Summary: Now that'd be telling, wouldn't it? Read on!

Disclaimer: Captain Jack Sparrow, Commodore James Norrington, Will Turner, Elizabeth Turner, Bootstrap Bill and everyone else I've turned to my own use do not belong to me. I'm not selling this story, I'm merely writing for my own enjoyment. Please don't sue me, I haven't got anything worth your while anyway.

scarlettxoxo: Thank you for the review, it's nice to know that I'm not so completely delusional as I had first believed, when I began writing this tale. Sorry it's taken me so long to post chapter 3, I've been struggling with a few key passages at work, and I shall update as often as is earthly possible, with working a six day week, and balancing a family when I'm not working my butt off.

Elizabeth gave in to the urge and slapped Jack soundly across the face. To give him a nod, he didn't even flinch when he saw it coming; though he did turn his head to somewhat soften the blow as it landed. The captain's cabin was blessedly quiet in the aftermath of her small explosion of temper, and he simply stood there for a moment, regarding her.

"I'm nearly positive I didn't deserve that," he remarked offhandedly, drawing a confused frown from his attacker.

"What?"

Jack began to stroll a wide circle around her, or as wide a one as could be afforded by the cramped space of being below decks. It all seemed so familiar to the girl that she had to force back the need to shiver, and thank all that was holy that the Black Pearl was once more very firmly in the hands of her proper master.

"S' a private joke, lass, don't worry about it." And the look on his face did more to convince her to hold her tongue against further prodding for answers for the time being than the verbal request had. "But I do have to ask why you slapped me, since I can't say I understand your reasoning… but then again, women always did leave me feeling somewhat befuddled, if you will." Pouring another glassful of rum, he took a generous drink of it.

"That! The drinking, your seeming lack of concern for where we are going, or what you intend to have us do when we arrive. Your insistence on keeping me uninformed of every single aspect of whatever is going on in that…" she lost her ability to speak for a moment, she was so incensed, and Jack merely stood there, peering at her in the way that one might regard a particularly fascinating insect that one had never seen before, perhaps wondering if it might sting if provoked. "Beneath that ridiculous bandana of yours!"

"You haven't asked me anything and as far as I know, you haven't asked dear Jimmy anything, or he probably would have come to me asking if he should tell you, savvy? So I don't feel that the slap was quite so warranted as all that, even if you really felt the need to hit something, because you're angry." Elizabeth began to realize that Jack was actually sounding sulky, and it was a new perspective for her.

"I'm not going to apologize." She remarked tartly, her chin set at an angle which brooked no argument for those who knew her. But then again, Jack freely admitted in his own mind that he did not know her very well, despite the occasional companionship they had shared over the past two years, and he realized that a great deal of what they had in common was the missing blacksmith. It left him feeling a little out of sorts, in the grand scheme of things.

"That's your prerogative, Mrs. Turner," he responded, "But since you haven't bothered to ask, I'll tell you anyway, we're sailing for Trinidad, and should be there in…" he tilted his head up, as though consulting some internal calendar or calculation that only he was privy to. "Nine days, if the weather holds."

More prophetic words were never spoken, as there came a knock on the cabin door. Anamaria stuck her head around the jamb after wrenching the door open without further preamble, and regarded the pair of them with dark, laughing eyes. "Don't tell me you were stupid enough to proposition her?" Jack realized that the fading red of Elizabeth's handprint must still be visible on his cheek, and he took another deep swallow of rum to bolster his sense of pride.

"What is it, Anamaria?"

"Just so happens, Captain, that there's a storm brewing ahead, a rather nasty blow by the look of things. Gibbs is suggesting we make port at an island off to the north a bit, he's fairly sure he recognizes it, and it'll be safer than trying to sail through it." Jack sighed, and studied the tops of his boots for a moment, not wanting to see Elizabeth's face, and the disappointment that must surely dominate her expression.

"Fetch Jimmy for me, would you? I'll need to speak to him about what he thinks is the better course of action. We may have to sail through it whether we will or no."

"Aye, he'll be here shortly." The dark woman assured, before withdrawing as swiftly as she'd come. Jack finally looked up to see Elizabeth frowning, and he steeled himself, fully prepared for another slap.

"It's almost as though the weather is against us too." She said softly, more to herself than him. She absently untied the apron string that secured the garment behind her back, before retying it, more loosely than before. "I think I'm going to go up and get some air, there's really no point in me taking your time up any further."

"Elizabeth, wait…" he wasn't sure exactly why he spoke up at all. Bitter experience had taught him that playing things close to the vest was the far better course of action than telling her everything she might want to know, his first harsh lesson had ended in him being marooned on that Godforsaken spit of land that he and Elizabeth had become intimately acquainted with, he remembered how short a time it had taken her to walk the circumference of it.

She paused near the door, her hand hovering over the latch. She had left her hair down today, though while on deck she'd adapted the habit of tying it back in a ribbon so that it was less likely to become tangled by the wind. Whatever feelings she might have on being separated from her blacksmith rarely visited her face, but her eyes gave everything away, whenever any of the crew members could stand to meet them. It was a sorrow so deep that it made you want to hurt yourself to make it stop, and Jack knew that feeling all too well.

"We'll see that no harm comes to him, you know. The man that hired him kidnapped is a bit misguided in his method, but his intentions are among the noblest."

"How do you know that, Mr. Sparrow? How do you know what this man means to do with Will?"

"Because it's his father, Bill Turner is alive and well, and living on Trinidad. He wants William, you see. He tried to hire the Pearl to go and fetch him back…but the crew refused, and rightly so. Besides, I would really rather not have your friend Norrington hunting me at the moment. He already has enough valid reasons without adding to them. Whoever was stupid enough to take on the job is going to be quite sorry when we catch up with them."

"Why would he take him? Why couldn't he just come and see him? He's ruined everything." She blinked back the beginnings of angry tears.

"Not yet, he hasn't. You'll see. We'll have this all set to rights in no time."

"We can't just sail through this, can we? It's going to delay us even further."

"It would be different if we didn't know where they were going, Elizabeth…and yes I would brave wind and water to see you reunited with your William, but as it stands, the Black Pearl can no longer claim the assistance of any sort of supernatural alliance, and I don't care to risk taking damage by sailing blind through a storm and running aground on the reefs that seem so fond of making necklaces around these southern islands. I wish I could do better for you…I wish I could make better promises, but if wishes were ships, we'd all be on the sea."

Nodding her head, Elizabeth left the captain's cabin and felt the first pattering raindrops begin to fall as she crossed the deck. It was something of a relief for her, because the falling rain hid the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

Will woke again, but this time because someone was tugging roughly at the knots that secured the blindfold. Groggily, he opened his eyes, and had to squint because the candlelight seemed blazingly bright in comparison to the darkness he had become used to. The man standing above him was little more than a silhouette against the light.

"Wake up boy, and get a drink of this water, here." Again, a cup was pressed to his mouth, and he drank from it as quickly as he could, until his desperate swallows led to the inevitable choking and gasping as he attempted to expel the water from his windpipe.

"What is going on?" he wheezed, when he'd managed to get the racking coughs under control. He thought he recognized the voice as that of the man who had been his companion in his waking moments for the past two days, but he could easily be mistaken.

"Captain wants you on deck, all available hands, as it were. We're trying to outrun a storm as has been creeping up our backsides for the last day and a half, and we'll need all the help we can get, if you can mind the rigging."

"You'll have to untie me." Will suggested rather tightly, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut as the man helped him stand, because the change in height made his head swim alarmingly.

"As easy said as done," the man replied, undoing the ropes that held Will's hands behind his back. Will gasped again as sensation began to return to starved tissue, and he began to think it was a wonder that his fingers hadn't begun to rot off from lack of circulation, as long as he'd been tied there. Of course, any thinking at all was something of a wonder, because his mind was playing skip stones, and wouldn't linger on any thought for more than a blink. Rubbing his wrists, he allowed the man to prod him in the right general direction of the hatchway, even the dull, threatening gray of a rain laden sky seemed too bright to him as he struggled up on deck.

"Here, mind the deck, boy… it's a bit slippery up here." And it was, since the rain was already falling in spates. It made the walk to where the captain waited a bit of an adventure all on its own.

Will finally stood before the captain of the Sunlight Dreamer and disliked him immediately. For a beginning, he looked far too honest for the line of work that he'd undertaken. His hair was tied back neatly in a tail, despite the lashing rain, his beard was immaculately trimmed, in short everything about him depicted a gentleman, but Will knew better, a sense of malcontent settling around his spine. The man was, after all, wearing Will's wedding band on his right hand. A closer inspection of the ring had Will's stomach clenching with a rising tide of nervousness. The stone was an emerald, just as his nameless caretaker had said.

"I would like my ring back," Will stated simply, with as much steel in his voice as he could muster, even feeling so completely wretched as he did. A laugh was the man's first response.

"I repeat, boy; we are pirates and not gentleman…no matter how genteel we may appear, and you will never see the ring or us again, once we have discharged our duties to the man who hired us to collect you." Curious words and Will filed them away. So far, his only clues were whoever had hired him kidnapped was on Trinidad, and the distant island was to be their eventual destination. While the man spoke derisively, Will took stock of those around them, in relation to where he stood, constantly shifting his weight between his feet to keep from falling on the deck as it heaved and rolled in the rising tumult of the sea.

"Now lad, as you can see, there is a storm approaching, and I could use your help in securing the rigging if we are all to reach Trinidad in one piece. Can you sail?"

In his head, Will heard the ghostly words of Jack Sparrow echoing back from the past. 'Can you sail under the command of a pirate, or can you not?' In the end, he would never be able to pinpoint exactly what stabbing of pride made him brag about his past experiences.

"I have sailed with Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl. He taught me everything I know," Will lifted his chin, as though daring them to disagree with him. The statement was met with a surprised silence from the crewmates gathered around the pair, those that weren't busy tying down the sails and otherwise securing the vessel against the approaching storm. Will realized, even in the deep recesses of an illness-fogged mind, that this was some manner of ploy. The captain did not need another pair of hands at all, which made this nothing more than a test, though the blacksmith was damned if he could fathom just what the purpose of it was.

"Have you now?" Returned the slow, studied question from the captain, drawled in an unconcerned air as though he really could care less whether or not an affirmative was given. Will would have answered, he meant to answer, but the deck pitched beneath his feet sharply as the storm began to catch them up. It was the opportunity he had been waiting for; as he was thrown into a nearby crewmember, Will's fingers closed knowledgeably around the hilt of the sword at the man's belt, and he recognized the weapon instinctively as one that he had made. Pulling it free in one smooth motion, he further shoved the man aside and lunged at the pirate captain without warning. Jack would have been very proud that his protégé had at last learned it was not always the time to follow rules of engagement…or to encourage fair fights. Will knew he would only have one chance at this, with so many enemies surrounding him.

Unfortunately, Will was still weak from the fever that had wracked him intermittently almost from the moment he'd been kidnapped, and his reflexes were dulled by it, so that his only achievement was in cutting a vicious line across the captain's cheek as the dandy retreated with a hasty scrambling of feet. There was nothing graceful at all in the scuffle between them, as he reacted by backhanding Will across the face, sending the blacksmith reeling to his knees on the slippery deck, the sword he'd been holding clattered some distance away, flung wide in the shock of the blow. This was certainly not going as he had planned.

Men scurried forward, dragging Will back to his feet and pinning his arms to his sides to keep him from essaying further harm to their erstwhile commander as he spit oaths that would have made Will's ears burn under any other circumstances.

"You're going to pay for that, boy." The pirate growled, wiping streaming blood from his face as it mingled with the spraying rain. "You're going to pay for that dearly." At his sharp gesture, the men holding Will between them forced him back to his knees roughly, one of them even going so far as to kick his feet out from under him once more.

Will didn't care…the gnawing hopelessness of his situation having gotten the better of common sense and all he wanted was some manner of resolution. Whatever the test had been, he suspected he failed it miserably. Will glared at the captain as he closed the distance between them once more, drawing out a belt knife as he came.

"Hold his head, I don't want to mess up too badly while I'm cutting his face." The captain snarled. One of the men who'd been standing to Will's right, a meaty hand clamped over his shoulder to keep him down flinched, squeezing hard enough to make the bone ache, but thankfully only for a breath of time.

"Captain…we weren't supposed to hurt him." The man said uncertainly, offering a verbal argument to what was coming. Will admitted a small fraction of surprise that someone might take up his side, but it passed quickly. "The bargain was to deliver him to Trinidad to the Governor…"

"I don't recall having my face cut open being any part of the bargain we made, Brannigan. Hold your tongue, or you'll be next." Brannigan didn't do anything to further the deliberate maiming, but he didn't attempt to stop it, either. Someone to Will's left; he didn't know who, because they were still standing behind him, caught his head and twisted it so that his left cheek was exposed to the captain's knife.

"Nobody cuts me and gets away with it." The captain hissed as he brought the blade down, cutting in a smooth motion from Will's temple to his chin, barely missing his eye. Will clamped his teeth down over his lower lip, refusing to cry out in the sudden, burning agony that followed the tip of the knife down his face. Warmth began to flow from the injury, and Will had to blink away the sticky wetness beading in his lashes. "Have David stitch him up, it's not that deep." the pirate captain spoke again, after admiring his handiwork, "And tell Jonesy we're charting a new course…for Tortuga this time, and the Faithful Bride. Someone will buy him, even with the dashing new look I've just given him."

"But what of our bargain, Captain? We've already been paid…" Brannigan tried again to be the voice of reason in the madness that seemed to have taken over the entire crew. Will just worked on remembering how to breathe as someone else he did not know began to attend to the cut, even going so far as to pour what smelled distinctly like rum into the open wound to help sterilize it. Will gasped as it stung him, his nails digging wet furrows into the wood beneath his fingertips.

"I've changed my mind, the sooner we're rid of the whelp, the better. I don't care if he ends up on a slaver ship bound for China, so long as he has a good long time to think on how he got himself there. Get him out of my sight, David, I've had enough of the wretch!" Will was again hoisted to his feet, and then dragged back toward the hatchway he had originally been led from. He suspected this time the darkness would be a lasting thing.

Norrington felt distantly that there was no love lost between the crew of the Black Pearl and himself. He even understood it on several levels. After all, he had probably hanged friends, if not actual family members of many of these men. However, he'd tried to make the best of it by showing the utmost respect for the ship…and her madcap captain, even if sometimes he had to do it through gritted teeth.

In an effort to be more accommodating to him, the crew had started calling him Jimmy, despite all of his best efforts to retain his proper name, James. He held with the suspicion that they were under orders from Sparrow himself, but since there was no proof, an accusation would probably be laughed off.

Now however, he found himself walking down the rain-sodden beach with Mr. Gibbs, and he was faced with the realization that he did not know what to say to the former navy man. Gamely, he attempted conversation anyway,

"So, you…er, like working for Captain Sparrow?" this stumbling over vocabulary made him feel awkward and irritable. He was always good at having the right thing to say while dealing with all sorts of scum and villainy, but Mr. Joshamee Gibbs did not actually fit into that particular mold…well, not that James had actually witnessed, and there appeared to be no mark to indicate that he was, indeed, of the worst sort of pirate; those that got themselves caught at it.

"I love the sea, Commodore; working with Jack just makes it possible to be with her more than I am on the land." If he had given any other answer, James would not have been half as likely to believe him, but there was an honesty in his words that was undeniable. James knew all too well that the siren call of the sea could not be denied once it took root in the heart of a seaman.

"But why would you choose this life of villainy?" He needed to understand the mentality which drove Gibbs, indeed, drove them all to pursue their livelihood in spite of the threat of persecution by the crown.

"You can't ask that question without getting a slanted answer back, Commodore." Of all the men, Gibbs was the one most inclined to continue to call him by his proper rank, and stick to formality in doing so, when speaking to the navy man. "Let me ask you a question instead. If I were to steal a loaf of bread, that would be a crime to the likes of you, yes?"

"Of course, since you didn't pay for it."

"But what if I found myself without work, sudden like, and with no way to find more right away, and my wife and wee children was starving to death? What if that loaf of bread made the difference between them living and dying? Wouldn't the greater crime then be in letting my woman and babes die?" James turned the scenario over in his head, giving it serious thought. He had never considered himself a hasty man in the past, and now was not the time or place to start a new trend in an undesirable direction.

"I suppose if reparations were made for the loaf of bread after you had some coin to your name, the ends could justify the means in such a circumstance." James fixed Gibbs with a stern eye. "But don't think that means I agree with piracy to the letter of it's definition, just because the motivation might be more noble than one could immediately grasp at first look." Gibbs stopped and stared at the military man, as though he couldn't quite believe that his arguments weren't getting through…or maybe he was simply considering how best to drive the point home. He gestured toward the ground, and Norrington realized that the reason they had paused here was because they'd found the fresh water that Jack had sent them out for.

"Nobody starts out wanting to be a pirate, Commodore, but you have to put the food on the table someways, even if the avenue isn't a pretty one. And for quite a few of these men, this was the only choice open to them."

"But you served in the navy yourself…"

"Aye, I did. And when the Navy was in large part released from service, I couldn't imagine a life away from the sea. So I took to the drink to forget what I was missin'. Jack saved me from myself, so you might be saying I owe him quite a bit more than I've given him, so far. As for yourself…you love the sea. What would you do if it were suddenly denied you? What if you had not two pennies to rub together in your name? Think about it, man…might change your whole outlook." Norrington watched as Gibbs knelt on the ground beside the burbling stream that they'd come to and filled the flask he kept at his side with water. So much for that particular illusion. Gibbs winked as he rose to his feet. "Don't tell nobody, it would ruin my image completely."

"You have my word," James promised.

"Right then. We should organize some of the lads to setting some water to heating. The ladies will probably be wanting a bath about now."

"You are, by far, one of the most notorious pirates in all the Caribbean, yet you sail with the most ethical pirate crew I've ever had the misfortune to run across. How is it that you manage to keep such a reputation in light of that?" The question was an interesting one, and Jack Sparrow found it admirable that James Norrington, Commodore, had the guts to ask it, considering he was lying flat on his back on the floor with Jack's sword at his throat, keeping him pinned there with very little chance of moving.

The entire situation was enough to drag a fox-like grin across the captain's mouth briefly, because this was just too rich to be believed. With a practiced flick of his ankle, Jack kicked Norrington's blade up and into his hand from where it had fallen to the floor when he knocked the Commodore off his feet upon stepping inside the captain's cabin. It was flawlessly made, and Jack felt the faint stirrings of jealousy that James was in possession of one of Will's finest works.

"I should probably warn you not to be coming into me private quarters without any sort of warning whatsoever."

"Thank you, I do appreciate the advice," Norrington responded drolly from his prostrate position on the floor. "I don't suppose you'd let me up now?" Jack was kind enough to not only release Norrington from the awkward position, but also to sheathe his sword, before offering the naval officer a hand up. He was surprisingly strong for such a compact man.

"What is it you're wanting in here, Jimmy?" Jack began circling Norrington again, enough to set his teeth on edge, even more than the stupid nickname.

"It's James, and stop that, you're like a shark waiting for a lucky break."

"I just wanted to get a good look at your clothes, mate. You look surprisingly just like anyone else on this ship," With a friendly leer, Jack added, "Now that you've lost that ridiculous wig that the navy seems to be so fond of, that is."

James could not decide whether he should be amused or insulted, so he chose humor as the better route to not picking a fight with Jack. They had plenty enough reasons to argue, without starting something over such a trivial matter as his choices in attire. He smiled, meaning to indicate that he took no offense at the jibe.

"Whether you like it or not, and since we both know that I am in no way thrilled by this little venture of yours, you're stuck with me. I don't care if my sole purpose on this ship is to ensure Elizabeth Turner's safety."

"She'd not come to any harm on my ship, Commodore." Jack bristled, certain that Norrington was questioning the actions of the crew, most of them hand-picked by Sparrow himself. Confound it, how often was he going to have to prove himself to this strutting peacock of a man, with his high-toned ideals and fancy to-dos? Norrington fixed him with a steady look.

"Do you honestly think that Elizabeth is going to sit here on your ship like a proper lady while you and I resolve things on her behalf? Come now, Captain Sparrow, this is Elizabeth we're talking about, after all." Jack looked sulky, but then he'd invested a great deal of time and practice into perfecting the expression he now employed.

"Well…when you put it that way..."

"I know that Mr. Turner has been teaching her how to handle a sword, but two years of experience do not tally with a lifetime on the sea. She needs someone watching over her until we get William back."

"And I suppose you're volunteering yourself to be the one to do it?"

"You seem a bit busy for the job, Captain Sparrow. Need I remind you it is you who are in charge of this venture, and there are none else on the ship she trusts as much, I can vouch for my word on it."

Jack stepped forward, invading Norrington's personal space, a little too close for his comfort, and jabbed him sharply in the chest with one finger.

"I'm going to hold you to that oath, Commodore. Don't think for one moment I won't."

"Take the blindfold from his face, I want to see his eyes." Came the female voice to Will's ears, rousing him from the timeless state of nothing behind a blindfold. She sounded kind, but he was fairly certain that nothing in this place was as it seemed. The odor that pervaded everything with a faint miasma of too much rum and not enough free-flowing water was one that he remembered well. He recalled his promise to Jack that the 'sweet bouquet' of Tortuga would linger, and it had…oh, it had. He lifted his wrists and shook the chain that held him bound to the wooden post in protest, since he was also gagged, and couldn't very well offer any vocal argument.

The blindfold was yanked free, and he was staring into the face of a lovely woman, painted to astounding beauty. However, the longer he looked, the more he saw the imperfections hidden by cosmetic artistry. She was older than he would have originally wagered, by nearly ten years, and he glared fiercely, hoping to dissuade her from the notion that she really wanted to pay good coin for an intractable slave.

She clicked her tongue at him in appreciation as she let her eyes rove lewdly over his form. He'd been stripped of his shirt, and was wearing what remained of the fine white breeches he'd been wedded to Elizabeth in; the sun was fiercely hot on his skin, making him feel far warmer than he had in the hold of the ship. He'd lost track of days sometime after the sixth, but at least the cut on his face had stopped hurting quite so much, and his fear of infection had passed, as David the ship's surgeon had attended to it frequently.

They'd oiled his skin to make him gleam like bronze before putting him up here on the block in front of the business most called the Faithful Bride. Here men could spend coin like water on women that would be bound to them by law…even if it were just pirate law; there wasn't much a girl could do once the ship she was on had cast anchor and sailed from land. Most learned to accept their lot in life, or died young.

"You are a fine one, aren't you?" she said in an admiring tone, and whatever hope he had of turning her interest elsewhere was drained away from him with what remained of his strength. He was still wracked with the occasional fever, though David could find no cause for it, and his condition wasn't worsening noticeably, so they'd been ignoring it.

"He's in good health, Madame Bess," said the slaver in charge of the shop. "Young and strong, just as you like 'em. Got his face cut up a bit in a scuffle that didn't go in his favor, but it only adds to his charm, says I." he was talking a good pitch, and the only thing Will could accomplish was a solid mumble behind the gag tied at the back of his head. Frustration blazed like fire in his brown eyes; oh his hands itched to have a sword in them, so that he could rightly defend himself against all the madness sweeping around him in a whirlwind from which there seemed no escape.

"Yes, I can see that for myself, Lotter." She turned to a man hovering nearby, a well-muscled man with shocking red hair that couldn't be much older than Will, who was glaring at the young blacksmith with what seemed a close cousin to deep loathing. "Remove the gag, I would speak with him."

"Madame, that may not be a good idea, they say he's got quite the mouth on him." Her heartfelt chuckle was answer enough, and Will felt his hopes slipping another notch.

"Come now, Lotter. I spend my days on the sea surrounded by men who's language would blister your tongue, I want to speak with this boy." Grumbling, the slaver did as she asked, and Will worked his jaw, trying to restore moisture to his mouth as she looked him over again, appreciating the overall effect, now that his looks weren't hindered by the crude gag.

"I've been kidnapped from Port Royal." Will said, the first thing he could think of that might win him sympathy. She laughed again, more loudly and with more jollity, this time around. It was the final blow for his hopes, and he slumped against the post as she remarked, "Oh, this one has spirit, he does. It'll be almost too much fun to break him in to the crew. Come now, Angus, don't be so glum, you know you're my favorite still."

"I'm a married man!" Will protested, desperate.

The woman flicked cool green eyes to his left hand, and a brow bobbed. "Really now? I don't see a ring on your finger, my delicious little man. You can't sell me a bridge to Jamaica so easily as that." She gave another chuckle, this one possessing an edge of coldness. "I'll take him, Lotter. How much is it you were asking, this time?"

"You can't do this! I'm not a slave!" Will backed up as far as the chains bound to the cuffs at his wrists would take him, and began to jerk at it, wincing as the metal cut unforgivingly into his flesh. Desperation made him do it, struggling with what strength he'd managed to harbor as he waited for them to deliver him here, all the while the captain telling him stories of the sales that had taken place here in the past. It would do no good, because they were already closing on him, keeping him at the end of the chains so that he had nowhere left to run.

"For goodness's sake, I've heard enough of his voice, dear Lotter. Shut him up, before I change my mind." She sounded so reasonable, so terribly sane as she bartered away his freedom casually, counting out doubloons and putting them in Lotter's hands as his bullyboys pinned Will between them, shoving the gag back into his mouth despite his best efforts to struggle free.

"Take him to the ship, Angus. That's a good boy. I'll join the rest of you shortly, after I pick up some personal things." The look she gave Will was certainly predatory, and hinted at a great many things that he didn't have any desire to think on overmuch. All he could think of was Elizabeth, and how incredibly wrong everything had gone since the day of the wedding.