A/N: Happy New Years, everyone! Special thanks to elanordaughterofeowyn and Norrieo for reviewing. I appreciate it EDIT:Norrieo helpfully corrected me on Gillette's first name, so I have changed 'Andrew' to 'Phillip.'

Chapter Two

Rosalie Gillette stood at the bow of the HMS Redemption. The late afternoon sun sent a horrible glare into her eyes, but it was far too damp and stuffy in her cramped quarters below decks. Plus the fresh air helped stave off bouts of seasickness.

"Better get inside, Rose. This sun is blazing, and you know how easily you burn."

Rosalie rolled her eyes at her brother. "Come now, Phillip. You're beginning to sound like Mother."

Phillip laughed. "You better get used to it, dear sister. Mother has had no one to scold all these years that you've been in London. She'll want to make up for lost time."

Rosalie groaned. "Oh, good God you're right!"

They both dissolved into giggles, and she took her brother's arm and let him lead her on a stroll around the ship's deck. Despite their long separation while Rosalie lived in London with family, the two siblings had remained close. He wrote to her often, and she replied with stories about their cousins and her life there. It was Phillip who had requested she return to Port Royal in celebration of his recent promotion to Admiral. Rosalie had accepted right away. After nine years in London, she was eager to return to her home. Not to mention, the fact that she was twenty-five with absolutely no romantic prospects, and her London relations were beginning to whisper about her being an old maid. It was an issue her brother loved to tease her about.

"I wonder if Port Royal is really in need of another spinster?" he pondered.

She slapped him on the shoulder. "Shut it! Besides, you're not married, and you're much older than I am."

"Seven years is not 'much older.' And thirty-two is hardly dead and buried, Rose."

"It might as well be. If twenty-on is an old maid."

Phillip chuckled again. "Well I'm only teasing you. I shouldn't care if you never get married. It's Mother and Isabel you have to worry about. If I'm not mistaken they already have a number of eligible bachelors in mind."

"Oh, no." Isabel was their twenty-nine year old sister, and like all good young ladies she had married promptly at seventeen and began producing babies the very next year. "What poor soul are they trying to set me up with?"

"I certainly wouldn't call him a 'poor soul.' You're a lovely young woman, and any reasonable man should be glad to have you."

"Look at you trying to be a sweet older brother for once." She gave him a hard look. "You're distracting me. Who?"

He raised his eyebrows and took a breath. "Well it seems that they have set their sights rather high. Their number one prospect is Lord Bartholomew Beckett, I believe."

"Beckett," Rosalie mused, "that does sound familiar."

"You most likely knew of his older brother, Cutler Beckett. He took command of Port Royal on behalf of the King and the East India Trading Company. He led the armada against the Pirate Brethren in the war against piracy."

"Oh, yes! I did hear about all that!" Rosalie exclaimed, "And there was quite a scandal about the late Governor Swann's daughter. Mother wrote to me of it."

"Yes, well you probably heard of Cutler Beckett's demise, then. He had no children, so his brother inherited his estate and titles. Now he is in Port Royal preparing our fleets for another attack on the pirates. That is why I must get back so quickly."

"Mother has set her sights high," Rosalie scoffed, "a Lord."

"Well, not too high actually," Phillip replied as he drew himself up and puffed out his chest. "You are the Admiral's sister."

She laughed. "Quite right, my Lord." She feigned a bow.

They had made it back to their starting position at the bow of the ship, and the sun was sinking rapidly. Rosalie gazed out at the plethora of oranges, pinks, and purples as they met the blue waters. "Even so," she murmured, "I wish they would just leave well enough alone."

"That's not likely with those two."

"No, I suppose…." Rosalie trailed off. She thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She scanned the waves. Suddenly, she gripped her brother's arm. "Oh my God, Phillip, look!"

A worn and ragged looking man wobbled in a tiny dingy off the starboard side of the ship. He was swinging what seemed to be a tattered coat around his head and waving his other arm furiously.

"All hands on deck!" Phillip shouted, springing into action. "All hands on deck! Man overboard!"

The crew acted quickly and efficiently, and the adrift man was hoisted onto the ship only ten minutes later. Rosalie's first impression of him was that he looked dirty and tired. Then she realized that he must be a member, or deserter, of the British Royal Navy. Despite the stains and tears, the coat was unmistakable up close. But as he stood up to face the crew, something strange happened. Her brother and a few of the other men froze. She could see how Phillip's face drained of color, and she watched, crinkling her eyebrows in confusion, as his mouth dropped open.

"James?" he finally breathed. "Is that you?"

The man nodded wearily. He was panting with the exertion of flagging them down, and seemed as lost for words as her brother was. A moment passed, and the stranger stared the men in silence. Then Phillip pulled him into an embrace. "James!" he exclaimed with something like a laugh. "Everyone thinks you're dead!" He pulled back and gave the other man a serious look. "I was there," he continued. "I saw with my own eyes when Lord Beckett received news of your murder. How can this be?"

The man wiped a hand across his forehead. "It's a long story, Phillip," he replied in a soft but deep voice, "and one I'd rather discuss privately."

Rosalie was more confused than ever, and she was not known for her patience. She placed a hand on her brother's shoulder. "Phillip?" she asked. "Phillip, what's going on?"

Phillip blinked and seemed to remember her for the first time since the man had been hoisted aboard the ship. "Rosalie," he said, pulling her forward, "this is my good friend, James Norrington. James this is my sister, Rosalie Gillette. I do not believe the two of you have been introduced."

Norrington managed a small smile and a shaky bow. "Miss Gillette, it is a pleasure to meet you. Although, I wish circumstances could have been better."

Rosalie curtsied. "Thank you, Mr. Norrington. It is a pleasure to meet you as well. But my brother has forgotten his manners in all this excitement. Hang formalities! You must be exhausted and hungry."

"Oh, yes, yes!" Phillip exclaimed, jerking as if out of a trance. "Forgive me, James. Please, let me take you to my quarters, and you can get cleaned up. Then, if you're not too tired, I will have our dinner brought to my quarters."

Rosalie watched as her brother helped Norrington below decks. She had dined with Phillip every night on their crossing from England, and there was no way she was going to let him shut her out this time. She knew he would try. It seemed to be an unspoken rule that brothers must keep their little sisters from anything remotely interesting, but she was not easily evaded. At least, she didn't think so. She made her way to her own cabin. Rosalie was determined to be ready and waiting at Phillip's quarters by the time dinner was served.