Hello again, gentle readers! This chapter is so long, that my page doesn't seem to want to leave me any room for answering reviews. But I wanted to say Thank You to ALL!

Chapter 11


"Where exactly are we going?" the Lady Miranda wanted to know as the coaches rattled through the streets of Port Royal.

"Just need a moment to get my bearings, luv." Jack said, leaning out , and searching for a landmark. There had been no sign of the Pearl from the docks here at the sea side of the Port. Not that he'd really expected to see his ship just then, figuring that he was still several hours ahead, even with the steady winds. With luck, the Black Pearl would be in range by nightfall, and they could be away under cover of dark. All Jack needed now was a place to while away the hours until that time. But the last time he'd been through this town, he'd been in something of a rush, and so...

"Ah - stop here!" he called, knocking at the top of the coach. Shem pulled the team up, and Jack climbed out, looking down a familiar street. "We'll walk from here." he decided, dropping the folding steps so the Lady could descend.

"Maybe," she said evasively, "But let's see how my patient feels about it first."

AnaMaria did not feel like walking. She told him so in no uncertain terms, and in language blistering enough to make the Lady cringe. They had found her doubled over in her seat, tears streaming down her face, and gripping Sam's hand hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

"She just sneezed, ma'am." Sam reported, looking sympathetic, and Jack winced, remembering a broken rib or two in his own time.

"Damn corset's holding me in," AnaMaria gasped, "But that bloody rib just moved again...feels like it's on fire!"

Miranda looked uncertain. "If I give her anything for it now, she'll not be able to walk."

"Do it." Jack instructed. "We'll not be going out on the water for another few hours yet."

AnaMaria gulped down the remedy eagerly, and soon after her body relaxed back into her seat.

Miranda stroked her dark forehead soothingly. "I hate to keep drugging her like this." she told him helplessly, "I have some ointment that will numb the area, but..."

"You'll be able to use it soon enough." he reassured. "Why don't we let the youngsters stay here with the coaches. We won't be long." She looked loath to leave, but AnaMaria gave her a drowsy wave.

"It's better already." she murmured.

"The horses need watering anyway, Lady." Shem added. "If anyone asks, Jaime and I 'll just tell 'em 'the mistress is shopping' in our best high-toned manner."

She still looked doubtful, but took Jack's arm when he made a show of proffering it, and accompanied him down the street. Her hand was stiff as it rested on his arm -- she was still uncomfortable being this near to him, he noted, and her face was once again that mask of almost inhuman calm.

She inclined her head gracefully to men who swept their hats from their heads as they passed, and Jack took his cue from them. He nodded in return, or doffed his own cap to ladies who strolled along from shop to shop.

Their walk wasn't entirely pleasant. The courtesy of one fellows gesture was marred by his mocking expression, while another somberly dressed man eyed Jacks diminutive companion with profound disapproval. More than one woman made a grand show of pretending not to see Miranda at all.

"What's their problem?" he asked finally.

"My reputation proceeds me." she returned, her lips barely moving. At his look of confusion she reminded him, "I am a divorced woman, Captain."

"Someday, you'll have to explain to me what in blazes that has to do with anything." he told her, and she appeared startled by his lack of understanding.

Ahead, by a shop whose sign marked it as a dressmakers facility, a pair of finely gowned women stared rudely at them as they approached. They were escorted by a pudgy, foppishly attired man who eyed Miranda in a way that sent an unexpected wave of severe dislike through Jack. The Lady's hand tightened on his arm.

One of the women, a plump lass whose round face might have been pretty were it not for the mean-spirited look in her eyes, turned and whispered into the ear of her bone thin, sallow complexioned friend.

"Brazen strumpet." he heard the skinny one mutter spitefully as they passed.

"No better than she should be." the fop tittered, his piggish eyes moving over the Lady in an undisguised leer.

Miranda lifted her chin bravely, but Jack could see the tears that filmed over her eyes.

"That does it." he growled, disengaging from her and turning back. "You there," he snapped, lengthening his steps into a measured landsman's stride. The fop looked fearfully at him when he stopped.

"You've offered an insult to my Lady." Jack informed him calmly, "Do you want to call in your second, or shall we settle this up right now?"

The two gossips gasped, and the paunchy fellow was suddenly pasty and trembling. The piggish eyes cast about for someone to aid him. Finding none, he swallowed hard, and met Jack's cold glare.

"I humbly beg your pardon, sir." he stammered out.

"That doesn't quite satisfy, I fear." Jack looked down his nose at the fop. "Apologize to the Lady."

"I humbly beg your pardon, Countess!" came the rushed, squeaky plea.

Miranda nodded regally, and the pudgy fellow actually bowed, giving his thanks in that same panicked voice.

Jack turned his attention to the two gossips, sweeping his eyes scornfully over them until the pair squirmed nervously.

"Ladies." he said finally, in a manner that implied that they were anything but. Then, he coolly turned away, catching up Miranda's hand and continuing their strolling progress.

"I've never had anyone offer a challenge on my behalf before." she said softly, but sounding as though she were struggling not to laugh, "That was terribly noble of you, kind sir."

"Must be the clothes, darlin'" he replied, trying to walk as though his feet weren't being pinched by the ill-fitting shoes, and land was a surface he was accustomed to. "Put a man in fancy garb and a collar that chokes off all the sense from his brain, and the next thing you know, he's calling out perfect strangers for any little thing."

"Don't say that," she said in a sulky voice, "You'll ruin the effect."

That was interesting. He glanced at her. "Did it have an effect, Lady?"

"Well, it certainly did on Alice and her little band of cronies."

Jack couldn't have cared less about 'Alice', or her little friends. Halting abruptly, he faced her.

"That's not what I meant." he said, looking at her searchingly. "Did it?"

Her eyes were very large, and very uncertain.

"Yes."

It was hardly more than a whisper. He saw that single word more than heard it, and it cut right through him.

The hardened, jaded part of his mind warned that he could be making a very big mistake here. He managed to pay attention to it -- right up until he noticed the tears that still clung to her lashes from that dried-up stick figure's words, and then almost before her knew it, his hand lifted to gently wipe them away.

Jack let his palm rest against her cheek. Her skin was warm, very soft under his fingers. Eyes closed, she leaned into his hand, seemingly content to stay that way.

All too soon, a tiny crease appeared between her brows. He could see the instant that she remembered they were standing in the middle of a street, no doubt with an audience as well. Another thing that Jack couldn't have cared less about, but women were strange about things like that.

Her eyes opened then, and she looked away shyly. Slowly, her head turned towards the three bodies that still hovered at the edge of his peripheral vision.

"Don't," he entreated, "Don't look back. Look at me." He smiled gently. "You'll ruin the effect, otherwise."

She recognized her own words thrown back. "And did it have and effect, Captain?" she asked in a tiny voice, while his fingers still played over the curve of her cheek.

"My lady," Jack began, speaking not that much louder than she, "You shouldn't even have need to ask."

Her defenses were as lowered as he'd ever seen them. He could read everything that ran through those marvelous eyes as if written on a page.

What might she be reading in his own eyes right now?

"Something else we'll have to remember to talk about later." he told her seriously, and watched the color rise in her face again. He breathed a laugh, then raised her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, lingering there for a long moment. "And I think we've given your admirers something to think about, as well." he added, tucking her hand back under his arm.

"You're a dreadful man, Captain." she managed weakly as he lead her onward, "You'll have just greased the rumor mill for the rest of the season."

"Let them talk." he snorted. "This way." He turned them down another side street. "Now they can gossip about your ardent new suitor whose so bewitched by your charms, that he..." Jack trailed off, looking bewildered at the row of unfamiliar buildings. "...Can't bloody remember where he's going." He threw a look back over his shoulder, and gave an exaggerated sigh. "You see?" he complained, turning them around, "Smile at a man, and his head gets all confounded. Here we are -- Brown's Smi..." Jack blinked and looked hard at the sign that hung over the door. The carved symbols hadn't changed much, but the name certainly had.

"Well, well." he remarked, impressed. "Your boy's gone up in the world, Bootstrap." He smiled, and opened the door to Turner's Smithy.

The interior was larger, more spaced out from the last time. It appeared that the shop had been expanded at some point. There were even more items in for repair, and many that looked to have been created right here. An ornate wrought iron gate leaned against the far wall, marked with a hanging tag printed with an address. Next to it was a rack bristling with all manner of edged weaponry.

One thing hadn't changed -- the little brown donkey lifted its head at their entrance. From the way it lay its long ears flat against its skull, the creature remembered Jack well enough.

"Sorry about that, mate." he said apologetically.

The little donkey bared its teeth.

Following the sound of grinding metal, Jack moved further into the room, then smiled fondly.

The lad was so engrossed in his work that he hadn't noticed them enter. Sparks flew from the grinding wheel, and from the unfinished sword held to it.

Jack watched in silence, then when the lad straightened to examine his work, "Still at it, son?"

Will spun around to face him, and from his expression, Jack could tell he didn't recognize his old friend. He grinned and stepped closer.

"Thought you would have found yourself that girl by now, mate."

Will stared as if he couldn't trust his own eyes. The rough blade slowly lowered.

"Jack?" he said finally. Then a smile lit up the boys sooty face. "I don't believe it!" Jack stuck out his hand and Will shook it enthusiastically. The boy had a grip like a vice, he realized with some discomfort, but the warm welcome more than made up for it.

"When did you get here?" Will asked. Then, his smile faded. "And what are you thinking coming back to a place where you're so well known -- Gillette was in port only days ago."

"Not to worry, mate. He's turning Port Hamilton on its ear right about now, and by this evening, I'll be well on my way." Jack grinned broadly. "But since I was in the area...thought I'd pay my respects."

This wasn't entirely a falsehood. While he did believe he could count on young Will giving himself and his people a place to wait until nightfall, he'd also genuinely missed the lad.

Even if Will did tend to be something of a stick.

"And how is your lovely bride? How long you two been married, now?"

Will's face got a peculiar, dreamy kind of look. "Eight months, twenty one days, and this morning."

Lord, the boy had it bad. Obviously Elizabeth still had him firmly wrapped around her dainty little finger.

"Took you long enough to get there." Jack pointed out. "Near on to two years? That's a long time to be marching to the alter."

"And it would have taken even longer, if not for what you passed on to us." Will said seriously.

Oh yes -- the treasure Jack had stowed in the boy's vest and Elizabeth's pockets before it could be confiscated by Norrington. What his two friends couldn't carry had ended up over the side.

"Seemed fitting, you sharing the risks and all. Though," Jack sighed with regret, "I do miss that crown." It had caused him no end of heartache to watch that gem encrusted confection sink into the deep, but...ah well.

"But why don't you come by the house?" the lad was asking, "I'm sure she'll be happy to see you again, and --" he noticed Miranda for the first time. "You haven't introduced me to your friend."

"Where are my manners? William Turner -- Lady Miranda Warringford."

Will blinked and gave Jack a suspicious look. "Countess?" He gave her a smart little bow. "You purchased a sword from...from Mr. Brown several years ago. I hope you found the order to your satisfaction?"

"I did, Mr. Turner, and thank you." She studied the lad thoughtfully. "It was beautiful work. I'm happy to see that you're finally able to take proper credit for it."

"You knew?" Will sounded surprised.

Miranda tossed her head." Old Mr. Brown's quality had been slipping for years. Only when his apprentice took over most of his duties did the people of this island start looking to his smithy again." she told him, and Will smiled modestly.

"But," she went on, "As the person that sword was intended for proved undeserving of so fine a creation, I've loaned it to the good Captain."

Jack's hand went for the unfamiliar blade that hung in its fancy scabbard from the equally fine sword belt. He hadn't bothered to look at it before, but he did so now. It was a fine piece of work. Not only beautiful to look at, the weight felt good in his hand, and the balance was excellent. This sword might as well have been made for him. He swung it experimentally, once, twice. It made a satisfying whistle as it cut through the air.

He hoped the Lady didn't expect to get it back.

"I don't have anything pressing for the rest of the day, " Will said, "Why don't we go now?"

"Lead the way." Jack sheathed the sword. "Only fair to warn you though, there's more in our party than just we two."

Will narrowed his eyes. "How many 'more'?"
.

.

.

Once again, the two coaches made their way through the streets. Will rode with them, his bay mare tied to the back.

"Much of what you handed me went to the building of our house." the blacksmith was saying, "I was going to save the rest for opening my own smithy when my apprenticeship was over, but Mr. Brown unexpectedly decided to retire back to England. He sold me the business for a song.

"I think some of what you gave Elizabeth might have had something to do with that." Will said, looking uncomfortable. "You don't necessarily have to tell her I said that. She doesn't think I suspect she had a hand in it."

"It dies with me, mate." Jack chortled. The Elizabeth he remembered wouldn't have let anything stand in the way of what she wanted. And if Will' s gaining his own shop would shave down the time to wait before marrying the lad, Jack could fully envision her ruthlessly bribing the old sot to step aside.

"And what about you?" Will eyed Jack's fine clothing curiously. "You must have made it back to the island."

"I've not had much luck with that." he admitted, "I spent the whole of that first year dodging Norrington's ships...think the Commodore was somewhat put out with me when he discovered I'd ruined that lovely map with all those helpful bearings noted. After that..." Jack shrugged, "Had to keep my ship and crew going, and with all the boats to and from the Americas, business hasn't been half bad."

He ran a hand over his mouth to cover his smile. His traveling companions were trying without much success to hide identical expressions of disapproval.

"You'll never change, will you, Jack?" Will shook his head.

Jack spread his hands. "It's a living."

The Turner home was a large house located a mile or so from the town. Jack had no idea how something made of stone and mortar could exude a warm feeling of welcome, but this place did.

"It's not the Governor's Mansion," Will said mildly, "But Elizabeth hasn't complained."

Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised by her husband's homecoming, setting aside the book she'd been reading, and rising to greet him with a kiss. She looked radiant, Jack thought, and noting the loose waistline of her day gown, suspected it was more than just the happiness of a young bride in the company of her spouse.

"I was going to offer my congratulations," he began, "But I see now that another kind of felicitation might be in order." He eyed Will slyly. "This'll put those pesky eunuch rumors to rest, I'm thinking."

Will flushed pinkly, but his wife stared in amazement.

"Jack? Jack Sparrow?" Her smile widened as she studied him from head to foot. "Well, I suppose this explains why the Vanguard left port like someone had set fire to her. What in the world are you wearing?" She held out her hands to him. "You almost look respectable."

He clasped her hands. "Now, is that any way to talk to an old friend who just wanted to wish you well?"

"And hide out here." Will added from the corner of his mouth. Jack feigned a hurt look.

"Well, Jack?" Elizabeth asked archly, though still with a smile.

"You can blame my companion for the wardrobe." he said, gesturing behind him. "She seemed to think it would keep me from standing out." Elizabeth looked beyond him, and saw the Lady standing in the doorway. Once again, Jack made the introductions, though his eyes stayed on Miranda's guarded, uncertain face.

"Lady Warringford," Elizabeth began cautiously, "Your reputation proceeds you."

Then, the governor's daughter proved the strength of her character all over again. "Emily Staunthon has been singing your praises for months, now." she said, holding her hands out to her guest. "She swears she'd have never survived the morning sicknesses if not for what you prescribed, to say nothing of getting through the twins' birth."

Miranda's relief was a palpable thing, and her smile was like the sun coming up. She went to Elizabeth, and the two women were soon chatting quietly like old friends.

"I owe her one for that." Jack said aside to Will. "For some reason, the people of this town feel the need to treat that woman like a pariah."

Will shook his head, looking baffled. "People get strange ideas." he said sagely, "They weren't very kind to Elizabeth when she married below her station." To the boy's credit, this was said without a hint of bitterness. "Perhaps your lady doesn't put much stock in conventions and appearances, either."

"That could be it." Jack agreed, impressed by the lad's insight. Then, he stared hard at his friend.

"My lady?" he asked incredulously.

Bootstrap's son only gave him a knowing grin. In that moment, the resemblance between the boy and his father was so acute, it was like having the old scallywag beside him again.

"You know, I remember the way old William used to talk about Katie - your mother." he said, then tipped his head toward the blacksmith's wife. Will nodded expectantly, always eager for stories about his father.

"Bootstrap used to say that a woman like that always made a man feel big and protective. Like all he ever wanted was to spend the rest of his life looking to her happiness."

"I wonder why he chose that life, then." Will asked sadly.

"Oh, to make the kind of money he wanted fast." Jack said. "That's why most men go a-pirating." He looked again at Elizabeth's radiant face. "Looks like you've managed well enough."

"I'm not always sure who's looking after whom." Will admitted, "And the funny thing is, I don't mind it in the slightest."

"Ah, well that makes you one of the lucky ones, mate." Jack clapped him on the back. "Hullo, looks like the ladies are off to fetch AnaMaria in. Best see if they need a hand."

AnaMaria was soon ensconced in one of the bedrooms, along with Miranda and her case of medicines and ointments. Will lead the two coach drivers off to the kitchen, turning in the doorway to see if his wife would follow.

"You go on." she told him, raising up on her toes to kiss his cheek, "If I know you, you haven't bothered to have lunch yet." Then, she whispered into her husband's ear. Will raised his brows, looking from her to Jack, then gave her a quick embrace before stepping into the kitchen.

"I take it you're wanting to discuss something." Jack guessed.

"You still don't miss a thing." she said, walking past him. "Not here, though. Out on the veranda. Estrella is a dear girl, but she can be a terrible gossip."

Once outside, she wheeled on him. "What are you doing with her, Jack?" she asked suspiciously, and Jack held up his hands.

"Easy, darlin'. There's some dangerous characters who would probably be happier if her head were removed from her shoulders. I thought I'd do me best to see that didn't happen."

"And that's all?"

"Does there need to be another reason?" he countered, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Alright then, the Lady has something in her possession. Something that these gentlemen were willing to murder her entire household for. It got my curiosity up."

Elizabeth continued to study him. "You're not lying to me," she decided, "But I don't think you're telling me everything, either. What's in this for you?"

He pasted a smile to his lips. "I've seen the error of me ways," he said grandly, "And thought I could expiate some of my greater sins by helping the poor woman out."

Her look was so openly skeptical that Jack had to laugh. She joined in a moment later, but sobered all too soon.

"Will said that you were a good man, Jack. I believe that too. But I do find it hard to believe that this is all just an act of altruism on your part."

Elizabeth Turner, Jack realized, was possibly one of the most dangerous people he'd ever met in his life. She could read any person or situation as easily as himself, and, as he remembered so well, had no scruples against doing, or using anything -- or anyone -- necessary to attain her goals.

"Poor Will never stood a chance against you, did he?" he sighed. Elizabeth took this as the compliment it was, but wouldn't let him off the hook. He hadn't really expected otherwise.

"Cards on the table, Elizabeth. What's really got you in knots?"

She frowned, averting her eyes. "I don't really know the Countess well. In fact, I've only met her twice in my life, and the last was several years ago. But..." she looked up, and her expression begged him to understand. "People talk -- especially when the subject happens to be part of the aristocracy. She's had the most horrible things said against her, that many will go out of their way to be cruel."

"Because she's divorced?" The idea sounded foolish, childish. From the way she looked now, Elizabeth thought so too.

"That's part of it...She left her husband -- a man with a brutal reputation, even as far away as here, and the idea of a woman doing that makes...it unsettles certain people. Men will speak against her for fear of their own wives getting ideas. Women will do the same to prove that the very idea is the furthest thing from their minds."

She clasped her hands together, distressed. "I don't know if I can make you understand that sort of mind set, Jack. But I've heard other things about her. When I could stomach sifting though all that ugliness to find the few grains of truthful information, I found out about a decent, and kind woman who's done her best to remain above all the vicious words. She's been hurt, Jack. Terribly hurt."

"That much I did gather." Jack said shortly, "And having seen first hand the way that man treats her--"

"You mean, he's here?" Her eyes widened, alarmed.

"He was. A charming fellow, especially when I overheard him tearing her to shreds with his words, and then conspiring to have her done away with."

"I understand why she's with you, then. He's a horrible man, Jack. The pampered, only son of a family with close connections to the throne, who uses those connections to get his way. If I can help you in this in any way, I will. Only..." She twisted her hands together again.

"Yes, " Jack encouraged when she fell into an uncomfortable silence, "Go on."

"I've seen the way you look at her, Jack." she said in a rush, "And the way she looks at you when she thinks you've turned away. Just -- think about what you're doing."

"I see." Jack couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone, "You're afraid the Lady will get her heart wounded again, is that it?"

Elizabeth met his eyes with well remembered directness. "Not just her heart, Jack."

That set him on his heels. A strange rush of gratitude filled him, and he found himself again thinking of how lucky a man he was to know such people as these.

"You know," he said with a mischievous air, "I really should be terribly put out with the both of you. Will had to go and make an honest woman out of you, and cost me one hell of a business partner."

She drew herself up huffily. "Will would never have agreed to..." She trailed off uncertainly when he shook his head.

"I wasn't talking about Will, luv." he said. At her look of incomprehension, he stepped closer, dropping his voice conspiratorially. "Peas in a pod, darlin'. Remember? Though I still wouldn't turn my back on you."

Her smile of understanding grew wider. "Why, Captain Sparrow, I do believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

.

.

The afternoon shadows lengthened, and Jack felt his nerves stretch right along with them. He took to pacing the floor of the Turner home, willing himself to stay calm. Nervous people made mistakes, and in his situation, one slip-up could turn fatal.

For himself, at least. One would be hard pressed to imagine Sam Bottoms as anything other than a young livery man, dressed smartly as he was in the clothing Lady Warringford had provided him, and AnaMaria could easily disappear back into the Lady's household if need be. The girl was a natural chameleon -- even the way she moved had changed the moment she presented herself in public.

Neither of them were marked by a pirate's brand, or had faces known by the authorities.

"What is it you have planned?" Will asked, falling into step beside him.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Not sure you want to get involved in this one, son. It wouldn't do well to have anything reflect back on you should something go wrong." He looked pointedly to where Elizabeth sat in quiet conversation with Miranda and his First Mate, "You've far more to loose now."

Will gave him an odd look. "What's happened to you, Jack? The pirate I remember seems to have gotten a conscience since last I saw him."

"The last time you saw me, I'd just discovered there were a pair of people ready to stand on the gallows with me to prove my so-called 'better nature'," Jack said with unaccustomed feeling, "You'll pardon me if I'm not up to endangering them any further."

The boy looked dumbstruck. So did his wife, who had risen to join them unnoticed. Jack felt utterly embarrassed. Had those words actually come out of his mouth?

"You people are a bad influence." he scowled, "Next thing you know, I'll be drinking tea at cotillions with my little finger held out, asking for a strumpet...crumpet!" he amended with feigned haste. His brusque words and foolishness didn't mislead either of them, and the warmth with which they regarded him only embarrassed him further.

"Did you tell him?" Elizabeth asked suddenly, and Will shook his head.

"I forgot, actually." Will admitted, suddenly somber again.

Jack eyed the both of them. "Tell me what?" he demanded, and Elizabeth reached out to hold his arm.

"I don't know if you've heard, but Barbossa's men escaped."

That was startling. The last he'd known, the surviving men of his mutinous former crew were to have been loaded onto a ship for England to be tried and sentenced there.

"They were on the Regent, a third class warship headed home to England after their escort duties on the trade routes. No one is sure how it happened, but somehow, those men got free of their chains and were able to overcome the crew." Elizabeth shook her head. "Father told me when the news reached himself and the Commodore."

"I hadn't heard about that." Jack admitted, stroking his beard -- or what Miranda's ministrations to his beard allowed him to reach.

"We didn't think you had," said Will, "We thought you should know, in case those men are harboring a grudge. If there's a chance they'd come back to these waters..."

"I'll consider myself warned." Jack said earnestly.

But it wasn't long before he was restlessly pacing again, pausing only to stare out the window, the passage of the sun like a great weight on his shoulders.

"Jack," Elizabeth said, sounding pained, "You're beginning to put me on edge. Why don't you sit down and have a glass of wine?"

"Thanks, but no, darlin'." he replied impishly, "I've already learned my lesson, and I make it a point to never drink with governor's daughters anymore."

Elizabeth calmly swatted him on the arm.

.

.

An hour before dark, as the sun was beginning to set, the sign that Jack had been hoping for flashed overhead in a whirl of blue and gold.

"Our scout's here." he announced, finding that great weight suddenly lift from him , "That means they're just off the cays."

He leaned out the window, letting out a shrill whistle. Mr. Cotton's Parrot perched on the sill moments later, waiting attentively for orders.

"What a beautiful animal." he heard Miranda exclaim. "You don't know the half of it, ma'am," Sam said excitedly, "Seein' that bird means we'll be on our way home soon."

"I see...yes -- that is good news." she said carefully, as though trying to sound unconcerned.

She must be thinking of her own home, Jack realized. And if he knew anything about the lass at all, he was willing to bet her worry lay more with the people there, than with the stone and brickwork.

As before, he quickly scrawled a note, handing the scrap into that wickedly curved beak, and watching the bird wing its way towards the water.

Jack turned, seeing all the faces that looked up at him expectantly. He smiled thinly, then repeated to them the single work he'd sent off to his ship.

"Tonight."

A/N:Redbud-Tree, thank you for the long review! Believe me, I've still got plenty of cliffhangers left to go! Saxony, your commentary had me laughing my head off! Arein and Shimmeringtears, thank you so much! Captain Tish -- you called it! Right to the Turners. As always, PLEASE read and review!