Jack exhaled a long, steadying breath, clearly disjointed by the story, and equally perplexed at its implications. Norrington glanced at him warily, as Jack siddled up to Annamaria's side, and met her eyes. "Ana, are ye sure that he has your child?"

Annamaria nodded curtly. "Aye, Jack. As certain as water's wet. Beckett was never slow about showin' his face, or his boat for the Tradin' Company. He didn't snatch Isabel because she was mine. He got her because she was dark, and just 'appened to be there when he rounded up the rest of them."

Jack scowled at that. "And where's the lass now?"

Annamaria flinched. "I don't know." She shut her eyes, and clinched her fists together, almost as if in supplication before she finally dredged up enough strength to force out the rest of the sordid details.

"It didn't take long for Beckett to come back to the island for more of us. In the next raid, I let myself be caught with the rest o' the people and dragged aboard the ship in chains. I got my freedom and meetin' with Beckett when I told him that I sailed under you, Jack."

Jack stiffened at that, his jaw growing slack, and his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "So ye betrayed me after all?" He asked softly, the snarl laced with hurt.

Anamaria huffed in annoyance as she put a hand on her hip and stared him down. "Ye be daft, Jack, if you think me foolish enough to tell Beckett anything that would risk ye. I told 'im enough to show I wasn't a liar or a fool. If I gave him the bearin's o' where the Pearl made berth, you know he would have sent ye to the depths long ago. "

Jack cocked an eyebrow dubiously, as he non-chalantly stroked his chin and leaned back, perching his boot heels on the table. Annamaria was clever enough to concoct a yarn, and she was certainly able to blame her absence on the unexpected arrival of a child. But, Jack also knew that above all else, she loved the ocean, and its siren's call of open chance and ramshackle liberty. She would never willingly sacrifice that unless there was something as momentous as a daughter to take up land legs and scrape by like a bar-wench in Tortuga. And she was far too proud to risk her independence for one night with a man. Jack knew that from the number of slaps she had doled out.

From behind, Norrington softly asked, "Did you tell Beckett that he had your daughter?"

Annamaria shook her head, with a minute jerk, as she jutted her chin upward in defiance. "What good would that have done, Commodore? Ye believe that Beckett would suddenly get a touch o' mercy and give 'er back to me? Ye saw what he did to yore crew to keep ye doin' his biddin'. What do you think he would have done to her?"

There was only silence, until Norrington reluctantly admitted quietly, "I honestly don't know, but I dread to contemplate it."

Jack had enough rum and compassion to keep the dreadful possibilities unspoken. His hands strayed rather languidly over his cutlass, lingering there in longing to put it through Beckett's skull. He wondered with a bit of malicious glee if Beckett would soil those silken breeches or squeal if he did so.

Jack's sleeve inched down from his wrist, the marred flesh and the brand. Laying a palm over it, Jack remembered the agony and the stench of his flesh burning as Beckett looked on with primly restrained satisfaction.

"Clearly our lovely Lord Beckett has been a thorn in our collective side, aye?"

The question was abrupt as Norrington scowled. Eyes narrowing, he made no attempt to hide the stare at Jack's brand. His scowled deepened as a troubling thought had been confirmed. Jack darted an irritated glance at him. His posture was deceptively casual as he slid his wrist from the weight of those eyes. Norrington ignored his indignant squawk when he suddenly rose and abruptly snatched his wrist.

"Sparrow, how *did* you come about being branded?"

Jack snarled as he ripped his wrist away from the restraining grip, and cradled it against his side protectively.

"It's not as if you've not observed it before, Commodore. Remember our first woeful encounter in Port Royal? "

Norrington sighed, and shut his eyes. "Indeed. Doubtless you were engaged in some dissolute debauchery to be branded. I am very certain that your vile deeds have earned it."

Jack tilted his head, his eyes shifting from cheerfully bright to obsidian. "Commodore, if by 'vile deeds,' ye mean the typical pillage, plunger and drink my weasly black guts out, I've not got enough skin to accommodate the needed amount of brands for such crimes."

Norrington was puzzled by the evasive answer, and the uncharacteristic anger as Jack hastily laced up his leather piece over the scar to shield it from view.

"What did you do, Sparrow?"

Jack lay both palms on the table, looking as if he were going to gut something. Norrington stiffened, and Annamaria gave Jack an agonized glance. Jack shook his head at her silent question.

Jack forced himself to relax, to don that foppish, tolerant wit, to distract by charm and words and insults. Lounging again, he perched his chin in an open palm, and held up his marred wrist with a wide, smug grin.

"I earned my brand, dear Commodore, by doing an uncharacteristically charitable deed. Hard to believe, I know, that in addition to my charm and roguishly handsome mug, I've a heart of gold and saintly regard for my fellow man as well."

Norrington's eyebrows slowly inched higher and higher up his forehead. "Mr. Sparrow, law-abiding citizen do not earn brands for charitable deeds."

Jack's eyes hardened as he glared down at his marred hand. "Ahh, but I'm hardly law-abiding,now am I, Commodore?"

Jack grinned until his golden teeth were aching. "I don't suppose you find it plausible that I liberated a slave ship, allowed the cargo to run, and then refused to sail under any banner that indulged in that ilk of wickedness, would ye?"

Norrington narrowed his eyes skeptically. "No, Sparrow, I would not. If anything, you would be hacking out that heart of gold, setting sail towards the nearest brothel, and spending what little coin you obtained on women of questionable virtue, and exorbitant amounts of rum."

Jack winced with something that made Annamaria's heart ache as he pursed his lips and shook his head in warning.

"Leave it be, Anna." She looked stricken, but nodded, unseen by Norrington. Norrington could not understand the underlying sorrow as Jack carefully ran a finger over the brand, and answered bitingly.

"Really, mate. You hardly know me at all. Rather shameful, that."