Hello to all of you, my dear readers. Yes, I know the title of this chapter may be different from what you remember in the initial version, but well... I recently got a review to my fanfic, and well, the reviewer introducer a number of points - good points, for that matter - which made me rethink the way how I was developing this fanfic. I went back quite a bit to rework the story - the reworking started on chapter 10 - but well, the real rework starts now. I advise you to read back to chapter 10, but the changes in the three previous chapters are minor - although existant. What you initially knew as chapter 13 is now two chapters - this one, and the next. I hope you're not too angry at me for making you read back such a long piece of fanfic.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. As a bonus treat, I'm including an event of American history in it - although only as a brief mention.

Now that this is over, let's begin.

Chapter 13 – Memories and wonderings

Indian Ocean, October 27th, 1933

As the sun sank slowly below the horizon, it gave both the sky and the sea an orange overtone. Despite the sun going down, however, the temperature remained high. The Venture chugged on, leaving the same foamy trail as it always did while it kept its route through the Indian Ocean.

On the tramp steamer, Kendra Englehorn looked at the sun disappearing below the water with unseeing eyes. As she leaned on the railing, a light breeze blew through her loose hair. Normally, she thought of the sun setting on the sea as one of the most beautiful sights ever, in spite of the countless times she had watched such a thing. But these days, there was nothing she could truly enjoy. The memory of her argument with Eric was too strong in her mind for any positive feeling to show itself in full.

Now, the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach wasn't even because of his plan of looking for that accursed island. She still didn't agree with the idea, but she understood Eric saw it as their only option for their desperately needed profit. What was really painful to her was recalling how she had treated him.

Kendra tried to keep the memory out of her mind, but it kept playing over and over in her brain, immune to all her attempts to repress it.

She had insulted him. She had nearly slapped him. A good wife wouldn't have shouted at her husband like that, and certainly wouldn't have turned her back on her husband when he needed her.

But does Eric really need me? Kendra wondered. He got along pretty well as captain for two years before I came. And as nothing serious happened on the ship since we argued – excluding Bruce Baxter's troubles with Ann and Jack - Eric has been doing well without my help. He can carry on perfectly without my help.

Kendra buried her face in her hands at the thought. If Eric was doing so well without her help, had she become totally useless to him? If she had, then what would happen once they got back to New York? Would Eric want a divorce?

No, he couldn't. He couldn't want a divorce! Not because he didn't need her, anyway. Although Kendra's commanding skills and nautical knowledge were better than those of the average man, Eric had never kept her around because of that. At first, it had been because he had been sorry for her. Later, it had been because he loved her – and it had been that way until about three weeks ago, when that argument happened.

What if Eric doesn't love me anymore?

She and Eric had barely acknowledged each other for about three weeks, and their few silent moments together had been almost unbearable. She had started the accursed argument. Why would Eric still love her after that?

The thought made Kendra feel as if her heart was being ripped open. The idea of Eric not loving her was too bad to consider.

Kendra wept bitterly. How could she have been so careless with the most precious thing in her life? Eric had been the sun that lit her life for years now, how could she obscure it with so many thick clouds?

Stop crying, you idiot! Kendra scolded herself. Tears won't bring him back to you!

But she couldn't help it. She had to drain her misery out somehow.

"Kendra?" a familiar voice said.

Kendra startled. She looked aside and saw Ann accompanied by Jack Driscoll. Both of them looked concerned as they looked at her. Kendra wiped the tears off her eyes with her forearm and then looked at the two of them. Lately, it had been common to see the two of them together. The happiness that usually radiated from both of their faces as they caught up on the sixteen years they had been separated was strong enough for even Kendra to be coaxed into a smile.

But right now, neither Ann nor Jack seemed focused on enjoying their good luck.

Ann spoke again. "Are you alright?"

Kendra sniffed, and then tried to put on the most normal voice she could. "I am not crying."

Ann folded her arms across her chest. "I think you are."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Kendra said airily.

"But I saw you." Ann insisted.

"I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"I am not." Kendra was starting to sound rather irritated.

Jack butted in. "That's right, you are not."

"Yes I am!" Kendra said adamantly.

When she realized what she said, she gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth. Ann sent Jack a look that was both grateful and reproachful. Jack shrugged as if to apologize. Ann leaned on the railing at Kendra's right, and Jack at Kendra's left. Ann put an arm around Kendra's shoulders. Kendra felt a little bit better. Knowing she had some support made Kendra feel slightly better. On an ordinary journey, she would be by herself in such a situation. No member of the crew was close enough to her for Kendra to feel comfortable if they put an arm around her shoulders, except maybe Jimmy. But the poor boy always seemed too bewildered to know what to do when he saw her like that, although she could see the pity and sadness in his eyes for not being able to help.

Ann patted Kendra on her forearm. "Now that you confessed that you really are crying, do you mind telling us why?"

Kendra shifted on the railing. Voicing the matter out would bring little relief to her. Worse, it could even make it more real. Her look shifted from Jack to Ann.

Jack leaned backwards. "I'll just leave and let you two ladies talk."

Kendra put a staying hand on Jack's arm. "Don't go. It's alright Mr. Driscoll. In fact, please stay. You and Ann shouldn't have to be separated just because I am a fool."

Jack sat down again. "That's a pretty harsh judgment of someone as intelligent as you appear to be, Mrs. Englehorn."

"I have been a complete fool…Oh, Eric." Kendra dissolved into a wave of sobs.

Jack looked at Ann and mouthed behind Kendra's back, Who's Eric?

Ann mouthed back, the Captain.

Jack's mouth formed an O of understanding.

"Is there anything we can do?" Ann asked. She laid a soothing hand on Kendra's back.

Kendra dug a large white handkerchief out of her trousers' pocket and wiped her eyes and nose with it; she shook her head.

"If you want to know, I'm crying over spilled milk. Or rather, a shattered marriage."

"Surely it can't be that bad?"

"I know you and your husband are angry with each other, any idiot can see that, but you can't be that angry." Jack said.

Kendra kept silent, looking at neither Ann nor Jack. Jack's eyes widened slightly.

"Or can you?" the writer voiced carefully.

"Eric has a temper." Kendra said. "And I was just awful to him. I know what makes him angry, and I said everything I could think of. And that is not everything."

Jack's eyes widened even more. "You hit him?" He guessed.

"I tried to slap him."

Jack started to pat her back gently in an attempt to calm her down, but Kendra glared at him, and he stopped. She knew the writer well enough to know he was not trying to take advantage of her, but still, having a man other than Eric touching her like that seemed too intimate. Even having him leaning on the railing at her side was already a bit beyond standards. If Eric saw that now, he'd certainly demand explanations.

"Listen, I'm aware I don't know about the exact reason of your conflict, but does it justify throwing your marriage away? Haven't you been happy with Captain Englehorn so far?"

Kendra pondered Jack Driscoll's words for a moment. Part of her knew that he was right. It was difficult to put into words what she was thinking and how she really felt.

"I have been happy with him." Kendra finally managed.

"So you don't want to be happy with him anymore?" Ann asked.

"I want to be happy with him more than anything. I don't know if he wants to be happy with me anymore."

"I've seen the way he looks at you, Mrs. Englehorn. Even now, after your fight." Jack said.

"Fights are not the end, you know." Ann encouraged. "Look at how Jack and I are right now. Best of friends again."

Kendra sighed. Both Ann and Jack were right. But if Eric didn't want her back…

No. Kendra thought firmly. Eric can't be that angry at me. We managed to solve all the arguments we've had so far. We'll manage to solve this one.

But still, Kendra had never attacked the very essence of Eric's character before. Her fear had driven her to it. It would be a risk, but one she simply could not avoid. Kendra was used to taking risks. Helping capture live animals was a risk. Being almost permanently on a ship was a risk. When she had come here for the first time with Eric, there had also been a risk. But in the end, those risks had been worth it. Hopefully this one also would be. Kendra got up and wiped the tears off her cheeks. She turned to face her new friends and took each by one hand.

"Thank you for listening." She said. "I feel much better now."

Ann smiled at her.

Jack didn't smile, but the wholeheartedness was obvious in his voice when he said, "Good luck, Mrs. Englehorn."

Jack shifted along the railing, closing the space that had been created by Mrs. Englehorn's departure. Now that she had gone away, he and Ann could enjoy the sunset, as they had been preparing to do before Ann noticed Kendra's distress.

Now that he'd managed to overcome his seasickness, Jack could enjoy things more. He gave a deep, tranquil sigh. Being at Ann's side and enjoying the sunset felt like the most natural thing in the world to him, even more than when they had been friends sixteen years ago.

He briefly wondered if Ann was becoming more than a friend to him. But he quickly forgot about that possibility. Ann's forgiveness didn't mean she'd become anything else.

Jack turned and glanced at Ann for a moment before again casting his eyes heavenward. He'd never felt the need to look at Ann whenever they had been enjoying something together sixteen years ago. But now he did. And whenever he looked at Ann, he found her to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, not only because of her sky-blue eyes, platinum curls, and pale skin, but also because he liked her as a person.

But recently, when he looked at Ann with a bigger amount of attention, he'd been noticing another thing.

Lately, although Ann was usually happy, Jack had noticed that sometimes she looked troubled. Most of those times seemed to be when Ann was close to her uncle. Because of that, and the fact Ann never joined her uncle whenever he sat with Dollar or Carl as they planned the expedition to Skull Island, Jack realized Ann must have something against the place to be so apprehensive. Jack had tried to coax her into speaking to him about 'whatever was disturbing her', but whenever he tried, she pretended to be mute until Jack dropped it.

As much as he wanted to help, Jack had learned that the reason for her apprehension was a private matter. And so, the only option he had left was distracting her from it.

Jack marveled at his determination to help her. The only thing he'd ever been so determined about before was producing a good play. He had wanted to help Ann back when they were kids, but this was a new level of persistence.

Jack opened his mouth, but before he could start speaking to Ann, someone cried out his name.

"JACK!"

Taken by surprise, Jack jumped. He wasn't startled for long, however; he knew to whom the voice belonged. Jack got up from the crate, and turned around to address Carl. He looked, as he usually did, annoyed at seeing Jack with Ann.

"Hey Carl. What can I do for you?" Jack wondered why he asked a question whose answer he already knew.

Carl placed one of his hands on his hips and started gesturing with the other.

"Why are you hanging around with this woman when you are supposed to be down there writing?" Carl said, agitated. "I need more scenes for the movie. I can't make them if you're slacking off up here with some English broad!"

Jack took a deep breath in order to calm himself down. He hated the way Carl talked about Ann. Ever since Jack and Ann had become friends again, Carl had taken to berating Jack for spending any time at all away from the script.

"Come on, Carl. I'm keeping up with your filming schedule. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Besides, I'm on a break enjoying the company of Miss Darrow."

Carl did not seem convinced.

"Jack, I know you need some free time – we all do – but I've told you time and time again, broads will distract you faster than anything else."

"And I've told you time and time again, a little healthy distraction is just what I need on this forsaken rusty bucket of bolts. I can't see any reason for me not to spend my time with Ann."

Carl prodded Jack in the chest. "I'll give you two reasons. First," Carl lifted one finger. "…she's a woman, and like I said, women are distractions, dangerous ones. Two," he lifted another finger. "She's English, and English are…"

"Three," Jack cut in. "I'm a grown man, and I can take care of myself. Four, I am not your employee, so back off, Carl."

"For Christ's sake, you should know how women are!" shouted Carl. "And the English ones are the worst! I'm doing this only to save you from a big fat mistake. All the English women I have ever know have been prissy, stuck up bitches who…"

Jack didn't give Carl a chance to finish. As always, the insult to Ann sent a rush of fury through his veins. He grabbed Carl's collar roughly and pulled him closer.

"If you can't be respectful to her, get out of here."

Carl wrenched free from Jack's grip on his collar.

"See, Jack? Look at the effect she is already having on you! I'm warning you. Get away from her."

"You keep pushing the issue, Carl, and you won't have a script. I mean it."

Carl glared at Jack for a few moments. Jack could almost see the gears turning inside the movie producer's brain. He seemed to be pondering about a way to convince Jack to get away from Ann. Fortunately, now, Carl didn't seem to feel up to it, because he just grumbled and turned away.

And good riddance! Jack thought as he watched Carl's retreating back.

As Jack looked at the exiting movie producer, Ann looked at her favorite writer and best friend far more intently than she usually would look at him, or at any man. She tried to keep her look neutral, but a spark of warmth blossomed inside her, as it always did whenever Jack Driscoll defended her from Carl Denham or anyone else who harassed her – namely, Bruce Baxter and Alexandra May. She couldn't deny her surprise at the fact Jack had defended her from Denham far more fiercely than he usually did, but that also made the warmth stronger and more pleasant.

The fact Jack was so willing to defend her wasn't the only thing that caused that warmth. It seemed that these days, doing anything with him was enough to stir that warmth, so odd and pleasant at the same time. In fact, even the simple action of looking at him was enjoyable, enough so to bring a sigh of pleasure from her lips.

Sometimes she wondered if that came from the fact Jack Driscoll was starting live up to her dreams, but the fact Jack was now as much her friend as he had been sixteen years ago didn't mean her dreams could come true.

Or did it?

Jack massaged his temples, and then turned his eyes toward her. "I'm sorry, Ann." he said.

Ann raised her eyebrows. "For what?"

"For looking like a brute." he said. "I know I was rude to Carl, but I just can't stand it when he's so insulting."

Ann sighed. As pleasing as it could be to see Jack being so willing to defend her, it disturbed her that Jack took Denham's insults toward her to heart. It would be a lie to say Denham's insults had no effect on her, but Jack was much more affected than Ann herself despite the fact that she was the insulted one.

"Jack, I already told you that even I don't let Denham's comments bother me, so they shouldn't bother you either."

"But he is insulting you." Jack said firmly. As soon as that came out of his mouth, he stopped, as though he feared to have said too much.

Ann gave him a small smile as the warmth in her chest flared again.

"I still think you shouldn't let his comments have an effect on you." she said. "But it's sweet of you to be so willing to defend me."

Ann took a deep breath of the salty air, and then said, "You'd think he'd have grown out of it, though, being associated with my uncle for weeks now."

Now that she thought of it, Denham had never picked on her uncle again since their association – it was only on her. He was probably only restrained from doing the same to Uncle Leonard because it wouldn't help to their association.

"I'm sorry, Ann, but the only answer I can think of is that some things never change." Jack said in a regretful voice.

His answer could be simple, but it was the truth. There were some things that just didn't change.

"Some things do change, though." Jack carried on.

Ann stood straighter. She was both interested in Jack's words and somewhat wary of what would come next.

"Our lives, for example." Jack said. "Do you remember what it was like sixteen years ago?"

Ann smiled. "Of course I remember. You were already saying you'd be a writer and I…" Ann's cheeks became pink, but she finished the sentence, "well, I kind of looked forward to be your assistant.

Jack's eyebrows rose. "You did? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I guess it was because I didn't want to ruin your career." Ann said, the pink in her cheeks deepening.

With Jack still having his eyebrows raised, Ann added, "Let's face it, society of the time thought the only thing women were good to do was wash the dishes, sew clothes, and look after children. If I joined you as an assistant, society would think badly of both of us."

"You still could have told me." Jack told in low voice. Ann thought he sounded offended for her having hidden something from him for so long.

"I wouldn't have had a problem with that."

"We were still young. I wanted to wait until we were older to be certain of what I wanted to do."

Ann's look became sadder, and her voice more choked, as she added, "And then I was forced to go through a path I'd never planned when my parents died."

Jack gave a deep sigh.

"That's what I meant. None of us had ever thought such a change would happen to our lives. And yet, it did."

"That change was thrown into my life, Jack." Ann said. "You had already your future as a writer quite established when I went away with my uncle."

"That's true." Jack said. "But that was because of you."

Ann had known almost since the beginning of their friendship that he liked to write, although more as a pastime than as a true passion. She was probably the first person to whom Jack had shown his written works, and it was only because of the quality those had she had encouraged Jack to get in Mrs. Melville's writing challenge.

She was brought back to reality by Jack's voice. "And I never really got to thank you properly for that."

And then, as if some switch had been turned on, the look in Jack's eyes changed – to one she had never seen before, and that took her breath away for a moment. She had never seen Jack – or any man, for that matter – looking at her like that. And yet, the only discomfort that came from it was from the fact that it was a new experience. The same warmth from before returned, only now it was stronger, and accompanied by a feeling of butterflies fluttering inside her stomach.

"You don't really need to thank me, Jack." Ann said. "Friends help each other. All I did was giving you a helpful push."

Jack smiled and then reached out for her. He lightly stroked her cheek with his fingertips. A surge of electricity seemed to come from them, spreading through her skin. Ever so slowly, Jack tucked one of her curly strands of hair behind her ear. Ann's blood rushed through her veins, as she closed her eyes.

Jack moved his hand from behind her ear, and started running his fingertips down her cheek. In an impulse, Ann took her hand to his and pressed it closer. Having only his fingertips touching her didn't seem enough. Fortunately, Jack didn't oppose her actions. Instead, he caressed her cheek again, this time with his whole hand.

His hand left her cheek and then it slid around her shoulders. Ann turned around and leaned back against Jack's chest and then took up both of his hands in her own. She ran the tips of her slender fingers along the backs of Jack's hands, and when she did, he sighed. If enjoying the sunset before with Jack had been wonderful, doing so with in his arms was pure bliss.

Right at that time, a dolphin jumped out of the water in front of their eyes, soon followed by another and another, until there were at least five dolphins swimming and jumping alongside the tramp steamer. It was amazing how dolphins seemed to be attracted to ships, as if they wanted to say 'hello' to the people on board. Ann wished she knew how to tell them how beautiful she thought they were.

"That's funny." Jack said. "I thought that at this time of the day, the dolphins would be getting ready to sleep, like everyone else."

Ann nodded. She was no expert on the matter, but during the other times she had seen dolphins, it had been earlier on the day, not when the sun was setting. She had nothing to complain about that, though, because the time of the day didn't make watching the dolphins any less enjoyable. That was, until a particular dolphin she had failed to notice before jumped out of the water very close to the ship.

Ann gasped at what she saw. The dolphin's back and sides were covered in scars. Ann guessed that it had been attacked by a shark. A wave of acid churned up in her stomach at the sight. Ann had seen animals struggle for survival many times while on expeditions with her uncle, but seeing injuries made by sharks was just sickening to her.

Almost immediately, Ann felt Jack holding her tighter. In response, she leaned further into his chest.

"It's alright." he whispered.

Ann nodded, grateful for the gesture, and by his understanding of how the sight disturbed her.

"Poor dolphin." she said. "He must have suffered so much, being bitten by a shark like that."

"I know." Jack said. "But at least, he escaped, and other than the scars, he is alive and well."

His tone seemed to add "Some weren't so lucky." And Ann knew exactly what he meant by that.

As the dolphin kept leaping in front of her, her mind wandered back to a day more than seventeen years ago. Jack and his family had invited her to go with them to Spring Lake, New Jersey. As they had been going there partly to spend the week of Independence Day, Ann had hesitated at first, because she was English, and therefore that holiday had a very different connotation for her than for Jack. But the summer of 1916 had been so hot that she'd begged her parents to let her go to the beach with Jack's family so she could spend some days at the beach.

Things had been going perfectly. But two days after the holiday Jack had celebrated, things took a gruesome twist.

She and Jack were floating on their backs in waist-deep water. The coolness of the water felt like she was in paradise.

But a then panicked shout broke through her relaxation. She leapt to her feet hastily, having the impression that she had heard a woman screaming that the man in the red canoe had tipped over. Looking around to see what was happening, she saw two lifeguards rushing to the man's rescue – and then, way beyond the safety lines, she saw the man himself, splashing in the water. One of his arms appeared red, and, as she tried to listen better, she had the impression she heard him screaming.

Jack immediately grasped her by her wet shoulders.

"We'd better get out of here, Ann." he said, more than an edge of uneasiness in his voice.

A queasy feeling of unease growing in her stomach, Ann followed Jack's suggestion, but she stayed on the first line of the crowd that was gathering on the beach where the boat would come ashore.

Ann's unease grew stronger. She'd recently read on the newspaper about the death of a man named Charles Vansant, which had happened five days earlier, and more than 70 kilometers to the south, at Beach Haven, New Jersey. According to the New York Times, the culprit was a fish, 'presumably a shark'. But Ann had her reservations about that. Shark attacks were part of terror stories, not real life.

Indeed? A voice questioned in the back of her mind, bringing the red in the man's arm back to her mind's eye.

Ann tried to ignore it, but it was hard, just like trying to forget the choking feeling that her wet swimsuit and the queasiness on her stomach had created. When she and Jack had been in the water everything had seemed so peaceful. Now, everything seemed to be turning wrong.

After what seemed like an eternity, the rowboat finally came ashore. The looks on the two lifeguards' faces told her more than a year's worth of newspapers. And she didn't like the information they gave her.

Finally, she, like the others on the first row of the crowd, caught a glimpse of the man's body. The first thing she saw was his face. But then, she looked down.

And what came next was hell.

High-pitched screams erupted all around her. Women fell down like empty sacks or fled as if they were being chased by the Devil himself. The atmosphere was flooded with a suffocating reek to a mix of shock, terror, and disgust.

Ann fell on her hands and knees at the full sight of the body the lifeguards set down on the beach. Two red stains quickly formed on the sand in front of two holes where the lower parts of the man's legs had once been attached. Bone protruded from the man's leg as though the meat had been shaved off like a carrot's peel. Blood flowed from an injury on his abdomen.

Wave after wave of acid churned in her stomach.

The screams of the still conscious women around her seemed to come from very far away. For a moment, Ann wondered why she, a fifteen year old girl, hadn't fainted when older women had. Part of her wished she would.

I want to get out of here. Ann begged in her mind. Please, I want to get out of here!

However, her desire to get away wasn't enough to get her to move.

Her stomach kept revolting. Bile rose through her, but even then, her body refused to move.

Two hands grasped her sides and started dragging her through the sand. She dimly noticed that the mangled body was gone from her field of vision, but its picture had been stamped on her mind. Her stomach kept churning.

The pair of hands let her go, and, an instant later, she heard the soft thump of someone kneeling beside her.

"Ann." said Jack in a tight voice. "Ann."

Ann finally unglued her eyes from the sand, to turn them toward Jack's face. His look was distraught, disgusted, and shocked. But even so, he started rubbing her back and upper arm gently, clearly trying to calm her down in the best way he could. Ann wrapped her arm around his torso, and started crying on his shoulder, as if her current feelings would somehow be drained that way. And, although her emotions weren't soothed in any way, at least the picture of the mangled body stopped coming to her mind.

"Are you alright?" he managed, sounding deeply sick, as though struggling not to vomit.

Ann didn't answer. After a blissful moment of absence, the picture of the mutilated man came back to her. Ann wrapped her arms around Jack even tighter. Jack hugged her back. Tears kept coming down her face, fuelled by her shock and fear.

And the two held each other like that for longer than they realized.

Since then, sharks had been the main creatures she didn't find to be part of the beautiful world they lived in.

There was a clench in her stomach at the sight of the scarred dolphin, but as Jack held her gently, she felt herself calming down. After all, this dolphin was alive, although marked for life by the ordeal he'd faced.

As the dolphins fell back in the water and swam away, Ann looked at the horizon. Unease started to creep through her. Her eyes flicked from one place to another nervously. She knew Skull Island was somewhere out there, and if real, they would get there very soon. Just like the poor dolphin had been marked by the shark's mouth, Valdemar had been marked by Skull Island, although in a different way.

Ann wondered how deeply marked all of them would be by Skull Island.

But with Jack's arm around her shoulders and her head leaning against his chest, the idea of going to Skull Island, while unsettling, was not overwhelming. It was as if the fact Jack was with her meant everything would be alright.

The sound of a throat being cleared got her attention.

Ann looked aside and saw Neves standing there, a ukulele held in his left hand. She had to do a great deal of effort to stop herself from glaring at him. Usually, she was fond of Neves, but she didn't like the fact he'd broke through her moment with Jack.

Neves seemed to realize that he'd come in a bad moment, because he said, "I'm sorry for interrupting, Miss Darrow, but the others sent me to call you… they're waiting for you at the usual spot."

Neves didn't say more, but it seemed he knew that was enough. And the ukulele in Neves' hands told her everything. The crew was organizing another of those musical performances, and they wanted her to come, as she now always did.

Neves' eyes locked on her shoulders, and she realized Jack still had his arms around them. Jack also seemed to realize, because he immediately removed his arms. Ann's heart slumped in disappointment. She'd been enjoying his touch far too much.

"However, if you decide you're not up to come, you can go, I won't blame you." Neves said in a disappointed voice.

Looking at Jack, he added, "If you want to come, you're welcome, Mr. Driscoll."

"No, thank you." Jack immediately said to the sailor.

Ann understood why. Neves could be inviting Jack to come with them, but a good share of the crewmen didn't seem to really like Jack, at least not since he and Ann had started getting along again. It was as if Jack had become some sort of obstacle on their way that they couldn't overcome. But even on a normal occasion, Jack wouldn't feel at ease with the crew of an old tramp steamer.

Turning his eyes toward Ann, Jack added, "But you can go, Ann. I wouldn't dream of depriving you from having fun, even if I had the right to do so."

For a moment, Ann didn't want to go. Standing here at the railing with Jack seemed ten times more enjoyable than going to the musical performance – although that was also very enjoyable.

Jack seemed to realize that, but he said, "Anyway, I guess my break-time is over, so I have to go back to writing."

"Are you sure?" Ann insisted. The last thing she currently wanted was to have Jack going away.

Jack seemed slightly uncertain, but he said, "Don't bother yourself because of me. Have as much fun as you can."

Then, he walked away, toward the stairs that lead to the hold. Although slightly depressed, Ann took a deep breath in an attempt to overcome her disappointment.

"Shall we go, Mr. Neves?" she finally said.

"If you don't mind…" Neves said.

Ann followed Neves to the ship's stern, where a good deal of the other crewmen were waiting, already playing their instruments. Her humor improved somewhat, but not as much as she expected it to.

Ann got in the circle, and looked around, waiting for Jimmy to come and ask her to dance with him. But, to her surprise, there was no Jimmy there.

"Where's Jimmy?" Ann asked Neves.

Neves shrugged. "I don't know, but he isn't here. Neither is Lumpy. I don't know why."

As he finished speaking, Neves took off his cap, and bowed deeply. He said in what she figured to be the best attempt at a gentlemanly voice he could muster, "Would you give me the honour of dancing with me, Ma'am?"

Ann smiled. She had already danced with Neves some times, and she could tell he wasn't very good at dancing, but his clumsy attempts at dancing – which normally ended up with Neves on the floor – brought everyone, even Neves himself, a good laugh. And Ann figured that was what she needed right now.

"I'd love to." she answered with a smile. As clumsy a dancer as Neves was, he was a good man and a worthy crewman enough to make up for his reduced dancing skills. Besides, he was improving, slowly, but steadily.

But through all of that, Ann couldn't stop wondering why Jimmy and Lumpy hadn't come. She couldn't remember any of the two missing these parties on deck. For them not to come, something serious had to have happened.

Ann only wondered what had happened exactly, and how serious it was.

Well, my dear readers, I hope you all enjoyed the changed version of chapter 13. In case you readers didn't recognize it, the historical event mentioned in it was the second of the five Jersey shore shark attacks of 1916, the first wave of shark attacks registered in the history of the United States. I hope I don't sound mad by knowing this sort of thing.

Well... now, if there's any of my readers around after this... please, give me a review.