Author's Note: bet you didn't expect to see this so soon.  Don't get used to it. : )  This was originally supposed to be in the same chapter as the last, but that would have put me over the 12,000 word mark most likely, so I split them.  Just know that this is the same events as the last chapter, just from another point of view and in more detail. 

Expect the next chapter sometime late Friday night, early Saturday morning.  I'm reasonably sure of what I need to get into the next chapter, I just have a busy week.  *sighs*

Before I go, big thanks and much admiration to bobo3 for lending Kendra's assistance.  I highly recommend that you go read her fic, Four-Sided Eyes.  Not only would you understand this a bit better, and Kendra's connection to Jack, but it's a good piece of work and a fun story to read.  So go do that.  Immediately.  Right after reading this chapter.  ^_^

Author's thanks at end.

*****************************************************************

While Jack would be glad to be free of the brig, he wasn't exactly looking forward to arriving in Port Royal.  As long as he stayed on the ship, he was safe to worry about Winn – the moment he set foot on land he was going to have to put his wife out of his head altogether and worry about himself.  At least Norrington won't try anything until he knows exactly what to charge me with, he thought.  The man may be as stiff as a mainmast, but at least he's fair.  Even when it pains him to be so.

   "Sparrow, let's go."  Jack looked up to see two guards at the door to the cell.  They were the very picture of military order and discipline.  Their dislike of having charge over him barely showed in their eyes.

   Eh, I'll go easy on them, Jack thought as he ambled over the door.  The chains connecting his wrists rattled and clanked noisily as he crossed his arms over his chest.  "What can I do for you fine sirs this morning?  Or is it afternoon?  Hard to tell, bein' down here without any windows."  The men ignored him as they opened the cell.

   While he hated to be under anyone's control, Jack was the picture of the unconcerned seaman as he was led up to the main deck.  He hesitated as they tried to lead him onto the deck, well aware that he'd be unable to see for several moments after emerging from the dark.  The state of defenselessness that would put him in concerned him, but Jack didn't have much of a choice as the men on his sides were pulling him forward.

   The bright mid-morning sun hit his eyes, instantly blinding them as he'd known it would.  He squinted, to no effect, and stilled his body as he heard the grumbled complaints of a large group of people gathered around him.  The grumbling quickly escalated to outright insults and attempts to physically assault him, but his guards were well disciplined; they kept most of the malcontents at an arms length, although every once in awhile a blow would slip past their guard.  It hurt, but Jack had felt worse.  Winn had a fair arm on her when she was really upset with him, although it had been a bit since she'd felt the need to slap him.

   "What's the meaning of all that racket?" 

   Jack tried not to slump in relief as the crowd of men gathered around him turned to face their captain.  He shook his head to dislodge his hair from the position it'd taken in front of his eyes before looking straight ahead at his brother-in-law.

   "Unless the lot of you wish to spend the next weeks looking for new employment, I suggest you get back to your work and let those two soldiers do theirs."  Jack knew the tone of a captain confident in his command, and that's the voice Marcus used now.  He wondered if the younger man had learned the voice from old Morgan, or whether it come naturally to members of his family.  Jack risked a sly wink in the man's general direction before he turned his full attention to the woman in Marcus' arms.  Winn can certainly use that voice when she needs to.  Don't think she'd be able to manage it now though.

   His wife was trembling with exertion.  Jack could see that she was doing her best to appear well in front of her brother and in front of him, but she wasn't having much success.  Her face was pale and wan, her hair listless, and her eyes somewhat unfocused.  He doubted that she could even make him out from the rest of the men around him, but he could tell that she was making a valiant effort.  At best, Jack could say that she looked no worse than she had before he'd gotten her to her family.  At worst, he could say that she didn't look any better.

   The detained captain watched with shrewd eyes as Winn whispered something to Marcus.  Because her face was turned his way, he could tell what she was saying.

   "Promise me something, Marcus.  Please."  Jack wondered if he'd ever told Winn that he'd learned how to read lips at some point in his life, or if she had keep her face pointed towards him by accident.  Too bad her head was blocking his view of her brother's lips.

   "Promise me that you'll do all you safely can to help him.  Promise me."  He could see Winn losing her composure, could see the way her body had started trembling more violently, the way her mouth was quivering, the way her hands were fidgeting.  There she was, not even recovered from her ordeal of the past few days and she was using her strength to worry about him when she needed to be worrying about herself.  He'd have to take care of that.  Once he knew what he was going to do, he'd send her a message through Marcus. 

   He continued watching the conversation between the two siblings.  Marcus must have agreed to her request, because Winn nodded, still focused mostly on her husband.  Her lips barely moved as she said, "Tell him . . . tell him I'm still fighting."  Jack saw his wife relax into her brother's hold, either willingly or because her body could no longer win the fight to be stubborn.  "I'm still fighting."  As he moved his gaze from his wife, aware that he'd been watching her longer than was safe at the moment, Jack met his brother-in-law's eyes.  If he hadn't been able to read the message from Winn's own lips, he would have been able to from the expression on Marcus' face.

The trip from the Redemption to the Port Royal waterfront had been torture for Jack.  Not that he'd been physically uncomfortable, or at least, not any more uncomfortable than he'd been in the past.  No, his discomfort stemmed partially from the fact that he had to share a boat with a bunch of redcoats who'd sooner see a rope around his neck than shake his hand.  Another part came from the fact that Commodore Norrington, who was in the front of the small boat, was keeping an eye on him.  It's ever so entertaining to annoy the man, but he's not as unintelligent as I wish him to be.  Jack knew that Norrington was the type of man you could fool with a trick once, and after that he'd be on the lookout for it again.  I'll have to take that into account when I plan how I'm going to get out of this in one piece.

   While Jack was thinking these things in one corner of his mind, and his mouth and eyes were moving rapidly, most of his mind was taken up with his wife.  She was in another boat ahead and someone to the side of his, and she didn't appear to be doing well.  He could tell that Grace was supporting her and Winn was accepting the help gratefully, something she rarely did for him let alone her family.

   When they reached the dock, things started moving along faster.  Jack had had to bite his tongue to keep from scolding the man who slung his wife over his shoulder.  That was no way to treat a pregnant woman, and certainly not one in Winn's condition.  The only reason he was able to keep quiet was that he saw the look on Grace's face; the lout wouldn't be getting off easily.

   And then it was Marcus and Norrington's turn to disembark, and then the sailors, and then one of Jack's guards, and then Jack himself.  Jack made a face as his feet came to rest on a surface that didn't require him to correct his footing and balance – he'd never understand landsmen.  Not that there wasn't a few he liked, he just didn't understand them.  Life on land was simply to predicable for his tastes.

   Then again, life had always enjoyed playing with Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Thank ye sir!"  The cheery youth smiled and tipped the oversized hat to the fruit vendor, tossing him a coin and entering the bustling crowd again.  Taking a bite of the apple and licking the extra juice up, the mischievous grin returned.  Kendra of the Dilettante, pirate, captain, and thief on occasion. Lovely pastime.  She patted both of her coat pockets, assuring none of the four apples she'd swiped had fallen out.  Five for one, not a bad deal.  Especially since all these vendors more than quadruple the price.

   She reached the docks and picked up her pace as she saw the British warship, a new one now, anchored in the harbor.  A few longboats were approaching and she hastily finished off the apple.  Finally! I've been waiting here for three whole days!  Now . . . to find Sparrow.  Wonder how he got mixed up with this 'Morgan' woman, let alone allow himself to fall into such a trap?  Still as daft as ever, I see.  She perched herself on one of the posts and smirked, while waiting for the ships to arrive.  I'll need to find some reason to get close to them . . . .  Glancing down at her bulging pockets, she grinned to herself.  "Sailors always do have a hankering for apples . . . it should work," she mumbled, pulling out the apples and balancing them in her small hands.  Just need to wait for them to get close . . . and keep my cabin boy charm working . . . .

   When the boats finally arrived she scanned over the host of the British navy, including Commodore Norrington, a captain and crew she did not recognize, two women – one seemingly very weak and sickly, the other tending her – and of course, Captain Jack Sparrow himself.  Ignoring the undoubtedly 'respectable' women for her old comrade, she jumped to her feet and put on the thick accent of a newly arrived Brit.

   "Hello sirs!  Got me four nice shiny apples!  Selling them for only a pound each!  Please sirs, I got a mother and four sisters to feed!  They're ripe and ready for eating!"

   Kendra hurried next to the soldiers, slightly agitated to be reminded of her small stature, acting the part of the hungry, desperate boy who won't leave you alone until you push them away or just . . . buy something from them.  She hoped they'd decide upon the second.

   Norrington did not sigh, but had he been even the least bit less composed she was sure he would have.  He paused and looked down at Kendra, who smiled all the broader.

   "Please sir, just one apple…only a pound."

   "What is your lowest price?"

   "Eight pence."

   "Two."

   She narrowed her eyes. He wants to haggle, eh?  Well, I'll haggle. "Six."

   "Three."

   "All right, four is my final offer."

   "Four pence it is."  Norrington pulled out his purse and gave her the agreed amount.

   "Thank you sir, thank you so much!"  Kendra held out the four apples.  "Take whichever you prefer, sir."

   Norrington looked over them for a moment, then picked the largest, nodding and continuing on.

   Kendra now dared to look at Jack, who was intently watching her.  He looked as if he'd been in a bit of a scuffle with one eye and the cheekbone under it bruised and his bottom lip split.  Kendra was upset but not overly concerned.  If the British had been intent on serious harm, he'd been in much worse shape.

   "Oh, a prisoner! What was your crime, sir? Get caught stealing a pie off of a window?  Or was it cross-dressing?"

   Jack scowled at her, and grumbled in reply, "Talk to the captain of the ship I came in on, he'll tell you my crime if you still desire to know. Now scamper off lad, you've sold your apple."

   Kendra scoffed at him, crossing her arms and leaning closer to the nearest soldier.  "Rude fellow, isn't he?  Think he'd have the decency to say a few nice words . . . ."

   The solider nodded, glancing hungrily over at her apples, "You still selling those apples for four pence?"

   A grin came to her. "Of course, sir!  Pick the one you'd like.  Any other of you fine sirs want one?  Only four pence!"

   A few soldiers slipped under the Commodore and Captain's gaze and looked over her apples too.  Before long, Kendra was sixteen pence richer and rid of the apples.  She let Jack and the soldiers continue on, slowing her pace and fingering the change, mulling over the encounter.  Jack was harsh . . . but not especially.  Something's unnerving him.  What was worrying him?  He kept the usual level of separation necessary to keep our past relationship secret.  "Talk to the captain of the ship I came in on, he'll tell you my crime if you still desire to know."  So . . . I need to look up this captain.  And have a word with him . . . .  Her grin broadened.  Captain of the HMS Redemption . . . prepare for Captain Ken.

Jack couldn't have been happier when Norrington had decreed that he needed time alone to think about the actions that had led to his incarceration in Port Royal's prison.  He'd wasted no time setting his newly formed plan into action.

   It was simple, really.  Fate had just provided him with the perfect resource to carry out the first step – making sure that Winn was as safe as he could make her in his absence.  The little apple-seller was no less than Kendra of the Dilettante – mistress of disguise.  Thinking about the incident he'd inadvertently gotten involved in when he'd met the lass – or lad as he'd thought then – he grinned.  He'd had the Pearl back for scant months before meeting the pugnacious female captain who could easily pass for a young boy.  That had been a mess, but one worth remembering.  Somehow the ones that failed to fall for him always were.

   Shaking his head to clear it of nostalgia, Jack pulled several wrinkled sheets of paper out of one of his many pockets, and a stub of a pencil out of another.  Writing his request was going to be the easy part.  Getting the request to Marcus so the captain could pass it along would be a bit more difficult.  Not impossible, merely challenging.

   But fate seemed to be with him.  Less than ten minutes after finishing his dispatch, the distinctive sound of boot-heels on stone rang on the stairs.  Unless Jack was completely mistaken, that was Marcus coming down to ensure that it was safe to leave Jack for the night.  Settling back against the wall of his small cell, Jack waited for his assumption to be proved.

   "Jack, knock it off.  It's simply me."

   Lad, you're much too predictable.  That could get dangerous.  I think it's best that I encourage you to stay away for a bit.  "Ah, Marcus, good to see you.  How's the family?"

   The younger man shook his head.  "In much the same state in which they arrived.  All except the children, I suspect.  Grace undoubtedly has her hands full trying to keep them out of their aunt's room.  But I'm reasonably sure she sent for some mutual friends to help her."

   Jack nodded.  "I won't keep you from your family from long, Captain Morgan.  I just need you do a single favor for me."

   "And what's that?"

   "See that this note gets delivered."  Jack stood up from his relaxed position against the wall and came over to the bars.  "Don't worry about who it needs to get to.  If I'm right, the recipient will come seeking you instead of things happenin' the other way around."  Aye, if Kendra was as resourceful as she'd been as his cabin boy, a garrison with three times the men would be hard pressed to keep her away.

   "Jack –"

   "No, lad."  The offer of help in his brother-in-law's voice was tempting, but they weren't at Swallows Rest.  As far as Jack was concerned, they were in enemy territory, and if Marcus tried to do too much, then he was just as dangerous as the enemy.  Someone straddling the fine line the captain was had to be careful.  "That's all I require of you at the moment.  When I have a bit more of an idea of what I'm doing, then I might need some more assistance.  But until then, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your distance and see to your family."  Stay with Winnie.  She needs her family right now.

   Jack went back to the spot he'd been occupying.  Sliding down the wall, he resumed his carefully crafted pose.  "Don't be surprised if the person I expect to come for that is a bit rude.  Not all pirates are as courteous as I am.  Now scamper off like a good navy officer, and wait in your office until you've done what I've asked."

   Marcus shook his head in disbelief, but he turned to do as he was told.  Before he'd passed out of range, however, he offered over his shoulder, "She's still fighting."

   Why did he suddenly feel so old?  So weary?  Jack had dealt with responsibility before, but never this level of anxiety, and it was wearing on him.  "I know, Marcus.  I'm counting on that."  Jack closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the rough stones. 

   Winn.  Knowing how private his wife was, and being a private man himself, Jack was leery of passing along a sentimental message through Marcus.  He wasn't even sure he would be able to pass along a sentimental message to her face.  But he needed to say something, give her some word of his to hang onto.  "Tell her to give no quarter and take no prisoners."

   Jack felt exhaustion tugging on him as the sound of Marcus' footsteps faded into the distance.  Deciding that he'd be better able to plan once he'd rested, Jack let himself fall asleep.

Pulling at her coat sleeve for a moment, Kendra scowled at her current situation.  Here I am, walking into danger.  All for Sparrow.  This better be worth it.  Or else he'll hear no end of it.  If he still has his head.  Breathing deeply, she kept her eyes sharp for anyone suspicious.  Every fiber of her being was screaming for her to flee or fight.  Keep yourself calm, Kendra . . . you need your wits here.  If you slip up and bring the entire British navy down on you . . . .  She took another huge gulp of air as she stopped outside the temporary office of Captain Marcus Morgan.  How many Morgan's are there? Really, this is near ridiculous . . . .

   She pulled back her shoulders and assumed the proper posture of a new recruit, rapping on the door.

   "What is it?" a man asked.

   "Message for you sir, permission to enter?"

   "Permission granted."

   Kendra patted her concealed pistol and knife, not mention the three other knives she had hidden in her boots, pants, or elsewhere.  Nodding to herself, she opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind her.  Smiling at the man, she walked up to the desk and put her arms behind her back, pulling the pistol out of the back of her pants.

   "What's the message?" Marcus asked, briefly looking up from the papers he was shuffling through.

   Her smile broadened. "To answer my questions, Captain."  She pulled the pistol out and pointed it at his chest, cocking it as she gained his full attention.  "Why is Sparrow imprisoned?  Not another pathetic attempt at hanging him for 'piracy' is it?"

   His eyes narrowed and he kept a wary gaze on her.  "The apple vendor."

   "Aye, that was me. Now, hurry up with it. Why did Sparrow direct me to you?"

   Marcus put a hand into his coat, "I'm only passing along a note, which I assume is meant for your enlightenment."

   She nodded and kept a steady aim.  Relief washed over her as he drew out a folded piece of paper, setting it on the desk and sliding it towards her.  Kendra took the note and slipped it into her inside coat pocket.

   "Thank you, Captain Morgan.  Hope the rest of your day is pleasant.  Oh, and I would greatly appreciate it if you kept my visit as our little secret."  With a nod, she uncocked the pistol and backed up to the door.  "Nice doin' business with you, sir."  Kendra winked, but before she could slip out the door, the navy officer said something that made her pause.

   "Good luck."

   She examined him, searching for any hidden motive or mockery, but found none.  For some reason, this man whom she'd just threatened, was actually wishing her luck.  However, the reason behind the oddity was one best saved for later.  With a curt nod, Kendra slipped out the door.

   Okay, now a hasty escape.  Kendra smiled and showed deference to all of her supposed superior officers, being careful to keep her anxiety down.  Just a bit further and then I'll be free of this stuffy uniform and I can read this note in private.  A note . . . from Sparrow apparently.  Thinking about the odd exchange she'd just had, she thought to herself, Maybe Sparrow has more friends in high places than I thought.

   She soon reached the main part of town and slipped into an alley, pulling off the jacket she'd found.  Kendra quickly transferred the note, knives and other necessities into her pants, tossing the jacket to the ground.  Scoffing at it, she continued out again, mussing up her hair to ease her nerves and look her new part.  A bustling tavern wasn't difficult to find and she slipped inside, passing on the food and drink.  A small table was empty in a back corner and she headed for it, scowling with such a dark look that the boy who was about to sit down hesitated and then hurried away.  Good, I claimed it first.

   She plopped down into the chair and propped her feet up, pulling out the note after scanning the crowd for anyone suspicious.  Only drunkards and a few wenches.  Nothing more.  Good.  Unfolding the note, she felt her heart start to race.  Calm yourself fool, he's nothing to get worked up over anyway.  Things of a romantic nature were never possible between us and no man will ever see me as attractive.  Simple as that.  Sighing again, she set in for a careful examination of his note.

   Pierre, this first salutation was crossed out in favor of another.  Apparently Sparrow had thought better of reminding her of the time he'd been a well-meaning thorn in her side.  The letter continued farther down.

   Kendra, Captain Ken, Kendra nodded in approval.  Anyone trying to catch a glimpse of what she was reading – should there be anyone around who could read – would assume that the letter was addressed to two people, not two names for the same person.  I must admit that while I'm a mite puzzled at seein' you, your presence is a bit of a relief.  I always did think you were a bit too good with a blade to be a simple cabin boy.  Ye had a sharp eye too.  I always did appreciate that in a person.  Kendra rolled her eyes at the obvious complements.  The man wanted something.  A hand in escaping the king's justice, no doubt.  Did he doubt that she'd give it?  She kept reading.  And to all accounts, a bloody good captain.  I hear the Dilettante has been prospering in the past few years.  Kendra wished he'd get to the point.

   But it's not the present that I wish to be talkin' about.  I know that while your sojourn on the Black Pearl wasn't entirely pleasant for you, you did leave with an understandable love for m'ship.  It's that fondness I'm calling on now.

   I'm afraid that I've run in to bit of a jam.  The Pearl is near destroyed.  Does that shock you?  No, it infuriated her.  Kendra well understood the love for a ship, and she'd come to admire the Pearl for the beauty she was during her weeks aboard it.  With a sense that things were only going to get worse from this point on, she kept reading.  If that didn't, then hold on to your cutlass.  I don't know if you've kept tabs on me as I have on you (call it a fondness for an old crewmate), but I got married a few years back.  Kendra's eyes grew wide with surprise and amazement.  She hadn't heard that bit of gossip.  She marveled at the thought of Jack Sparrow bein' settled and tied to a single woman.

   To make a long story short, or at least shorter, she's the only granddaughter of Henry Morgan.  If her eyes hadn't been bulging already, they were now.  How did Sparrow do it?  How had he found a descendant of the Henry Morgan, one of the most famous pirates ever?  Kendra knew everything about the man from his earlier days of raiding ships along the English, French, Spanish, and Portuguese coastlines, to his historic sack of Panama City.  Now thoroughly interested, Kendra kept reading.  And, being a pirate in blood if not entirely in spirit, she made a few enemies.  One of these men, a merchant by the name of 'Gandolfi,' was upset enough to try something.

   We'd caught wind of his search for her, and I left her with her family where I thought she'd be safe.  And for a time she was.  But then blasted man came after the Pearl and managed to get hold of yours truly by means even a pirate would be ashamed of.  The only reason the Pearl made it through the attack was he needed to get news of my capture to Winnie to lure her to him.  Any other woman would have stayed put, but I had to find the one who wouldn't.  She could hear the wry amusement and grudging admiration in his voice, and it heartened her.  If Jack could still make light of such things under the circumstances, then he couldn't be in too bad a shape.  But that's beside the point.  What is of importance is that the fool woman came after me while several months pregnant.  Can you see me as a father?  No.  She could honestly say that say that she couldn't.  What was Jack supposed to do with a kid?  I'm losing focus again.  Kendra could understand that – it seemed Jack had more to worry about this time around than his own neck.

   Gandolfi, upon learning the news, decided that the best revenge for the for the death of his son – who was accidentally killed in a raid that Winn led – would be the death of Winnie's child.  He poisoned her to speed along the process, then set us adrift in a lifeboat, leaving me with the option of either getting Winn to safety or saving my own skin.  I suppose you can guess which choice I made.  But, on with my reason for bein' glad to see you.

   I've a request, Captain Ken of the Dilettante.  You may hate me for asking, but I'm going to anyway.  I want you took look after my wife.  I wouldn't and don't trust just anyone to look after her and my child.  I don't even fully trust her family.  They're a sharp bunch, and the Captain is surely as ingenious as he ever was, but they're all much too visible.  I want Winn watched by someone not so obvious.  And while I hate to point it out, you do have a tendency to not only be overlooked, but underestimated as well. 

   The bottom line is that I can't trust that Winnie is safe until I've taken care of Gandolfi, and I can't do that until I've bought myself enough time to do so.  I'll be doin' something potentially risky to get myself that time, and I won't be able to come back to her as soon as I'd like.  If I can't be there to protect her myself, then I want my wife to be as safe as I can make her in my absence.

   I hope you'll do this.  If not for my sake, then for the sake of an innocent and the opportunity to meet the famous Captain Morgan.  Should you wish to, you can send a reply the same way you received this.

      Jack Sparrow

P.S. – if you're considering taking yourself elsewhere to avoid getting caught up in this mess, then let me remind you that I helped you get back your ship.  I think this should even the balance.

Helped get the Dilettante back, my foot.  The man did nothin' but be at the right place at the right time in the same way Norrington managed to.  Though Norrington was none too pleased with the turn of events. Plus I paid my debt. She felt a blush come on to her cheeks and ignored the thought.  If anyone owes anyone anythin', it's Sparrow who's going to owe me.  Big.  And he'll pay before he gets the chance to try to talk his way out of it.  Her outrage over his closing remark slipped from her mind in favor of other thoughts.

   Kendra hadn't expected the missive to be that long.  Here she was, reading the apparent end of the letter, and there was still another page for her to look at.  Setting the last page of writing facedown on top of the other, she was surprised to find a map.  Most of the islands were unnamed, but she was still able to identify them.  Apparently Sparrow had a bit of artistic talent hidden in his deceiving mind.  One island on the outskirts of Great Inagua was marked more prominently than it's neighbors.  Tilting the page to better catch the feeble light of the candles, Kendra read, Osprey Point.  Take berth in the town – they're used to pirates, then go to Swallows Rest.  Present the letter as a pass and simply say that I sent you to help out Winn.  It doesn't matter what guise you use.  Just keep a sharp eye for flamingos.

   Her eyes were wide and she stared for a moment longer.  Her mind was having trouble grasping what she'd just read.  There was too much information, and too much of it was unexpected for her to believe it readily.  He wants me to do what for him?  He can't really . . . well, I truly doubt he'd go this far for a joke.  Let alone get caught by Norrington only to be imprisoned again.  It may be a sport for the most demented pirates to test how many prisons they can escape, but it doesn't last long.  And there were those rewards posted all over the Spanish Main . . . let alone that one sailor who had joked about turning Sparrow in to the Brits.  I doubt he'd boast of such a thing if it weren't true.  Everything seems just a bit too realistic.  She scanned over the note again.  He's daft . . . but . . . .  Kendra leaned back in her chair again and stared at the ceiling, her sharp bronze orbs flashing in agitation as her beleaguered mind made the connection between the 'Winnie' of Jack's letter and the sickly woman on the docks.  That poor woman . . . poisoned.  Most likely castor bean – enough upstairs wenches use it to rid themselves of unwanted children.  And that Italian . . . .  Her chair was about to tip too far and she felt her feet slipping off the table.  She instantly jerked herself back up to correct it.  Luckily everyone else was too drunk or raucous to notice the soft 'thud' of the chair and her boots as they hit the floor.

   She scanned the room, and then the note once more.  I may be going soft, but I can't pass this up.  Curse my strange little whims.  Never will understand it . . . or that man either.  Might as well write my reply.   Sighing, she found that she didn't have any paper nor anything to write with. Spotting a serving wench, Kendra got her attention and the girl walked over.

   "I've an odd request."

   The girl looked at her for a moment.  "What is it then?"

   "I'd like some paper and a quill with ink.  I'll pay a reasonable price," Kendra set her usually concealed pouch of coins on the table, glad to hear the distinct jingle it made.

   "Just a moment then," the girl hurried back to the bar.

   Letting out another sigh, Kendra rubbed her temples. This has been one trying day . . .  She then leaned back in her chair again, but was sure to keep all four of the chair legs firmly on the floor.

   "Here you are," the girl set down a few sheets of paper and the requested quill and ink. "Two pounds."

   Kendra reluctantly opened her pouch and pulled out the correct amount, handing it to the girl and then set to work, once more making sure no one was paying her any attention.  She scrawled out her reply, and then stretched, folding it and tying it with a piece of string she scrounged up, writing 'Captain Morgan' on the outside.

   Kendra got to her feet and folded up Sparrow's note again, hiding it in her sleeve, and strolled out of the tavern.  Back to the fort again . . . hope that Captain Morgan is . . . .   Kendra paused in the middle of the street, staring at the ground.  He wished me luck . . . and he had Sparrow's note.  No doubt he's related to Sparrow's wife and . . . .  She gritted her teeth, then searched for the alley she'd left the navy jacket in.

"Sparrow!"  Jack decided it was best to ignore the guard for a bit.  He'd overheard Marcus and Norrington both tell the men in charge of his care that he was to be left alone unless they ordered otherwise.  If a guard were trying to get his attention at this time of night, then Marcus must have some information to pass along.  It won't do to appear too eager.  So Jack settled down for the guard to become impatient enough to address him again.

    As he had expected, it didn't take the guard long to get fed up.  Army officers didn't like to be ignored, one of the reasons their uniform was bright red.  It couldn't be overlooked, and they couldn't be persuaded to change, even when the near blinding crimson gave anyone with a hint of eyesight an unmistakable target.  "Hey gallows-bait."

   Jack tipped his hat up from its position over his eyes, raising his eyebrows at the man.  "A polite, 'Captain may I have your attention?' would have been sufficient.  Not to mention a bit more polite.  Here I am, having turned myself over to the proper authorities without a hint of resistance, and still I'm treated as a common criminal."  He gave a theatrical sigh.  "'Tis my lot in life to be misunderstood I suppose."

   The guard snorted.  "Your lot in life," he scoffed.  "You're lucky the Commodore ordered us to leave you be, otherwise –"

    "I'd have a great deal of company.  I realize that, thank you.  Was there a particular reason you came down to visit me in my solitude?"  Jack could see the man's temper climbing by the moment.

   "Aye.  Captain Morgan sends his regards."  The man thrust a tied up note between the bars to Jack's cell.  "Likely it's a notice of when you can expect to meet your Maker."

   "I thought pirates went to the devil."  The guard spit at him but missed by several feet.  Then, cursing fluently under his breath, the man left, leaving Jack alone once again.

    Jack waited several minutes to make sure the surly guard wasn't inclined to immediately return before he got up and retrieved the papers.  He couldn't tell how long the missive was, as it was folded and tied with a bit of string.  However, his name on the front was not written in Marcus' handwriting.  He'd come accustomed enough to seeing the writing of his wife's relatives since they sent letters to Winn via whatever couple she stayed with during her trips to visit family.  But this was nothing like any of them.

   He grinned, realizing just whom the letter must be from.  To be sure, he hadn't expected the lass to have such nice handwriting – it didn't seem the sort of thing she would have the patience to sit down and perfect, but the proof was before his eyes.  Now he just had to find out what decision his erstwhile cabin boy had made.

   Sparrow -

I see your situation.  And I must agree it is quite a tight spot you've gotten yourself into.  Sure am glad I'm not you right about now.  Jack felt his mouth twist into a wry smile, Pierre – nay, Kendra – had always had a impertinent attitude.  Apparently time hadn't sweetened it any.  Not that he'd expected it to have changed.  Now, about this debt business.  About helping me get back my Dilettante; you simply had good timing, nothing more.  While I'm at it, though I'm not sure you're much in the reminiscing mood at the moment, I'd like to remind you that I paid my debt.  In full.  You know exactly what I mean, and I'll leave it at that.   Aye, he knew what she meant.  That had been a rather amusing debt to collect, not because of the position that it had placed the two of them in, but because it had flustered the height impaired woman so much.

   With that straight, I suppose I could spare some of my time to get another debt from you.  I'll keep an eye on her.  'Winnie', wasn't it?  I only pray for your sake that she's not another Janette, and from the bit you've said of her, I don't think she'd be the type.  But if she is . . . you'll never live this down.

   But . . . you're now related to Henry Morgan by marriage?  You really are?  I . . . I just can't believe it.  And I'd like you to know that the opportunity to meet him is a large portion of the reason I'm doing this.  I may still be agitated about the whole 'Pierre' incident - must compliment you about changing your salutation, Sparrow - but I'm not so stubborn as to pass up an opportunity like this.

   Keeping tabs on me?  Just how in depth did they go, Sparrow?  I'd really like to know just what fables and gossip is going around about me.  Probably nothing like the ones that go around about you, but such is life.  And I'm sorry to let you down, but I haven't been keeping too close of tabs on you.  Just the basic rumors, you're still pillaging and plundering.  Being your piratical self.

   And speaking of pirates, what is this business about flamingos?  You mean those gangly pink birds that nearly come nose to nose with me?  What self-respecting pirate is afraid of an overgrown pigeon?  How much harm can they do?

      Captain Ken

   Though he had no real reason to feel so, Jack felt an incredible amount of relief.  The more people watching out for Winnie, the better.  And Kendra, short and invisible as she might be, was good.  There was only one thing she was mistaken about.  But she'll find out about that blasted bird soon enough.

   With one less concern on his mind, Jack settled back more comfortably against the stone wall of his cell and replaced his hat over his eyes.  It wasn't as if his current lodgings boasted much of a view, and he couldn't be distracted by the monotony of torch-thrown shadows on the grey walls.  He had a rather important and risky escape to plan.

Kendra leaned against the railing of the small merchant vessel she'd found going to Tortuga.  She'd just read Jack's note for a second time and was currently looking out to sea, holding Jack's note tightly in one hand, her other clenched into a fist.

   "Castor beans…that poor woman."  Her gaze hardened and she set her jaw, letting her thoughts absorb her.

   I'll get to meet Captain Morgan.  The Captain Morgan.  Amazing . . . but . . .  She sighed, slumping against the railing, having only to shrink down a few inches to rest her chin on it.  I'll also have to watch over Sparrow's pregnant wife.  Who's been given some rather harsh treatment.  I hope he knows I don't have much medical knowledge . . . or patience with 'delicate ladies.'  He didn't mention anything about me taking care of her health, just her safety, so that's a good sign.  All this . . . to keep her safe from some Italian merchant who would kill an innocent child.  The tension returned in an instant.  How I want to pummel the man right now . . . Gandolfi . . .  She breathed deeply, reveling in the salty tang, looking cold and capable of skewering a man for nothing more than a ill-timed curse.  By tomorrow night every pirate I know will be searching for you . . . you despicable, disgusting, cowardly abomination . . . .  If Sparrow doesn't find you first, of course.  A smirk came onto her face, giving her an imp-like appearance her small frame complimented.  Her hair fluttered in the wind as it rushed by.  She sighed and flipped the tied-back bundle of hair over her shoulder once more, surprised as it reached her shoulder blades.  It's gotten longer.  Might have to cut it soon.

   "To think," she whispered to herself, "Sparrow…a father.  Must be some woman."

   So, with a sigh and a quick pivot, Kendra headed to her cabin for true privacy.  She'd felt some of the crew's eyes on her and given it no real thought until now.  She neared one sailor who was swabbing the deck and rather obviously watching her, even it was out of the corner of his eye.

   Stopping next to him, she broadened her impish smile and turned to face the irritant.  "Purdy sunset, isn't it?"

   "Oh, uh," the sailor was caught off guard and abruptly nodded, "Yes, very pretty."

   Kendra scanned over the area of the deck he'd been working on.  "Missed a spot there, sir," she pointed to a large area he'd no doubt neglected due to staring at her.  "Might want to fix it 'fore the Cap'n comes round for inspections."  She bobbed her head, then continued on to her cabin.  Now . . . on to my list of dues for Sparrow . . . .

*****************************************************************

Author's Thanks:

Dawnie-7

Vagrant Candy

BeBe

bobo3

pirate-miss

SuzzieQue

SprklingSatine

_bebe.flip – someone's a little hyper.  : )

EricaDawn

lilitaliandragon

Eledhwen

KawaiiRyu

TaraRose

Alej