Whew! Sorry for the wait, but it's been a busy few days. This chapter was particularly difficult to write. And yes, yes, we find out what's going on out at the Flying Dutchman. Thank you for the reviews thus far, and hello to my new readers! Enjoy...


Arabella's discussion with the pirate was quickly becoming a heated argument. She needed for him to seek out a crew that would take them to the Black Pearl. She also needed him to leave quickly so that she could speak to Elbridge without interference or Jack knowing.

"Time's a wastin', lass," Jack said with much impatience. He crossed in front of Arabella and began to circle her as he spoke. "If you expect me to be gatherin' meself a crew, I need to see the goods. I see nothing in this for me if you cannot produce a ship."

"I will have one!" she exploded. Jack stood still and looked at her incredulously. She raised the chart in her hand and shook it sharply in Jack's face. He flinched but refused to move. Arabella was becoming increasingly annoyed. "I'll give you two days to gather up a right crew. Bring them to Port Maria at the docks by..."

"Two bloody days?! With having to sneak about and such I'd say five would be more suitable." Jack raised his brow, expecting to negotiate.

"There's no time, I stand at two. There's no need for you to go to the ends of the earth. Surely there must be some of your friends slithering about around here." Arabella had already used up enough precious time in her opinion. With her jaw fully clenched, she crossed her arms and focused on the tops of her boots.

"Five," Jack said as his voice deepened.

"I'll make it three."

"Give a man four. And in case you've failed to take notice, that Lord bloody Elbridge has a big fat reward out for my head. I would think you'd want me not to be showing myself around here."

"From what I've heard, the many rewards that have been set out for your capture and or death have never caused you to worry about that swelled head of yours." She had said this quite nonchalantly as she traced the lines of one of her palms. She looked to Jack, sucking in her cheeks and waiting for what she assumed would be an explosion.

"Now see here, Turner." Jack gritted his teeth and stepped heavy on his heels to Arabella. "Give me four days to head off to Tortuga and be back here with an able-bodied crew. Then we shall see to your bloody ship, seek out the Pearl and the cowardly thieving rotten sack of bilge sludge that stole her, and so on. Alright?" Jack's chin was raised so that he had to stare down to meet Arabella's eyes. He was beginning to show how uncertain he was feeling of his actions.

"You have three days then and we set sail at dawn on the fourth day. Otherwise you never lay eyes on this map again. Find your men and there will be a ship for you at Port Maria near the northern-most dock. There is an area well hidden in the trees. The ship and I will be waiting there for you, you have my word."

Arabella would rather have given him only two days, but at this point she was willing to compromise in order to get Jack to be on his way. She grasped the chart tighter in her right hand. She had gone through so much to get it. Now she was prepared to hand it over willingly to a notorious pirate. She had made a deal with him. Arabella had picked up a nasty habit of making deals lately. The one deal bothering her most at the moment was with Lord Elbridge. After Jack had gathered his crew, Arabella would have to inform him of their taking a ship and setting course. That was one bridge that she could not afford to worry about crossing right now.

"You know, you are a most difficult sort to understand," Jack drawled out. "At first you come across more headstrong than Mister Turner, which in and of itself I assure you is no easy feat." Jack paced about lazily as he scratched at the back of his head.

"Do you enjoy hearing yourself speak? I do wish you would get to the point so that we may be on our way." Arabella had a bad feeling about where this discussion was heading. Maybe she had come across as too eager. The last thing she needed was to have Jack figure out whose side she was really on and have her plans completely disintegrate.

"That is precisely my point right there, deary. Why do you all of a sudden wish to concur with me without trying to bring about and negotiate things to turn in your favor? I find it most curious." Jack leaned against the table behind him and fiddled with his compass in his left hand. He opened and propped the small box atop his slender outstretched fingers and held it up as if to study it. Jack opened his hand and then closed his fingers around the compass to shut it. His face was cast downward, but his eyes remained up and focused firmly on Arabella's. He held the compass outward in her direction. "Just what is it that you want most, I wonder."

"You know very well what I want most, yet at the moment what I want is for us to be on our way and for you to stop wasting time. Now go." Arabella thrust an extended index finger towards the door. If she had waited any longer, Elbridge was going to become more suspicious than he was at the current time. Jack's behavior was highly questionable. Then again, it was no more questionable than her own behavior.

"One way or another we will finish this conversation. There is something you are withholding." Jack pressed his compass in between his palms and appeared to have an innocent expression on his face. "Weren't you the one who said we needed to trust one another?"

"Weren't you the one who said time was being wasted? I have work to do and so do you." Arabella clenched her teeth, biting down on her bottom lip. Without looking at Jack, she shuffled past him and out of sight into the shadows.

"Off to Tortuga then," Jack said to himself as he to slipped away.

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Will stood firm on the deck of the Flying Dutchman. He tightened his grasp on the handle of his sword, as the sweat forming on his shaky palm was causing an annoying difficulty for such an easy task. His throat went dry. Will's thoughts drifted to his last encounter with the Kraken. The Kraken was dead. He had seen its slime-encrusted lifeless form with his own eyes. This was something else. It was something else and he was not prepared.

Will surveyed the area around him. They sky was darkening still, a heavy grey blanket of clouds rolling overhead. The winds were becoming stronger, causing the ship's sails to swell and pull tight. Will looked to the faces of his crew. Few men had decided to remain loyal to the Dutchman after being released from their debt to Davy Jones. Some of them were so young, with nowhere to go. They shouldn't be here. This was his burden, his duty. Will turned to his father. Bootstrap's fingers were wrapped around the wheel with such force that their knuckles were absolute white, the very color of his still-paling face. Will became even more uncomfortable seeing the worry emanating from his father's eyes.

Without warning, the great ship began to rock. The waters surrounding it were calm, no one could understand why the vessel was shifting. A tingling sensation crept up Will's spine as what little light left in the sky faded into the coming storm. He called to his crew, ordering anyone able to light the lamps. Turning his head up towards the crow's nest, he ordered the lad within it to call out what he was seeing. Will did not want anyone to gamble a glance over the rails.

"Aye, Captain! I see nothing out of order there! Only souls and nothing more! Wait..."

"What is it? What do you see? Tell me!" Will's chest began to heave. He could feel his blood begin to pound in his ears. From what little he could see due to the fiery glow coming from the now lit lamps on deck, the boy's face was stricken with anxiety. They were no longer alone. Something was out there. "Oi! Sailor!"

"Captain... it's moving! I see a..." At that moment the Dutchman lurched portside, and the boy atop the crow's nest lost balance. A violent rain began to descend.

"Steady, men, steady! Ready weapons and hold for my say!" Will ordered the crew. He ordered his father to do the best he could to keep the ship on a steady course. Once again Will looked up to the crow's nest. Will's hair was now damp with rain and matted around his eyes. With his free arm, he brushed his face clean upon his drenched sleeve. "Are you alright? What is it?" he called up to the boy.

"Movement, sir! From here it looks like..." The ship rocked again as if something had slammed into its hull, and the boy screamed as he tumbled from his position into the now choppy waters below. The scream was slightly muffled by the explosion of thunder overhead.

One of the other crew members rushed to the starboard rail and leaned over its edge looking out over the water for any sign of the boy.

"Is there any sign of him?" Will asked. He failed to hide the rising panic in his voice. He straightened up at a strange sound. Waves, wind, rain, thunder, and something new. Will heard a noise. It was getting louder and heavier, almost as if it was multiplying. Tapping. He was startled by another sailor's screams. He coiled back with a mixture of fear and disgust on his face. The man at the rail had stumbled back, now flailing and screaming. His face and appendages were covered with what Will thought to be small crabs.

The Dutchman began to rock once more. The rain began to fall heavier and faster, nearly flooding the deck. Due to the wind and rain, most of the lanterns had been doused. More tapping. Louder tapping. Will could feel the boards beneath him vibrate as tiny crabs crawled up the ship's hull and charged across the deck to the main mast. The crew kept their distance and watched in horror and wonder as the small creatures gathered together, climbing upon one another and taking form. Everyone aboard continued to stare in total silence. The crabs huddled together to take the form of a person, more specifically the shape of a young woman. The pouring rain slowed down to a mere drizzle before dissipating completely. The ship's sails sagged and hung gently as the wind ceased to blow. Will's eyes widened at the sight before him. He held up his free hand and shook his head slowly, motioning for the others to back away and lower their weapons.

"Stand down, men. Keep your distance, but stand down." Will kept his sword at the ready, but down at his side. He cautiously moved toward the main mast, with short and slow steps. Cocking his head to one side, he leaned back and waited for the person's face come into view.

The remaining lit lanterns cast an eerie glow on her figure. Shadows danced across her features, somewhat distorting them and making her difficult to see. Will stepped towards her, crossing in front of the lanterns for a better look. Her hair was slightly past her shoulders and matted into clumps. The light bounced off of the many trinkets woven within her hair and worn around her neck. Dark eyes were cast sleepily downward on an emotionless face. The woman clutched her soiled robes to her torso as the few remaining crabs hid themselves away beneath them. She turned her attention upwards to Will. Although her eyed showed nothing aside from anger, her quivering jaw and tears sliding across her cheekbones suggested quite a different emotion.

"Ca... Calypso?" Will asked, leaning his head down to look into her eyes.

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After a much needed bathing, Arabella slowly slipped into the articles of clothing from when she had first stepped foot in Port Royal. Her body was sore. Every muscle she had throbbed with each step she took. There was much work to be done in very little time, and the pain only encouraged her further. It was so quiet in the mansion that her soft footsteps echoed through the hall in the upper wing. As Arabella passed Elizabeth's room, she glanced through the small space between the door and its frame. She wasn't sure why, but for a moment she had hoped to see Elizabeth sound asleep with Will beside her.

Once in her own room Arabella sat down at the small desk in the corner, pulling her chair as close to it as possible. She rested her elbows atop the deep blue velvet mat covering the desk and weaved her fingers into her damp hair, cradling her head. The dark brown strands fell around her arms in coils. She could not bring herself to face Lord Elbridge and share information with him. She needed to act quickly if she was going to follow after Jack. In her travels she had learned the hard way that a dishonest man would forever remain dishonest. She needed to make sure that Jack would not leave her in Port Maria. Arabella grabbed her wrist and gently brushed her thumb across it. It was still quite sore where the Lord had left his mark. Elbridge had grabbed it quite roughly the night before in his anger.

A blank parchment lay slightly rolled at its ends on the desk before her. She twisted the sharp end of a white feather quill in between her right thumb and middle finger. If not for the faint moonlight beaming weakly through her open terrace doors she would be in total darkness. With a heavy sigh, Arabella plunged the tip of the quill into an ink bottle and began to scratch it quickly across the parchment.

As so not to arouse the suspicion of the person you have left in my charge, I have decided it much to your advantage that I communicate through writing rather than in person. I cannot risk being spotted. Four days, said person will be setting course for area as of this time unknown. More information as I receive it. Your humble servant, AT

Should this letter be intercepted, at least no one would be able to decipher it. Arabella folded over the ends of the parchment. She lit a candle and waited a moment before tipping it over the parchment. Small droplets of wax fell over it and pooled to form a seal. She knew that Jack was headed for Tortuga. After sending her letter to Elbridge, she would have to get there first. She needed to act quickly. After making sure that the chart was well-hidden, Arabella once again crept through the mansion and set off to deliver her letter to Elbridge.

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Elizabeth scuffled back into a stack of barrels and stood frozen in horror, the palms of her trembling hands clapped hard to her face. Her heavy breathing was suctioning her hands to her mouth. She spun around to call back to the HMS Liberty, her eyes darted all over the water. The ship was nowhere in sight. It had already sailed too far her voice to carry, if she had been able to utter any sound that would carry. At the moment she was too petrified with fear to offer even a whisper into the chilled air.

Kneeling beside the helmsman, Elizabeth cautiously padded his coat, searching for a weapon of sorts for protection. She slid her hand underneath and traced the handle of a flintlock pistol with her fingers. A small breath of relief escaped her lips. She took the pistol and slid it gently up the sleeve of her cloak and out of sight. Its barrel no longer held any warmth and caused her to shiver as it touched her skin. How long had this man been dead, she wondered. She brushed hair away from his face and let out a shaky breath as a cold and lifeless stare of fear greeted her. She did not wish to know what horrific sight his eyes could have fallen on before his murder. His neck was raw and swollen all the way around. Clearly he had been throttled to death. Standing back up, Elizabeth noticed something out of sorts. There seemed to be no sign of a struggle on deck. And no sign of any other crew members. He could not have been sailing alone. She had given specific orders for a crew to take her to Singapore. They would not send a single man. She steadied herself against the rail and walked towards the lower decks against her better judgement. The heel of her boot slid across one of the stairs. Her eyes peered down to see that the entire deck was wet as if the ship had passed through a storm. Her fingers somewhat stuck to the rail as she let go. As the moonlight reflected against her hand, she cringed at the sight. Her fingers were as red as the billowing sails on the ship. Blood.

Elizabeth glanced frantically from port to starboard side. No longboats. No escape of any kind available to her. She thought her heart could race no faster. She was immediately proven wrong. That sound. Someone else was aboard. Elizabeth knew that sound well, but she had to be imagining it. It was a sound that haunted her nightmares on a regular basis. Thump. Pound. Thump. Pound. She had dreamt of it so often that she now heard the sounds awake.

"Misses Turner..." an accented voice drawled out.

The hairs on the back of Elizabeth's neck stood on end. Not only her hands, but now her entire body began to tremble without control. She closed her eyes for a moment attempting to wake herself from yet another horrific dream. Any moment she would open her eyes and be laying beside her husband. Staring at the wooden planked floor, she kept her head down and covered by her hood. She pivoted slowly and reached her hand up her other sleeve for the pistol. Her mouth instantly went dry at the sight before her. She bared her clenched teeth in disgust. That face. That despicable voice. Those bright venomous eyes that stole so much from her.

"No. It's not possible." Her voice was nothing more than a strained and high-pitched whisper. Elizabeth could feel tears stinging behind her eyes as she tried to tear her gaze away from what was before her.