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I gaze moronically over the pirate's shoulder at Will's beautiful face, forgetting all about the fight. He sees me, and the danger I am in, and darts towards me, but is waylaid by a group of pirates and has to pause to defend himself.
The pirate swings his sword towards me and I jerk myself back to reality. I leap out of the way of the blade just before it reaches my skin. I can see, out of the corner of my eye, that Will has broken away from his attackers and is nearing me. I swing Pintel's sword at the pirate and it rips a gash in the coarse material of his shirt. I gasp. I did not mean to do any damage. I am horrified when I notice scarlet beads of blood squeezing from a long, shallow cut on the pirate's chest.
I clamp my hand to my mouth. The pirate doubles over, clutching the wound. I drop my sword in horror. I cannot believe myself – I believe I may have just done some lasting damage; yet, I haven't, and I realise my mistake when the pirate miraculously recovers from his feint of an injury and drives his blade towards my heart.
The world collapses into slow motion. Helpless, I watch the bloodstained sword coming closer and closer to killing me. I open my mouth to scream but no sound comes out. I screw my eyes shut and wait for the cold kiss of steel through my ribcage, but it doesn't come. Instead, something heavy bashes into me and knocks me to the floor; at the same time, I feel a blade rip through the thin skin of my cheek and draw blood; then the weight is removed from me; I hear a yell of pain, a thud, and then all is silent.
I open my eyes tentatively. I am lying face-to-face with the pirate that tried to kill me. He is dead. Unseeing eyes stare chillingly into the middle distance. I roll over onto my back. Another face is within very close proximity to mine, but this time the sight is wonderful.
"Will," I sigh. The world is at rights.
"Catherine! Are you all right?" Will cries. He takes my hand and lifts me up to a standing position. I gaze upwards into his handsome face. There is a long gash down one side of it.
"Now I am," I reply.
"You're hurt," he says, and runs a finger down the cut on my cheek. I close my eyes and a tingle runs down my spine. "Not much," I reply. In fact I feel no pain when I am this close to him, but I don't say that.
All of Will's concern suddenly turns to disapproval. "You could have been killed just then. What on earth are you doing in the middle of a pirate attack?"
I ignore the question. "You saved me!" I gush and grab him around the midriff. Will looks slightly startled for a moment, then hugs me back. "Don't mention it," he mumbles.
I pull away. Will looks around. "I think the fight's over," he observes.
He's right. Navy men are standing around, nursing minor wounds and grinning sheepishly in relief; pirates are lying, prone, on the floor, some dead, some unconscious; and Norrington is striding towards Will and I, looking disapproving.
"Catherine!" he booms. "I told you to stay below deck, did I not?"
"Well, I –" I begin, but Norrington ignores me and snarls at Will, "What the hell are you doing on my ship?"
Will stiffens. "Pirates were ransacking your ship. We just happened to be passing. You looked as though you needed a little help."
A faint pink tinge reaches Norrington's cheeks. "We did not need any help." He turns to me. "I suggest you go to your quarters; it is almost half past four in the morning. And you," he glances at Will, "I suggest you return to your ship." He turns and marches off.
"I shall," Will replies at Norrington's retreating back, then turns to me. "I must do as he says, Miss Costa. I will see you again when you return to Port Royale. Elizabeth and I would be delighted to see you."
It is as if he has finished the pirate's job off for him and stabbed me through my heart, mentioning her. "That would be wonderful," I lie.
He nods in agreement and begins to turn away. "Oh, and Will?" I add. He looks at me with his heart-melting brown eyes. "How many times must I ask you to call me Catherine?"
Will opens his mouth and looks as though he is about to say something, but thinks better of it, shaking his head. "Goodbye... Catherine," he says, then he, too, turns and leaves.
I watch him go. I do not return to my cabin. I am not tired. I stand alone on deck amongst the bodies and watch the sun rise as it tinges the azure waters with dancing ochre stripes.