So I've managed to get another chapter finished so I can upload this one despite my holiday, couldn't resist it!

Guest; I'm so glad you noticed all of those points! You're right of course! I like how you noticed the mention of the darkest part of the ship!

So I thought I'd add a little info to the story about the woman who gave her name to Mick's ship and the name of this chapter. I also realised Fiona might have a thought or two upon such a woman. We'll also find out what lengths Patrick may be prepared to go to in order to pay off his debts and Fiona will learn a little more about Andromeda's fate.


Chapter Twenty Nine - The Grace

By the time the pirate Queen Grace O'Malley had divorced her second husband, she was in rather a good position; with hundreds of men at her disposal and many ships to hand. She'd made strategic marriages that benefited her well and from her keep on Clare Island she would launch her men upon ships taking the passage of Clew Bay to reach Galway. She might have been a renowned seafarer but she was also skilled with the diplomacy of Queens. As Queen of her clan she met with Queen Elizabeth in order to secure the release of her sons and brother. Although there are many tales about such a meeting, it is clear that the pirate Queen who entered Greenwich Palace with a knife hidden about her person earned the respect of the English Queen. Grace had courage in her own convictions and I like to think that was what Elizabeth appreciated about her. Elizabeth eventually reneged on the deal they had brokered after a few years and Grace went back to her old ways of supporting the Irish rebellion against English rule in Ireland.

I have the distinct notion that neither of them had ever really trusted one another enough to really consider sticking to any promises they'd made. They were shrewd women and I admire them both immensely. I might think like Grace in that I'm not overly keen on recognising an English monarch but I do appreciate the woman that Elizabeth was. She was strong and determined. She's often said to have been guilty of a nasty temper but I would like to know what's so wrong with that? When a man has a temper he's assertive, determined and impassioned. When a woman has a tempter she's bitter and exasperated. Women the world over have been made to feel like their passion was something to hide and deny when men have only been praised for speaking their minds. The world of men that I grew up in requires a woman to speak her mind in temper to get her own way though. If we do not stand up and be counted we will be walked all over.

I'd thought I might feel emboldened by the woman who had given her name to the ship I'd been so fond of. I'd hoped that the legacies of Grace and her English counterpart might have given me the courage to stand up to Patrick's stubborn rule aboard The Grace but I found myself sinking slowly into another phase of melancholy. I was certainly well respected enough by the crew but I knew that was only because Patrick had ordered it to be so. If Patrick were absent I'd no idea what kind of treatment I might have suffered. Patrick was my only friend aboard and yet his protection was also suffocating. I knew he was scheming and plotting from the moment I'd stepped aboard but I had no way of knowing what fate had in store for me. I was so careful for the first few weeks but things did begin to slip a little.

You'll know by now that I'm not adverse to admitting my struggles. I was certainly struggling aboard The Grace. Just standing on deck and watching the crew mill about made me think of the friends that I had lost. I saw and heard them everywhere. It was worse below decks when I was moving about in the darkness of the narrow corridors and staircases. I'd hear footsteps and expect to come face to face with one of my friends, only to find a member of Patrick's crew barrelling towards me. There was certainly not as much care taken by Patrick's crew and they were always in a hurry. They were also very secretive. Apart from the cook Mr. Doyle and Patrick, no one really bothered with me. Yet again I was able to discern that had been a direct order from Patrick though. I had the strangest sensation of deja vu that did not waver for those lonely weeks. I was back to where I had started aboard The Surgence, feeling lost and alone with the constant and intrusive reminder of the friends that had died on the very deck I walked along every day.

I'd not really come to terms with my emotions it seemed, for I cried myself to sleep more than once in my time aboard. I hated going to see Patrick in what had once been Mick's cabin so I began to distance myself from that which pained me most; seeing a younger and colder version of Mick in place behind that desk. Try as he might, Patrick could never hope to live up to the reputation that his brother had left behind after his untimely death. Whilst Mick and Patrick shared dashing, dark brooding good looks and a unique kind of charm that only an Irishman can boast of, Patrick lacked a certain type of ... grace, shall we say? Whilst Mick's charm was more careful and considered. There was just that feeling you got when he smiled at you. It was as if that smile was for you and only you. He'd looked into your eyes and really understood you like no one else ever would. It was a smile that told you to trust the man with eyes so sorrowful that it was hard to believe he could think of anyone else when there was clearly such despair in his heart. He did though, every day. Mick barely gave himself a thought.

Patrick could not have been more different. Yes, he was charming alright. I know now that it was for all of the wrong reasons. At sixteen I'd quite liked the danger and the unknown that I saw in him. He was like no one I'd ever met before. Patrick was a schemer though. He was only out for what he could gain for himself. That included women. I'd long since realised that he'd never really felt anything at all for me, not even lust. I'd just been an opportunity, a means to an end. That was how he saw every aspect of life. I'd grown a lot in my six years at sea, and having met a man to which honour meant everything; I was finally able to see just how wrong a man like Patrick would have been for me. I was beginning to consider that even to have him as a friend might be dangerous.

I did not realise how right my instincts would turn out to be if I'm honest. I thought I was just in the throws of dealing with my separation from James. I was actually annoyed with myself for comparing the men I'd met in my life to one another. It was a mark of how lost and out of place I felt that I was setting them against one another in my mind. I suppose it's proof of the growing respect I had for James that I no longer considered Patrick to be someone I'd call a friend. James was ten times the man Patrick was and there was no way for me to think otherwise. I'd been spending a lot of time out of the way in the galley with the cook, Mr. Doyle. who was like many older men I'd come across back home and although I'd never met my mother's father, I'd heard enough stories to know that he'd have found a kindred spirit in Mr. Doyle. It was Mr. Doyle's stark warnings to me to lock my cabin door not just at night but also during the day when I had returned there that made me a little more uneasy. He also warned me about Patrick. Although Mr. Doyle claimed to like my old friend well enough, he wasn't sure how Patrick might handle someone like myself. He'd seen how Patrick behaved when he made port after all. I already knew that Patrick was a bit of a womaniser. How could I not when he looked the way he did.

It appeared men were not entirely immune to Patrick's charms either. In calm waters one morning we met with the sight of much larger vessels attacking a merchant ship only two leagues away. The smart thing to do was to skirt around the battle entirely, or to turn and sail back the way we had come. Patrick did neither of those things though. That had the hackles on the back of my neck rising as he gave the order that we would approach with caution. We should not have been approaching at all in my book. The merchant ship was taking a battering from both sides and the chances were we'd meet the same end if we intervened. I rushed to Patrick's side to try and plead with him to turn The Grace back around but my words died on my lips. There was such determination in Patrick's eyes that if I'd not known we'd stumbled across such a battle by accident; I'd be inclined to think he'd planned it all. from his position at the helm he called out orders that we were not to open fire upon any ship as we approached.

I felt a sudden irrational fear flit through me as I realised that no one would really be able to talk Patrick out of it. He was the type of man that settled upon a plan and acted almost immediately. My instinct was to go below decks and sit it out because I'd no desire to be involved in the sinking of any ship but something caught my eye before I could turn. The sight of English flags flying from the masts of all of the ships was certainly a strange sight, as there was surely no reason for any of them to mount an attack. I grabbed Patrick's spyglass from where he'd hooked it on his belt and used it to get a closer look. The name emblazoned along the stern of one of the larger ships had me cursing Patrick every which way. The King's Inquisitor launched a volley of cannon fire into the port side of the little merchant ship as the Viscount's fleet hemmed it in. There would be no escape for the lowly sailors. We were likely to face the same fate if we entered the fray but Patrick didn't seem to be worried at all.

Patrick gave the order to fire warning cannon and yet again I had the overwhelming urge to make myself scarce. He seemed to read my thoughts. Patrick gripped my arm tightly and I immediately tried to pry it out of his grip.

"I need you on deck Fiona. Remember what I said when I took you on. You're just a regular member of my crew and there'll be no favouritism on my part. If you hide below then none of my crew are going to have any respect for you whatsoever! Is that how you want to sail; with everyone thinking you're a joke, a lily-livered bit of lace? If they do you won't last long. You've never been one to shy away from trouble so stay put!"

I was still trying to pry my arm free, sure that my place was suddenly with Mr. Doyle in the galley where he could block the doors with the heavy barrels of water and rum. "Patrick you're going to get us all killed! Don't you know who that is? That's Viscount Townshend! He has a fleet Patrick; a whole fleet! It'll be a miracle if he doesn't turn on us after he's done with that ship! Perhaps he might take consideration of the fact that this ship might satisfy your debts!"

Something in Patrick's demeanour changed slightly and I thought it might be apprehension that washed over him. "Find me pistols," he whispered softly as he let go of me.

His attention was upon the crew then as they began to prepare for attack. I moved swiftly towards the Captain's cabin where I knew Patrick kept his own pistols even though I did not want to follow orders. I did not want to go back up on deck to bring Patrick his pistols, but I had little choice in the matter really. I stopped in the doorway and sniffed the stale air. I'd thought the cabin might resemble Mick in some way still, that there might be some semblance of him remaining there especially as Patrick was above decks and not infusing the air around me. Mick was gone though. I could no longer pull thoughts of him from the cabin as I had been able to do before. It was as if Mick had finally parted ways with his beloved ship that I'd thought I'd always associate with him. Perhaps it was a mark of how much disdain I was beginning to hold Patrick and his actions in that I'd finally realised that the ship was nothing without the friend I'd loved so much. Without Mick, The Grace was no longer my home but a vessel for all of my desperate and dark thoughts that would ruin me if I let them take over my mind.

The ship shuddered with the force of more cannons firing and I cursed Patrick in my head as I debated what to do. I saw his pistol brace hanging from a hook just beyond the door and reached up to grab it, surmising that even if I did not hand it over to Patrick, I might have need of a pistol myself. Just as I took the brace from the hook and took the weight of it fully into my hands I swayed a little and the room swam out of focus. My knees buckled and I slid down to sit against the door as a vice like grip clamped down upon my chest. The pistol brace tumbled from my hands as my grip of it went slack and I began to float away from the room, a new feeling of terror washing over me.

The woman that I saw upon the deck was frightened, perhaps as much as I was. When she turned to me with those wild and grief-filled eyes I had the sudden urge to comfort her. There was an overwhelming familiarity between us both this time and I knew that she could sense me with her. I wanted to take her hand in mine because she looked so sorrowful, but I heard the approach of another body. I sucked in a painful breath and turned towards the sound, not entirely sure what sight was about to meet my eyes. Whatever I'd been expecting, the troubled man with eyes as sad as the woman's was not it. He held his hand out towards her and she recoiled from his touch but there was no malicious intent there. He too wished to comfort the woman that I was increasingly feeling so in tune with.

"I am sorry my dear, that we ever did speak of you to anyone. I am sorry that we ever told of your beauty. I am sorry that your uncle will never himself know the beauty I have told him of so many times-"

"This is your attempt to make amends; to comfort me?" The woman's interruption sparked a curiosity within me. I'd heard her speak only once before and this time her words were as sharp and cold as a knife's edge. I could feel her anger, her despair and her terror. "I am to be thrown to the wolves to satisfy those you yourself have offended. I am to die in this way for the thoughtlessness of my own mother and father. Yet all that pains you is your own stupidity. You shall live on long after I am gone in the knowledge that you have done all of this. If it were not my uncle you thrust me under the nose of, it would have been another. You never considered my wishes; my heart. You thought only of your own attainments in this world and the next. What shall my attainments be father? I ask you that, because I do not think you will have given it thought. You think that this is your sacrifice, but it is mine. I am called to my death to save something much more sacred and precious than the love between a father and his daughter. I will know that as I pass on, I am saving the lives of others. Without such knowledge I fear I would lose my mind."

The woman was shaking. Even the delicate red curls of her hair seemed to shimmer as she failed to control the trembling that wracked her body. I wanted to reach out and place my hand upon her arm to show her that she was not alone, that I felt everything she was experiencing in that moment. before I could do so though, a second man approached. The knife he carried had me patting my waist for my own weapon in haste as it was clear he was intent upon reaching the woman. I was too late. The man nodded once to the woman's father before he grabbed a fistful of the fine silk of the woman's ivory dress and tore through it. He ripped at the dress as the woman closed her eyes against the tears threatening to fall. She looked as if she were gravely ill. I could feel her humiliation as the dress was pulled abruptly from her skin and thrown overboard. She stood on deck with every man able to gawk at her nakedness. She brought one trembling arm up to try and shield her breasts whilst her other hand fell to the junction of her thighs.

The man with the knife moved away again, and I was overwhelmed by how alone and humiliated the woman felt as she stood alone before her father; and yet she longed to let go of her despair and anger. She longed for that release that would also serve to benefit her father. "I forgive you..." she whispered so quietly to him that no one else aboard would hear. I heard it though. It was as if the words came from my own lips. I felt the love the woman still held for her father, and her wishes and desires that he'd live to prove himself the good man she knew him to be. She loved him still, despite everything.

Such sentiments served to be his undoing. His face was twisted in anguish as he turned his face away. I sensed what might be about to happen, but the woman before me was oblivious. Her father spoke in a forceful whisper even though he could not bring himself to look upon his daughter again. "Go now! Flee before they bring out the chains. Let the sea carry you off!" The woman did not move. A swift notion of defiance was beginning to build within me and I realised the woman was going to stay exactly where she was. I lurched forward, wanting to echo her father's sentiments but any shout I gave held no sound. She could not hear me, but I knew that she knew I was there. She had sensed me earlier. I willed her in my mind to take her leave whilst she could even though I had no knowledge of whether my thoughts would carry. She threw her father a pained glance before she turned out towards the sea and I turned with her. We both glimpsed the rock on the horizon and willed it not to come closer, but we were gaining on it all the while. "MOVE! NOW! LEAVE THIS SHIP NOW!"

Her father's warning came to late. Her limbs she was using to shield her body were grasped by the other man and pulled out and away from her body. her wrists were encased in shackles and I saw the fear in her eyes even as she willingly let them drag her across the deck by her chains. I wanted so much to reach out to her yet again and tell her that this was not to be her end. I wanted to tell her that a man was coming, a good man who would take her away from it all. As if she sensed my urgency, she glanced back over her shoulder towards me, but in that moment the vision was beginning to fade rapidly. I called to her soundlessly again just as I felt hands upon my own shoulders shaking me awake.

I stared blearily up into the eyes of Mr. Doyle as he pulled me back up onto my feet. "What are you doing here lass? You should be hiding somewhere!"

I shook my head vehemently. "I'm no coward. As much as I think we're all doomed I'm not going to hide!"

"Well then you're going to have to make a swim for it! You aren't dying on this ship! You need to move, now!"

My mind jarred. Something or someone was telling me to find a way off The Grace and into the water. Where would I go if I managed such an escape though? I stared at Mr. Doyle curiously as if he might hold the answer but he simply gazed back at me in puzzlement. I grabbed the pistol brace I'd dropped to the floor and moved with him silently through the narrow corridor until we reached the deck again. We stood and listened for a long while but the roar of cannon fire had stopped altogether. As far as I could tell the ship was still moving, so we'd not reached the other ships yet. Eventually I moved, letting Mr. Doyle follow behind me as I skirted along the railings in an attempt to make it to the bow. If I could reach the highest deck of the ship, I stood the best chance of observing what was about to happen. If I really did need to get off the ship quickly as Mr. Doyle thought I would, I'd have to jump.

We'd reached the quarterdeck successfully without being discovered and I breathed a sigh of relief. It appeared that all eyes were for the other ships and not us. Our predicament though was to get past the man at the helm and on towards the poop deck. We crouched on the steps for a few moments as I tried to think of a way around the man but either way he was likely to see us. I decided that my best bet was to just make a run for it. I would certainly be seen no matter how quickly I moved. I might manage to get to the bow alone, but Mr. Doyle following behind me didn't have much chance of not getting caught. Once one of us had been seen, the game would be up. I knew then that I had to send him back down below decks before I moved so that he wouldn't be caught trying to help me. I turned around to tell him as much and realised I was a fraction of a second too late. Strong hands pulled us both roughly to our feet again and I fought against them even though I knew my attempts were futile. Patrick had chosen his crew not for their stealth or their agility as sailors, but for their size. Even Mr. Doyle's height made him an imposing figure until I got to know him a little better. The two men that held me didn't have much of a fight on their hands to hold me in place between them until we reached Patrick's side.

I was still shouting and kicking in attempt to free myself, but the look of disdain that Patrick threw me stopped my useless attempts. "Of all the people in the world Fiona, I never thought you'd be the one to run out on me! I thought you were made of stronger stuff than that!" His hand reached up to grab my chin and turn my face towards him, but I yanked my head backwards out of his reach. "Let her go. She'll not run from my side."

I was released and I stumbled a little as I found my own feet again. Patrick turned back towards The King's inquisitor that we'd now come alongside. Patrick called the order to weigh anchor and the crew set to it. For a time we were not noticed by the Viscount and his crew but he knew we were there alright. He'd have been informed of our approach. He'd not acted though and that sent the chimes of a warning bell through my mind. If he'd not been expecting us, then he certainly knew Patrick well enough to recognise him. That was why he'd not opened fire upon us.

I glanced about me as I assessed how quickly I might be able to make an escape but one of the men who'd hauled me to Patrick's side was still standing close by, watching my every movement. I had no choice but to wait it out. The Viscount was negotiating with the crew of the small merchant ship who all appeared exhausted and defeated. The young man who had stepped forward to engage with Viscount Townshend was bedraggled and very clearly injured. A nasty blow to the head had left an open wound and a droplet of blood was slowly trickling down the side of his face. There was such disappointment in his eyes though and I wondered why he'd ever thought that he'd have stood a chance against the Viscount and his fleet. The other ships had retreated when they'd ascertained that there was no trouble afoot, leaving The King's inquisitor and the Viscount to it.

Whatever negotiation took place, it left the merchant ship in rather a bad position. They'd need to make repairs quickly. In calm waters such as the ones we were currently in they would likely last a fair few days, giving them enough time perhaps but if the wind picked up suddenly as it so often did, they'd have trouble. Added to all of that, Viscount Townshend was availing them of all of their supplies. Even the barrels of water were being carried across a thin stretch of wood onto The King's Inquisitor. I felt a pang of sympathy for the men aboard the merchant ship and sent up a prayer that the waters and the winds would remain calm until they could reach port to make their repairs and replenish supplies. The young dark haired man had returned to his own ship reluctantly and was watching the last barrel of water leave his deck. When his eyes turned to assess us across the three ship decks, something within me stirred. It was almost as if I knew him. The eyes were keen and alight with something stronger than disappointment or despair. He was not so downhearted by the ransacking of his ship. He'd sail her carefully and truly until they reached port. They'd be fine, I realised.

Still, his gaze lingered. Patrick stood his ground, staring back at the man with determination but I squirmed a little as the warm brown eyes raked over my form. I'd piqued his interest somehow and I couldn't fathom why. His direct gaze had caught the attention of the Viscount. He finally turned towards us and it was me he noticed first. The surprised grin he threw my way sent shivers down my spine. He too raked his eyes over my form before he eventually acknowledged Patrick with a nod of his head. He was moving then, crossing the deck of his own ship towards us as the merchant ship freed it's anchor and cast off as quickly as they could.

"Mr. O'Malley. It's good to see you again, and in possession of a ship that sails, finally." Viscount Townshend stopped only when he reached the railings of his ship, standing directly opposite us. I wanted so badly to snap at him and tell him him that it was not Patrick's ship at all, that it always would belong to Mick, but I stayed quiet. I had begun to feel that Patrick's memory was no longer attached to The Grace after all, and I did not know how such an outburst would go down in my present company. I was sure that Viscount Townshend would take a sickening kind of pleasure from my ferocity but Patrick would not appreciate it at all.

"It's been a long time coming," Patrick replied after a hesitation. He threw me a sharp glare before he continued. "This was my brother's ship before he passed on, and I'm glad to be at the helm of it. You know very well that I did not pay any fee for such a ship and only incurred costs for the repairs that were required. I did not consider it a bad move even though I still owe you a great deal, my lord. I simply came to the conclusion that to sail aboard The Grace and to use her as a means to earning a profit was a more beneficial course of action."

I felt a knot of nerves begin to grow in my stomach. Patrick owed the Viscount money, so this meeting was not going to end well. I understood then that I was just the same as I'd ever been to Patrick. I was a commodity, and a disposable one at that.

The Viscount nodded agreeably. "I think you've considered things well, Mr. O'Malley. Though I suppose it's Captain O'Malley now isn't it? She's a strong ship it seems. Rest assured I have no intention of taking her from you as repayment. She's far too small a vessel to be of interest to me. You will have ascertained I'm sure; that my fleet consists of larger ships, some of them decommissioned navy ones. Your little ship would only be wasted amongst them."

"I'm glad," Patrick replied as he seemed to release some of the tension from his shoulders. Had he really been worried that the Viscount might take The Grace from him? Just how in debt was he? I did not miss the Viscount's implied slight too. Personally I considered The Grace a better bet than most smaller navy vessels. She was quiet and small, and yet so full of life and soul. I'd always felt so safe and protected aboard her and she'd weathered so many storms. Perhaps that had been Mick's doing though. Perhaps I was right in my recent revelations that the ship really was just wood and nails. The soul and energy that had been so prominent in the past had likely been because Mick had been such a decent man and a good Captain. His crew had loved him unconditionally and he'd loved them in return. He'd created an escape; a happy place for those who were no longer able to bear life in Ireland. It had all been Mick, and with his death those reassurances and dreams had slowly ebbed away, leaving the shell of a ship behind.

"Speaking of navy ships," the Viscount continued as his gaze strayed to myself again. "I see you have vacated The Surgence Miss O'Connell? Commodore Norrington was not able to see you safely home then after all?"

Patrick spoke up again quickly, clearly anxious that I did not speak. "You've met before? well...Fiona and I have known one another for years. What with her sailing with my brother for such a long time, I thought it only right that I take her on myself and see her safely to wherever it is that she wishes to go. She's an accomplished sailor so she's been of aid."

Viscount Townshend was watching me carefully whilst Patrick spoke, his attention riveted by the movement of my hair in the wind. I wanted to reach my hands up and clamp them down on top of my hair to stop the movement, but I didn't want him to know that his gaze had riled me so I balled my hands into fists at my sides. "How curious." The Viscount spoke to Patrick without taking his eyes off me. "You are not the only Captain in recent times to give such glowing praise of this young woman. I am assured by my own personal experience that she has a sharp tongue and the wits to match. I wonder how well she adapts to life as a subordinate with such an obstinate personality."

I clamped my jaw shut even as I felt the outburst growing within my chest. I was sure that I needed to keep my mouth shut in order to maintain some semblance of dignity and to get myself out of such a situation unscathed. "She has her moments," Patrick replied stiffly as he too wondered where the conversation was going. "We all do though. It's been nice to have a woman's touch aboard the ship again."

Viscount Townshend chuckled. "Rotten luck that can be though."

"Only if you cross me!" I blurted out haughtily before I could stop myself. Is it possible for eyes to grin? I thought his did in that moment as he glanced between myself and Patrick.

"Perhaps you might consider a proposition I have to make Mr. O'Malley?"

I was backing away before he'd even finished his sentence. I shook my head at him, my gaze swinging towards Patrick in the hope that I'd find reluctance to acquiesce. "What kind of proposition?" Patrick sounded as if he had no idea what the Viscount was asking him and I thought perhaps he might have been stalling for time so that he could figure out a way out of our predicament.

Viscount Townshend's grin widened. "Your friend seems to have caught the gist well enough Mr. O'Malley. Of course I'm asking you if you'd consider settling your debts in the old fashioned way; in the trade of a woman. It's how things were done before there was gold and silver to hammer into coin."

I saw Patrick's shoulders straighten from behind as he rose to his full height. "You'd trade all of my debts for her?"

"PATRICK DON'T YOU DARE!" I snarled as I rushed forward to grab his arm.

"All of your debts," the Viscount confirmed.


So what do we think? Will Patrick betray Fiona or will he think of a scheme to help her?

We'll find out in the next chapter!