I have to just say that this bit has to be dedicated to 3 people: Finrod, who advised me on how men would talk together; Legrace, from whose fiery and eternal character I have "borrowed" a lot, and the late Jacques Cousteau, who is my hero of all time.

Baxley:
I had my very own Chapter 20 with my husband
Now that's what I like to hear! I would be happy to read what you have written - as long as it's during the weekend -D

Flint's Island

The third day out, Will Mowett came to relieve Tom Pullings after the first watch. A hair past midnight, they stood beneath a sickle moon in quiet companionship, watching the slow wake of the ship trailing out behind them like a ribbon in the black sea.

"Tom," sighed the second lieutenant. "I told myself to say nothing, and I probably shouldn't, but I have to."

"What do you mean?" asked his friend in unfeigned confusion.

"I think very highly of Mrs. Stirling. She's a fine woman – charming and a sweet lady. I can't praise her enough, and I am tremendously happy at your joy."

Tom turned to eye him with a dark frown. "But?"

"The plain truth is that her past cannot be kept a secret forever." Will sighed. "Of course it is necessary to protect her as long as possible. But, Tom, when she stands up in court and accuses this man of treason in her father's name, all the world will know what she has been."

Tom nodded. "Yes, I realize that."

"Tom… it would ruin you." He shook his head, miserable at having to speak so cruelly to his good friend. "You know we have almost no chance of being promoted to commander, but having a wife convicted of piracy…" Exasperated, wretched, Will Mowett raked his fingers through his hair. "Were you a fo'c'sle hand, a parson – a landsman, even – I would have said nothing, but you are none of these things. My God, Tom, I don't want to cause you pain, but I must say this, and then I'll remain silent forever."

His friend was looking the other way, his jaw tight.

"And those two little boys – what will happen to them? Midshipmen whose mother is known throughout the navy as a convict and a pirate? There must be some way to protect them."

"They're with two excellent captains now: old Hawkes and Commodore Bellows. That will be enough for a while." He smiled a bit sadly. "Well, now, if you are against her, who will be for her?"

"I am certainly not against her. Any matter, she says she will not hold you to it. How could she, really, with what we now know?"

At first, Tom did not say anything. "I appreciate your concern," he finally said. "And I know you speak out of friendship." He drew in a breath and sighed. "I hope that when the time comes that you will stand up with me as groomsman."

Will's mouth opened in surprise: it was not the answer he had been hoping for. He had said his bit, though,and would not mention it again. Still, he smiled a little and nodded. "It would be an honor."

The lookouts sighted land in the middle ofthe next morning. In the lazy warmth of the quarterdeck, Stephen had been watching some unusually marked gulls and Rose was working on a new summer gown. The chiffon gown's pearl buttons she had finished first before starting on this one from the rich length of cloth she had bought in Kingston. When the land call went up, they both looked up, startled.

Jack was there in an instant; indeed, all the hands came on deck to see. The officers and midshipman all trained spy-glasses on the distant speck and Stephen made a witty remark about how they looked, all ranged along the starboard rail like that; however, the lady was not attending. She was staring at the island with a delicate frown.

"Ma'am, is that the island?" asked the captain.

"Yes, sir."

For several long minutes, he studied the island in his glass before closing it and turning to Rose. "We have about three hours until the high tide," he told her, "and about five hours of daylight after that. Will it serve? Or must we wait for the morning tide?"

"It will be plenty of time, sir," she answered. "We'll be sweeping in very fast."

"Good. It won't interfere with the hands' meal then." Moving closer and lowering his voice so that no others could hear, he said, "Are you certain that you are up to it? Not to doubt your ability, but after so many years…"

She considered her answer for a moment. "I have no doubt at all. My only worry is how I shall deal with the men at first. I am a bit nervous about how to speak to them."

"I'll be right there, and the others officers as well, to aid and assist. You know I generally give my orders to them and they pas everything along to the crew. You'll have no problems with myself, or Mr. Pullings, of course, or Mr. Mowett."

"It is only the first few minutes that concern me," she admitted with a little smile. "Once we're underway, I'll forget to be nervous."

Stephen and Rose lunched with Jack, and the two men kept the conversation light and humorous. After that, she went to change into trousers and returned to the Great Cabin. She wore long, loose trousers that disguised much of her figure and a loose white shirt over another white shirt. Her curved figure was impossible to hide, but as far as men's clothes on a woman, it was the least degree of impropriety. Certainly, no man would be inflamed by anything revealed, for it covered more of her than her evening gowns. Jack looked at her with veiled disapproval before escorting her above.

All the officers were on hand with orders to assist, and all hands were watching. The rumor was that she was to guide them into the bay, and none of them knew what was true. From the moment she came on deck, she was gravely serious. At first, she made silent observation of the weather, then examined the island with a glass. When she looked at Jack and nodded, it was nigh high tide. She was ready to take command of the ship.

"We'll run west and sweep in north-nor'west on the diagonal. A point north of north nor-west," she called in a strong quarterdeck voice.

"A point north of north-nor'west. Aye, sir." The cox'n began turning the wheel. "Aye, ma'am."

"Trim the maintop t'gallant."

"Aye, ma'am."

Stephen observed what was progressing from the quarterdeck, keeping well out of the way. Poor nervous Rose very quickly lost her worries and self-consciousness in her occupation: even to him and his unlearned eyes, the sailing was difficult. The closer they came to the island, the more orders were called out and the more ease she seemed to take in the employment. It relieved him, for she had been wound up tight as a coil at luncheon and he had felt terribly sorry for her in this impossible situation. Now, she seemed almost to enjoy it.

The Caribbean was fresh and blue all around them and the white capped waves danced merrily as the Surprise sliced through them. So many sails were furled and unfurled, trimmed and loosened. and they were sailing into the wind. Men were in action, leaping and responding to the cries of the officers, and Stephen Maturin began to understand what they had all been talking about when they had said that sailing into this bay would be difficult.

The island neared, or so it seemed. It loomed over them, and the geological formation fascinated him so much that he forgot the dangerous sailing. On the map, he had seen the island was shaped like an almond with the pointed top almost due north and the flat southerly bottom opening onto a long narrow bay. All round, as far as he could see, were sheer cliffs plunging down to the sea. There was nowhere to land except the bay, and that was protected by the treacherous reef, or so the chart had indicated. Nearer they came. As of yet, he could see no coral, but the angle was steep enough to make them all grasp lines to steady themselves.

Rose's strong, angry voice interrupted his introversion. "What is the matter whit that t'gallant?" she shouted. "This is not one of your Dutchmen's barges!"

Expecting to see a flicker of amusement, Stephen glanced at Jack. Instead, he saw a dark frown and a glare. The lady must have been right, and the approach must have been far more dangerous than it seemed to Stephen.

Again, he turned his attention back to the island, trying to identify some birds that he saw diving for fish. They were neither gulls nor any other seabird he had seen before, but they reminded him a bit of puffins. Close, now, and more shouting aboard. The island was coming up a damn sight too fast, even Stephen could see it. If there was truly a fatal reef ahead, could they hope to pass over it intact?

Now, it struck him. Rose had climbed up on the foresail and was sitting straddling the foremast's yardarm, staring at the deep blue water. "Starboard a little," she called. "Starboard a little." Somehow, the promise of the stormy days at sea when she had become one with the wind and the sea came to fruition. Total, complete, like an incandescent sun, the tall woman leapt down from the yard and clambered up on the starboard rail close to the bowsprit. Grasping lines in both hands, she leaned out over the edge, staring straight down into the water.

"Hold your course," she roared, hanging almost perpendicular over the surface of the sea. Quickly, she jumped down to the deck and ran over to the larboard side where she climbed up easily and studied the water. "Starboard a little!"

Forgetting the danger and the seriousness of what was being attempted, with the ship barreling down on the reef at a ridiculous speed, he studied the sea-creature he knew as Rose. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he muttered aloud. Beautiful, she was, far too lovely and incandescent for a creature of the land. Some of the strange iridescent creatures of the deep that he had seen had this grace, this brilliance, this captivating essence. Lost in the life or death maneuvers of the ship, caught up in the passion of the moment, the fierce and matchless daughter of the sea stood upon the rail balanced on one foot and holding to the lines with the wind rushing past her and uttering a laugh and cry of exultation.

The wind carried them far into the bay, easily. Around a bend, they slowed, until the wind was almost dissipated there in the depression between the massive cliffs on the exterior of the island. The reef was past, the ship was safe, and all the men were able to breathe easier in relief. But the magnificent Rose Stirling was lit up with all the passion of her soul as she made her way back to the quarterdeck. Her smile at Pullings was intense enough to worry the others about being singed, and Stephen saw Mowett grin; Mr. Allen was silent and frowning. "Welcome to Flint's Island," she said to Jack with a trifle of sadness that dampened a little her ephemeral loveliness.