Author's Note: OMg!  So sorry this took so long, but it wasn't exactly a fun chapter to write.  The bulk of this note will actually be at the end because I hope it will make more of an impact there.  Beware the POV changes.

I did want to mention one thing before moving on: one of my friends and I made a little deal with each other.  Johnny Depp lovers that we are, we kinda agreed to promo each other's stories.  Hers is called "More Than Eyes Alone Can See" and it's a OUATIM fic.  We've similar writing styles, so if you enjoy reading this, and you want to read about the psychopathic Agent Sands, you'll probably enjoy reading hers too.  She writes under the name 'Neon Dasies'.

That's it.  Read this chapter and the author's note at the end.

Author's thanks also at the end.

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Meeting Gandolfi's eyes, Winn went into an immediate state of panic.  The look of triumph was too pronounced, the satisfaction too obvious.  In what had to be the worst blunder she had made since coming aboard, had she given away everything?  Had she lost the only secret worth keeping?  Or was he only reacting to her grandmother's maiden name?  The Mussolinis had been powerful in Italian merchant circles.  Winn had risked that he had know the name and might feel some sympathy for her for her grandmother's sake, but perhaps that had been a miscalculation.  If only the room would stay still and allow her to focus her mind.  At least her stomach felt better now that it was empty.

   "I can see you are not well, sigorina.  Perhaps it would be best if someone were to escort you back to your cabin so you can rest.  I see now that the matter between us can be delayed until you are fully conscious of what is happening."

   The woman nodded mutely, seemingly struck dumb in either mortification or horror of what she had just revealed.  Gandolfi courteously escorted her to the still open door, all the while rejoicing internally.  The memory of his son was finally going to be laid to rest, Ignazio's own pain was going to be allowed an outlet.

   Motioning to the man who was positioned outside the door, Gandolfi released his prisoner into the other man's custody.  "Take signora Morgan to her cabin."  Morgan went with the man with a surprising amount of compliance.  Perhaps she thought that since she hadn't been harmed as of yet, that this extremely temporary state of affairs would persist.  No matter.  All that did matter was that she kept making things easier for him.  First by coming, secondly for already being pregnant, and lastly, by being so blessedly complacent.

   Gandolfi watched as the woman was led away, waiting until she was out of sight before leaving the cabin himself.  As he passed over the threshold, he snapped at an approaching crewman, "Clean up this mess."  Knowing that the order would be obeyed, he continued up to the main deck.

   Unceremoniously, he approached the helm where his captain stood, keeping watch over the crew, giving the occasional order.  The man noticed as his superior came above decks, and he promptly snapped to attention.  While he enjoyed his position working under Gandolfi, and he respected him on some level, he by no means wanted to get on the other man's bad side.  "Signor Gandolfi.  Have you a new heading, sir?"

   "Yes, Captain Sinclair."  Gandolfi conducted his own survey of the deck with a practiced eye.  "I wish to know if you are still aware of the whereabouts of that new English galleon you were talking about earlier."

   "Aye, Signor.  They should be sailing west from the Lesser Antilles, a little less than a day behind us."  Sinclair hadn't questioned why his employer asked him to find out the courses of the navy ships in the area several months ago.  He had just done it, knowing that it had something to do with the pirates they now had aboard.  It was enough to know that the information was most likely going to be used against the vermin in some way.  Pirates were a scourge, a threat against the lives of law-abiding citizens.  If he could help rid the world of one or two, that was enough reason to motivate him.

   "If we slowed our speed by half, do you think they would be able to catch up with us by midmorning tomorrow?"

   Sinclair took time to think, then nodded affirmatively.  "If I may ask why you wish to meet up with them, Signor?"

   Gandolfi gave a cold smile.  "I believe that they may be interested in one of our passengers.  Give the orders to slow to half speed.  I wish to give our passengers the option of leaving as soon as possible."

Oh Lord, what have I done? Winn thought as she stared into Gandolfi's eyes.  Despite their rich color, they were cold; a shade of triumph hidden behind a veneer of polite concern.  His eyes chilled her to the bone, made her want to cover the place where her child grew with her hands in a protective gesture.  She forced herself to stand still, however – forced herself to pretend that she didn't know what she had just given away.

   She nodded silently as Gandolfi asked if she would like to rest, felt her skin crawl as he took her by the arm and ushered her to the door.  With impassive eyes she looked at the man who was to escort her back to the cabin she shared with Jack, and hardly felt it as he took her arm in a grip that bordered on bruising.

   The walk back to the cabin was almost surreal.  Winn heard the man's muttered Italian curses against pirates in general and her in particular, but the words twisted in her mind before disappearing like fish into the depths of her consciousness.  The world seemed to tilt and waver beneath her feet as if she had suddenly lost her sea-legs and all she could see was a blurred parade of images running past her eyes.  Distantly she realized that she was most likely going into shock, but she couldn't work up the energy to care.  All she could think about was the look in Gandolfi's eyes as he had looked up from his survey of her pregnant form.  The ice of it was setting up a permanent home beneath her breastbone, making it hard to breathe.

   No.  That's not good.  I can't fall apart now.  I need to have my wits about me right now.  Maybe if she weren't so cold, thinking would be a tad bit easier.  And it would help if she could get a decent lungful of air instead of depending on shallow pants to keep her head clear.

   Her thoughts were interrupted when she was jerked to an abrupt halt.  The flow of images before her eyes solidified and revealed itself to be a door.  Winn watched as the guard at her side reached out an arm and unlocked the wooden barrier before giving her a rough shove into the room.  At least he didn't insult me, she thought as she stumbled and struggled to stay standing.  But just as she regained her balance, another wave of nausea swamped her, bringing her to her knees as she fought against the urge to throw up again.

   Slowly Winn became aware that some was talking to her, trying to get her on her feet.  "No.  Don't move me.  Don't touch me," she moaned before clamping her mouth shut again.

   What have I done?

"Winnie, love, what's wrong?  C'mon, talk to me love.  It's just you and 'ole Jack now.  It's safe."  Jack, in a culmination of all his worries and fears, could do nothing as Winn knelt on the floor, huddled protectively over her stomach.  It had been bad enough to see her come in tripping over her own feet.  Winn might be many things, but clumsy wasn't one of them.  He tried again to grab her by the shoulders, but she resisted, shying away from his touch.  What was wrong with her?

   Managing to get hold of one of her hands, he was taken aback at just how cold it was.  Shock?  What caused her to go into shock?  Numerous possibilities entered his head, but he pushed them out.  If he dwelt on what might be wrong with her without evidence, he'd lose his mind.  He'd start whimpering like the dog at his side.

   Ignoring her feeble protests and moans, Jack carefully scooped her up into his arms, taking care not to jostle her.  "Shh, love.  It'll be better.  Shh."  Jack was unpleasantly surprised to find that although Winn was nearly five months pregnant, she weighed little more than she usually did.  Winn might be a stick of a woman, a feather compared to some he'd met, but this couldn't be normal.  Jack didn't know a whole lot about pregnant women, but he didn't think this was healthy.

   Making sure that each step was free of Pige before setting his foot down, Jack made his way over to the bed.  Gently, he laid Winn down on the bunk where she turned over onto her side, still grasping her stomach.  Sitting at her side, he brushed the hair out of her eyes; her face was white.  Laying a hand on her forehead, Jack noticed how clammy her skin was.  What else – he stopped himself from finishing the thought, not wanting to jinx anything.  Just concentrate on Winn right now and finding out what's wrong with her.

   "Okay love, you're going to have to talk to me here."  No response.  "It'd help if you opened your eyes, love."  Had her head been injured?  "Winnie, I'd really appreciate it if you'd listen to me right now."  No sign that she'd heard him.  Okay Winnie, you've got to give me something to work with here.

   Deciding to check for broken bones or other evidence of mistreatment, Jack removed Winn's boots and then slid his hands up her legs from ankle to hip.  Next he checked her arms, and then her back, and lastly her neck.  He found no bruises, no broken bones, no suspicious swellings.  Maybe her head really was injured.  Head injuries were notoriously dangerous because of their uncertain nature.  Sometimes a bump on the head was merely that, and other times it would turn men into nothing more than empty shells.  Apprehensively, Jack ran his fingers through Winn's hair, but found no lumps to his great relief.  If she's uninjured, what's got her so overset? he wondered an instant before the placement of her hands impacted his conscious.

   "Winn?  Is there something wrong with the baby?"

   A response, finally.  Winn's eyes snapped open as her fingers dug into her sides.  Her head started shaking in violent denial, as if she were trying to convince herself that all was well.  'Sblood, she was starting to fall apart in front of him.  "Focus, Winnie.  Focus on me."  Her head kept tossing wildly.  Needing to calm her, Jack grabbed her chin in a stern hold – a move he hadn't needed to use in years.

   Finding that she could no longer move her head, Winn's eyes slowly came into focus somewhere over Jack's shoulder.  For several seconds they moved restlessly around the room as if she were trying to remember where she was.  Eventually they came to rest on his shoulder, and her lips moved as if she were speaking in a language that he couldn't hear.  He watched as her gaze moved from his shoulder to his chest, from his chest to his neck, and from his neck to his face.  "Jack?"  She sounded confused, as if she was having difficulty recognizing him.  True, his beard had taken over most of his face, but he was wearing his usual clothes and his hair was still adorned in the same way it always was.

   As she stared at him, took in the familiarity of his form, her breath evened out and lost its shallowness.  Jack felt the pulse at the base of her jaw slow to a normal rate, no longer racing a furious tattoo against his thumb.  He relaxed as Winn seemed to come to herself, the distance and confusion leaving her eyes to be replaced with the same expression in a child's eyes when it realized it was lost.  The emotion in them still bothered him, but at least he could comfort fear.  "What is it, love?  What's wrong?"

   "I'm . . . I'm cold."  Her voice was weak and trailed off pathetically.

   Fine.  Jack knew there was more bothering her than her physical comfort at the moment, but he could wait a bit longer to figure out what she was suffering from.  Reaching to the end of the bed, Jack grabbed the blanket that lay folded there and draped it over Winn's huddled form.  Tucking it in around her, Jack tried to form a question that would spur Winn into giving the answers he wanted from her.

   It turned out he didn't needn't have bothered.  As the minutes went by in silence, Winn's shivers became more and more sporadic until finally they ceased altogether and she whispered, "I didn't want to."

   "Didn't want to do what?"

   "I didn't want to.  I knew that it would give me away, but I didn't have a choice.  I had to."  Her voice was still weak and it was regaining it's semi-confused tone.  As if something had happened that Winn couldn't bear to think about.

   Jack felt his spine shiver as it was encased in a layer of ice.  No.  He wouldn't.  "Winn, what did you have to do that you didn't want to?"  Please, tell me he didn't force you.  Because if he did, I'm about to get myself killed.

   "I had . . . I had to eat.  I shouldn't have, not when . . . when the eggs were already turning my stomach.  But I didn't  . . . I didn't have a choice."

   Jack felt the ice melt, felt the cold temper that had gripped him back away for the time being.  All that had happened was that she had eaten something.  But why was she so upset about that?  Women in her delicate condition needed to eat, and eat a lot.  There had to be something he was missing.  Poison in the food? he wondered.  But that couldn't be right.  If Winn had been poisoned, she wouldn't be nearly as coherent as she was and she would be in a great deal more pain.  Any poison that was going to kill a person usually did it outright, not over a long period of time.  "What's wrong with having to eat, love?  You're pregnant.  That's something you should do often."

   Winn laughed dryly.  "Yes, I am pregnant.  What makes you think that pregnant women can keep food down any length of time – especially in the mornings?"

   "So you threw up."

   Winn nodded, her eyes once again focusing on something he couldn't see.  She bit her bottom lip, and Jack saw a tremor shake the length of her body.  Then slowly, in a voice that was barely even a whisper, she said, "He knows."

He knew.  He knew that he had been given a divine task like so many others before him to rid the world of evil.  What more evidence did he need?  How big did the writing on the wall have to be before he paid it mind?

   Gandolfi had thought that he'd have to keep his prisoners confined for months before the she-devil became pregnant.  But no.  She had walked willingly into his hands already breeding.  How could that be coincidence?  No, there was something else at work here.

   The aged merchant sat in his cabin, a glass of fine Madeira in his hand as he went over his plans one last time.  Everything was coming together as smoothly as the alcohol in his hand – his vision was on the verge of being realized.  The pain and planning of the past eleven years was going to bear fruit.

   When that harlot had killed his son, she had taken the only child of his first wife – a woman he had loved more than he had ever thought was possible.  Though theirs was an arranged marriage, it had been an unwitting love match as well.  When the woman had died in childbirth, Tristan had been the only piece of her he had left.  And then, less than two decades later, his son had been ripped from him halfway around the world.  By the hand of a woman who was no better than she ought to be.

   Gandolfi raised the glass to his lips and savored the slight burn as it traveled down his throat.  He didn't think he was being unjust or overly revengeful.  And eye for an eye.  He had suffered pain and he was going to inflict not a measure more of that pain back on the woman.  He didn't want her to die – that would thwart that entire principle that his plan was constructed around.  He wanted her to live – wanted her to live with the pain that came from losing both the one person in the world that you cared about and the pain of losing the one person that was the physical evidence of that love.  He had suffered it and survived – she would too.  It's just her illegitimate family that wouldn't.

   This time tomorrow.  This time tomorrow she would know what she had inflicted upon him and she would repent and beg for the pain to stop, as he had.  And she would learn what he had learned . . . some wounds never heal, some pain never ends.

"What do you mean, 'he knows'?  What does he know, love?"  Jack was trying to be gentle, but he needed answers from Winn right now, not hysteria.

   The question seemed to have been the right one to get her to think instead of feel.  He could feel her body freeze and could see the wheels of reason turning in her mind.  Now that she was able to listen and understand what was being asked of her, he felt comfortable asking a more complicated question.  "What happened after you left here, Winnie?" 

   Slowly she took in a deep breath and then just as slowly let it out.  After repeating the calming motion several times, she sat up and leaned against the wall.  Slowly, she began to talk.  "I was taken to another cabin on this deck.  It was small, as if it were intended to be a storage closet.  Breakfast was set out on a table.  The smell of the eggs triggered the morning sickness, but it was manageable.  Gandolfi was there waiting for me.  He asked me to sit, then served us both from the same dishes.  I waited for him to eat first before I started to eat.  I didn't want to, but it would have looked suspicious if I didn't.  I blamed my hesitation on a sore jaw which led into a philosophical discussion over why women stay with men.  When that was done, he asked where I got my name.  I swear he was indirectly making slurs against my character."

   "Why do you say that?"

   "First he asked if I had chosen the name Morgan because of Morgan le Fay, who was not a nice woman according to literature.  I didn't like the way he was implying that I found a witch and possible murderess as my role-model.  But I denied that and then he went onto another infamous Morgan – Grandfather.  He was just repeating gossip and slander that's been repeated for decades, but I couldn't listen to it again for some reason.  So I . . . disabused him of his impressions . . . ."

   "What does that mean?"  Winn didn't like the carefully controlled tone in Jack's voice.  She knew that tone.  It meant that he was angry but doing his best to hide it.

   "It means that I . . . I . . . ."  Winn took a deep breath and rushed through what she was going to say.  "I dropped Grandmama's maiden name hoping that he had at least heard of her, and I implied that she and Grandfather had not only undergone the tradition pirate ceremony, but that they were married by a cleric of the church some year or so later.  And then I said that I was the last of the line.  ButIdidn'thaveachoiceinthat."

   "Winn – "

   "No!  Please listen before you get mad.  I had to say that!  My brothers and I long ago decided that we would, if faced with a situation that endanger the life of Grandfather or another member of the family, that we would claim to be the last of the line.  I couldn't go back on word, Jack.  I couldn't endanger the lives of my brothers, sisters, or my nieces and nephews.  Not to mention Grandfather."

   "But you'll endanger your own life!?" Jack hissed heatedly, trying to keep his temper in check.

   "My life was . . . is . . . already in danger, Jack.  What's the worse that could happen?  Nothing that couldn't have happened already.  But it was possible that he might have changed his mind on behalf of Grandmama."

   "Did he?"

   "I don't know.  Right after I told him that, I threw up.  And after that," she shook her head.  "I don't know what happened.  The look in his eyes just sent me into a panic."

   "What kind of look?"

   Winn closed her eyes and was silent for a moment, recalling the look so she could try to determine what about his eyes had sent her into a panic.  "It was a look of . . . greed.  Triumph.  Joy?"  She opened her eyes.  "I . . . don't . . . know," she stressed.  "All I know is that his gaze . . . it felt like danger.  All of a sudden I just lost it.  Lost all control of my mind and body and was trapped totally within the grasp of my emotions."  Shaking her head, she commented, "I'll be so glad when I've had this baby and mind returns to normal.  I'm so sick of having to combat waves of fear, and tears, and irrational anger before I can do anything."

   "Yeah, well, it's not so much fun for the rest of us either."  Winn smacked Jack on the arm, but didn't say anything else.  They both knew that the die was cast and now all they could do was wait for Gandolfi's next move.

They were running out of time.  Quickly.  Jack hated his state of helplessness, but he would gladly surrender to it forever if it meant getting Winn out of here.  Well, maybe not gladly, he thought as the pair and their guard dog watched the men bring in their evening meal.  But I would do it.  If only there was some way to get Gandolfi to transfer his attention from Winn to me.  He knew Winn would protest the idea, but he didn't care.  They were running not only out of time, but out choices as well.  "Hungry?"

   Winn shrugged a shoulder.  "I think that depends on what they brought."

   Ever the gentleman – well, almost always – Jack got up from the bunk and lifted the covers from the dishes.

   "Oh lord, cover that fast."

   Jack looked over his shoulder.  "What?"  Looking back down at the tray he said, "I thought you liked fish stew."

   "I may like it, but my stomach wants nothing to do with it.  Please put the cover back on."  She sighed in relief as he did.  "Is there anything that isn't meat?"

   "Umm . . . cheese, apples, bread, water, and tea.  Will you eat any of that?"

   "An apple and cheese sounds good, and some tea.  What kind of bread is it?"

   "Wormless."

   Winn rolled her eyes.  "I assumed that."  She sighed.  "Can I have a piece?  A small one?"

   "No."  Instead of trying to divvy the food up, Jack simply brought the entire tray over, sans stew.

   As Winn took a sip of her tea, she made a face and asked, "Is there any sugar?"

   Jack opened a paper envelope to find a small pile of sugar cubes.  "Yeah.  Why?"

   "This tea is bitter.  Or perhaps it's just strong.  I was never much of a tea drinker before, so it's hard to tell."  Quickly Winn picked up two of the cubes and dropped them into the cup, swirling it as the sugar dissolved.

The next morning came much to early in Winn's opinion.  With the sun came some kind of heightened awareness – she couldn't say why, but she had a feeling that something was going to happen today.  That or I'm severely sleep deprived.  She wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.  Along with the insomnia that Cat swore was a symptom of pregnancy, Winn had suffered from indigestion and nausea all night long.  Jack was worried about her, and she would have been inclined to agree with him if she hadn't been suffering from mild versions of the maladies for the past month or so. 

   But they've never been this overwhelming before.

   So things are getting worse.  Maybe the state of my nerves has something to do with it.

   And the shaky hands?

   Exhaustion?

   Winn was interrupted from her thoughts when the door to the cabin swung open.  Two men stood in the doorway, one with a chain.  He held it out and said, "Get that beast under control."  Winn glanced at Jack and shook her head.  Digging into her pocket, she pulled out the leather leash she almost always had with her.  She stepped away from the way, but a sudden wave of dizziness overcame her before she went more than two steps.  Throwing herself back, she placed a hand to her forehead, cursing the ill-timed weakness.  She didn't need to act like a delicate pregnant woman right now.

   Trying to hide his concern, Jack took the leash from her limp hand.  He didn't like the way that she was suddenly taking deep breaths, especially since they didn't seem to be doing her much good.  "Com'ere, beast."  Pige reluctantly did as she was ordered, letting Jack attach the leash to her collar.  Only when the dog was restrained, did the men enter the room.

   Roughly they took the two pirates by the arm and propelled them out of the room.  Jack considered struggling, but decided against it.  There was too much risk to Winn at the moment.  Maybe if one of the men would sheath their weapon he would consider it.

   The sun was bright, and both captives winced as the morning sun hit their eyes.  The light that came in from the portholes was a poor imitation of full strength sunlight.  Winn tried to halt her forward progress, dizzy, laboring to breathe, and now half blind, but she was pulled forward unceremoniously.  She heard Pige growling low in her throat somewhere behind her, and she wished she had the dog at her side to help steady her.  Why weren't the black spots blurring her vision fading?  They should be by now.

   The next thing she became aware of was she was standing near the rail of the ship and there was a row boat that looked as if it were prepared to be lowered nearby.  What?  Are they letting us go?  Oh no, not the back.  Her lower back was setting up a slow throb.  What are you doing in there? she asked her unborn child.  This isn't the time to make mama miserable.  If you could just wait another or hour or so, that might be a more opportune time.

   Jack, standing an arms-length from Winn, didn't like how sweat was starting to bead her pale face or how her eyes were staring blankly in front of her.  He needed her to be conscious of what was going on, of what was happening.

   "Signora Morgan.  You don't look as if you feel well."  Gandolfi emerged from his cabin, as impeccably dressed as ever, a self-satisfied look on his face.  "Perhaps freedom will agree with you better than you supper did last night."

   Jack's eyes widened as he realized what was wrong with his wife.  Lunging forward in order to kill Gandolfi as best he could, he was stopped by three men – two catching hold of his arms, one getting an arm around his neck, choking off the curses that had started to flow from his mouth.  Winn blindly turned her head in his direction at the sound of the commotion, by Gandolfi soon had her attention again.

   "Why?"  The word came out breathlessly as Winn laid a hand on the rail behind her to help her keep her feet.  "Why use . . . such a slow acting . . . poison?"  The words barely made themselves understandable through her heavy breaths.

   "Oh, rest assured, I didn't poison you."
   "Certainly . . . feels like it."

   "You're probably right.  But I doubt you managed to ingest enough to kill you.  I want you to live a long and healthy life."  He checked the horizon, then looked back at the woman before him.  "Castor bean doesn't usually kill unless you manage to eat an entire pod, and I didn't use that much."

   Jack watched helplessly as Winn started shaking her head in disbelief.  "Why?  Even the Crown . . . flinches at  . . . executing a woman . . . if she's with child. . . .  They believe . . . that the child . . . is an innocent."

   Gandolfi reached an arm out and trailed the backs of his fingers down Winn's face.  She flinched away and nearly fell as a consequence.  Gandolfi smiles and asked in a low voice, "How can the child of a pirate and a heartless trollop be innocent?"  Winn tried to retort, but lacked the breath to do so.  "You see, cara, when you killed my son, you robbed me of the one thing on this earth I treasured – the only child of a woman I loved.  Now, naturally I remarried, but I never cared about the woman, and her children are nothing compared to the child I lost.  The pain you created was immeasurable."

   "An . . . accident."  Winn was aware that the rustling of clothes and the muttered curses she was hearing was the result of Jack's struggles to free himself from Gandolfi's men.

   "You accidentally shot my son at point blank range?"  The merchant snorted.  "Excuse me if I don't believe you, sigorina."

   "Why . . . take Jack . . . if you wanted . . . me?"  Winn had to keep talking, had to keep her mind off the darkness that threatened to overtake it.

   "Because, unless you enjoy being raped, he was the most likely candidate to impregnate you."  Gandolfi's face lost all traces of humor.  "Unless you haven't figured it out yet, signora Morgan, it wasn't you I wanted.  It was you lover and your child.  You left me without progeny or the physical reminder of my late wife.  I only thought it fair that you experience the same thing."

   The crunch of bone and an enraged yell robbed Winn and Gandolfi of their attention.  Jack had smashed his head back into the nose of the man behind him.  "Gandolfi, you coldhearted ba– "  A bone-chilling scream interrupted him.  He turned his head just in time to see Winn drop to the deck, one hand still holding the rail, the other clutching her abdomen.

   Gandolfi saw the agony in the other man's eyes, and gestured for his men to let the pirate go, his hand going to the butt of his pistol incase the man didn't do as he expected.  And indeed, Jack did waver for a split second between attacking the merchant and going to his wife, but when Winn let out a tormented moan, he made his decision and dropped to his knees beside his wife.  "What's wrong, love?"

   "Jack . . . the baby . . . castor bean . . . midwives use it . . . to induce . . . or hurry along . . . a woman's . . . labor . . . dangerous though . . . can also be used . . . to abort . . . a pregnancy."

   "Ah, so the pirate maiden is a scholar after all."  Gandolfi pointed his pistol at Winn as Jack prepared to surge to his feet.  "I think you may want to wait a moment, Captain, and listen to the offer I have for you."  Jack was glaring daggers at the man, but he stayed silent.  "The History's Claim doesn't have a doctor onboard, so if you want to get your slattern to one, you'll have to wait for the British naval ship coming this way.  Of course, as soon as they recognize you, it'll be the brig and the gallows in short order.  But seeing as there is a small island off the starboard bow, you could easily row your way there and escape capture.  It's up to you.  Either way, I will have you both off my ship before the sun moves a degree higher in the sky."

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A/N 2: okay, that was incredibly hard for me to write, perhaps more so than it was for you all to read.  Please have faith in me right now!  Don't stop reading, have faith that I will be able to make things work out for the good of all no matter how grim things may get or seem at the time being.  I know that you are all too smart to jump to conclusions, and that you (hopefully) trust me as a storyteller.  I will try to get an update up by Thursday at the earliest and Friday at the latest to relieve some of the pressure.  Again, just trust me on this one.

Still, I'd love to hear what you're all thinking right now, even if you are mad at me.  I can take the anger because I know where I'm going with this.

Author's Thanks: thanks this time around go to –

Rustic Zebra

pirate-miss

VagrantCandy

KawaiiRyu

madlilmonkey – hey!  New reviewer!  You can rock my socks . . . my banana-eating monkey socks that is.  : )

bobo3 and Kendra – I may very well take Kendra up on her offer further down the road.  Tell her to be on standby for somewhere around chapter 22.

SprklingSatine

Tierra

Talabar

EricaDawn

Clover the Sea-Beast – glad to hear that you're finally feeling better.  : )

KamikazeCreamPuff – again, thanks for taking the time to raise those concerns.  I love it when people give me structured feedback on how to make things about my fic better.

Eledhwen

Alej

BeBe

Ursula – new reviewer number two!  You can rock the glass fish I have sitting on my bookcase.  *nods*  (Sorry, I'm running out of ideas for people to rock. . . but I really appreciate you all the same.)  How's Oregon?  Wet, cold, and green.  In fact, I think my car is growing a healthy layer of algae even as we speak.  Thanks for the tip about where my laudanum was disappearing to.  I'm not done with that yet.

TaraRose

Mooney

A big thanks to all who sent historical information in to me.  Keeping things timeline perfect isn't really a big goal of mine here, but I do like to keep at least somewhat instep with the life and times of those I write about.  I'm all about believability, just not perfection.  ; )  I swear that I have the most involved and concerned reviewers on this site.