Yet again, usual disclaimers apply throughout this tale. If you recognise it, it probably belongs to the Mouse – else it is mine!

Chapter 68 - The Journey Home

The Black Pearl sailed away from Tortuga in darkness, knowing that her leaving would be noticed, but not wanting her direction marked. Jack, still nursing his head, let Joshamee take the helm and retired to his cabin.

"You all right?" he asked, knowing he had scared her by the thought of being snatched again. He knew her treatment by Robert DeWitt still haunted her nightmares.

Catherine was quiet, staring out the window into the blackness. "It just feels strange, going home like." She sighed. "I know Theo told him I remarried, but not that you were a pirate. Papa is a naval man, Jack - he won't take it well."

"D' yer know what Theo said?" Jack asked cautiously.

"He probably said you were a captain - that would impress Papa…" She smiled in the dark cabin, thinking of her father.

"But I am a captain!" Jack protested.

She kissed his nose. "Yes, I know… but that isn't the sort of captain that Papa probably thought. What am I going to tell him, Jack?" She looked up at him, worrying.

"You'll think of something… you usually do!" He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her towards the bunk. "Although right now I'm thinking of something…"

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For fifteen days the Black Pearl sailed towards England, keeping off the main routes to hopefully avoid the notice of any naval ships. They crept along the north coast of Cornwall, searching for a quiet bay near Padstow, eventually finding one just south of Trevoise Head.

Jack rowed her ashore, holding her to him in silence on the beach. Eventually he spoke. "I'll miss you…" He was unsure about her travelling alone and wished she would take one of the men with her, but she argued that it would be just one more thing to explain to her father. Jack knew she was terrified of her father finding out she had married a pirate and, so he had reluctantly agreed to her wishes. She had insisted she would be safe – but that would not stop him worrying.

"I won't be gone long - if I can find transport or buy a horse I should be back within a week," she smiled, kissing him. "Walking will take me a lot longer though."

She found herself disappearing in an enormous hug. "You take care, all right? We'll be here every Sunday…"

"I'll come back - I promise." She kissed him, savouring his salty, rum-tinged scent. "An' keep safe yourself."

Slowly, reluctantly , she broke from his embrace before climbing up the steep path to the top of the cliff. She paused, looking back before disappearing from view.

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Catherine walked along the headland, heading towards the town of Padstow that she could see in the distance. It was getting late and she quickened her pace, eager to reach it before darkness fell. It started to rain - not the soft, warm Caribbean rain that she had become used to, but a cold sleet that pierced her clothing, chilling her to the bone. She wrapped her cloak tightly about her, head down as she struggled on. "Bloody English weather," she cursed.

Luckily, when she reached the town, she could see a small inn - it's lights blazing through thickly glazed windows. Chilled and exhausted, she walked through the door, conversation stilling as she made her way towards the bar.

"Can I help you Miss… tress?" The innkeeper noticed her wedding ring.

"I'd like a room if you have one, and a warm meal?" Catherine replied, shivering.

"That'll be three shillings…" She quietly handed over the money, glancing around at the men staring at her over their ales. "I'll take my supper in my room, thank you." She gestured for him to lead. "If you'd be so kind as to show me the way?"

Faced with such a polite request, he was left with no recourse but do as she wished. "This way Mistress," he murmured, leading her from the common room.

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She rose early, much earlier than the other patrons of the inn which afforded her the luxury of eating her breakfast nearly alone. She beckoned the innkeeper over. "Excuse me, but I need to get to Plymouth. Do you know if there is a coach due soon, or somebody that would be willing to hire or sell a horse?"

The innkeeper frowned, thinking. "There'll be no coach trough her 'til next Monday, though Horace might have a mare he'd be willin' to sell." He paused, as if struggling with something. "Are you sure you won't be safer travellin' in a group Mistress? Moor's been plagued with highwaymen lately… best not go alone."

"I'm afraid I cannot wait and must travel as fast as possible, but thank you for your concern." She rose, finishing her breakfast. "Perhaps you could point me in the direction of this Horace you mentioned?"

He walked to the door with her, indicating a small farmstead on the side of the hill. "Thank you," she smiled, eyeing the clouds in the hope that it would not rain again.

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An hour later saw her mounted upon a small chestnut mare, trotting briskly down the track towards Bodmin. She was lucky in that she was travelling to the south of the moor for the roads were more travelled and in better condition. She was making good time, and hoped to make Torpoint by that evening.

A dark bay horse burst through the trees to her left, the rider masked. She swore, reaching for her pistol.

"Stand and…" The young man looked amazed finding himself staring down the barrel of her pistol before his was even cocked.

"I think the word you are looking for is deliver," she smiled. "But the little I have I am not giving to you."

"We have an impasse then…" He smiled, trying his good looks and charm when he realised his threat had not worked, although his eyes were all of his face she could see.

"So it would appear…" Her pistol did not waver.

He stared at her, unused to such a response, especially from a woman - and a beautiful one at that. "Who are you?" he asked in surprise.

"If you don't get out of my way, I'll be the last person you ever see mate," she warned. "Although I am sure we could sit here all day until some other riders come by…" Her calmness and assurance unnerved him. He had not been robbing people for very long and, to be fair, was not very good at it. His eyes widened as he heard hooves on the road behind her. Catherine sighed, hearing the hooves as well. "Just go boy! I'll not tell… but get out of the business - you really are no good at it."

He cast one quick glance behind before spurring his horse back through the trees, disappearing from sight. Catherine shook her head, laughing to herself as she rode quietly on. Poor boy would not last ten minutes in Tortuga.