I'd just like to take the opportunity to thank those readers who gave me feedback. It's greatly appreciated. I have also to this point failed to offer the obligatory disclaimer, so here it is. I own nothing, bar my uncontrollable addiction to coffee, a bit of a Will Turner fetish and the desire to write. I of course do not own any original characters, only those strangely odd folk that tend to pop up now and again out of the depths of my mind. I have no idea where this tale is going or even if it will arrive at it's unknown destination. It may get lost (as some stories are apt to do) in Davy Jones Locker and never be heard from again!

Part 1

Two weeks out on the Morning Rose, Cora walked unsteadily on the deck of the swaying ship. From her first moments on board she had been wracked with seasickness and had begun to think she would never get her sea legs. She gazed out at the endless stretch of water and felt a sudden urge to weep. The loss of her mother seared her and wished for not the first time that she was there with her. Taking a deep breath, salty air filled her lungs and she closed her eyes as a wave of nausea hit her. 'Are you alright love?'. Cora spun around nearly losing her balance and hitting her lower back against the wooden rail. 'Mrs Davies,' she proclaimed upon seeing the wizened old face of the elderly woman who had befriended her on the voyage, 'you scared the wits out of me!'. 'Forgive me dear,' the old woman replied, 'I didn't mean to startle you'. Cora reached out and clasped her hand squeezing it affectionately. 'I was just contemplating the sea'. 'She is no man's mistress' Mrs Davies offered enigmatically. 'Well,' stated Cora, 'she certainly isn't mine.' Hand in hand the two women began a slow leisurely stroll along the deck. 'Did I ever tell you about my first husband Dudley?' the older woman asked, nary taking a breath before continuing on, 'he was a sailor you know, oh yes, such a handsome devil'…

It was near midnight before Cora fell into a light sleep. Tomorrow they would reach Tortuga and was filled with nervous apprehension over what awaited her there. In the dark recesses of her mind she wondered what her mother might have thought about what she had planned. She was torn between guilt over betraying a love that her mother had harboured her whole life and a need for revenge that had been fed by watching her mothers slow creep towards death. Her dreams provided her no respite and were filled with images of her bedridden mother coughing up her life's blood and a man hidden in the shadows of her sickroom. His face was masked by a long black cloak and yet she knew that he was watching her. Her mothers body shook with every cough and yet the man did not move from his position. In the dream she moved towards him, determined to see his face, knowing in her heart exactly who he was. She could feel the rage build up inside her with every step she took and in what seemed like the longest time she stood before him. The light of a single candle caressed her face and it seemed that light and dark met in that corner. Her hand shook as she lifted it up towards him, her fingers feeling like ice. With nervous heart she clutched the veil that hid him from her and with one swift movement she pulled it aside only to find that in that instant, he was gone. Spinning around her eyes darted nervously around taking in the now empty room. The bed that only moments ago had been occupied by her mother was empty. The sheets lay ruffled as if to testify to the body that had recently lain there. Moving towards it she could see small droplets of red blood that formed a circle around a single metallic object that glittered in the candlelight. She felt drawn to it in a way she could neither control nor explain. Reaching out she picked it up gingerly and saw that it was sticky with her mothers blood. It was barely discernible beneath the scarlet substance that coated it and yet she knew exactly what it was, even though she had never set eyes on it before in her life. It was her fathers compass.