth!" I cried, going to embrace her at once. "I'm so glad to see you are well," I said in earnest, not feeling up to using the word 'alive'. "Let me see that." I sat down with her on the edge of her bed and unwrapped the inflamed, but superficial laceration across her palm.
"This should heal fine without stitches," I said, "but you're going to have to keep it clean and dry."
She nodded, and let me cover the wound with a clean dressing, and then suddenly burst into tears.
"What is it?" I asked, knowing that she had been through something awful.
"Oh, it's all wrong, now," she said. "Everything's just so wrong."
"What is it, Elizabeth?" I asked. "You can tell me."
She nodded at me, getting her tears under control. "So much has happened, Madeline, in such a short period of time. I'm engaged to James, I can't bear to look at Will, and Jack is going to be hung the day after tomorrow.
"By Jack, you mean Jack Sparrow?" I asked.
She nodded. "Captain…Captain Jack Sparrow," she said quietly.
I recall raising an eyebrow at that statement. I knew the feeling well enough to know when I saw someone bitten by the pirate bug, and while Elizabeth was fretting over her decision about Norrington and Turner, I could sense that there was something else going on below the surface.
"Why don't you go back and start at the beginning, and we'll see if we can't make some sense of it all?" I asked, taking on the role of big sister instead of physician.
Elizabeth nodded and began her story of how she'd been kidnapped because she possessed the gold coin she'd always thought was a pirate medallion. I could tell that she was reliving the terror of being hauled on board the pirate ship, and I wanted ever so much to tell her that I knew what it felt like to be taken prisoner by Captain Barbossa.
Exactly, what it felt like.
I let her continue on until she retold the legend of the Aztec gold that had been imparted to her by Barbossa, and when she told me of the curse, and that she had witnessed its horrible effects first hand, I knew there was nothing in the world that was going to be able to explain the fact that the color had drained out of my face, and I felt as if I were going to faint.
"Madeline...Madeline, are you alright?" she asked.
I nodded weakly. "Yes, just a bit tired, that's all," I lied terribly, and she gave me a look that said she knew something was amiss, but continued on in telling her story.
"Listening to him was simply awful," she went on. "I was furious at him for what he was doing, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for the man, all of them actually, even though they were pirates."
"Why is that?" I asked, trying to stay composed.
"The things he said," she replied. "The tone of voice when he spoke...he seemed to feel such profound loss..."
I tried to make the fact that I stood up abruptly look casual, and I'm sure that Elizabeth thought me strange. I paced a little while she went on with the story, speaking of the island, and the Pearl, and Barbossa.
I envied her that she'd sat at the table to dine with him, wishing that it had been me sitting in the place I'd been accustomed to so many years before.
When she told me of how she'd thought she was about to die, and that Barbossa had merely drawn a little of her blood, thinking to end the curse, I had to stifle a bit of a laugh, picturing the wry grin I could see him giving her as he said he'd eat a whole bushel of apples.
I know that Elizabeth thought me a bit mad by that time, and she hesitantly went on about the chase at sea and finally to the duel between Sparrow and Barbossa. She spoke of seeing Jack driven back time and time again, battling to defend himself against the onslaught from Barbossa, and how she and Will had battled their own way back to the chest of cursed Aztec gold.
I wasn't prepared for how she would finish the story.
I knew that Barbossa would have likely defeated Jack under normal circumstances, but what I didn't understand was that Barbossa had let himself become emotional during the duel, desperate as he was to have the curse of ten years lifted, and in his frantic bid to regain control of the situation, made the mistake of pointing a pistol at Elizabeth and taking his eye off Jack Sparrow for one instant.
I was facing away from Elizabeth when she told me of the gunshot, and I hid my trembling hands in front of me. Nothing could have hidden the gasp that escaped from me when she told me of his death, and I clamped my hand over my mouth reflexively, stifling the sob that I knew was threatening to escape.
Not that it would have taken a genius to figure out that there was something terribly wrong, but Elizabeth Swann is a very smart young woman, and after eight years, she knew me quite well.
I'm glad that it was Elizabeth there with me the night the last piece of my heart broke, ten years after it had begun to crumble. No one else would have understood nearly as well, I am sure.
She came and placed a hand on my shoulder, and then wrapped me in a warm sisterly embrace as I wept, not knowing exactly what was wrong at that moment, but starting to have an inkling of what I might be going through.
We stood there in silence for a few long moments, and when at last I could speak, I did in a hoarse whisper. "I'm so glad you're alright, Elizabeth."
She smiled and nodded. "I don't think you are, though, Madeline," she said, "and I'm hoping that you'll let me understand why."
I nodded. "Get some rest," I advised her, hoping there might be some chance of me doing the same, but having serious doubts. "Will you come tomorrow for tea?"
"Aye," Elizabeth said softly, and if anyone else would have found her answer strange, I certainly didn't.