Creatures of the Sea

By Alone Dreaming

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World. If I did, this would not be posted under fanfiction.

Author's Note: So, another plot bunny has been satisfied. Here is another story for those who enjoy reading. For once, I cannot rightfully say that it is a one-shot. It's actually broken down into two chapters due to its length. I find it easier to read a story when it isn't really long. So two chapters this time though it's not really meant to be a chapter story.

Onward- I am back in school and being bored to death by teachers. Though some of my classes, such as Chorus, are fun the rest are dull and seemingly pointless. I will have time to write during them as long as it appears that I am taking notes. Therefore, my next story may actually be done before the Second coming occurs. I can't make promises but I am working on it (I even have a folder for it) and have high hopes for it.

Thanks goes out to all of those who read and reviewed my last fic. More specifically: SilentTrainConductor, Boescribe, and Gaeriel Palpatine. I love seeing reviews. They make me happy. As always, a BIG hug and thank you goes to Kayla who advises me on canon, posting, titles and everything in between.

I don't think I've forgotten anything or anyone. Enjoy this story! Please review if you have a moment after reading the chapter. Reviews do mean a lot to me. I enjoy listening to readers opinions and, like anyone else, I like praise or advice.

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Over the long period of time I have known Mr. Howard, there has always been a strange dislike in me for him. It saddens me, really, for he seems a man of good character when everything is summed up. However, even with his good qualities, there is one trait about him which has always bothered me deeply and left me feeling very uneasy around him. This, of course, is his love of guns and shooting things. This sort of enjoyment is not rare among those of the navy but Mr. Howard seems to have an inordinate amount of love for putting bullets in things. It doesn't matter what it is, bird, fish or some other wild beast; anything can fall victim to his gun.

I discovered this myself when he misaimed and shot me. Not his fault, truly, but all the same, it made me twice as on edge and ten times as sharp with him. I didn't really blame him for it but every time he fired a gun after that I would jump, as though expecting him to shoot me. I know it upset him, and to this day still upsets him but I cannot help myself. There is some hidden fear in me that perhaps he will aim for a bird and he will accidentally hit me again. Being shot is an experience I would rather not go through once more.

After my own recovery, Mr. Howard did not touch his gun as much. In fact, he quite avoided touching it. If he did get compelled to shoot, he would aim the gun directly down at the water. Even then, he would only practice when there were very few people around. He had been taught a lesson; a lesson that would stick with him for a good amount of time, or so it appeared. Whenever I was on deck, reading, dissecting or simply roaming the ship in an attempt to get some fresh air, he would always put his gun down somewhere. He would never fire it with me around.

All good things come to an end though, and soon he was up with his gun once more. His tentativeness faded away, and he started pegging birds out of the sky and fish in out of the water. Not long after, it was as though nothing happened. He was jolly again, firing away at everything that moved. I, during this period, secluded myself below deck whenever he had a gun in his hand. Though I was glad he was happy, I was afraid I would speak words that would hurt him; or even worse, I would see the animal he was aiming at and be given another hole in my body.

It was a relief to me when we settled on the island for a chance to restock the ship. The island itself was scarcely populated and we camped several miles from the nearest town. Though the crew was noisy as always, I was able to escape to the peace and quiet of the beach. There was nothing terribly interesting for me to investigate there but it allowed me to get air while avoiding Howard. So, I would stroll, sometimes accompanied by Padeen, Jack or even Mr. Blakeney, and other times alone.

I was on one of these strolls when the inevitable happened. In fact, I was up to my knees in water, a sea star in my palm. The one thing the island seemed to have an abundance of was the many legged creatures and I was trying to find several good specimens to take with me aboard the ship when we left. The one I had in my hands was blue in color, with red lining around the edges of its legs. I studied it, trying to find anything wrong with it without cutting it open but found it good for my needs. Putting my hand down so the waves could lap at the creature, I took a box I had brought with me from my side and filled it with ocean water. I gently placed the sea star in and slid the lid shut on the box. Though the box was not good for a consistent home, it would keep the fish with legs wet and happy until I could transfer it to a larger tank I had.

I was bent over, attempting to scoop up another one, this one orange and gold when I heard my name called. I would have ignored it until I safely had put the creature into my collection box had the person's tone not been so desperate. I stood up and turned towards the beach to see Bonden running towards me, his face red. He clearly was running as fast as he could and was quite out of breath. When he finally slid to a halt on the beach in front of me, he had to heave in air for a few moments before he could speak. Meanwhile, I made my way back to the beach quickly and carefully so as not to step on anything. Things in the water could be harmed by my feet and I could be harmed by things that did not like to be stepped on.

"What is it?" I asked, trying not to show how worried I was. Whenever someone was sent running to get me, it usually meant another person was hurt. And as desperate as the coxswain sounded, the injury was probably bad.

"It's," he paused, gasping some more. I, at this point, was forcing him to sit. Camp was a good walk from where I was, and if he had run the entire way, especially hindered by the sand, he was lucky he had not collapsed.

"Is someone injured?" I questioned, keeping the questions to 'yes' and 'no' answers. That way he could simply nod or shake his head and continue his rest. A quick nod answered me and I continued, "Is it at the camp?" Another affirmative gesture, "Is it very bad?" When I got a 'yes' to this, I turned towards where our settlement was, prepared to run myself. "Stay here and catch your breath." And I was off.

It happened to be one of those times I truly wished I was in better shape. In but a minute I was wheezing and had to pause. Though not overweight, like Jack was bordering on, I had very little muscle mass for I rarely pressed my body to endure great physical exertion. A walk about the islands, yes; a swim with Jack, maybe; a short run on nice hard ground, unlikely but possible; but running on a beach was completely out of the question for me.

I did keep running though, to the camp. I had to make many stops in order to keep myself moving but in the end I reached the place, out of breath and coughing. After taking a very brief moment to catch my breath one last time, I headed towards my own tent, hoping that the injured person had brought there. Luckily, the person had been. I knew this even before I managed to get in, for nearly the entire crew was crowded around it, most of them looking very uneasy.

'God, let it not be someone well loved,' I thought, suddenly aware of how long it had taken me to get here. It could have been as long as a half-hour since the person was injured and if it was a bad injury then the person could already be dead. I could be no help in this situation. Pushing through the crowd, I stepped into the tent and found myself facing a very unhappy sight.

It was not someone the crew was fond of. In fact, the crew did not even know this person at all. This, in a sad sort of way, gave me a slight amount of relief. The sight before me made me wish it was someone the crew knew; at least one of our own men. It would have been easier for everyone to bear then, including myself.

As a doctor, I am used to losing people to death; both those I love dearly and those I barely know. It is part of my job, and a part of my life. Though every time I loose a patient it pains me, it is very rare that I ever mull over the death of one of them. Even when the person is close to me, I mourn their loss and soon I am over it. I do not dream of their faces looming over me or their hands reaching out to bring me down with them. If they are brought up, I readily remember them but do not find guilt in the mention of their name.

This situation was very different though. There are nights when I wake up, a cold sweat covering my face and my breath comes in and out in a sharp, labored fashion. I see what I saw that moment I ran in and everything seems so out of my control. The vision of it constantly haunts me, though it was no fault of mine what happened. The pain etched on the face of the person on the bed and the whimpering that escaped that human's mouth is enough to break my heart over and over again.

It was a little native girl on my cot; a beautiful, little girl. The natives of the island looked alike in many aspects. They all had deeply tanned skin and dark, nearly black, hair. Their eyes for the most part were brown. This girl followed the normal traits except for her eyes. They were blue, a sky colored blue. When I first those eyes, they were darkened by pain and fear. They were not focused on me as I ran over to her side, but on Padeen who was holding one of her hands.

Padeen, in all his gentle ways, is very good at comforting distressed people. Frankly, he was working miracles on this poor child, who was clearly terrified. He held her tiny little hand in his and whispered to her in his own tongue. Though she didn't understand a word, she clung to him with all her might and sobbed softly. If I was in her position, at her age, I would have been screaming. She was no more than four.

Jack was also in the tent, along with Mr. Higgins who was clearly doing his best to care for the child. Jack quickly caught me before I could fall into my physician mode, his eyes hard as stones. His mouth was set in a thin line and he was clearly very unhappy.

"Where's Bonden?" he questioned softly, in Latin.

"I left him to rest, he nearly killed himself running to fetch me," I replied in the same tongue, finding that someone had brought fresh water. I moved over quickly to wash my hands with it. "He'll be back as soon as he can be. What happened to her? There is not a settlement for miles."

Jack's look darkened all the more. "She was swimming off the coast a mile or so from here. Mr. Howard, thinking she was a siren, discharged his weapon and hit her."

I must have twitched visibly because Jack put a hand on my shoulder. I slowly took in a deep breath and let it out in an attempt to calm myself. Right now, my job was to help my patient. "Well, my dear, I am sad to say it doesn't surprise me in the least. Maybe this will teach him a proper lesson." Drying my hands, I lightly removed Jack's hand from my shoulder and made my way over to the bed.

Higgins quickly moved out of the way and allowed me to do my job. He seemed utterly relieved about not having to worry about the situation anymore. Though his ability to heal was becoming better as time passed, he was still terribly nervous about doing it. From what I could tell, in this situation, the man had done the right thing.

Several blood soaked towels were upon the child's chest, and before that it was clear Higgins had been using them to stop the flow. As carefully as I could, I slowly peeled them back in order to get a good look at the injury. A soft cry escaped her and her other hand flew up to bat me away. Gently, I caught it and rubbed it.

"Easy, young one," I murmured in Spanish. "Está bien, niña."

Hearing her own tongue, she relaxed a bit but still looked at me in fear. I placed her hand back down on the cot and pulled the towels all the way back. The bleeding had stopped mostly though a few trickles were still steadily drawing lines down her chest. The wound itself was gruesome too look upon on such a young child. The bullet had skimmed across her, cutting a jagged line across her chest. Though it was not terribly deep, it was clear that it had bled quite a bit. 'Too close to the heart not to,' I thought.

"Have you cleaned the injury yet, Mr. Higgins?" I asked, taking a clean bit of one of the towels and dabbing at the blood.

"No, sir," he replied softly. "I just tried to stop the bleeding. I'll fetch you some things to clean it." And he moved quickly to the other side of the room to get what I would need.

"While you are there, Mr. Higgins, fetch me a needle and thread," I called. "I am going to stitch this to prevent anymore bleeding."

I then focused my attention back on the little body in my care. Large, glazed eyes were staring at Padeen who was humming a soft Irish lullaby to her. Though I did not want to disturb this, I had to ask her some questions while she was still conscious. Picking up her tiny hand again, I pressed it between both of my own.

"Cuál es tu nombre, la pequeña?" I said softly, catching her attention.

Her answer did not come immediately. A sniffle and then a sob escaped her and for a little while I did not think she would answer. She was frightened of everyone except for Padeen but he only spoke his Gaelic and would not be able to get the answers I searched for. Finally, she opened her mouth and her voice came forth in a squeak. "Esperanza, Señor."

I nodded and let a smile cross my face. "Esperanza, un nombre hermoso. Me dice, niña, dónde están sus padres?"

The smile comforted her somewhat and hearing someone speak to her with words she could understand calmed her. Her hand grasped mine tightly and her lip stuck out. She looked so innocent and so afraid that I would have given the world to make her feel better.

"Mi Mama," she said with a sniffle, "y mi Papá han ido al hogar de Dios."

I sighed softly and squeezed her hand. "Entonces usted no necesita temer porque están mirando sobre usted."

Higgins, at this point, returned with the supplies I needed and looked at me in question. Putting the child's hand down once again, I turned to him.

"Her name is Hope, or Esperanza," I said to him, carefully taking the antiseptic from the items. Dabbing it onto a cloth, I prepared to clean the injury. "Her parents are dead from what I can tell. She is very scared right now. Did you bring some laudanum? I want to give her a bit so she does not feel as much pain when I sew the injury. I fear it may be too much for her."

"I did bring some, sir," Higgins replied, pointing to it among the items he had procured for me. "Do you want me to give her some?"

I shook my head. "No, Padeen will do it. She trusts him."

Padeen looked up when he heard his name and I quickly explained to him what to do. He understood and went about doing it, cooing at the child and soothing her until she would take it. Meanwhile, I finished preparing everything I would need to patch up the injury. I was fearful about helping someone so young, afraid that I would harm her more than help her. However, I knew that what would hurt her worst is not to have any help at all.

"Mr. Higgins, tell the Captain to send someone to the nearest village," I commanded, seeing that Jack had already excused himself. "Have someone with a knowledge of the Spanish language ask around to see if anyone is missing a little girl, dark hair and blue eyes. If she has someone to watch over her, I want that person here."

Higgins was gone in a second and Padeen and I were left to care for the ailing girl.

Sometimes, in my dreams, I see her lying there, pleading with me in Spanish to keep the pain away. Her face is very pale and her eyes glazed over. Everything I try does not help and she dies, clinging to my hand. Her little sobs and cries haunt my dreams and I sometimes wake up with a cry of my own. When people respond to my shouts, I tell them it is nothing. That nothing, however, sends me to tears when the person has left.

o

I found myself sitting next to my own cot, that night, reading a book. Padeen was hunched over the bed, sitting on a stool. He was still holding the little girl's hand and gently brushing her hair from her face. In but the few hours she had been here, he had taken it upon himself to be her guardian and to keep her calm and happy. She slept now but he did not wish to leave her alone in case she awoke. Internally, it made me smile but it also made me sad. I feared that soon Padeen would suffer a loss, for I did not expect the child to make it until morning.

As I stared at the book in my hands and my mind wandered through how people so young could die, I suddenly recalled my sea stars. When I had started cleaning and stitching the girl up, I had set the box down in a corner of the tent so it would not hamper my movements. Cringing, I quickly stood up and set my book on the ground. I could only imagine the state it was probably in, left in that little box for so long.

Padeen caught my movements and watched me carefully, "Are you alright, sir?"

I did not answer him, but instead, knelt down by the box and pulled back the lid. The lid was warm and I realized that the box had been sitting in the sun for the few hours before it set. I winced and looked down at the sea star in the water. A rank smell met my nose, and I placed the lid back down.

"No, Padeen, I fear I am not," I replied softly, standing up. I planned on going down to wash out the box and put the sea star at rest. Though I had wanted to dissect one earlier that day, my heart was no longer in it. The sight of the dead sea creature in the box seemed to be an ill omen to me. "I'll be right back."

To avoid any more questions, I slipped out of the tent and met the cool sea breeze with a soft sigh. This seemed so wrong. How could one man make the same mistake twice? How could he shoot a child so young, be the child a mermaid or a human? It just seemed so wrong to me. For a moment, my stomach churned and I thought I would be ill. However, it soon settled itself once more and I found myself standing outside, cold and empty.

The camp was quiet and though men were still loitering around the different fires set up, most of them had retired to their beds. I passed them as quietly as I could and padded slowly down towards the sea shore. The stars twinkled and the moon was bright and full. I could see quite well, right out over the ocean. The waves were gentle and smooth. Perfect for swimming; I prayed for whatever swimmer would take to the waters near here though. It was already clear that any unfortunate soul who did not look like a human would soon be pierced.

Opening my box, I knelt in the waves and allowed the sea star to drop out. It floated for a bear moment but soon was lost to the water, left to rot its mortal body away. 'Soon little Esperanza will be the same way,' the morbid part of my mind thought as I attempted to scrub the decaying stink from the box. 'Laid in the ground to rot away until God raises her body once again.' I shook my head in an effort to remove the thoughts but they would not fade away.

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TBC...

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Translations:

Está bien, niña- It is well, child (female)

Cuál es tu nombre, la pequeña?- What is your name, little one?

Esperanza, Señor.- Esperanza, sir.

Esperanza- Hope

Esperanza, un nombre hermoso. Me dice, niña, dónde están sus padres?- Esperanza, a beautiful name. Tell me, child, where are your parents?

Mi Mama y mi Papá han ido al hogar de Dios- My Mommy and my Daddy went to the house of God

Entonces usted no necesita temer porque están mirando sobre usted- Then you need not fear because they are watching over you. (Or something along those lines)

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I'll post the next chapter in a day or two! See you then.