Disclaimer: If Pirates of the Caribbean stuff is P, Delphein's stuff is D, and this story is S, then S minus P equals D. Wasn't that easy?

Chapter 7: The Carefree Pirate's Life
"Where are we to meet Anamaria?"

"At sea," Jack answered vaguely, sounding disinterested in discussing it right now.

Gwen frowned at his response, circuitous and unrevealing as always, but she didn't press the question. She merely turned her gaze back out the window to consider the post-sunset twilight.

But her thoughts were interrupted as Jack abruptly wrapped his arms around her from behind, and bent to kiss the side of her neck.

"Not tonight, Jack," she heard herself say dully.

She expected him to huff or heave an exaggerated sigh, but he did neither. Nor did he even pause, but reached a hand up to loosen the laces keeping the wide neck of her shirt (for she had changed back to her more comfortable clothes) from gaping open.

"Too late to worry about it now," he said in the rough growl his voice dropped into whenever he was trying to seduce her.

And usually, his tactics won her over to his bedroom campaigns rather easily. But tonight, his words themselves overrode his husky tone because they rang all-too-true. The reason it was too late to worry about "it"- the possibility of conception- was the child growing in her womb even now. Instead of the jolt of desire she might normally get from his using his best seductive-voice on her, Gwen felt the pang of dread that was quickly becoming an all-too-familiar correlation with any thoughts of her impending motherhood.

She turned abruptly within his arms, and before she had really considered what she was going to say, she pointed out, "I'm pregnant, Jack."

Jack staggered back a step or two, put a hand to his hand, and then grabbed her playfully, pretending to steady himself, as he repeated with an astonished expression, "You're what?"

Before Gwen could comment on his mockery, he grinned and said, "You're a bit late on the revelation there, mate."

Gwen sighed. "Don't you realize what that means?"

His brow furrowed and his head cocked to one side. "No more playtime?" he guessed, clearly hoping the answer to this would be "no."

"I'm carrying your baby, Jack," she said earnestly, ignoring his teasing. "Where is there room on the Pearl for a damned baby?"

For a moment, Gwen thought perhaps she had finally caused Jack to stop and think about how they would fit a baby into their lifestyle. But when he spoke again after a few seconds, he answered lightly.

"There's a plenty of room," he said. "And the little whelp'll be in good company. The Pearl's had plenty of damned crew and damned captains, and damned fools like me, and damned vixen like you." (Here he leered salaciously at her, stalwartly sticking to his guns in his attempts to coax her out of her clothes tonight.) "So there's certainly room for a damned baby."

Gwen stared at him for a long moment. When she at last parted her lips to speak again, Jack stooped and kissed her, silencing any argument she might want to make.

He pulled back and looked down at her then, running his hands up her sides and digging his fingers into her ticklish rib. Finally soliciting a genuine smile and a choked laugh from her as she tried to squirm away from him, he stopped torturing her and caught her close again, spooning her back against his stomach. Lowering his voice again, he leaned over her shoulder and said, "You need some more pirate in ye, luv."

His double-entendre had the desired effect.

After a long moment, Gwen silently let her worries about the baby slip away. At least for now, anyway. As Jack suggested, perhaps she should let the pirate roam free again, and stop trying to fight life and just take whatever she could from it. Wasn't that the creed that had guided her happily for the past six or seven months? More pirate, less worries.

Gwen sighed contentedly, not as convincing a sound as she might normally make, but Jack was satisfied she had listened to his advice.

Then she leaned back into his chest, and in her own best seductive purr, said, "Maybe I do need some pirate in me. Is 'the Captain' feeling charitable tonight?"

"'The Captain'," Jack replied in a low rumble, grinning smugly at his success and hugging her rear back against his hips, "is an upright fellow. Bit of a stiff negotiator, has some rigid beliefs, but always willing to help a damsel from her dress…"

"Ah, Commodore. To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit?"

Norrington stood to greet his hostess as she entered the drawing room where he had been ushered to wait. A few hours earlier, it had suddenly occurred to him what was bothering him about the appearance of the piratess he had glimpsed on board the fleeing Pearl.

"Miss Turner," he acknowledged, executing a brief bow in courtesy. As she seated herself across from him in an overstuffed chair, he said, "I had hoped to find your husband at home as well."

"He normally would be by this time, but he's had an expected order to fill recently and is catching up," Elizabeth explained diplomatically. When the commodore didn't respond after a moment, she tried, "Is there some way we might help you?"

"I had hoped I might be able to help the two of you, Elizabeth," Norrington said frankly. "I thought perhaps you might appreciate my advice."

Elizabeth sat up a bit straighter and gestured for him to go on, her attention caught by his use of her first name.

"I have heard rumors, Elizabeth, and I have turned my head. Some people say the Turners harbor pirates. Despite how I know you, and William, to have… unsavory connections, I still ignored the gossip. However…" he paused, searching for his wording.

"Is there a point to this, Commodore?" Elizabeth asked, using his title to show her concern but keeping her tone light to keep from sounding anxious.

"Where you aware that the Black Pearl was here in Port Royal this morning? And Jack Sparrow?" Norrington didn't share what Sparrow had gotten away with, essentially emasculating the Dauntless by stealing its balls and shot.

"Sara Matthews was speaking of it when she called earlier this afternoon, yes," Elizabeth said evasively.

"Are you also aware that Mr. Sparrow has a lady consort sailing with him now?"

"Does he?"

"She's about generally about your size, I would guess," Norrington said, clearly trying to draw some sort of confession from Elizabeth.

Elizabeth couldn't imagine what kind of proof of her involvement he might have, so she continued to avoid giving anything away. "Oh?" she said nonchalantly.

"She was wearing a very distinctive gown. One which I seem to recall you wearing to a ball at the Staffords' a few years ago." Before Elizabeth could stumble over an excuse or cover-up for this telling bit of evidence, he went on, nearly pleading. "Elizabeth, if you and William get yourselves caught harboring or helping Jack Sparrow, or any pirates for that matter, there won't be anything I can do. I cannot merely look the other way if the entirety of Port Royal is pointing to you as colleagues of pirates. Please do not force my hand against you."

"Two ships, dead ahead," came the call down from the crow's nest. Jack drew out a spyglass and peered at the distant horizon. It would take another moment or two before he could first see them, from his vantage point far below Gwen's lookout. (Gwen had insisted that if she wasn't to worry, neither was he, and had climbed up to her post as usual.)

Jack stared, waiting.

And then two tiny spots appeared. As the Pearl drew nearer and nearer, Jack scrutinized the two vessels. The one to starboard was the Gilder, all right. The other ship was painted entirely a deep shade of burgundy, trimmed in white, with red sails. He wasn't familiar with the craft, but with an eccentric façade like that, there was only one man who could possibly be its captain.

"Dylan Murphy, not dead yet? And is this all ye could drag out, Anamaria?"

Captain Murphy leaned back precariously in his chair. "Is tha' any way te talk aboot an ol' friend, Jack?"

"I thought ye swore ye'd not survive a day if ye ever left Singapore again, Murphy," Jack said severely, but he was grinning teasingly.

Murphy shook his head. "Could ha' sworn ye said th same. We were yoong then."

"Some of us still are," Jack smirked, feeling particularly vibrant after a good night's "sleep."

Before Murphy could respond, Anamaria cut in, "If we could settle the details of this voyage, perhaps the two of you could drink and trade tales later."

Murphy eyed her with a very convincing scowl on his face, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "Why'd ye make 'er a kept'n, Jack?"

Anamaria ignored the jibe. "Tell Jack what you told me," she commanded.

Murphy frowned. "I dunno how ye stood 'er on yer ship," he complained good-naturedly. But he let his chair plunk back onto all fours and leaned forward. "I saw one o' yer ghostin' ships, soonds like. One what she says disappears, but this'un didna disappear." He paused.

Jack remembered his old shipmate well, and unless he had changed, Jack knew the man had quite a penchant for dramatic story-tellings. He merely grinned, refusing to ask any token questions to lead him on. Finally, Murphy continued on his own, seeming somewhat deflated.

"Talked t' them."

Jack couldn't stop himself. "Talked to them? Who are 'them'?"

"I think ye've already guessed, Jack. If I said they 'ad a corvus, wouldna that answer all?"

"I assume ye're saying they had a corvus on the ship," Jack said, realizing that if he didn't play his role as inquisitive, curious listener, Murphy would never get anywhere.

"Aye, but tha's not all."

"Somehow I doubted it would be."

"Th' kept'n searched m' ship, and after tha', we talked."

Jack sighed. "I'm assuming there's some tidbit ye could just go ahead and tell me that would answer all, aye?"

Murphy grinned, but didn't answer, waiting for Jack to ask the correct question.

"So why did he want to search your ship?"Jack bit his tongue on comments on its unusual coloring.

"They thought I might ha' summat they were desperate fer."

"And why would they think that?"

"They saw 'er name."

Jack waited. Many pirate captains, after commandeering a vessel, would rename and frequently even repaint their new ship. Few actually painted the new names onto the vessels, though. Renaming ships was frowned upon already by seamen's superstitions, and branding a new designation on a ships' hull seemed way too permanent for the more apprehensive souls. Apparently, though, Murphy had been brazen enough to retitle his ship.

Jack knew there was no telling what this character would name his ship. He hadn't seen the title yet, but then, he had only caught a few cursory glances of one side of it this morning. Finally, he sighed and asked, "The name of your ship?"

Murphy surprised Jack by foregoing a dramatic pause and answered promptly, with a grin, "Lux Fortunaque Mundi."

Gwen watched from her overhead perspective as Anamaria and the other captain boarded the Black Pearl and then disappeared into the map room.

Gwen couldn't help but grin when she first saw the man that was captain of the odd scarlet ship. He was just as red as his ship, with bright red-orange hair knotted into dreadlocks, and a thick red beard. What she could see of his face suggested a pinkish complexion. He wasn't much taller than Jack, but his beefy arms and torso reminded her of a bull.

When she grew tired of drawing correlations between the red man and his red ship, she began musing that she supposed Jack matched his own ship closely enough. His dark mane of hair and kohl-limned dark eyes complemented the Black Pearl very nicely, she thought. Although perhaps she was biased. His-

Ahoy, Gwen, what is this? She abandoned her idle thoughts and took out her spyglass to peer more closely at the dot that had just appeared on the horizon to the southeast. As the highest watch on the tallest ship of the trio, she was the first to see the ship.

"Ship approaching, southeast," she turned to yell down to Gibbs at the helm. She felt, more than saw, the activity on all three ships changing from leisure to readiness as she turned to peer through her glass again.

"Three ships," she corrected.

At this, Gibbs called down that the captains were to be notified immediately. Then he turned his face upward to yell toward Gwen, "Can ye see if they're flying any colors yet?"

There was a silence.

"Gwen?"

"Gibbs, sir," Gwen called, peering down to meet his gaze. "There's a whole fleet."

Latin Notes:

Corvus- Literally, "crow" or "raven." However, this actually refers to a sort of drawbridge-like device on Roman naval ships, with a spike at the end. Drop the little "bridge" down on an enemy ship, the spike drives through the enemy's deck to hold the corvus in place, march your soldiers across to take on the mere sailors on the enemy ship, and !!poof!! instant land-battle. Man vs. man rather than ship vs. ship. Named for the fact that with one of these roughly-beak-shaped devices on the prow, a ship looked rather bird-like itself.

Lux Fortunaque Mundi- Literal translation (and this is all you get): "The Light and Fortune of the World."

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