Steal yerself, mates. (Sorry it took so long.)

Ambrosia of the Sea

Chapter 11

"Evening, Captain North."

Nigel Morissey clasped his hand to his hat and bowed slightly, saluting North as she entered the cabin. His smirk made the woman want to hurl. She stopped dead in her tracks, eyeing him with a look of madness, driving him back down into the chair.

How he relished in her discomfort. No matter how much he loved to see her smile, he loved her scowl that much more. Because he knew the feelings, emotions behind it. He loved watching her face grow pale but the tip of her ears grow red. He loved it when her body shook and her fists clenched. He loved her locked jaw.

Picking up his quill, the captain began working, the smirk still on his face.

"Where's my crew?" The scribbling stopped, the smile grew wider.

"Pardon?" He looked up into North's tense face.

"My crew, dammnit! The crew of the Fates! Where the bloody hell are they?" She had quite the temper for someone in such a beautiful dress.

"Ah yes, your crew," he teased, as if he had forgotten she even had a crew. "Some are awaiting their 'fates' in Port Royal," he began, rising. "Others, I suppose, are already in Hell. There is no telling how many." His eyes lied and Elinor knew it.

"How many have died?" she demanded, her voice a low rumble.

"Eight was the last count," he replied. "But that was just the day we turned them in." He rounded his desk and leaned in to Elinor. "Nearly two weeks ago." He saw the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rise to the ceiling—whether out of fear or anger, he didn't care.

"Who among them?" she asked slowly, both wishing to know and not. Morissey lengthened, pacing in front of her.

"Let's see...there was a very large man among them...Biggs?" Elinor inhaled sharply from behind him. Biggs—her master gunner. "Yes, that was his name. Fit him well, of course, all those rippling muscles. Must have been near 7 feet tall, poor bastard—" He stopped, waiting for Elinor's reaction. None came. With a great deal of self-restraint.

"And I seem to remember a rather gangly fellow who put up quite a fight. What was his name...?" Nigel scratched his chin as if in thought.

"Mahabala." The captain smiled, his back to Elinor.

"Ah yes, dark skinned fellow...funny accent."

"He was Indian." Mahabala, the ship's master. Dammnit. Two of her best, gone. "And the others?" Nigel said he couldn't remember any other names; whether he was being truthful or not (Elinor thought definitely not), she did not press the matter. She sat in thought and detached grief as the captain surveyed her. Taking a step forward, he broke her glazed stare.

"The Three Fates is dead, North." She looked up at him with hard eyes. "She has no crew, no captain—"

"I'm right here!" she exclaimed quickly. "Her spirit still lingers; that you cannot take!" Nigel shook his head and smiled.

"No," he sighed, moving ever closer. "It is over. It was no coincidence that you were aboard the Pearl. You want to talk about 'fate'? It was fate that led you there, fate that brought you to me...again." He whispered the last word into her ear before returning to his seat. "Enjoy your last few nights aboard this ship. As soon as we pull into port it's going to the scrap yard." Elinor's eyes grew wide.

"You wouldn't dare." He ignored her.

"And you'll be joining the rest of your crew." He smiled again—that cruel, wicked, twisted smirk that made Elinor's body go rigid with rancor. The threat of hanging always loomed over her, ever since he had first planted the notion in her head the first time they met.

Elinor closed her eyes, grasping the edge of the desk. She took a slow, deep breath. How long had their chase lasted? Three, four years? The Fates would claim another pirate ship, Morissey would hear of it. Then the call would come.

"Cap'n—"

"Yes, Plank?"

"Cap'n, I know yeh don' want teh hear it—"

"Yes, Plank?"

"I'm sure yeh can already guess—"

"Plank..."

"It 'appens every time we git ourselves another one—"

"PLANK!"

"Oh, right. It's Morissey. He's on our tail again."

Every time. It never failed. She would get the call, walk slowly to the bow. Looking out she would see those pail sails and the ugly flag of the King flapping in the hot wind like a fish out of water. Then a flash would invade her vision, and she would catch Morissey looking right back at her.

How she always eluded him was a mystery even to her. It was something about the Fates. It was obviously faster than the captain's warship (What ever happened to that ship? she wondered suddenly). But somehow—Elinor couldn't explain it—every time Morissey gained on them, an island would show up, filled with deep channels and caverns to lose a ship in. Or a storm would roll in, knocking him off course. Or a dense fog would roll over the sea, like a veil shielding the bride from her groom.

Elinor shivered.

Why the Fates? Why always her ship? Was it the ship? Or was it her? Did Morissey enjoy chasing after her because she was a woman, because he thought she'd be an easy catch?

A smile played across her lips. Yeah right.

It was always a game to her, because she knew deep down that he would never catch her. To him, on the other hand, it seemed much more. Elinor could tell by the look in his eyes the first time they fell upon her...

North blinked and shook her head, torn from her thoughts at the sound of Nigel pounding his quill into the bottom of his inkbottle, salvaging what was left. He cursed, throwing the bottle out the window, then retrieved another from a desk drawer.

Elinor scowled, avoiding his eyes by looking to the wall behind him. Hung against the far wall of the cabin was a portrait she failed to notice earlier. She wondered how she could have missed it as she surveyed it. There hung a massive framed painting of a family of three—father, mother, and son. The husband was dressed in his finest uniform, polished to a shine (and captured beautiful by the artist, Elinor noticed). His son wore his best suit, which by the look of his scowl irked him terribly. The boy's mother rested both hands on his shoulders, displaying a shy smile and a beautiful plum dress.

Elinor touched the dress she wore while she stared—same gold trim, same black under layers...

"Lovely family portrait. I take it those are your parents?" Nigel looked up. "I particularly enjoy your nasty little scowl," she continued, pointing to the boy. "You haven't changed." Morissey slowly turned to look at the painting. He had kept it in that dark corner for a reason. Looking back, he merely stared at Elinor. The lack of emotion erased her smile. Without saying a word, he went back to his work. Confused, Elinor took a good look at the portrait again. There was his mother, in the dress she was wearing. That had to be him as a child, for the boy looked just like him. And his father—

Elinor stopped, her breath caught in her throat. He looked exactly like his father. She scanned the frame of the painting and found a small gold plaque at the bottom.

Capt. Morissey, Nigel.

-with-

Nora, wife

-and-

Jonathan, son

1712

"You," she realized, "your wife, her dress." She fumbled for words as she attempted to comprehend this knew knowledge. Why did he lie to her about the dress?

"Yes," he started, setting down his quill and slowly rising, "my wife, my son...both killed by you." His statement caught Elinor off-guard. Her eye twitched as she gave him a curious look.

"What?"

"You don't remember, of course," he continued in a soft, ominous tone. "They were just another pair for the body count."

"What are you talking about? I never kill women or children!" she shouted. Morissey's finger shot up in front of her nose, silencing her.

"No, not never. Only after you slaughtered 80 of them during a certain raid aboard a certain passenger ship." Elinor was still lost. "The one and only time you raided a ship other than that of a pirate's...said later that 'it was too easy,' if I recall."

It was then that Elinor remembered.

She never said it was too easy. That day had been more horrific than it had been beneficial. It was their very first raid with her as captain; she had had no idea what she was getting herself into. No, it wasn't "too easy," it was too horrifying. Slaying defenseless women and children...piling the bodies one on top of the other...setting them on fire before exiting...watching the burning inferno sink into the sea...

She vowed never to do it again.

Morissey couldn't hear her thoughts. His voice rose quickly as he continued.

"They were coming to be with me in Port Royal, despite my protests. I told Nora it was too dangerous, especially for women and children. I told her to stay with Jonathan in England, where they were safe from pirates." He glared at Elinor and she immediately recognized the look. She had never seen so much hatred in a person's eyes as the day she came face to face with Nigel Morissey.

And now she understood why.

"Yes, now you understand," he said, his voice low again. "Now you understand my motives, the chase...I don't know how you did it all those years, losing us time and time again..." Sweat dotted his brow as he clenched the desk. "But I never gave up, did I? I was a man set on revenge. I would have the heart of the man who murdered my beloved wife and only child!" He raised his hand to the ceiling, clenching his fist as if he held the imaginary organ. A moment passed, then he relaxed, smoothing out his hair and wiping the moisture from his face.

"Imagine my surprise when I found out that person, the man I was after...the villainous, evil, merciless captain of the Three Fates...imagine my surprise when I found out that man was a woman." Elinor swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry, her lips parted in awe.

She had never come face-to-face with a surviving member of a victim's family.

"I had no idea—" The resulting explosion from Morissey made Elinor's knees buckle. She covered her ears and backed away, like a child about to be beaten for forgetting her chores.

"Of COURSE YOU HAD NO IDEA! YOU NEVER TAKE INTO ACCOUNT THE SEVERITY OF YOUR ACTIONS, THE LIVES YOU RUIN!" Elinor winced with each word, finally realizing that was happening to her had already happened to him.

Morissey was enraged; his nostrils flared as the lines of his forehead sank into deep crevices. His whole body shook as he pulled his pistol and pointed it at North.

Her eyes widened as she watched. She had backed into the chair in front of the desk while Nigel paced the room, now facing her with his back to the door.

"An eye for an eye," he started, his voice trembling. "You die now as they did four years ago...only I will drag your dead body through every port, town, and bar in the Caribbean, as an example to the rest of your kind..."

North eyed the pistol carefully; it shook so bad she wondered if his aim would be any good.

I could sure use a drink. The thought both made her want to smile and wet her pants.

She was about to die.

She shut her eyes tight, wishing she had something to defend herself, waiting for the sound of the shot.

But it never came.

Instead, a loud knock came from behind Morissey, causing Elinor to jump out of her seat. Before he could reply, he was nearly pummeled as the door slammed open, moonlight streaming into the cabin, outlining Dove Merret's enormous frame.

He knew this moment was inevitable; it was another reason he willed the captain to put Elinor down below with the others. He had warned him, but Nigel refused, wanting to get to know his family's killer before she died. After his conversation with Elinor he did go back to his cabin, he did lie down in his bed…but he did not fall asleep. After lying wide-eyed upon his pillow for barely five minutes, he got up again. He threw his clothes back on and stalked out of his rooms. He saw the light in Nigel's cabin but heard no stirring and so went to check on the prisoners.

Between what he saw there and what he heard when he returned, Merret decided he should have stayed in bed.

It was when he heard the captain yelling that he shook his head, flexed his arms, and threw open the door.

"Captain, please. It's the prisoners." When he entered, Dove saw Elinor jump, a look of fear about her. When Morissey's head spun around on him, his hand still held tight his pistol.

"Not now, dammnit!" Nigel shouted, his body still shaking. Merret moved carefully in front of the captain, blocking his view of the woman.

"Sir, I really think you should take a look." Morissey looked positively consumed by madness; Dove could see the muscles in his neck pulsating rapidly, along with the veins in his forehead. His jaw was clenched so tight Merret was unsure if he was capable of speech. And his eyes…the American had never seen eyes full of such insane hatred.

The two men stared at one another a long while, before Nigel hesitantly lowered the pistol with a loud snort. He knew what Merret was doing…saving the whore for the gallows. Trying to save him from a murder charge…that was all. There was nothing wrong with the prisoners.

It was when Dove took his arm and led him to the door that Morissey grew restless.

"Mr. Merret, this is uncalled for," he hissed. "I'm perfectly calm. There is no reason to remove me from my own cabin." Dove stopped when they were outside. He looked back to Elinor who sat slumped in the chair. She was looking around at the ground with wide eyes, as if she had lost money…or her mind.

"Captain, in all honesty, there really is something strange going on down below. You need to look into it." His tone steadied the struggling officer, though Nigel still didn't entirely trust him.

"Very well then," he said, pulling his arm out from Merret's strong grasp. After replacing his pistol, he re-entered the cabin, pointing at North. "I will deal with you later." Elinor merely looked at him, void of any traceable reaction or emotion. Morissey's face tightened before he went outside. After grabbing the nearest rope, he threw it at his officer.

"Secure her, Mr. Merret. I do not wish her to go wandering around this late at night." Dove opened his mouth to protest, but the captain's look stopped him. Nigel straightened his hair and coat before descending the stairs to the main deck. There he stopped and waited.

"Come on, North. You heard the captain." Motioning with the rope in his hands, Dove led the woman to the large doors on his left. They were open to the small platform outside, where a solid railing guarded against a foolish step. Elinor followed obediently, without protest. She was still stunned; not from Nigel's actions, but from their similar situations.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" she asked softly as he pushed her to her knees and brought her wrists up to the barrier. Dove paused, avoiding her penetrating gaze.

"I was a bit too stunned to even respond, if you can imagine." He wrapped the rope around her wrists and through the bars, not all too tightly. "At least you know where he's coming from now." Elinor snorted.

"Not something I wished to know," she said with an edge in her tone. Dove bit his lip as he tied the ends of the line together in one knot. He tugged the chord gently before extending his frame. Elinor craned her neck to look up in his face.

"Just don't do anything I wouldn't do," he warned. She tilted her head, watching him as he crossed the cabin and exited.

"I do not appreciate this interruption, Dove," Nigel said sternly as his officer joined him at the bottom of the stairs.

"I know sir," came the simple reply. Uncrossing his arms, the captain followed as Merret descended below deck.

The moon had fallen in the sky, leaving the brig to be lit by three lone torches. Merret grabbed the nearest at the end of the stairs and used it to light their path. The captain shut his eyes tight, reopening them so they adjusted to the darkness. As his officer moved further into the space, his light fell upon the bars of the cells, then poured over the pirates.

Nigel sprang back, his brows furrowed and his lip curled.

"What happened?" he asked, to which Dove shrugged his shoulders. As far as they could tell, every single member of Barbossa's crew had aged thirty years or more in less than a few hours. Their skin was devoid of color, seeming transparent. Great bags sat below their sullen, beady eyes. They looked dirtier than any man the officers had ever seen.

But they were also they quietest men.

Nearly every pirate sat or stood looking down into his hand, mumbling incoherently. Some held a hand high, into the light of the torch. The wicked smile that spread across their faces was due to the fact that they could now admire their beautiful gold coins without squinting into darkness. Morissey looked disgusted as he neared their cell. The men stared without being aware of the man next to him, or of the captain watching them.

"They haven't eaten, and they won't sleep," offered Dove from behind. "All they've been doing is staring at those coins of theirs." Morissey looked at him, then spun around to Barbossa's cell. The Pearl's captain seemed to be missing, until Nigel grabbed the torch from his officer and walked over to the hold. Slumped in the far corner was the body of Captain Barbossa. At first he seemed almost dead; his head hung down over his shoulder, his legs sprawled out beneath him, feet pointing outward. But on closer inspection, he too fingered a coin in his left hand. His eyes were fixed upon it, ignoring the blinding light.

"What is this?" the captain asked as he looked from one cell to the next. Merret offered no answer. The pirates did not take notice of the two men even after they had been watching them for nearly quarter of an hour. Finally, Morissey shoved the torch back into Dove's hand. "Your orders are to stand watch here for the night, Mr. Merret." The officer frowned. "Any changes in their behavior—especially if it's for the worst—and you come straight to me." He surveyed the men one more time. "We'll make them eat in the morning. I want these pirates alive for their hanging."

Merret followed the captain to the stairs, then took his post by the entrance, kicking the nearest thing he could—the table Elinor had bumped into earlier. The Bible fell onto the floor with a hard thud.

Dove winced.

Up above, North had already freed herself from her bind. Merret had been gentle enough so as not to leave bruises, but she was smart enough to arrange her wrists so that she could easily turn them flat and slip the ropes off. She acted quickly, pulling the chair from behind the desk over to the door. It was light enough for her to maneuver, but still heavy enough to leave damage when the time came.

Though she had no idea how much time she had. Pulling the shard of glass from her dress, she positioned herself directly in front of the door. She had no intention of letting Captain Nigel Morissey finish her off that night or any other night.

It was time to reclaim the Fates.

When the captain returned to his chambers, mumbling and cursing under his breath, he was met with the startling image of Elinor standing beyond his door. An evil smile welcomed him.

"What the—?" He had no time to finish. As soon he entered, North threw the glass as hard as she could, sending it straight into Nigel's thigh. He landed hard on the wood floor, a great howl escaping from within. As he held his injury, Elinor went to the chair next to him. With all her might, she raised it high and slammed it across Morissey's knelt body.

Cursing his cry of pain, knowing that someone must have heard, she searched quickly for his pistol. Just as she found it, she stood to find Merret catching his breath at the door, the torch still in his hand.

"Your keys, Mr. Merret," she demanded, aiming the pistol between his eyes. Dove looked down at the unconscious form of his captain, then up to North. He scowled before reaching to his side. Elinor held out her hand. As he dropped his set of keys into her palm, she surveyed them quickly; there were too many.

"Show me which one unlocks the cells." Merret pointed. Elinor nodded before motioning with the pistol for him to enter the chamber. As he came forward, she snatched the torch from him. She backed slowly out the door after checking to see if anyone else had come to the rescue.

Thinking fast, she pointed and asked, "And which one locks this door?" Dove stared, then sighed.

"This one," he answered, pointing to the largest brass key. North smirked as she started to close the door on Merret and the captain.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she warned before locking them in. Outside, she could tell that dawn was fast approaching; she had to act quickly. Inside the cabin, Merret was shouting, hoping someone would hear. Elinor cursed him and herself for not throwing something heavy to shut him up as well. Stumbling down the stairs, she squinted into the darkness. Replacing the torch, she let it spill over the area and light her way.

There were the pirates, still looking as if death had come to them in the night. North drew in a sharp breath. As she stared, she saw a tall figure stand where she had spoken with Bootstrap earlier.

"Elinor," he breathed, motioning her toward him. She shook herself out of the stare, fumbling with the keys as she made her way to the prisoners.

"What's happened to them?" she asked, attempting to remember which was the right key. Bill merely shook his head and watched her tremble as she worked. Overhead bounding footsteps and shouts could be heard. He scrutinized the woman.

"What have you done?" he asked slowly, enunciating his words. North didn't answer, but cursed her memory. Suddenly there was a shout.

"She has my keys! She's going to free the prisoners!" There was another shuffle of feet. Elinor and Bill turned to see a pair of boots bound down the steps. Without thinking, North raised the pistol and fired. Bill covered his ears as the boom bounced off the walls. He looked to Elinor, whose face had turned white. She was still looking at the man she just shot.

It was Dove Merret.

Looking up, Bill heard more shouts. He reached through the bars and grabbed Elinor's wrists.

"Hurry!" he hissed. She nodded, her face suddenly hard. Finally, she found the key she was looking for. After tearing open the door of the cell, Elinor stepped back toward Barbossa's. The pirates woke from their trance, shoving the coins in their pockets. They crowded together as if in a funnel until they were all free from the iron bars. "Thank you," whispered Bill. North pushed him away and he ran to the crowd of men at the back of the prison. There they retrieved their weapons.

Elinor watched silently as they sped past her and up into battle. Behind her, Barbossa cleared his dry throat. She turned slowly, her body going rigid at the sight of him. Despite looking worse than the rest of his crew, he was still easily recognizable. North walked up to him and spat on his boots.

"What—"

"You killed my father," she stated before he could finish. The captain looked at her as if she had three heads.

"I did no such thing," he said defiantly, brushing off his coat. Elinor could feel her ears growing red. She slammed the pistol against the bars, making him jump. Then she reminded him of the Horizon, of the time he killed a captain against orders. As she spoke, Barbossa moved back into his cell. His eyes were fixed on her hands as they inserted a key into the lock.

"…And then you marooned him," she finished, stepping into the area. Barbossa blinked before scratching his head.

"I didn' know, lass," he said, coming to her. North struck him hard with the back of her hand. He stumbled, holding his face. Elinor watched as he straightened and came toward her.

"Keep your distance, mate," she warned, raising the pistol level with his heart. He stopped, throwing up his hands in defeat.

"Goin' teh be exactin' yer revenge, then, I suppose?" he asked without fear. Elinor thought a moment, her jaw clenched.

"You and I are finished, Barbossa," she started. He nodded. "If I let you out of this cell, you must promise to help reclaim my ship and rescue my remaining crew in Port Royal." The captain scratched his chin.

"Will I get the Pearl back?"

"Yes."

"Then we have an accord," he said, holding out his hand. Elinor looked to it, still holding up the pistol.

"Give me your word as a man, not a pirate." Barbossa hesitated before answering.

"I swear it," he replied, placing his hand over his heart. "As a man." Seeming satisfied, the woman shook his hand and lowered her weapon. Barbossa left the cell first, leaving Elinor to watch his back as they exited. She winced as she stepped over Merret's dead body. They ascended the stairs side by side, North still shaken by the night's events.

"Nice dress, by the way," Barbossa commented. Elinor silenced him with a stern look. As they emerged on deck, an eerie silence filled the chilled morning air. Looking around, their eyes fell upon Barbossa's men, a few with pistols pointed at Morissey's men—who wasn't among them. Beyond them loomed the Pearl, more intimidating and frightful looking than ever. Apparently the men about her had come to the rescue, but had failed like their comrades. All of the men looked frightened, though Nigel's crew wore looks of pure terror on their faces.

"What's goin' on?" the captain asked to no one in particular. Ragetti stepped forward.

"Sir, somethin's…'appened." Barbossa raised an eyebrow, waiting for more. The thin pirate licked his lips before turning to Pintel. "Well go ahead…show 'im," he urged his other half. Pintel stepped forward, raised his pistol…and shot Ragetti right in the heart.

Elinor screamed; everyone else jumped.

"We can't…die, sir," explained Ragetti as he watched his chest swallow the bullet, smoke still simmering above the nonexistent wound.

A smile more wicked than any North had ever seen spread across the captain's lips. He pulled a coin from his pocket, holding it up to eyelevel.

"Some 'cursed' treasure, eh boys?" he asked, though none seem as enthused. After replacing the coin he looked to the new prisoners. "Kill 'em."

"No!" Elinor sprang forward, grabbing the captain's arm. He looked ready to avenge his previous injury. "Gather their weapons," she said quickly. "Lock them in the brig…we'll use them as leverage for my crew." Barbossa looked at her, sucking his bottom lip in thought. Upon deciding, he turned to Bo'sun and nodded. The pirates rounded up every last British soldier aboard the Fates and pushed them below deck. As they were being contained, Elinor went to Bill for answers.

"I 'ave no idea," he said before she even asked. He looked afraid. Elinor sighed. "But I don' think it's 'ad an affect on me," he stated as he lifted up his sleeve. His forearm bled from a deep cut, probably from a British sword. North raised her hand to it in awe. Bootstrap quickly covered it again as the men returned. She looked up but had no words for him.

"Where's Morissey?" Barbossa asked from behind. Elinor spun suspiciously fast.

"In my cabin, still unconscious." Both captains walked to her chambers. The door was open; Elinor shuddered at the thought of it being thrown open by a now-dead Mr. Merret. Inside, Nigel was pulling himself up, rubbing his head. He groaned at the sight of them, both with raised pistols.

Sources: "Saluting: Origin and Development" (http:www.riv.co.nz/rnza/hist/saluting.htm)

(Mahabala: great strength)

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