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Chapter 15: High Seas

"Ship sighted! Ship ahead!"

As Elizabeth snatched up her dressing gown, she asked her husband, "Do you think it's him, the kidnapper? Do you think Billy's all right?"

"I hope so," Will said after a moment of wondering what exactly she expected him to say to pointless questions like those. Rather than comment further though, he simply offered his hand to her, and together the two rushed out into the hallway.

The narrow corridor was choked with a dozen or so people. Several crewmen were already out of bed, tugging on shirts and yawning while they speculated on whether this was the ship they had gone after or if it perhaps was a possible victim for their piracy. On the far end of the passageway, the sailor who had come through moments earlier with his message about the spotted ship wasreturning up the stairs. Everyone else in the hallway was making his way toward the stairs as well, to see about the ship for themselves, all hoping that their swords might be needed and their pockets might be filled. Will and Elizabeth noticed Brant among those pushing toward the stairs, and then they were surprised to see--

"Gwen?"

"Elizabeth, Will," Gwen acknowledged. She smiled warmly enough at them, but her voice sounded tense and her eyes didn't focus on them. She looked like she might have been trying to sleep, judging by her slightly rumpled appearance, but she looked far too weary to have gotten much rest. "This ship might be the man who has Billy," Gwen said unnecessarily, for lack of anything else to say.

Elizabeth moved closer to Gwen as they followed the other sailors down the corridor. She couldn't help but wonder why she was down here where all the other pirates slept, when Gwen had never had, to the best of Elizabeth's knowledge anyway, any reason or inclination to ever spend much time there. "What's wrong?" she asked Gwen in a low tone, so their conversation wouldn't carry over the mumbles of the men.

"Shouldn't be anything wrong, as far as I know. The Pearl always wakes up in the middle of the night for a ship, nothing odd there," she answered blankly and automatically. "But then, it might not be M-- the ship we're after, though. If it's not, you and Will may want to come back down-- you wouldn't want to participate in the looting, I guess," she added absently.

"Who said anything about the ship? I meant, is something wrong with you? You look like someone just took your loot from you."

Those words stung Gwen. She didn't answer for a long moment. Perhaps that was it. She had mistakenly let slip that she might want or expect something from Jack that he wasn't willing to give. And he'd thrown it back in her face and stolen any unspoken hope she might have entertained that she was more than just a good time for him.

"When you tell someone about something important, they take it away from you," she said bitterly as they reached the stairs. Not feeling at all talkative, and especially not willing to explain that statement, she headed up the middle of the narrow flight of steps, leaving no room for anyone to walk beside her, and Elizabeth fell back a few steps to walk with Will again.

When they arrived on deck, they saw that night was nearly over. The sky was misty and silvery and was beginning to turn a pale shade of purple in the east in preparation for sunrise. And to the southeast, they could see the toy-ship silhouette on the horizon. Jack was already at the helm, one hand loosely clutching a spyglass at his side, the other hand scratching at his jaw as he stared at the shadowy ship. Finally, after a long pause during which he didn't seem to move at all, he issued his initial commands.

"Ready the guns," he shouted down as he searched the dimly-lit faces of those assembling on the deck below him. When he spotted the Turners, he called, "Will Turner!"

While some of Jack's crew scampered to carry out his orders, Will headed up to see what it was Jack wanted. Elizabeth went with him, and Brant trailed quietly along behind as well.

Jack scowled at Will and pointed brusquely at the steadily approaching ship. "I can only assume they're coming after you. What did ye do?" he growled.

"Who? Is it Billy's kidnapper?" Will asked hopefully and anxiously.

"No," Jack said. "I know his ship, and that's not it." Before either Will or Elizabeth could ask how he knew the kidnapper's ship, Jack grabbed Will by the shoulders and forcibly turned the younger man to look out at the ship. "Does that ship look at all familiar to you?"

Will squinted at it, ignoring Jack's mumbles of "this is just what we need now."

"Now that you mention it," Will said, "I suppose it might. But ships kind of look the same, don't they?"

Jack happened to have an abundance of anger this morning, and he was a mere inch from taking some of it out on Will's slip, since no two ships are ever "the same." But then he caught the suspicious look Elizabeth was giving him, and saw her glance out at the assembled crew on the deck below. She waslooking toward Gwen. Remembering himself somewhat, lest he give Elizabeth cause to start meddling in his affairs, he exhaled and pointed again, unnecessarily, at the ship. "It's Commodore bloody Norrington and his dinghy, the Dauntless. What did ye do to drag 'im out of Port Royal and halfway across the world?"

Elizabeth cut in before Will could respond. "You're the pirate, Jack. Why would he be here because of something we've done?"

In what might have sounded like an excess of arrogance, Jack said, "First, Norrington knows better than to waste his time chasing after me unless I'm in the neighborhood. He knows it's not worth the effort." It was true. Norrington was always eager to pounce if he ever spotted the Black Pearl in his patrol area, but he wasn't willing to waste his forces on trying to achieve the equivalent of "catching water with a sieve."

Will spoke up then, speaking not to Jack but to Elizabeth as he explained, "The ship that I, er… rented. Well, in fact, Brant and I were having a bit of difficulty finding a ship that could handle the journey that the owner was willing to rent or sell to us. So we… borrowed one."

"Borrowed?" Elizabeth repeated, pinning Will with a fierce stare.

"Stole. Commandeered," he amended, shooting a quick, sly smile towards Jack.

Jack cut in before Elizabeth could think of something to say to Will at this. "Reason number two Norrington can't be here after me: he shouldn't have any idea where to find me," he went on, all but ignoring Will's confession of ship-theft. "How does he know where to find you?"

"He… followed us?" Of course, since the Turners had passed through this area several days earlier on their way to Rome, it didn't seem very likely that Norrington could be that far behind them and still be merely tracking them.

It was Brant who spoke up then. Brant, who had been lurking silently to one side. "It's probably me that he's after." He cleared his throat. "Norrington's had his eye on me for a while." The Turners stared. "I used to run a small rum cartel. I, er… left the business, and settled in Port Royal a few years ago. Norrington knew I had been in the trade, but he didn't have any proof and couldn't do anything. He just warned me regularly to keep my nose clean."

Jack glared. "Is there a point to this heartwarming tale anytime soon?" he asked. Oddly enough, he was somewhat irritable after a failed attempt to sleep in a bed with bits of broken glass in it in place of his usual bedmate, and with a naval ship bearing down on them by the minute.

"Well, I thought perhaps the two of you didn't quite think of what you were doing," Brant went on quickly, speaking to the Turners. "Especially after the commodore had just visited you, Miss Elizabeth; I assumed he was warning you about keeping pirate friends. I knew how it would look to him, so I might have… left a little note, so your reputation wouldn't be damaged. In-- in case you changed your mind and wanted to return home."

"A note?" Elizabeth asked, feeling both touched and confused that the man had tried to give Will and herself a chance to change their minds about their decision to go to sea.

"Let's just say Norrington doesn't think you stole a ship and ran off to join pirates. He, er… probably thinks you've been kidnapped by your old butler and that you need rescuing."

"Did ye mention in your 'little note' where ye were taking your 'hostages?'" Jack growled.

"No."

There was a deadly silence.

"I… might have mentioned to Ada that I was going to Rome."

"Ada? Our cook?" Elizabeth's mouth fell open. "And then when Norrington came looking, she told him where you were going, no doubt."

Will was still staring. "You… Ada…"

"We had a nice thing. She had good legs," Brant shrugged.

Jack ignored the looks on the Turners' faces at the revelation of the affair that had been going on in their house. "Get below decks," Jack commanded. "If Norrington sees ye, he'll try to 'rescue' ye. And ye need to stay here if you want your kid back. You--" he pointed his finger right between Brant's eyes. "--will stay above." He didn't give them time to argue or ask questions, but turned away from them.

The Dauntless, he could tell in the dim predawn glow, was bristling with artillery once again, and bustling with activity. So Norrington did indeed recognize the Pearl. And probably, he wouldn't be in very charitable spirits at his having to restore the Dauntless' weapons array after Jack's little ship-raiding sortie not so long ago.

Wonderful. Jack permitted himself another scowl at Brant's idiocy in giving away his plans to a serving girl. Just because a man slept with a woman, he didn't have to go and tell her everything.

Jack hesitated, overwhelmed with a new perspective. He almost forgave Brant his faux pas as he was suddenly convicted of the fact that he himself had just gone and done the same, telling all he knew on an important subject to the woman who shared his bed. Angry now not only at Brant, but also angry at Gwen again, and angry at himself, he ordered loudly for warning blasts to be fired toward the Dauntless. Belatedly, he also had his men run the Jolly Roger up the line as an alert to the naval vessel that he would certainly not comply with anything they wanted of him. And just to taunt Norrington,Jack even had Gibbs retrieve a handful of various flags from the trunk in his cabin. These went up in a haphazard array below the familiar skull-and-swords, some upside down, an uncaring insult to the states they represented. Norrington loved adding to Jack's list of crimes, in hopes of one day seeing to it that the pirate paid for them all, so why not give him a few more petty counts of sailing under false colors to mark against him?

"Run out the sweeps!" Nearly the entire crew had turned up by now. Some were below on the gun deck, manning the cannons. At the last command, several more hurried below to man the oars. Other men scurried to furl the mizzen sails. Rowing wasn't a very efficient way to travel in a ship the size of the Black Pearl. But it was a great asset in times like these; they would be able to maneuver more nimbly than the Dauntless.

During all of this, Gwen merely kept out of the way. She'd avoided meeting Elizabeth's eyes as she and Will had dutifully returned below decks, and she was carefully trying to avoid being noticed by any of the men. If anyone paused to notice that she hadn't gone below for safety's sake, they would insist that she go. Of course, she intended to do no such thing, though she doubted she could actually help, even if the crew would let her "exert herself." And then there was Jack. She doubted whether he would even want to see her at all. So it was just as well, she supposed, that she couldn't do anything but watch silently from the sidelines…

Unless… It was silly, of course, and she felt silly for even trying, but still…

Gwen conjured up in her mind memories of every storm she'd ever seen. She pictured very clearly exactly how the sea would pitch and swell, how the clouds would swarm and tangle. And then she hoped and wished… She tried very hard not to feel ridiculous, hiding in the shadow of the stairs on deck, imagining that she could stir up storms; she tried very hard instead to believe the things that Jack and AnaMaria and the Romans and even Elizabeth had been repeating recently…

If some ancestor of hers had been able to cull Roman ships off from their fleets by using a conjured storm to corral them, then she could as well, couldn't she? If it was all true. If they could do that, then surely she could get rid of the Dauntless. She could just direct a strong northerly wind into its sails or something, send it far away from them. In a storm Norrington would be too busy trying to keep his own ship afloat to bother with the Pearl. They would be free to go without having to confront the naval vessel. If it were all true, that is…

Gwen's doubts in her abilities soon melted and disappeared. She was rather startled at first, then intrigued, when she noticed that the sky, which had been growing steadily lighter with the dawn, was beginning to darken again, filling with thick, sinister-looking clouds before her very eyes. The breeze changed direction and grew stiff and cool and increasingly more powerful. The waves grew choppier by the moment, and the shouts of sailors changed in intensity and urgency as sheets of cold rain came pouring down.

But at that particular moment Gwen wasn't thinking of how the Dauntless was faring now, or of her apparent success with summoning up a gale. It was then that she suddenly realized her great faux pas.

On the level of making decisions and carrying them out, Jack and Gwen could both make up their minds very quickly if they needed to. The difference between them, though, was that Jack somehow always managed to cram more cause-and-effect considerations and simple logic into his ideas in the same brief time-span. Unfortunately for Gwen, her split-second decisions didn't always turn out so well. They frequently landed her into trouble, and her rash choices were a favorite topic with Jack for teasing her. It was one of these such impulsive plots of hers that had thumped her down aboard the Black Pearl in the first place, so many long months ago.

And it was in this, Gwen knew, that she had gone astray again. Now that she'd so impetuously created a storm, an incredulous feat in itself, she was unnerved to realize that she no idea how to control it. Or contain it. And the great problem she'd overlooked in her haste, the great problem inherent in trying to trap one ship in a storm was if that one ship-- perhaps the Dauntless, for example-- happened to be very close to another ship-- perhaps the Pearl-- well, then… woe be to both of them. Clearly her ancestor had been much cleverer and more practiced at wielding his ship-snatching storms. Or had he been able, perhaps, to--

Gwen's frantic thoughts were closed down when a huge wave crashed over the Pearl, shaking her grip on the underside of the staircase loose. Every man on the ship had turned up on the main deck, abandoning the cannons and oars, and all were hauling lines with all their might. Theysimply hung on tighter as the water washed over them, but Gwen couldn't find anything to gain purchase. A single second stretched into a slow, tortuous eternity as she lost her balance to the wave, the ship slipped away, and she became aware only of water. Churning water everywhere.

She thought she might have heard a shout go up for her sake, but wasn't sure. She tried to focus on staying afloat, but swimming wasn't one of her strong points, and she was encumbered by her stomach.

She'd really gone and done it this time.