A/N: I have changed where Abigail set off from to Williamsburg as Philadelphia wasn't completely established by the early 1700s whereas Williamsburg had almost completed building the College of William and Mary.

Apart from that, I'm going to be playing rather fast and loose with some of the history of the region, but hopefully not to an unreasonable degree.

There is a scene in this chapter that was directly influenced by a similar scene in the film iFirst Knight/i with Richard Gere, Julia Ormond and Sean Connery (and I've probably just really dated myself with this!).

And finally - massive, tremendous 'Thank you's' to everyone who has commented, followed, or kudoed! I'm so, so happy you're enjoying this.


Stranded.

The word that had lurked in the corner of her thoughts from the moment she awoke on the shore, now echoed in forefront of Abigail's mind after Billy said it out loud.

"I see," she said slowly looking out at the waves crashing against the reef and the vast sea beyond it. "If that reef is so dangerous, how did we manage to make it over it without…"

She couldn't finish her sentence.

"It's not impossible," he said. "The storm would've created a decent surge and would have carried anything over it with a fair amount of ease. Still, we were lucky."

Lucky? Abigail wasn't sure she would have used that particular word.

All of the warnings her guardians and acquaintances and well-meaning strangers, and even those she travelled with clamoured in her head and for a moment, her vision swam with their remonstrations. But she clenched her hand into a fist as she said, "What would you suggest we do?"

Billy arched an eyebrow at her and she noticed him glance at her fist, but he just said, "First things first, we sift through what's washed up from the ships. There could be something useful and if there is, I don't want it getting swept back out." He squinted at the sun as he said, "It's still morning and the tide's on its way out."

"Very well," she said glad to be given something to do and suspected that was his original intention. "What is considered useful?"

"Rope," he said shrugging. "Any good pieces of wood. Metal. You'll know when you see it."

She nodded.

"Look," he said bending his head slightly to meet her eyes. "There are three things that we'll need to get through this: water, food and shelter." He pointed at the sky. "That's sun's going to get bright and relentless and we'll want something that will give us some shade. Especially if the other two things are in short supply."

Abigail looked up and down the beach and figured she could almost see the entire length of the island from where she stood. "It's not very large, is it? The island?"

"Nah," he said as he looked over at the tree line. "But there may be a small lagoon further inland. Could be fresh water. We'll check."

"I'll start looking in this direction," she said and without waiting for him to comment, she headed right, back towards the spot where she washed upon. As she walked away from him, she felt tremors begin in her hands and her stomach churned.

Stranded.

Every snide comment made about her chances flooded her mind, try as she might to dismiss them.

She lifted a broken piece of wood and tossed it away from the outgoing surf as the voice of her former guardian, Mrs Potter, spoke shrilly in her head.

Oh, my girl, you can't mean to just board a ship? I know you worry for your reputation, well, what remains of it, that is. What good will going out there do you?

Abigail frowned at a crab that scuttled not far from her feet and she stared down at her dirty stockings where they just barely covered her feet. She spotted her abandoned shoes and moved them away from the water's edge, but didn't put them back on.

No, no, the voice of Mrs Potter carried on in her mind. Now, that dear Nigel Overton is quite willing to overlook your family's indiscretions and the questionable circumstances you found yourself in. I dare say he'll make you a reasonable husband.

Nigel Overton, of the wandering hands and hefty gambling debts, Abigail thought angrily as she plucked what resembled a bucket of some sorts from the surf. A 'reasonable' husband indeed.

She flung the bucket with a bit more force than she meant to and it went flying up the beach. Biting her lip, she glanced over at Mr Bones to see him watching her with a funny expression. His eyes flickered towards the bucket several yards away and arched an eyebrow.

Cheeks burning, she attempted a smile and turned her back to him.

Oh, Abigail, she thought helplessly. What have you done? What are you doing here?

She worried her lip and rubbed her forehead, wincing when her fingers brushed over a scrape on her temple.

"You're a mess, my girl," one of the missionary ladies had said upon their first night aboard the Hadley. "But you can read well enough. Although, I don't hold with this exploring business." She'd sniffed and held out her Bible for Abigail to read aloud to them. "No, you and your troubled soul would be better off coming with us. Only the Lord Almighty can provide you with the deliverance you so clearly are in need of."

Lifting a soggy bit of heavy rope that had sunk into the wet sand, Abigail wondered if the missionary woman had been right. Her soul was in need of something, she knew that much; she simply didn't know what it was that she needed.

Escape, her thoughts said. You were looking for an escape and well…you certainly managed one, didn't you?

Lugging the rope away from the water's edge, Abigail struggled to keep her breath steady as her heart sped up as the severity of her situation demanded to be acknowledged.

You are stranded, she thought wildly. Perhaps this is your deserved punishment for trying to rebuke society. For being a silly, careless girl.

She dropped the rope and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, her stomach twisting into knots and her dry throat burning with suppressed tears of frustration. Blindly, she turned back towards the surf and walked along it's edge towards a bundle of white tarp that billowed in the mild breeze.

Abigail Grace, you have always been such a good girl, a voice very much like her father's said. But I fear that you are going to die on this island.

Tears finally forced themselves up from her throat to sting the backs of her eyes even as she reached down to tug at the tarp.

It barely budged.

She frowned and tugged again. Something clearly weighed it down as it moved a scant inch in her direction.

Her tears evaporated and she narrowed her eyes. I may very well die here, but I did not spend the last two years biding my time to secure my independence to be defeated by a scrap of fabric.

Setting her jaw and gripping the edge of the tarp with both her hands, she pulled as hard as she could.

The tarp gave way and the object pinning it to the sand lurched up and onto Abigail, knocking her flat on her back.

With a forced exhale of her breath, she lifted her head to see what had landed on her and upon realising what it was that held her down, she gave a strangled cry.

Unseeing eyes in a swollen and bruised face fixed upon her face as what had recently been a crew member on the Hadley pinned her to the beach.

"No," she said weakly as she tried to dislodge the body; her hands sinking into the wet sand as she tried to move backwards. With a sob, she pushed at the dead weight on her legs and winced at how cold the body felt to the touch.

Firm, warm, living hands suddenly tucked themselves under her arms and pulled her easily up and away from the body which thudded face down to the ground with a horrible dull sound.

Her mind and stomach whirling, she was set down on the ground and turned to face Mr Bones.

"It's all right," he said positioning himself between her and the body. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head as she said, "No, no, I'm not hurt. I'm only…" She sucked in a breath and swayed on her feet; his hands immediately cupped her shoulders steadying her. "Oh, God, what have I done?"

He frowned and looked over his shoulder at the body. "Fairly sure he was dead before you got to him."

A high-pitched giggle erupted from her and she clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified with herself. "No, not that. I meant… Oh, what am I doing here? I'm going to prove them all right! I have absolutely no business being here. I'm a silly, stupid girl and they'll all be proven so, so, so bloody right."

She watched as his eyes widened as he gazed down at her and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see him realise, because he was sure to realise, just how much of a fool she'd been. She hated knowing that this man, this man who she'd thought of repeatedly over the years, who had probably never suffered from a moment of indecision in his life, thought badly of her.

He removed his hands from her shoulders and she felt her heart sink.

"On one of my first trips with a proper crew, we got washed up on a beach after a nasty squall busted up the main mast," he said, his voice even and, dare she think it, friendly. "Water was running low and we were on shortened rations and naturally, the island was more of a sandbar than an island, so no water."

Abigail opened her eyes to look at him while he looked out at the sea, a half grin on his face as he remembered something only he could see.

"Not two hours in, do these two brainless fuc- uh, men," he said with a glance at her, "start picking a fight with each other. Pushing turned to shoving which turned into a full-blown brawl. Fifteen minutes later, they'd hit each other so hard, they were flat out on their backs, knocked out."

Abigail smiled a little and looked down.

"Now," he continued, "do you know what the difference is between you and them?"

She looked up to see him staring down at her with something that she supposed was amusement. She blinked and said, "I'm not likely to attempt to brawl with you?"

He smirked, and oh heavens, what was her stomach trying to do now? "The difference, Miss Ashe, is that you're still on your feet."

Abigail was certain that he was only helping her to maintain her spirits so that he didn't have to worry about a hysterical female on top of all of their other worries. Nevertheless, it was a very kind thing for him to say and she appreciated it terribly.

"Thank you, Mr Bones," she said smiling up at him. "I believe I take your meaning."

"Billy," he said. "Just Billy."

She nodded. "Billy."

He cleared his throat and turned to look at the unfortunate body on the beach. "He's not crew. You recognize him?"

"He was on the Hadley," Abigail said walking around to stand beside Billy and look down at the body. "I think he worked the rigging. I'm afraid I don't know his name."

"Poor bugger," he said frowning. "Neck's broken. Probably was wrenched from the rigging in the storm. Over before he knew it was happening, I'd wager."

"All the same," Abigail murmured. She glanced up at Billy and then away. "How do-? Do we bury him?"

He made a face as he shook his head. "No shovels. Best to let the sea take him."

"What about the reef?" she asked looking out at the surf still crashing in the distance.

"The sea will sort him out," he said as he knelt down to pull the tarp away from the body.

Abigail stared out at the sea in confusion before realizing that Billy merely meant that the sea creatures would take care of the body. The thought didn't disturb her as much as she imagined it should and simply watched as Billy checked the man's pockets. Small bits of coin and a thin knife were all he recovered and he pocketed the coin before slipping the knife into his own belt.

Then he stood and after scanning the beach, he walked off to pick up a sizeable rock. Realising what he was about, Abigail knelt and undid the man's sash so that the rock could be tied to his body. Ignoring those sad, dead eyes, she moved out of the way as Billy held the rock with one hand and tried to shift the body into the outgoing tide.

Unable to just let him do the unpalatable task alone, she bent down and with both her hands she helped to push the deceased crew member into the water.

The body floated just beneath the surface of the water and Billy said, "I've got it."

Abigail stopped and watched him push the body further into the surf. Waves swept into her legs, soaking her drying skirts and the sand beneath her feet shifted as she stood still.

Billy walked until the water was up to his chest, which meant he was a fair ways from shore, then he quickly tied the rock to the body and let go. He turned and headed back to the shore, while Abigail stood staring at the place where the body was sinking.

He joined her and stared out at the water.

"Please do excuse my outburst earlier," she said after saying a short prayer in her head for the man. "But, please, tell me. What are our chances for survival?" He hesitated and she added, "Do be honest. Please."

He let out a deep sigh and propped his hands on his hips, his right hand fingered the short sword on his belt.

"We have enough driftwood for a shelter. That board you found me under will work well," he said at long last. "We have whatever the ocean provides for food. The one thing I'm uncertain off is fresh water." He nodded inland. "But we can determine that next. If there's a decent source of water, we'll survive. Provided neither of us kills the other first."

Abigail smiled slightly as she looked at him. "I have no immediate plans to do away with you."

"Always good to hear," he said chuckling, before swallowing and looking out to sea. "It isn't survival I'm concerned about…"

"It's being rescued," she finished for him and he nodded.

"We're on a well-travelled route," he said. "So there'll be ships coming and going. We can set up a fire and see if that beckons anyone closer."

"What if they aren't people we wish to beckon?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"Deal with that when we have to," he said shrugging. He glanced quickly at her and then inland. "Right. Water, yeah?"

He turned and headed towards the trees. Abigail glanced once more at where the unfortunate sailor rested and then hurried after Billy.


Billy wasn't surprised the girl had finally shown some emotion and had her little…moment. Hell, no one liked having a corpse fall on them. And in any case, he figured that he was on the verge of something similar and it was really only her presence that kept his own frustration at bay. As it was, he was worried. Very worried. Dehydration was horrific and the time spent in the Doldrums weighed heavily on his mind.

But beyond that, it was the idea that he could be here for a long period of time that bothered him the most. He truly had no idea if Flint and Silver would consider returning for him without substantial proof that he survived. He knew what the crew said about him, about his luck being the strong after surviving torture at the hands of the British, but that didn't mean they'd force anyone into looking for him. He wanted to think they'd spare some thought for him, but with their hands full from being on the verge of war and attempting to maintain some kind of ceasefire while they all figured out how best to serve everyone's interests, he supposed he figured quite low in their list of priorities.

You're on your own, lad, Gates' voice said not unkindly in his head. You'll manage. You always do.

Hoping that his ghosts were right about him, he pushed the worries of the outside world to the back of his mind as he stepped into the trees and looked around. Palms trees with clumps of palmettos and island heather around their bases were mixed in with shorter bushes of cocoa plums. He noticed that some already had fruit on them and knew they'd be fine to eat later. The island was a bit bigger than he thought and there had to be some source of water. He swallowed and his dry throat scratched at him.

Looking up into the canopy of trees, he grinned.

"Come here," he said over his shoulder as he walked forward, reaching up to take hold of the stem of a large leaf.

He turned to watch her approach, those big, dark eyes of her wide with caution and a decent hint of curiosity. And, God, he was going to have to be careful with her. She had a steel of spine, he knew from what he'd been told of what she'd been through, but that didn't make her impervious to everything. He also believed that there was more to her story that she was telling; you didn't just uproot yourself out of civilization on a whim.

She stood beside him and he jerked his head, as he tugged her to stand in front of him. "Tilt your head back and open your mouth."

"I beg your pardon?" she asked quickly darting from under his arm, her eyes flashing.

"It's fine," he said chuckling. "Look."

He faced the leaf and tilted the stem just so and a thin stream of water poured from the leaf into his mouth.

It was lukewarm and dusty-tasting rainwater, but it was still water. He swallowed and tipped another leaf into his mouth, the liquid easing the dry of his throat.

She laughed and said, "That's incredible!"

"Your turn," he said, taking hold of another leaf. This time, she moved to stand in front of him without hesitation and opened her mouth. Her head barely reached his shoulder and he looked around her to aim the leaf at her mouth.

The trickle of water hit her chin first, but she just grinned and then ducked her head so that the water fell into her mouth. She got a mouthful before it had finished and it trickled out of the corners of her mouth as she closed it, her hand coming up to cover her lips. Not wanting any of it to go to waste, Billy leaned over her and drank the rest of the water that streamed from the leaf.

He looked down to see her looking up at him, her eyes bright, and her lips wet with rainwater. An uncomfortable sensation spread through his body, but he ignored it as he asked, "More?"

"Yes, please," she said smiling.

They drank from another two leaves each before Billy moved them further inland.

"That was very clever," she said as she walked a short pace behind him.

"Always pays to know where the rain collects," he said. "Just keep a weather eye out for the spiders."

"Spiders?" He glanced back to see her standing still as she stared at him.

He smirked. "Large ones with hairy legs."

Her eyes widened and darted up to look at the canopy above their heads.

Taking pity on her, he said, "They're all right. Just big. They might bite but it'll only sting a bit. It's the little ones that'll do you in. The big ones are harmless."

"Is that right?" she asked, those eyes of hers falling to stare into his, and he wondered just when the subject had moved on from spiders?

"Yeah," he said looking her in the eye. "Well, mostly."

The corners of her mouth twitched and he was reminded of that moment when he first had his proper look at her, in the belly of that Spanish warship, over a darkened table, when this girl who didn't know him from Adam smiled at him. Billy ducked his head and started walking again.

"How wide is the island?" she asked.

"Not sure," he said brushing a low hanging vine out of his way and hers. "It's about a mile long, but I've never been close enough to worry about the middle of it. Always figured it was too small to provide a worthwhile hideaway, even if you could get past the reef."

"If there's no proper source of water, what do we do?" she asked.

"Pray for rain," he said, only half kidding. He glanced over his shoulder noticing that she was doing quite well keeping up with his long strides. He also noticed she had no shoes and only stockings that were beginning to tear on her feet. He shortened his strides.

"The expedition leaders spoke of alternative ways to find water," she said. "However, that dealt with flora that I imagine aren't native to these islands."

"Most likely not," he said, "but do you smell that?"

She paused and breathed in, wrinkling her nose. "Is that rain?"

"More like a small lagoon," he said. "If it's fresh water, I think we'll be able to manage."

She brightened. "Truly?"

"We'll see," he said walking on.

"I imagine you've experienced far worse situations than this," she said.

"I've had my fair share of the bad," he said. "This isn't the worst, though. Not by far. The last time I washed up on a shore it certainly wasn't with a pretty girl as my companion."

He walked a few more paces before realizing that she'd stopped again. He turned and noticed her wide eyes and stiff posture. What had he said?

Fuck.

He'd called her pretty.

Well, she was, wasn't she?

Did she not want him thinking that way about her? Too fucking bad. The sun rose in the east and set in the west and Miss Abigail Ashe was very pretty. That was just fact.

He frowned and was about to tell her so when he noticed her hands were clenched into fists and she looked on the verge of running. Christ, was she…afraid of him?

Flint's explanation of who had first captured her crashed into his thoughts and he straightened.

Shit.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm not… Look, Christ knows that I've done things in my life that I've got no hope in hell for atoning for, but not that. Never that. And fuck knows I've crewed with men who would. It's not right and I would never. I swear to you."

She still didn't move, but he thought her shoulders had eased some. He stepped towards her slowly until he was right in front of her, her head tilted back as she watched him with a blank expression and those wonderfully dark eyes.

"I swear to you that we'll get through this," he said. "I'll protect you, Abigail. And that means from me. I'll not lay a hand on you, I promise."

She continued to study him and he had the absurd urge to just fall to his knees and tell her to take her time looking him over. However, he just held her gaze.

Eventually, she said, "I trust you, Billy."

He waited, but it seemed that was all she'd say and truthfully, it was all he needed to hear.

With a sharp nod, he turned and walked on.

Christ, what was he doing? The girl had a way of disarming him utterly and that wasn't good. He needed his wits about him and a steady hand. Or else they'd both die here.

Beams of sunlight through the trees highlighted a direction and he spotted a break in the foliage. Smiling to himself, he spotted flashes of light on the surface of a pool of water and soon he heard the sound of running water.

"Is that-?" she asked behind him.

"Looks like," he said picking up the pace. He stepped on a thick branch that snapped and to his right, he heard a rushing sound.

"Look out!" she shouted.

Without thinking, Billy turned, throwing an arm around Abigail's waist, pulling them both to the ground as something sharp struck his shoulder.