Fifteen

The rowboat carrying Sarah, Morris, and the body of Edmund Gillette was hoisted to the deck of the Dauntless by four silent sailors. Next followed Norrington and Caitlyn, who had become conscious, though dazed. Once aboard, Norrington wasted no time in ordering Gillette's body to be laid out with whatever honors could be managed under the circumstances, and detailing a guard. Most of the crew of the badly damaged Cornwall had been fished out of the ocean and brought aboard to be examined by the surgeon.

"Mr. Morris, see to it that wash water, food and drink are taken to my cabin, and plenty of it. The ladies will be quartered there for the return voyage. And send the carpenter over to the Cornwall to see if she can be patched well enough to sail home."

As soon as the cabin had been made ready, he personally escorted his sister there, along with the woman he'd come to think of as the sea-nymph. He settled Caitlyn onto one of the bunks and held a cup of cold water to her lips. She drank thirstily and wanted more, but he shook his head. "Not just yet. If you sick it up you'll be worse off than before." She sighed and lay down just as she was; she was out in less than a minute. Her bare feet hung over the edge of the bunk, covered with sand; Norrington gently lifted them onto the coverlet.

He spoke very quietly to Sarah. "She'll be fine once she's had a rest and some food. I've no idea how she got aboard the enemy's ship. Fortunately it won't take us long to get back to Port Royal, as I think you should both be seen by the physician."

He noticed that his sister had begun to shake ever so slightly, and frowned. "There ought to be some spare clothing in the cupboard there, Sarah. You might as well shove your things right out the window, I'm afraid they're beyond salvaging. Here's washing-up water as well." He was unsure what else to say; he was used to dealing with military men, not civilians covered with the blood of battle. He poured the warm water from its bucket into a basin and set a fresh towel beside it.

Sarah simply nodded, her hands working at the laces of her gown. "Thank goodness this is fastened in front. I can see you haven't had the forethought to bring a ladies' maid!" She stifled a hysterical giggle.

Norrington cleared his throat, looked at her anxiously, then stepped outside and shut the door. "Look sharp there, men! Set sail for home and be quick about it, I want us docking by sunset!" Shouting orders always made him feel better, more in control.

Sarah washed up as best she could manage, and ended up pulling on a pair of buff breeches and an ordinary white shirt, topped by a brown frock coat that had seen better days. She couldn't imagine how civilian clothes had gotten onto the ship, but she was glad not to have to don Navy togs; she stifled a shudder at the flashing memory of the blood on Gillette's coat. She managed to eat a bite of cheese and bread and drink a few swallows of wine before exhaustion claimed her.

-

The Dauntless made good time on the return sail. Caitlyn awoke after a three-hour sleep, and opened her eyes to see Sarah trying to jam her stained gown through the window. "Good Lord, what are you doing? That gown must've cost a pretty penny!" Caitlyn exclaimed, then nearly laughed at the incongruity of such a statement, considering the situation.

Sarah whirled around, the dress half in and half out of the cabin. "It's got blood on it. And what do you care?" Her gaze flicked over Caitlyn's ragged and filthy attire. "Who are you anyway? My brother said you were aboard one of the enemy ships."

"Not by my own choice, I assure you. I was kidnapped off my brother's ship by that privateer captain, Jack Sparrow." An odd sequence of expressions passed across her face. "He was going to, er, ransom me to my brother." That little fib didn't bother her at all. "My name's Caitlyn O'Shea. I was on my way to my cousin in London."

Sarah came and sat beside her on the bunk. "Sarah Norrington. My brother is the commander of these ships. He brought you back from the beach when you fainted; do you remember any of that?"

Caitlyn scratched at one sandy leg. "Very little; just someone bending over me with a red coat on. But I do recall the man that brought me to this cabin – quite a nice-looking bloke I must say. Good Lord, I need a wash."

Sarah giggled. "James? I'd say you had sunstroke, but it's probably just my point of view. He certainly seems interested in you," she added, recalling her brother's attention to making Caitlyn safe and comfortable. She rose and stuck her head out the cabin door to ask Mr. Morris for more warm water, then turned back. "I don't suppose you are secretly a duchess or some such, with a small fortune to your name and that sort of thing? I'm trying to marry him off, you see."

Caitlyn laughed out loud at that, and stood up, wincing as pain from her scraped-up feet hit her. "He'd be more likely to marry your ladies' maid. I'm a nobody, really; no family that counts, no money." A sailor brought another large bucket of water in, then touched his cap and exited.

"Hmm, no family or money. That is a problem, but I suppose we can manage. We may have to just not tell him what he doesn't ask about, and let nature take its course. He was all puppy-dog-eyed when you passed out on the bunk. I've never seen him look at a woman that way." Sarah nodded decidedly. "He won't care two figs where you're from once he's in love with you."

Caitlyn gratefully shucked off the disgusting breeches and shirt she wore, and sat on a stool in her knickers, rinsing the dirt and sand and seawater from herself with happy sighs. "Castles in the air. You don't really think a Navy officer would even consider a girl with hands like these?" She held out her palms; they were well-calloused from hard work. "But I hope you and I can be friends. I think I'm going to need one."

"I'd like that. And I'll do what I can to get you home again." Sarah smiled.

A shudder went through Caitlyn at her words. "Home used to be my brother's island; but if you're a real friend, you'll help me to never go there again."

Sixteen

Jack Sparrow squinted into the brilliant sunlight as the Pearl docked in Tortuga. The crew's usual chitchat had reached a fever pitch, most of them looking forward to several days of carousing and, with any luck, a good fistfight or six. It couldn't help but provoke a bit of grumbling when their captain called them to order just before they disembarked.

"Gentlemen, you've done well, and earned a bit of a rest or a bit of fun as may be." Jack strode the quarterdeck, the buttons on his frock-coat shining in the sun. "But I've need of you still, and thus I must impose on your good natures. We will dock only until tomorrow sunset." Groans of dismay rose from the crew, and Jack winced slightly. "I've got unfinished business with Sir Robert O'Shea, and I intend to see it through to the end. Tomorrow we sail to Santiago Island with the tide!"

The men's surprised looks changed to loud, excited speculation. They'd all heard stories about Santiago and its rumored hoards of gold, and they all knew that their commander "owed one" to O'Shea; they didn't much care why. "Eh, Captain, we'll take their stronghold and their plunder, and send the Spaniards runnin' into the swamps!"

Jack smiled; he had them. "Right you are, mate. So go your way and have your fun; but I want every man-jack of you back on board and ready to work tomorrow morning, or there'll be no rum ration for the rest of the journey." He gave his best stern look to them all, and was gratified to see them nod, eyes wide. Sailing any distance at all without rum was unthinkable.

All the men except for the watch disembarked as fast as they could get over the rail, and soon the town rang with the shouts of excited sailors and the happy ring of coin being exchanged for those things dear to a pirate's heart. Jack shook his head as they scattered, then turned back to see Gibbs standing by his side with a puzzled look.

"Captain, what's all this about goin' back to Santiago? I thought Captain Gallardo was goin' to do our dirty work for us, eh?"

"Tell me something, Gibbs. If you were me, would you trust Gallardo to keep his word when it means risking his life?"

"Good God, no. The man's a scoundrel, though I 'spect the ladies find him charming."

"Right you are. And make no mistake, getting O'Shea is very important to me; so I'll risk no failures. If we sail tomorrow, we should arrive at Santiago a day or two after Gallardo does. By then we'll know if he's been successful or not at sending O'Shea to his maker. And if not, we'll lend a hand. Savvy?" Jack grinned wickedly.

"Aye, Captain! Well then, I'd best be goin' ashore. There's a little gal on Two Street that I'm wanting to check up on." Gibbs straightened his shabby neckerchief and smoothed back his hair.

"Be off with you, then. Mind you have your sorry arse back here by dawn, and sober as well. I meant what I said about the rum ration."

"Captain, you should know me better'n that by now. When it comes to my rum," Gibbs clapped a closed fist to his heart, as if pledging allegiance, "I take no chances."

-

The Dauntless docked in Port Royal as the last reddened rays of the setting sun gleamed over the coastline. Norrington viewed the town with satisfaction; he had rarely been gladder to arrive home.

His sister and Miss O'Shea had become fast friends. This troubled him slightly, as they really knew nothing about Caitlyn but what she had told them herself; but he had to admit that she was well-spoken and bright. He mused for a moment on how the sunset matched her curls; then shook himself, appalled at his unruly train of thought.

As the shouts of the crew rang across the deck, Sarah emerged from his cabin, still dressed in her commoner's clothing. Caitlyn followed, dressed similarly; he was relieved that she had changed out of the rags they'd found her in.

"Good evening, Sarah, Miss O'Shea." Norrington greeted them formally, mindful as always of the proprieties. "I will be disembarking shortly, and will send a man to the house to fetch suitable attire for you both. You of course cannot think of going ashore as you are." He gave his sister the raised-eyebrow look that meant, "I know you were thinking of it, but you can forget the notion entirely."

To his surprise, Sarah didn't bother to protest or even pout. "Very well, James, if you insist. We shall try to stay out of the way." Caitlyn grinned and led the way to a pile of crates, where they both took a seat. He considered ordering them back to the cabin, but wisely decided not to press for total capitulation. This new maturity of Sarah's was very welcome; no point in ruining it with excessive strictness.

The ramp was laid for disembarking, and Norrington was the first to do so, where he was met immediately by Kidder. "Begging your pardon, sir, I took the liberty to hire a carriage for the day, having heard of Miss Norrington's, ah, adventure. I felt she might not be up to walking home."

Norrington nodded; Kidder had probably had a little chat with the worthless tar that had brought Sarah to the Dauntless the day before. "Good man. First, I need you to return home and fetch two of Miss Norrington's gowns and two pairs of slippers; don't worry about hats. Don't look at me that way, Kidder, she is quite all right. Her gown just had a mishap is all, and I will not have my sister appearing before the town in a state."

Kidder returned within the hour, bearing a trunk which he struggled to carry up onto the deck. He looked about nervously, not being used to being on board a ship instead of solid land. "I did my best, sir, but God knows I'd rather face pirates than venture again into a lady's wardrobe!" He stifled a shudder.

"My abject apologies, Kidder. I hope with all my heart that I shall never need to ask such a thing of you again. Mr. Smith!"

"Aye, sir."

"Convey this trunk to my cabin at once." The sailor easily lifted the trunk and hustled off, knocking peremptorily before entering the cabin he knew to be empty.

"Now, Kidder, please return to the carriage and inform the driver that his passengers should be appearing shortly. You will of course escort them home. I have a great deal to do here and will sleep aboard."

"Passengers, sir? More than one?" The poor man had reached a state of utter confusion.

"That's correct. We have managed to fish a little mermaid out of the sea, and Sarah wishes to keep her." It really wouldn't do to push the man any further, Norrington decided. He turned and strode off, finding Sarah and Caitlyn still sitting on the crates, swinging their feet and watching the goings-on with interest.

"My ladies, your wardrobe awaits." He smirked slightly and bowed, gesturing to his cabin. The stress of the last twenty-four hours was definitely making him a little punchy. "Kidder is waiting with a carriage, when you are ready."

"Shortly" turned out to be nearly an hour, but finally the two ladies reappeared, looking tolerably respectable if not dashing. Sarah's slippers were too big on Caitlyn, and she had to step carefully as they disembarked. Kidder helped them both into the carriage, his eyes nearly popping from his head at the sight of Caitlyn's wild curls. "I should have brought her a hat," he muttered.

Norrington turned back to his ship as the carriage rolled off. No avoiding it now; it was time to pay the piper. His mission had suffered considerable loss of life and damage to vessels. He'd taken a grave risk in trusting Sparrow's word about the raiders. And he'd managed to burden himself with a young, attractive stranger who had divulged virtually nothing about herself.

He would spend tomorrow in conference with Geoffrey Bainbridge, but tonight he must prepare his report. Just for a moment, he wished he were a blacksmith.