Disclaimer: Most stuff belongs to the Mousie. Some stuff may belong to other big names that I steal it from. The few shreds that are left after that are mine.

Nota Bene- If you don't know any Latin, you'll find translation/help at the end of the chapter. But it's pretty easy to catch the gist of anyway, I think. That is, the bits you'll find here are easy, at least.

Chapter 16: The Island

Gwen met Elizabeth lingering just outside the captain's cabin.

"I was waiting for you. Jack said you would be out right behind him," Elizabeth explained.

Gwen ignored the questioning tone of the other woman's voice. Elizabeth knew very well that Jack usually sprang up at dawn- sometimes even earlier- while Gwen had developed a tendency to loaf about in bed for at least a short while before starting her day. For Jack to finally appear on deck a full hour after the sun had begun to rise was fishy. What was more fishy was Gwen emerging from his quarters in the morning.

"Isn't this exciting?" Gwen asked, instead of responding to her friend's comment. She moved, a bit hesitantly, toward the starboard side of the ship, looking out at the island the Pearl had anchored at. "There could be treasure somewhere out there, just waiting for us to find it."

Gwen was uneasily aware of the way Elizabeth's eyes narrowed analytically at her as she walked. But if Elizabeth surmised anything, she didn't comment on it.

"'Could be?' But I thought you were the one who knew where it was," Elizabeth said, frowning as she followed Gwen. "Jack keeps hinting that he's following your directions."

"Well," Gwen confessed, glad for the safety of discussing this subject as opposed to certain others, "It's Jack's compass."

Elizabeth frowned even harder. "That cursed thing? What about it?"

"It-" Gwen hesitated, wondering if she was allowed to tell or not. Well, it was her secret, not Jack's, she decided. "It only works when I touch it."

"How do you mean?"

"The needle points… to me. Unless I'm holding it. And then it points-" she jabbed her finger at the long island- "there. Somewhere on that island… there's something that wants me to find it, he thinks." Or is that I want to find it for some reason? Gwen shook those thoughts away. Who knew why it worked? She was letting Jack's odd theories on the whole thing rub off on her; that had been one of his guesses she'd turned down as whack.

Elizabeth stared at her in silence for a moment, looking a little jolted. She had been enjoying her holiday at sea, well pleased by the fact that Jack hadn't elected to haunt trade routes or raid seaside towns (at least so far) and content in the knowledge that they were going on a relatively innocent little venture. Elizabeth wrinkled her brow. What Gwen was telling her, however, reeked of unnatural forces at work.

"How do you even know that it's some treasure that's out there? How do you know it's not another curse of some sort?"

"Jack seems to think it's treasure," Gwen said offhandedly, realizing that Elizabeth was voicing the very concerns she'd had herself not so many days ago. Now, it didn't seem so important why they were there, just that they were there. Whatever it was that wanted to be found would be found. And surely everything would fall into place after that.

"Jack thinks the sun rises and sets just for him, too," Elizabeth observed.

"I don't think he cares what it is anyway. Just wants to know. His compass won't work for him now, besides."

"Will tried getting him a proper compass once, but he wouldn't have anything to do with it. Stubborn man," Elizabeth commented in the same tone she used when pointing out Jack's faults to him in person. "And I suppose he thinks he can handle anything that happens simply because he's the fabulous Captain Jack Sparrow?" Elizabeth's question came out more as an exasperated statement.

"Something like that," Gwen said distractedly. She was staring across the water at the island's nearest shore, lost in thought. Now that they were actually here, and she could see the actual goal sitting there before her, it seemed real. Her first adventure as a pirate. A rite of passage of sorts, she supposed. She wondered when she should tell Jack that she had no intention of leaving, but every intention of joining his crew.

From his vantage point at the helm, Jack watched the two women cross the ship. In spite of himself, he smiled in a sort of perverse masculine pride as he noted the slight awkward swagger in Gwen's step. No doubt she would be sore for a while.

Pressing his fists into his hips, he puffed his chest out in a deep breath as he cast his gaze then about his ship. With a very smug and self-satisfied smirk, he surveyed the industrious bustle of his crew as they readied a shore-boat and speculated amongst themselves on exactly what kind of treasure the captain was leading them to.

Jack's desires had been quenched, at least for the time being; his lungs were filled with the warm, sea-seasoned Caribbean air; his corrupt pirate's heart was full of the promise of the solution to a mystery and of the prospect of a new wealth to spend on rum. All was right in his world.

Breathing deeply, contentedly, once more, he sauntered down toward where Gwen and Elizabeth stood talking.

"Jack Sparrow," Elizabeth began as soon as she noticed him approaching, "there are a few things you forgot to tell Will and I about this little treasure-trip of yours."

Jack only smiled, his golden teeth catching the sun. "I be the captain," he reminded his old friend cheerfully. "I answer only to meself. And it was ye who forgot to ask about a few things."

"Jack, that's dishonest, and you know it. You know I certainly would have liked to know if you were chasing cursed treasure again, and dragging me into it as well. Besides, didn't you learn your lesson before?"

"Miss Turner," he said impishly, "I'm dishonest, and ye know it. And ye dragged yerself on board, luv."

Jack turned to wink at Gwen. For an instant, their eyes locked, and a thousand exultations on the pleasures of their newly-consummated partnership flew between them through the mutual stare. And then the link was broken, and Jack turned to shout orders at a couple of crewmen who had just appeared on deck from below.

Partnership. Or perhaps alliance, Gwen thought. Or some other such term. What were you supposed to call someone with whom you were intimate solely for shared pleasure, rather than for the cause of affection? She knew when she had first sought his embrace the night before that any affair Jack had with her would be based entirely upon what she could offer him. Although he apparently did have some concern for seeing to it that she got an equal share of enjoyment from the deal. She recalled his kisses and caresses, sometimes rough and sometimes gentle, but always thrilling and satisfying.

But she knew that he didn't love her.

Which was just fine, because she didn't love him either. Certainly, he was interesting company, and their conversations were always very enjoyable. She loved when she could make him laugh and liked the challenge of trying make out glimpses of the sailor's heart and poet's soul that compelled the swaggering, self-sure captain. But that didn't mean she loved him. All told, she hadn't known him for scarcely more than a few weeks. And besides that, sometimes he could be damned irritating, and-

Gwen's eyes widened slightly in surprise at herself, and she clapped a hand up to her lips, as though she had spoken the curse aloud. Glancing around, she realized Elizabeth had left her to her thoughts and was now discussing something with her husband further toward the stern of the ship. Jack was now talking to Gibbs a few steps away.

She allowed herself a self-indulgent smile at her slip in vocabulary, even if no one had heard it. Perhaps she was spending a bit too much time around the card tables with the coarse-tongued crew. Although she supposed it was nothing compared to the way she had let Jack's smooth charm corrupt her…

Gwen had stopped expecting her conscience to convict her when she tried those self-incriminating lines on herself. But she wasn't prepared for the warmth that spread through her gut at the remembered sensations of scarcely a quarter of an hour earlier. Just as quickly though, she was aware again of the dull ache that had begun to set in. She grimaced. No doubt it would get worse before it would get better.

Jack had said it would hurt the first time. She sincerely hoped that meant that subsequent unions would be more comfortable. For a moment she mused on that idea.

"Gwen, luv, back to earth."

Gwen realized that Jack had turned back to her and now stood before her, waiting for her to snap out of her thoughts.

By now, Jack was used to her tendency to get lost within her own mind when she was left to her own devices. He didn't mind really- so long as she always paid attention to him when he wanted it, which she did.

"When do we go ashore, Captain?" Gwen asked without preamble.

"Now," Jack said matter-of-factly. "And that's J-" He caught himself just before he said it and narrowed his eyes menacingly at her.

Gwen smiled sweetly back at him.

"Bloody woman," he muttered, though his tone lacked sufficient malice to condemn her. She allowed him the title "Captain" so rarely that when she finally addressed him as such, his reflex had still been to correct her.

Slinging a long dread-lock out of his way over one shoulder, he cupped his other hand under her elbow and propelled her forward.

"Just us?" Gwen asked, amiably allowing him to steer her toward the shore-boat.

"Welcome to scouting duty, luv," Jack said by way of answer.

The two of them maintained a comfortable silence as Jack rowed them toward the shore.

Gwen was reminded of when he had sneaked her into Port Royal, intending to trade her off for money to her family as though she were cattle. Bemusedly, she smiled at him now, feeling very different from that still rather nervous and formal lass- well, young lady- that she had been then.

Jack merely grinned back at her, golden teeth shining, but when she turned away to look back at the Pearl, he frowned suspiciously as a few troubling thoughts occurred to him. Point: Gwen had tried to seduce him. Point: she had let him make love to her, had responded enthusiastically to him, in fact, not so long ago that very morning. Point: her sort of woman didn't sacrifice their virtue carelessly, especially not to such like as him.

He swallowed nervously. What if she did it because was in love with him? Expected the same from him?

He cleared his throat, with it clearing his mind of those concerns as well. Gwen glanced at him. He just smiled innocently at her, and her gaze drifted away again.

Well. Not his problem. She shouldn't have come to him if she didn't fully understand the conditions of the relationship. He didn't care for her like that. Just because she could keep his wit occupied for hours and whet his appetite with a single kiss didn't change the fact that he was Captain Jack Sparrow. And she was simply another addition to his line of willing women. A very pleasing addition, but nothing more. Not even slightly. He shook his head somewhat emphatically, assuring himself of the truth of that denial.

From the deck of the Black Pearl, with the far-reaching waters of the ocean stretching out all around it, the island didn't really seem all too large. But from the beach, with sand and trees and rocks and tenacious plant-life for a mile or two in all directions, Gwen was admittedly a bit intimidated by the extent of land they would have had to search to find anything of value, whether treasure or merely information. It could take forever.

Jack clapped the compass into her hand and swung his arms out broadly. "Lead the way, luv."

Gwen flipped open the compass obediently, suddenly very grateful for it and its unearthly quirks, and studied the needle. Following its line with her eyes, she peered into the dense trees and dogged tropical foliage that covered the hill of the larger end of the long island. Hill. Actually, it looked more like a small mountain, a craggy hunk of insect- and vine-swathed rock and soil.

Well, to it, then. She set off, trudging up the beach toward the first stand of hardy trees that would eventually lead them up the awkward slope, ignoring the stiffness gripping the inner muscles of her lower body. She was aware of Jack falling into step beside her. He had shrugged off his coat and apparently left it with the beached boat. Without it, she noticed that he was more heavily armed than usual. The worn old baldric and the newer, tooled-leather sheath of his sword were familiar enough. The pistol tucked into his sash wasn't too unusual either, but the second sword jammed into his belt at his other hip and the switchblade she glimpsed tucked into the top of his boot made her wonder. He looked much like he did when she had first seen him, when he had been armed similarly as he and his crew overtook the Graymere.

Jack noticed her sizing him up, and rather than blush or turn away from her scrutiny of him, Gwen asked, "Do you think you've got enough there to deal with any situation that might rise up on this island?"

"I forgot me rope," he responded frankly.

"Rope?"

"To lash you to a tree so's ye can't run away in case something in particular rises up." He flashed her a lewd smile.

Gwen shook her head at his crude comment. "I scarcely think I feel much like running," she said truthfully, gathering her skirt out of her way with one hand as their path began to grow steeper.

Jack dampened his brief flash of concern before it could make it onto his face and he merely grinned at her discomfort.

At his patronizing expression, she asked, "Well, how would you feel afterward if you had something the size of a-" She stopped abruptly and her eyes cut involuntarily downward, below his belt.

Jack lifted an eyebrow and stared back at her, daring her to go on with her comparison.

"Probably about like it feels to have a lass bludgeon mei gladium," he said accusingly after a moment.

At the look she gave him, he explained, "It's Latin, lass," and held out a hand to assist her while she found her footing on a particularly awkward piece of ground.

"I know that," Gwen said, pulling herself up to him by his grip on her hand. "But I'm surprised you know any Latin yourself."

"And how would you know anything of the ancients, being solum virgo?"

"I was raised mostly by a governess who was daughter of a schoolteacher. My father was rather negligent and didn't seem to notice she was filling my head with more than I needed to know. I'm not very good at them, but I know at least some Latin and Greek, and Spanish and French. And I'm hardly virginalis anymore; 'tui gladium' illi gratias ago."

He grinned impishly at her.

"Well?"

"Well what?" He gestured for her to climb the steep grade in front of him. She was having trouble dealing with her soreness and the incline of the ground together, he could tell, and he'd have a better chance at catching her if she were to slip if he was behind her.

Gwen checked the compass again as she moved past him, making sure they were holding to the right direction.

"I told you how a woman managed an education, now you tell me how a rogue scoundrel managed it," she answered him, hoping for a rare glimpse into his mysterious background.

"You forget, luv," he admonished. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're just Jack to me. And that's enough." Her tone was exasperated, as though the "Captain" and the "Sparrow" would add far too much trouble to the already-unruly "Jack."

Jack cast about for something to say to that, but finally just silently let her comment slide by, trying to ignore the odd but not unpleasant way his stomach lurched at her sardonic declaration.

Their straight-line path through the close wilderness of the island eventually gave way to a meandering route as they picked their way through increasingly dense undergrowth and crowded trees. Jack drew his sword often to slash through knots of creeping plants. And then it slowly gave way once again to an easier trail as the ground became rockier, the trees farther apart, the tangling vines and flora more sparse, and the grade less severe as they neared the upper portions of the crag.

After nearly three-quarters of an hour of hiking, Gwen noticed something out of place ahead.

"Jack."

Only a few steps behind her, he appeared at her side quickly.

"Up there," she pointed through the trees ahead. "Is that-"

"That's odd," he observed distractedly, immediately and noticeably switching into a different mode of thought and action as he struck out ahead.

Gwen followed in his wake, noticing the way his hands floated solicitously around the weapons bristling at his waist, rather than swinging casually at his sides. She increased her pace, trying to keep up with him.

The huddled and overgrown wooden structure directly ahead of them resolved gradually into a rough-hewn little cottage of sorts as they drew closer to it. It had apparently been there for quite some time, judging by the amount of foliage growing over and around it. About twenty yards from the door, Jack suddenly stopped, and Gwen put out her hands as fenders at his back as she skidded to halt behind him.

"What-"

"Somebody's home," Jack said in a low voice.

Gwen furrowed her brow at him and turned to peer at the deserted cabin again. In the same instant, she saw the door begin to swing open, then Jack pushed her behind him, squaring his body toward the threat as a shield, and she heard the flintlock of his pistol click as he brandished the weapon.

Latin Crash-Course for this Chapter:

Mei gladium (MAY-ee GLAH-dee-oom)- Literally, "my sword." In Roman, male-dominated, martial culture, gladius was also a metaphorical term for the phallus.

Solum virgo (SO-lum WEER-go)- "Only a young woman." More often than not, virgo refers specifically to young women who are maidens, or virgins, as Gwen takes it.

Virginalis (weer-jin-NAL-ees)- This is simple. "Virginal." Innocent, if you will.

'Tui gladium' illi gratias ago (TOO-ee GLAH-dee-oom il-lee GRAH-tee-ahs AH-go)- "I can thank 'your sword' for that."