Howdy! Thank you ever so much for sticking around for this. I know it's VERY Mary Jane-ish. Sometimes it really embarrasses me. What the hell was I thinking? As much as I'd like to edit this, this is the story I came with ten years ago. I hope you continue to enjoy it anyway!

Susanne

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

"What are we going to do with him?" Sandra asked.

The midshipman was in an unenviable position. He was still tied and gagged but awake. The other midshipmen, including Kennedy and Sharpe's people were standing around him, glaring at him.

"Throw him overboard?" Lane suggested.

"I don't suppose you have any cement shoes, do you?" Sandra asked Horatio.

"Cement shoes?" Horatio parroted, looking at Sandra oddly.

"Never mind."

"We could tell Captain Pellew," an older man by the name of Clayton suggested.

"No," Archie responded quickly. He felt badly enough that there were so many witnesses to his shame.

"How long before he goes on watch?" Sharpe asked. The glint in Sandra's eyes made him nervous. She appeared perfectly prepared to kill the man. He understood her reaction to what Simpson had done, just not the intensity.

"Ten hours," Horatio answered.

"Leave him as he is until then. Let him explain what happened to him," Sharpe stated. Kneeling beside Simpson, he placed his bayonet against his throat. "If I hear of you ever hurting anyone again, I'm going to skin you alive and feed you to the fish. Do you understand?"

Glaring daggers at the captain, Simpson slowly nodded his head, yes.

"Good." Grinning evilly, Sharpe slugged Simpson in the stomach. Satisfied, the captain stood up and turned to Sandra. "We need to have a talk."

OOOOO

"You have to stop doing these things," Sharpe growled. He'd hauled the woman above deck as far from other people as possible and was talking quietly to her.

"I couldn't just let him rape the boy. At least I didn't kill him," Sandra responded.

"Sandra, if Captain Pellew finds out that you're a woman, he may decide you're a witch and have you burned at the stake or hung from the yard arm."

At first Sandra thought Sharpe was kidding but the fear in his eyes proved to her he wasn't. "I had to help him. When I was a child I knew a lot of men like Simpson. No one protected me, no one helped me. No one told me it wasn't my fault. I couldn't turn my back on what was going on just to hide who I am."

"I'm sorry." Sharpe felt a need to hold Sandra, to protect her.

"It was a long time ago, captain. I try not to dwell on it. I'm successful most of the time," Sandra responded. "Why do I have to keep pretending? The midshipmen know."

"I've all ready told you," Sharpe said. It took an effort to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"At this point I'm tempted to fry instead of being someone I'm not."

OOOOO

By the time Mr. Simpson was due on shift, the midshipmen had cut his bonds so he could get cleaned up. After so many hours, his hands and feet were swollen and asleep and his back was sore. But he got no sympathy from his fellow sailors. His head pounded mercilessly after being hit so much and his right eye was swollen shut.

The first thing Simpson did was look at the damage the woman had caused him. While minor, it was extremely painful. For as long as he'd been a midshipman, Jack Simpson had been the one in charge. In one day that woman had destroyed his hold over the men. He was going to have to change that.

Climbing on deck, Simpson tried to not draw attention. Feeling had returned to his hands and feet and he wished it hadn't. The pain was incredible. Stuffing his discoloured hands in his pants pockets, he took his position and planned his revenge.

OOOOO

"How's the seasickness?" Daniel asked. The riflemen were sitting below decks where the 32 pound guns were housed, eating their noon meal. Along the way, Daniel and Lane had acquired clothes instead of their rags. Sandra's laughed at them when she'd first seen them. They looked like real sailors.

"Gone. Although I'm not sure that I really want to eat this," Sandra replied. The food was unappetizing but she forced herself to take a mouthful anyway.

"I know what you mean."

"When are we going home?" Daniel was used to having control over his life. He really hated it here.

"I don't' know. I keep expecting to wake up in my own bed every morning. It always takes me a moment or two to figure out where I am," Sandra replied.

"You seem to have adapted," Lane stated.

"I've been here a while."

"How long?" Daniel asked.

"To be honest I've lost track. Come to think of it, I haven't checked Captain Sharpe's arm recently," Sandra stated.

"I did yesterday while you were sick," Lane assured her. "His arm appears to be healing well. You did good work."

"Thank you." Sandra relaxed and tried to force a few more mouthfuls of food down.

"Would you have killed him?" Daniel asked suddenly.

"In a heartbeat." Sandra stopped, aghast at the realization she'd meant it and could have done it. "Apparently I've changed some since I came here."

OOOOO

Four days passed quietly. The riflemen were finding their way around and getting used to the rhythm of things. They had caught up on their sleep while still assisting the Indefatigable crew whenever possible. Captain Pellew had tried to get Sharpe to relinquish their weapons. Only the marines were supposed to have them while on board unless they were boarded. He discovered that the soldiers were firmly attached to their arms.

Whether Mr. Kennedy was aware of it or not, at all times a rifleman was watching him, making sure Mr. Simpson wasn't bothering him. The days of relative rest had done him good as well. The welts were just past being sore so he was better able to move around.

"Good morning, Mr. Kennedy," Sandra said. She'd been awake for half an hour and had just decided to get some food. She'd nearly run the young man down as he came out of the midshipman's quarters.

"Ah, good morning." He wasn't sure how to act around the woman. She'd seen him at his most vulnerable.

"It's all right, Mr. Kennedy. I don't bite," she assured him, smiling. "And it's still not your fault."

"Mr. Simpson hasn't attempted anything further," Archie said just to say something.

"Hopefully he's learned his lesson. If not, we're watching." Sandra wanted to make sure he knew she was keeping her promise.

"You are unlike any woman I've ever known," Archie stated.

"I've been getting that a lot," Sandra replied ruefully.

"Does Captain Pellew know about you yet?" Kennedy asked. Harris had to shuffle to get by them. There wasn't much room.

"No. Captain Sharpe is concerned that he will decide to burn me as a witch," Sandra stated.

For the first time since Sandra had met him, the young man smiled. "The captain hasn't burned anyone in at least a month."

"That's good to know," Sandra grinned.

"I have a favour to ask." The boy was beginning to relax with her. Sandra thought she'd push her luck.

"Certainly. How may I help you?" He was flattered that she'd chosen him to ask.

"Could you reach me about this ship? How it functions?"

"Certainly," Archie replied, smiling at her.

OOOOO

Standing on the top deck with the captain and Lt. Eckersley, Simpson saw the freak and Kennedy come above. It appeared that the snivelling wimp was explaining the rigging and the sails to her. As if she'd be able to fathom the complexities of sailing a ship. Soon they were joined by a second man with curly red hair.

"How are our guests doing, Mr. Eckersley?" Pellew asked. Casually, he watched the trio traverse the deck, Archie showing them around.

"I haven't had any time to spend with them as yet, sir," Mr. Eckersley admitted. Frankly, he'd gone out of his way to avoid contact with the riflemen. They were uncouth, including their captain.

"We shall have to remedy that. Ask the officers and Captain Sharpe's people to join us for supper this evening," Pellew instructed.

"All of the officers, sir?" the ship didn't have any rooms big enough to house that many people, much less allow them to have a sit down meal.

"Well, certainly Mr. Kennedy since he appears to have made friends with the young lady and Mr. Harris." The captain stopped upon seeing the shocked expressions on Mr. Eckersley's and Chad's faces.

"Come now. You didn't actually think that that was a boy, did you?" Pellew had seen through the captain's attempt to hide the woman's sex when he'd first laid eyes on her.

"Yes, sir," Lt. Eckersley replied, having found his voice. With new eyes, he watched the trio wander the deck. The two green jacketed figures carrying their rifles slung over their shoulders. It was inconceivable to him that the smaller of the two could be female.

"Which other officers would you like for supper, sir?" Lt. Chad asked, trying to change the subject. He too was having trouble with the idea that the young boy was in fact a woman but he was better able to hide it.

"Mr. Hornblower, yourself and Mr. Eckersley. That should be sufficient," Pellew said.

Silently, Simpson seethed that he had not been a consideration, even though it was going to be a tight fit as it was.

"I'll tell the cook," Mr. Chad said before leaving the top deck.

"Do you suppose, sir that she understands what Mr. Kennedy is explaining?" Mr. Eckersley asked.

"She doesn't strike me as being dense so I imagine she does."

OOOOO

"I heard the captain say that these were unknown waters. How is that possible?" Sandra asked. Two of the crewmen, Styles and Matthews, had just finished showing them the various knots they used. They were impressed at how quickly the riflemen had picked up on the techniques. For his part, Harris was thoroughly enjoying himself. He had a healthy thirst for knowledge, any knowledge.

"We were following the French coast, looking for corsairs a week ago. The man at the wheel said that around midnight he was checking our course against the stars when they just shifted. We thought he'd had more than his share of spirits until the following nightfall when the strange location of the stars was confirmed," Archie said.

"Was there fog just before the stars changed?" Harris asked.

"No. Not according to the report. Why are you so concerned about fog?"

"While we were wandering around before, whenever fog appeared we lost people in it and teh terrain often changed," Sandra replied. "Sometimes great fur covered creatures would attack us as well."

"It sounds like a faerie tale to me, lad," Matthews stated, smiling.

"One of them nearly killed Sean here," Harris responded defensively.

"Be quiet, Harris," Sandra growled. The last thing she needed was to have to show off her battle scars.

The concern that flashed over Kennedy's face was a little too much. Sandra knew that anyone seeing it would be suspicious.

"I was cut up," Sandra admitted. "But it wasn't as bad as Harris makes it out to be."

"Have you been in many fights?" Styles asked.

Any reply was pre-empted by the approach of Mr. Hornblower.

"Mr. Kennedy, the captain has requested our presence and that of the riflemen for supper," he stated, a smile playing on his lips.

"Why?" was Archie's knee jerk response.

"The captain didn't give me a reason."

Sandra's stomach had dropped down somewhere around her knees. The thought of being in close quarters for an extended period of time with the captain, while trying to maintain the facade of being male, was not particularly appetizing. She shot a guarded glance at Harris. The red haired Irishman was watching her, his face carefully neutral.

"Captain Sharpe has asked that the two of you join him below," Horatio continued.

"Thank you, sir." Nodding good bye to Archie, Sandra and Harris quickly made their way below.

OOOOO

The riflemen arrived at the captain's quarters promptly at seven o'clock. It was the only room large enough for the affair. Scared spit less but determined to not show it, Sandra followed Harris's back into the room.

The day had been spent repairing their uniforms, washing their clothes and then themselves. Captain Sharpe had insisted that his men look as good as possible. This included Lane and Daniel, who'd been unofficially adopted just as Sandra had been. He was proud of them and wanted that pride to show. The one concession they'd made was that their rifles had been left under the careful watch of Mr. Clayton.

Since Sandra's run in with Simpson, the other midshipmen had been happier. There had also been a marked improvement in the men's attitudes towards themselves and their duties. Sharpe had been amazed at the difference it had brought about.

"Ah, Captain. Welcome. Please find a seat," Captain Pellew stated, looking genuinely happy to see them. The others were all ready there, the lieutenants to his right and the midshipmen to his left. They had also spent time preparing their uniforms and bodies for the evening, looking very dashing.

"Thank you, Captain," Sharpe replied, taking the seat at the end of the table. The riflemen nervously arranged themselves on a first come basis. Being at the end of the line, Sandra wound up sitting beside Archie, far too close to the captain in her mind.

Uncomfortably, Sandra settled down beside the young man and nodded a greeting. She didn't want to talk in front of the captain of the ship.

"I've been remiss in my duties as host. I realized today that I hadn't been formally introduced to your unit, sir, and I thought it about time," Pellew said. Wine was efficiently poured into glasses set before each person.

"You have been busy, sir. We have taken no offense to your preoccupation with the ship. That is as it should be," Sharpe replied.

"Still, I have also discovered that some of my officers were unaware of the presence of a woman in our midst. After six days they really should have noticed." The riflemen had gone still, looking first at the naval captain and then at Sharpe to see what his response would be. Despite her best efforts, Sandra's face turned a deep shade of red. Ducking her head and using the taller Kennedy as a shield from the captain's eyes, Sandra stared stoically at the plate before her.

There was a short pause before Sharpe said anything during which he studied the older man at the end of the table opposite him. "I'm sorry that I felt the need to keep that information from you, sir. We have found in the past it was beneficial to do so."

"This is my ship, Captain Sharpe. Nothing goes on aboard without my knowledge." Anger flashed through Sandra. Lifting her head, she stared at the captain as she fought a battle within her mind. One part of her wanted to throw the incident with Mr. Simpson into the man's face. The other, refused to humiliate Mr. Kennedy any further by revealing to his captain what he and the others had been living through. The latter won after one look at the boy's face.

Kennedy had gone a deathly shade of white as he studied the plate before him intently. His hands were gripping his legs tightly under the concealment of the white linen table cloth. As unobtrusively as she could, Sandra slipped her right hand over his left and squeezed it gently. Convulsively, Archie caught hold of it with both hands and held it tightly on his left leg, all without looking up.

"I have not met any woman who chose to wear pants unless under the most dire of circumstances. I've assumed that that was what was going on here," Pellew continued.

"I don't wear dresses," Sandra spat out, turning to face the man. Under the table, Harper nudged her in an attempt to quiet her down. "Not for you or any other man on the planet."

"Oh, I see." The vehemence in the woman's eyes had taken Pellew aback. "Be that as it may, I would suggest that we try to find a more suitable place for you to sleep."

"I'm fine where I am," Sandra growled. Then she added belatedly, "Sir."

"Below deck with nearly a hundred men? I think not." Pellew was unaccustomed to arguing with females and kept expecting her to back down.

"You're not my captain, you can't make that decision for me. For that matter, neither can Captain Sharpe since I never legally joined the 95th rifles. I've all ready decided to stay where I am. Where I belong," Sandra grated.

"Sandra," Sharpe hissed. The expressions of shock around the other end of the table unsettled him.

"You're somewhat head strong, aren't you?" She definitely had a fire that he liked even if it did disrupt discipline.

"As a mule," was Sandra's terse response. Giving in to the pleading glance from Sharpe, Sandra sat back and glared at her plate. They'd have to shoot her first before she'd let them take her away from her unit, legal or not. She knew in her soul that she belonged to the 95th even without any documentation. It was only when someone started trying to make personal decisions for her that she used that loophole as leverage, even if she didn't believe it.

"Captain," Sharpe intervened. "Sandra has saved my life and my arm. She has also worked as hard as any of us to keep us alive. She is one of my chosen men in every sense. Any attempt to remove her from our company will be met with utmost resistance." That thought of killing fellow Englishmen over the woman was not an appealing one but he didn't want anyone entertaining ideas of separating them. Around him, the other riflemen nodded their assent.

Still gripping Mr. Kennedy's hand tightly, Sandra seemed to collapse into herself. She was stubborn as hell when she needed to be but she didn't want to be responsible for any fighting or bloodshed.

"You and your people are very close, sir," Pellew responded, choosing his words carefully. "I would not, even for propriety's sake, attempt to destroy that unity. If Miss Sandra is comfortable where she is and prefers it, I will cede to her wishes."

"Thank you, sir," Sandra said quietly.

The food was served, pre-empting any further discussion. After the servers had left, Captain Pellew indicated to the gathered people that they should begin.

"I suppose that I should begin the introductions," Captain Pellew stated. "To my right, I would like to present Lt. Eckersley, the first lieutenant on watch, and Lt. Chad, my second lieutenant.

"To my left are Midshipman Hornblower and Kennedy."

As quickly as he could, Sharpe named off his people. He was uncomfortable with the pomp and ceremony but he was relieved as the tension slowly abated in the room.

"How is it that you came together? Mr. Dixon and Mr. Jackson aren't members of your chosen men?" Pellew asked.

"We rescued them from the caves I told you about before. Lane was a doctor before he came here. I'm not sure what Daniel did." Sharpe was surprised when he realized that he really hadn't bother or had the time to get to know the man better.

"I was a linguist and archaeologist," Daniel answered for the man. The archaeologist in him was thrilled by the opportunity to get to know late eighteenth century people so closely but he also wished desperately for a way home.

"So you are a scholar," Pellew stated. He didn't often have intellectuals on board his ship. Not that he knew anyways, he looked forward to many conversations with the man.

"So is Sandra," Daniel blurted. The woman reacted marginally, then turned her gaze to him, surprise registering in her brown eyes.

"Really?" Kennedy turned to her.

"I was in university before I came here," Sandra admitted. To her knowledge she hadn't told anyone. How Daniel had figured it out was beyond her.

"What were you taking?" Daniel asked.

"Environmental and Conservation Sciences. My major was conservation biology."

"You're a scientist?" Sharpe was having trouble believing what he was hearing. The woman was smart, of that he was sure, but beyond being quick to catch onto things, he'd never considered her being able to read and write or to go to university.

"Yeah, I guess." Sandra wanted to climb into a hole. Everyone at the table was staring at her with various expressions ranging from shock to amusement to calculation. If she wasn't so embarrassed to be the center of attention, she would have laughed at Harris, Harper and Sharpe's faces. They were even more shocked than the seamen.

"Where are you from, Miss Sandra?" Lt. Chad asked. He'd never heard of women being allowed into higher education.

"Canada." Sandra was hedging again.

"Why are you so surprised by her admission, Captain Sharpe?" Captain Pellew had seen the woman's discomfort and was attempting to change the subject. "You were willing to fight for her. Surely you knew that she was educated."

"In all honesty the subject has never come up. I have seen her stand in line, firing with as much efficiency and accuracy as any of my men. The day I met her, she killed three French soldiers to protect me after I fell. What she did before that had never seemed all that important."

"Unless I get back to where I was before, it really isn't that important." Sandra was getting tired of the shocked expressions. Under the table, Kennedy briefly squeezed her hand. Looking up at him, she found him to be smiling proudly at her. Suddenly very tired, she turned her attention back to the plate.

"It would appear that you have proven yourself under the fire of battle. I don't hold with women carrying weapons or killing but I will not keep you from doing either," Pellew told her. His estimation of the woman had risen a few notches.

"With any luck, sir, I won't have to do either ever gain." The conversation quickly turned to their adventures thus far. Sandra remained silent, concentrating on eating with her one hand. Likewise, Kennedy was also content to listen in.

OOOOO

"Have you really done all those things?" Archie, Sandra, Lane and Daniel had retired from the supper at the first opportunity and were standing on deck, watching the landscape slip by in the shadows of darkness.

"Yes, I suppose I have. I don't think about it much," Sandra replied. The relative peace and quiet of the deck at night was helping to relax some of the tension out of her shoulders. "How about you? You've been on the sea a long time. You've had some adventures of your own, surely?"

"Not really. I boarded a ship once but there hasn't been any action since." Kennedy almost sounded disappointed.

"Be thankful," Daniel stated. He'd seen all the action he wanted to.

"I don't think I want to take part in any of the fights you and the riflemen have been in," Lane stated. He leaned against the rail.

"You don't have time to think, especially with the Baker rifles. You concentrate on loading, firing and loading again. Nothing else really matters," Sandra stated. "Could we please talk about something else? I'm getting really tired of hearing how wonderful I am or how deadly."

The conversation turned to things they'd seen or wanted to see and then to some of the ancient civilizations Daniel had studied. Then it was time to retire.

The thought of going below to the stench and noise was not a please one after the sea air but they steeled themselves and climbed down the steps.