A/N: This is the second part of Surprise! I hope you enjoy. Also, I have no qualms against the French, but remember Pullings and the other British sailors would.

Remember this was a one-shot that I made into a short story.

A constant bang of metal meeting something else awoke Tom Pullings from his half consciousness. He drowsily looked around and contemplated where he was. Shouldn't he be in the captain's quarters? Slowly, it all came back to him. The damnable French! It was completely ungentlemanly like to pull such a horrible trick while in the Navy. Then he remembered, they were the French.

"Mr. Pullings? Mr. Pullings are you alright? We saw when you were put into your cell. Did they hurt you?" asked a small voice. "You were unconscious when they put you in."

Tom slowly made his way to the bars of his cell and looked out to see one of his men's hands sticking out of their cell and waving at him. He raised one eyebrow, but replied, "Besides a large lump on my head, I'm quite alright. Is everyone over there unhurt?"

"A few bumps and bruises, sir. Of course none of us went without a fight."

"Yes, yes, that's very good. What's your name officer?"

"I'm your translator, sir! Jonathan Wilson."

Pullings nodded before realizing the young boy couldn't see him. "Very well. Do try to get some rest and don't fret. Captain Aubrey will come after us soon enough." He shivered at the thought. He had finally been put in charge, and then he had to mess it up. Tom was very reluctant to see how the captain would react.

"Yes, sir."

Tom went back to lie down on the horrible cot they had provided for their prisoners. He sighed rolled over so he was facing the bars of his prison. As long as he was conscious he wasn't about to trust the French again. They had tricked him once, and they wouldn't do it again.

A few days later…

Tom Pullings laid on his back throwing a rock he had found in his cell up at the ceiling. His face hadn't been shaven in the days he had been in the Acheron's prison. Nothing had happened to cause any worry or excitement. He and his men were brought food twice a day, though, with the horrible scraps they got, they should have been receiving food more often.

A few frantic words yelled in French caught his attention. He stood up quickly and walked to the bars of his cell. "Wilson!" he called.

"Yes, sir?" was his answer.

"Did you catch what the Frenchman just yelled?" asked Pullings urgently.

"No, sir, I'm sorry."

A scowl appeared on Tom's face. "Keep a good ear for all that they say."

"Yes, sir."

Pullings began to walk back over to his cot when he heard something else called out. "Wilson! Did you catch that?"

"Yes, sir! He said to get the guns and cannons ready. The H.M.S. Surprise is approaching."

Tom tried to hold his excitement to a minimum. "Very good! I guess we shan't be waiting much longer!"

A happy yell went up from the cell next to his. He smiled warmly, but warned, "We best act as if we didn't know about this. Be quiet for the time being."

"Yes, sir," replied a few low whisperers.

The 1st Lieutenant walked back to his cot with an extra spring in his step. They would be saved soon! Lucky Jack was sure to beat the French again and save his crew. Why, if he beat them once, what was stopping him from doing it again?

A loud boom came from the Acheron signaling the beginning of the battle. Tom sat on the edge of his seat waiting for the next move to be made. He was sure the Surprise would soon overtake the larger vessel.

And, he was right. After only a few minutes of shooting men from the Surprise were already boarding the Acheron. They all seemed to have a vengeance against her for tricking them and taking part of their crew.

A Frenchman walked past the prisoner's cells with a very strained look on his face. As he passed, Pullings' cell he stopped and did a double take, as if realizing something for the first time. Quickly, he walked over to the wall, grabbed the keys to the cell, and unlocked Pullings.

"Thank you, sir! I don't know why you would free me unless you are a spy, but-" Pullings was cut short with a hand over his mouth and a knife at his throat. His black humor laughed, finding it very funny that he had been put in the same position in less than a few days.

"Pullings!" came a loud, commanding voice calling for him. Then another, "Pullings!" But, this time it was more desperate.

A sharp, searing pain crossed Tom Pullings neck, making him lose all sense of feeling beside that horrible pain. He faintly heard someone calling his name and looked to see his captain coming towards him. Then, all was black.

The sound of two hushed voices conversing cut into Pullings' dream, and he felt his eyes slowly begin to flicker open. A low light and two figures stood in his short range of vision. He groaned and tried to move, but found that it felt as if his body weighed a ton. Both of the figures were alerted by his sudden sign of life that they immediately came and stood over him. He recognized one to be the Surprise's doctor, Stephen Maturin, and the other was his very own captain.

"Pullings?" asked Jack, peering at him like a worried father. "Can you speak?"

Tom replied with a croaking noise.

"Well, don't try to stress yourself," replied Jack.

"And don't you think of stressing him," said the doctor, in a stern voice. "He just woke up after being unconscious for days."

"I'm quite aware of that, but I need him to help me with both of the ships."

"Not until he's well, besides you have Mowett."

"He's on the other ship!"

"Mr. Pullings here was almost killed!"

Jack glared for a moment before giving in to the doctor's orders. A silence enveloped the three men for a moment before a soft voice broke through it.

"What happened?" whispered Pullings.

Jack looked at Stephen. "Can I at least tell him that?"

Begrudgingly, Stephen replied, "Yes."

Jack nodded at Stephen, cleared his throat, and the faced Tom. "Not a day after you left to take the Acheron to the British Isles, we learned of the deceptive trick the French had played on us. Immediately, we turned around and came after you. After days of chasing, we finally caught up. As you know, a battle ensued; we won of course, but as I was coming to free you, a Frenchman had beaten me to your cell. As he saw me coming, he slit your throat. At that moment, I was sure you were dead. I killed the sailor who had injured you and had taken your body back to our ship when the good doctor here examined you and proclaimed you were not dead. Obviously, the cut was not very deep, and in the end not fatal. For days we've been waiting for you to wake up," recounted Jack, "and thanks to the good doctor you finally have."

"Are… are we still with the Acheron?" asked Pullings.

"Yes, we aren't going to let her pull a trick like that on us again. We are escorting her our self with Mowett in charge on her. Of course, the second you feel up to it, you can take charge." Jack took one look at Stephen, and then added, "That is, if the good doctor allows it, and you are better before the time we reach the Isles."

Pullings moved his head slowly. Jack and Stephen took it as a nod.

"Get some rest, Mr. Pullings, and don't rush your recovery," said the doctor, pulling Jack with him as he walked out of the room.

"Yes, sir," murmured Pullings, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

The End