Mark The Earth With Ruin

Chapter 7

A breeze blew crisp and clear across the turquoise waters of the Caribbean. Hatless, Emmeline Norrington sat on the starboard companionway of the HMS Triton, watching little Lizbet Turner carefully instructing a well-loved rag doll in the alphabet.

Emmy was bored and annoyed, though her mother had taught her well, and no sign of her irritation showed on her countenance. Yet inwardly she stewed like a well-cooked rabbit. Four days they had been at sea, and never left sight of Jamaica's coast. Four long, balmy, windswept, interminable days. Two ships had passed them: the ghostly Black Pearl, and another, with an angel at the prow. And here they sat, sailing to and fro, serenely killing time.

She'd tried to speak with the captain, to no avail. She had even, embarrassingly, tried to presume upon prior acquaintance, for this was the same captain who had brought her from England on that ill-starred voyage. But all Emmy got for her trouble was a cold, "I have my orders, miss."

Orders. Emmy would have snorted had it not been so unladylike. They were going exactly nowhere, and she wanted to know why.

Lizbet's nanny, Belle, came out of the cabin, a preoccupied look on her face. Young Lizbet glanced up and, after a long look at her caretaker, quietly gathered up her doll and went to Belle, with the oddest expression on her little face. Emmy forgot herself and frowned. The child looked far wiser than her years.

Emmy had felt like this before, back in school: as though everyone else knew something of which she was unaware. She hadn't liked the feeling much as a child. Today, Emmy was damned (beg pardon, mother) well going to do something about it.

Belle seemed to focus on her as she approached, her expression softening into a submissive smile. Emmy wasn't fooled. That woman was anything but servile, regardless of the charade she chose to play.

Belle gave a small curtsey. "'Tis a lovely day, miss."

Emmy cut to the chase. "Oh, stop that. 'Tisn't convincing in the least." To her surprise, the dark-skinned woman's deferential façade gave way to a real smile, and a peal of clear laughter. Emmy found herself laughing too. "Much better. What is happening, Belle? The atmosphere on this ship is so thick with intrigue I could cut it with one of Mr. Turner's swords."

Belle sobered, gathering Lizbet into her skirts. "I don't know, and that's the truth, miss. Something happens, but not here; something… gathers."

Emmy folded her arms. "Could you be more specific?"

Belle shrugged. "Something comes, for le Capitaine and –" Here she broke off and looked down at the child. "You goes to the cabin, ma p'tite. I joins you there in a moment."

Lizbet looked at both women, that disturbingly wise expression still in place. "Something is coming for Papa, I know. It already took my grandfather, I think. That is why Papa looked so sad on the wharf." She beckoned Emmy with her forefinger, and Emmy knelt to bring her face level to Lizbet's. "There's something wrong with Godpapa, too. Did you see it?"

Emmy felt a shiver of foreboding run up her spine, but she nodded. "I think, Lizbet, that I did. He was very… cold, wasn't he? That's not the way I remember him."

Lizbet nodded, clearly satisfied. "I'll go to the cabin now, Belle. But we must get grandfather back and save Papa and Godpapa, mustn't we?"

Belle smiled at her and sent her off with a pat. Emmy watched the child close the cabin door. "Is she often like that?"

The nurse looked at her. "She was born to this world in sorrow, miss, and touched by her mother from the other side of the river." Belle shrugged. "I has learned to listen to her."

Emmy hugged herself, suddenly chilly. "Belle, when you say something comes for le Capitaine, you're thinking of someone other than the captain of this ship, aren't you?"

Belle gave her a sideways glance and about three-quarters of a smile. "You got someone in mind, miss?"

Emmy chuckled, rubbing her arms. "You know perfectly well who. Lord John Finch, the Demon Pirate."

Belle gave a satisfied nod. "I knew you was clever."

"You give me too much credit," Emmy demurred. "Ned wrote me all about it years ago. I've known almost as long as – well, as you have."

The other woman looked at the deck, chuckling. "You sells yourself short, I think. Miss," she added.

This time Emmy did snort. "That's not convincing either. Please, Emmy will do."

"Aye then, Emmy," Belle gave her a pleased nod, then sobered. "We needs to get off this ship. We needs to get back to Port Royal, to them that stayed behind."

Emmy let out a trembling breath. "I wondered about that."

"I knew you was clever."

~*~

For the first time in years Will Turner found himself unable to comprehend what his eyes were telling him. It was impossible that Edmund stood there with a pistol aimed at Will's head, ready to shoot him.

"Ned? What are you doing?"

There was no response, just that strange, blank look. Annie Palmer laughed. "You may tell him, Edmund."

Edmund blinked. "I… I can't stop her, Will." The contrast between the anguish in Ned's voice and the utterly impassive expression on his face was bizarre. "God help me, I can't control my own body. She – somehow she – for God's sake, Will, don't let her make me kill you!"

Will took an angry step toward Annie, halting when he heard Edmund thumbing back the hammer on the pistol. "What have you done to him?" he growled, his blacksmith's hands curling into fists.

Annie smiled. "Made him mine." She chuckled. "I really wouldn't provoke him, young William. Make no mistake, he will kill you, whether he wants to or not. He's quite a decent shot, I understand." Annie studied her nails nonchalantly. "Bind him, dearest."

The pistol never wavered as Edmund jerked the bellpull from the wall and advanced toward Will. Annie came forward and took the weapon from him; Ned roughly jerked Will's arms behind him and began to secure them with the heavy silk rope. "I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly in the younger man's ear, even as he pulled the knots painfully tight. "I'm sorry."

Annie eyed them. "That will be enough, husband. You need not say anything more."

Will lunged for her but Ned caught him, forcing him to his knees. "Damn you!" he shouted, his dark eyes afire. "What do you want with us?"

She smiled, tapping the pistol thoughtfully against her chin. "I have what I want from Edmund. Position, wealth… he really makes a marvelous husband, don't you think?" Annie came closer, placing the barrel of the weapon under Will's chin and forcing him to look at her. "From you… oh, I can think of many things a strong, healthy, handsome boy like you could offer me."

He spat at her feet. "I'd rather die."

In a flash the pistol was cocked and at his forehead. "That can be arranged," she said coldly.

Will bared his teeth. "Do it," he challenged, struggling to loosen Edmund's iron grip. "Do it!"

Annie's lips thinned, and slowly she brought the hammer down gently, taking the pistol away. "No, I'll not be so hasty," she said, more to herself than him. To Edmund she said, "Take him in the closed carriage." She swept from the room, pausing at the door with a triumphant smile. "I'll see you at Rose Hall, young Will."

The baize door shut behind her. Will snarled. "I'll see you in Hell, Annie Palmer."

~*~

Jack opened his eyes.

There had been a change in the wind, a subtle shift of motion under the hull below him. He moved his thumb slightly, just enough to tickle Anamaria's cheek. She woke with an economy of movement, glancing up at him.

"Coming into port, love," he said softly. "Best make yourself scarce."

Ana nodded, getting to her feet stiffly. "How long was I asleep?"

"All day and a good portion of the night, far's I can tell," Jack said with the merest hint of a grin. "You realize that means we've slept together."

"You're a pig," she replied good-naturedly. "I'll hide in the galley until it's clear, then I'll see you on shore, get you out of this."

Jack got up too and stood over her, gently taking her chin between forefinger and thumb in a gentle pinch. "You will not. Find a way to get to Port Royal, find Ned, or Will. We can't be more than two days' sail away, wherever we are. Go the garrison if you have to. Get some help."

Ana was clearly affronted. "You don't think I can save your sorry hide? I've done it before."

"Always lookin' for a reason to get your hands on me, eh, love?" Jack wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger and tugged gently. "These are deep waters, Ana. We'll need more than just luck and brass to get us through this one, I'm afraid."

She looked at him for a long time, her lips twisting slightly.

Jack knew what that meant. "Spit it out, love. Nobody's listening but me."

Her eyes were huge, her fingers nervous as she plucked at a button on his shirt. Times like this it was hard to remember she was a member of his crew, and therefore off-limits.

"What if I can't get back in time?" Ana finally murmured, her voice low.

Jack was torn. Tease her a bit, or keep his manhood intact? Given the lack of dodging room and the seriousness of their situation, he plumped for the latter. "You'll do fine. Off you go. And be careful, will you?"

She gave him a tight smile and threaded her way through miserable humanity to mount the ladder toward the galley.