Avast Ye: Voodoo ceremonies and animal sacrifice featured in this chapter.
Chapter Three: Turbulent Waters
Norrington stumbled into their shared cabin below deck, his arms and legs tired from a long day's work, his face reddened from the beating sun. He was about to sit on the bed and take off his boots, but Olette was taking up both sides.
He observed her as she slept peacefully. The book she had been reading, Paradise Lost, rested open on her chest. The spine was cracked and worn from repeated readings.
Norrington wondered if her husband, Louis, was as well-read. Did he appreciate her mind? Olette was the well-educated daughter of a librarian and could read and write French, English, Spanish, and a little German. Surely, a merchant trader would have no appreciation for such things.
A million questions thundered through his mind. Did Louis appreciate her sweet nature? Did he tell her stories of his travels? If not, why had she married him? What could he offer her? Why had he left her? The man must have been a first-class idiot.
Norrington bent low to pick her up and move her to the other side of the bed, so that he'd have room. Olette wakened from the movement and sleepily smiled at him, saying, "Hi." For a moment, he thought that she was the prettiest creature he had ever beheld.
Then suddenly and without warning, Norrington found himself kissing Olette's soft pink lips.
A gasp, a forceful separation, and a sharp slap soon followed. Olette looked back at him with strangely apologetic eyes that said, "I'm sorry. It's not you. If circumstances were different…"
Norrington looked away from her gaze, completely and utterly ashamed of himself. He should never have acted on such passions and put Olette into such an uncomfortable and compromising position. "I'm terribly sorry. I—It was not my wish. Please excuse me." He turned abruptly, leaving Olette alone.
She stared at the empty doorway that he had just vacated. She touched her lips, still feeling where he had kissed her, and she wondered whether she really wanted to find Louis alive and well.
The thought frightened and disgusted her. Louis was her husband, and Norrington was a man who had recently been a stranger. Where was her loyalty and wifely devotion?
But still, she couldn't help wondering. What if things were different?
The evening found Marie Rose restless. She had cleaned every pot and pan in the galley until every implement was as clean as they ever would be, and yet, something was still making her uneasy; the creaking sounds of the ship that she barely noticed on a normal day were making her jump. It sounded as if the structure of the ship would suddenly give out and let the ocean flood in.
At this time of night, most of the crew was asleep save for a navigator and two lookouts. Most everything was dark. The stars and a thin sliver of the waning moon provided the only light and reflected off of the inky surface of the ocean. It seemed that the Black Pearl was floating alone in a dark void, a solitary object in space.
Marie Rose climbed the steps leading to the bridge and was jolted out of her thoughts by the sight of Jack Sparrow manning the steering wheel, a bottle of rum sitting half-empty beside him. The Captain looked surprised to see her as well, but he grinned at the prospect of having company.
"What has you up so late, my dear Rose?" Sparrow asked, his eyes running up and down her person.
"De stars were calling me." She stared up at the billions of tiny lights, feeling a little lost.
Jack draped an arm around her and looked up at the sky as well. "And what exactly do you think they were telling you to do?" he whispered in her ear.
A shooting star caught Marie Rose's eye. Unlike Tia Dalma, she was not a seer of any mentionable ability, but she was sure that the stars were telling her something that night. Perhaps it was a warning.
"I need to make a sacrifice," she gasped, suddenly filled with terror.
She was always very devoted to the L'hwa, giving gifts to the spirits almost everyday. She realized now that she had gone days without giving Agwe, the spirit of the sea, any sort of sacrifice. The spirits wouldn't look kindly on such brash laziness.
Marie Rose hurried downstairs without offering an explanation. In a few moments she returned, carrying her rucksack over her shoulder. Jack watched with unmasked amusement as she hurriedly began unloading a multitude of objects from the bag. It seemed that there was no end to the amount of things she could stuff in it without running out of space.
When she was finished, a little boat filled with cheese, veal, a bottle of champagne, bread, and some smoked swordfish sat on the deck.
"If I'd known we would be having such a romantic late night dinner then I would have dressed for the occasion," Jack joked, grabbing the bottle of champagne.
Marie Rose snatched back the bottle. "Dat is part of my sacrifice. It is for the spirits alone."
"Doesn't sacrifice involve some sort of slaughter?"
"The L'hwa aren't always hungry for blood," Marie Rose explained. "Sometimes they want fruit, or some rum to drink. Give them what they want, and they will protect you." Marie Rose saw that Jack was genuinely interested in what she had to say about voodoo. "Do you want to help with the ceremony?"
His eyes flashed dangerously. "I'II try anything once, love."
Marie Rose felt glad to have a helper, but she hoped that the pirate didn't mess anything up. Mistakes could be fatal; she's seen people walk right into the water during ceremonies for Agwe. Those people drowned themselves because the sacrifice was not fitting for the spirit.
"It will please Agwe to have you take part since you are Captain. He is de spirit of the sea and has dominion over not only plants and animals, but also any ships that sail. I use dis conch shell to call to him, and when he comes we must have wet towels to protect him from the heat." She then gestured to the boat filled with food. "This barque is filled wit' many of his favorite foods and is floated into the water as an offering. If our offering is good enough for Agwe, the barque sinks. If it floats back to us den it isn't good enough."
"And what do we do if what we have offered isn't good enough?"
"Kill a white sheep and let its blood run into the ocean," she said grimly.
Jack didn't like this idea much. "We've only one sheep you know."
"It would be better to waste the sheep den anger de spirit of the sea. It would be like climbing into an alligator's mouth and expecting not to be eaten. Since just two of us are participating in the ceremony and my altar is left back at home, we must be careful to do everything the best we can.'
Marie Rose reached into her sack once more and pulled out a conch shell, a small cask of water, some towels, and two large drums. Watching her remove these things was mind-boggling.
Sparrow stared at the things around them. "So, how are we to proceed?"
Marie Rose pounded her drums with the heels of her hand, striking a primal beat that reminded Jack of the sound of waves crashing. He watched mesmerized by her swift movement and command of rhythm that came from a lifetime of drumming. Admittedly there were better drummers back in Hispaniola, but in order to become a priestess, you had to at least have a command of the drums that Marie Rose possessed. After a while she stopped, stepping away from the drums.
She pointed at Jack. "Now you try."
She pulled him in front of the drums and grabbed his wrists from behind. Slowly moving his hands to pound the beat, she whispered directions into his ear.
"T'ink about how much you love de ocean. Be t'ankful, for it gives you de freedom to do, to be whatever you want." Marie Rose moved his hands faster, "Become the breaking waves, let dem crash over you. Agwe gives you this freedom, he protects the Black Pearl from shipwrecks and storms."
She let go of his wrists while Jack continued drumming, keeping the rhythm surprisingly well. The Priestess pulled out her conch shell and blew it like a horn, calling Agwe to come to the surface. She took her knife and slit the tip of her finger and began drawing his Veve, an intricate symbol representing the L'hwa she is calling.
When the Veve was completed, she soaked some towels in the cask of water and laid them out before the side of the ship, while speaking in faraway voice. "Shell of de Sea, I call t' you. We bring food to fill you, and drink to make you merry."
The ocean suddenly grew rough, and the ship began to sway violently. Jack stopped his drumming, afraid that they had done something wrong, but Marie Rose shouted for him to continue. She picked up the barque and carefully dropped it into the water, calling out words that Jack couldn't understand. She continued to call out in prayer until a wave crashed over the barque, sinking it.
Jack stopped drumming, staring at the place the barque once floated.
"Now that was mystifying," Jack drawled. "I think my arms will be sore for a week." He stretched and shook his arms, willing them to feel normal.
Marie Rose smiled at him. "You did good, Jack. I don't understand how you were able to pick it up so quickly. You really could serve the L'hwa well if you wanted to."
"It is not the spirits I serve, but a certain Priestess whose eyes glow with magic." He stepped closer to Marie Rose and brought an arm around her waist. "We make quite the team."
For once, Marie Rose couldn't think of a decent insult to get away from him and to be honest, she didn't really want to. Jack was a scoundrel, sure, but when he felt strongly about something he followed it with dire resolution until he was victorious. The cowardly streak he suffered of was more of a way to pick his battles, focusing only on the ones that would bring him closer to his goal.
Marie Rose stepped away from Jack's reach. Even if the pirate had an unshakable will towards goals like treasure and pirate ships it didn't mean he thought twice about the women he courted. Marie Rose observed him in Tortuga, drifting from woman to woman, each of them left with some grievance against him. She always had the impression that Jack loved women, but could never limit himself to having just one mistress.
"Have you ever been in love, Jack?" Marie Rose blurted out.
"In love?" Jack laughed. "I'm in love as we speak."
"You barely know me. You can't even remember de names of half of t'ose white women at Tortuga so how I'm I to believe dat I am anything to you? I don't have de same notions of marriage dat white women have but even I make sure my lovers care deeply about me. But to you, women are all about conquest; not about tender feelings."
"So let me ask you something, love. Should I promise you the moon and the stars and all these things I can't offer? Should I tell you that I'll be around forever when we both know I won't? I'll be your exclusive gentleman for the course of the voyage, but when you're in Vera Cruz and I'm in Singapore, you can't expect me to wait for you. It wouldn't be fair for either of us."
What Jack was saying almost made sense. Marie Rose didn't even know why she was bringing the subject up. "I'm sorry Jack. I guess I not used to being away from my people." The actions and customs of European men were strange to her; Jack's being the strangest by far.
Jack narrowed his eyes. "Now that you mention it, it does seem odd that a Priestess would abandon her community. I never asked, but why are you having me take you to Vera Cruz?"
"I wouldn't trust you with that secret."
Jack smiled deviously. "So it's treasure you're after. I thought your people weren't into material wealth."
Marie Rose felt cornered. "Its not dat kind of treasure. If I tell you, will you promise upon pain of death that you won't tell anyone else or try to steal it?"
Jack held his hand out to shake. "Of course."
Marie Rose thought about it for a minute before saying. "Its called Las Arenas del Tiempo. Legend has it dat i's an hourglass dat allows its masta to go back in time."
"Pray tell, why would you want to go back in time?"
"You may remember dat I once had a sister. We were very close and planned our escape toget'er. As we were escaping, she allowed herself to be captured as a distraction so dat I might have a chance at freedom. She was murdered. It is as if I traded my sister . . . I'd do anything to do it over again, to save her so we both can be free."
"Are you sure it is worth it?" Jack raised an eyebrow, addressing her seriously. "Seems to me like things have happened this way for a reason. Would you be the strong, talented Voodoo priestess you are today if your sister had survived? I'm guessing your interest in the craft began as a means to bring dear sis back."
"I'd rather have Annabelle," Marie Rose insisted, crossing her arms.
"Or perhaps when you attempt to do things over, you end up screwing things up worse and you both are murdered. "
Marie Rose hesitated. "I had not thought about dat. Even still I would be proud to die trying to set things right."
"I happen to disagree with you. Dying trying to save another is still dying all the same. Not only that, but the person whose life was saved spends the rest of their life doing crazy things like looking for an hourglass that sends people back in time."
Marie Rose was offended. "You think what I'm doing is crazy?"
Jack stepped closer to her. "I'm saying your sister would have wanted you to be enjoying the life you have now." He leaned in so close that she could almost feel his moustache tickling her lips. "You should have a lover, someone who'll—"
"CAPTAIN!" one of the lookouts yelled, jolting both Jack and Marie Rose. "There's a ship off the starboard bow!"
As Sparrow was turning to look for the vessel, a cannon fired and splashed down just feet away from the Black Pearl. The Captain cursed to himself as he sprinted down below deck, arms flailing.
"Get up, the lot of you! We're under attack!" he called, shaking, shoving, and even slapping the sleeping crew. "Anyone who doesn't report for duty will be thrown overboard!"
He emerged up on deck as a second cannon blast ripped through the deck railing, sending splinters in every direction. He grabbed a spyglass and peered through it, muttering terrible curses. Sparrow could vaguely make out the logo of the East India Trading Company.
"Bloody hell," he muttered before calling to his men as they poured out from below deck. "Come on men! Hard to port! LET'S GO!"
Before they had a chance to get away, another cannon blast sounded, and this time the cannon ball crashed through the mizzenmast, sending the crew into chaos. The blasts were an order: turn yourself in or be destroyed. There was no way Jack would allow either to happen. He looked about the ship trying to find a way to save his ship when he spotted Marie Rose sitting cross-legged, praying frantically.
"Rose! Rose!" He called sprinting toward her. He pulled her up to her feet, hysterical. "You've got to do something! You're our only hope! Please…"
"But I do not—" she stammered. "The spirits—"
"That's it! Call on the spirits! Make the fire spirit burn their ships down!"
Marie Rose was more than reluctant to make such demands from the spirits but it didn't seem that she had much choice. "Bring me some rum." Sparrow stared at her in confusion. "Now."
Jack ran off and returned a minute later with a bottle of rum. "You picked a fair time to get drunk," he muttered, handing her the bottle.
"Ogoun is the spirit of fire. He is a warrior who loves rum. He may kill me if I'm not worthy in his eyes," Marie Rose looked terrified. "Have your men take down the topsail at any sign of storm. I'll be in the galley."
As she started to leave, Jack grabbed her sleeve. "Try not to use all the rum."
She went to the cargo hold and caught a hen and brought to the galley. She pulled a machete out of her rucksack and began to pray in the African tongue. "Ogoun, the wounded warrior, forge of fire. Listen to me as I draw your name."
She carved Ogoun's Veve into the wooden floor hurriedly. Ogoun's symbol was very detailed and complex and to make matters worse, Marie Rose had little experience with summoning this L'hwa. She put as much effort into etching the Veve as time would allow and continued to pray.
"Enter me so that you can know my spirit and help me fight."
She poured the rum onto the drawing and dragged a match on the edge of the drawing, setting the floor on fire. The areas she carved caught up first and then the flames spread to consume the rest of the rum. She grabbed the now terrified chicken and slit its throat and held it over the fire as the blood dripped out.
"Protect me from my enemies and allow me to destroy them."
There was a flash as lightning stuck just outside the window. The accompanying thunderclap was deafening. Marie Rose began to tremble with fear. Ogoun had come.
Marie Rose poured rum on her own hands and thrust them into the fire.
Every morning at around the same time, the friars of Jorge Dueñas Delgado's monastery gathered in the main hall for prayer. Then they prepared for themselves a light breakfast over which they discussed such issues as religion and Spain's conquest of the Americas. After breakfast, Delgado excused himself and wended his way through the monastery's first-floor hallways and rooms until he reached a small storage room, littered with crates.
As he was about to enter the room, he was struck with the dreadful feeling that something was amiss. The contents of the room had been shifted, as if someone had looked through them. Resolute, he darted to the back of the room and flipped a hidden switch, causing a section of the wall to swing forward like a door. Fearing the worst, he started to descend the spiral staircase behind the door.
Down the stairs, Delgado emerged into a large, stone brick room that had the dirty and dark feel of a dungeon, less clean than the others in the monastery, and also partially moss-covered. As soon as he saw the empty chair in the middle of the room, he bellowed with rage. How was this possible? The Frenchman who called himself Louis had managed to break free from his restraints. Delgado took mental note to invest in iron shackles in the future, but for now he resolved to ensure that his lifelong charge was safe.
Running upstairs as quickly as he could, he burst into his personal study at full tilt. Immediately, he howled again. His armoire was left open, with personal items strewn about. A certain black box was missing. His window was left open, and a dirty boot track was left on the book that he'd left open on the table under the window.
A couple of friars appeared in the room. "Jorge," one said. "What happened?"
"The Sands of Time..." he started, "...it...has been stolen by that French man."
The friars murmured agitatedly.
Delgado interrupted them. "Did you see him?"
The friars shook their heads.
"I will have to leave," Delgado announced. "Please prepare a horse for my immediate departure. I must collect some things."
Delgado and the friars rushed downstairs, but Delgado went to the secret underground room where he had detained Louis. Passing an assortment of wicked-looking blades hung on nails along a wall, he retrieved a leather case with silver clasps. He flipped up the clasps and opened the case to reveal a matching pair of blades. Each blade was mounted to an arm brace, and each brace fitted with leather straps made to fit onto the forearm.
"The Blessed Blades..." he whispered to himself. "God, guide me on this quest to reclaim The Sands of Time. Show me the way to the man who has it, and give me the strength to do what is necessary once I find it."
Delgado crossed himself, and slammed the case shut.
The Pearl rumbled as Sparrow's crew fired their cannons. A volley of shots rained down on the enemy ship. Jack strained to see what was happening on the faraway ship, desperately hoping that Marie Rose would summon the spirit of fire soon.
Jack hated to think what would happen if they captured him. He would be brought to the nearest port city and hanged, most likely the rest of the crew would share the fate. There always was the chance they'd figure out that Marie Rose was an escaped slave and all her efforts would be for naught. There was no way that Jack was letting any of that happen.
A blinding flash filled Sparrow's vision and thunder exploded around him. The crew was too frightened to move. Lightning struck near the Black Pearl once more.
"Girl needs to practice her aim," Sparrow grumbled as the wind picked up.
Another flash lit the sky. Sparrow was reminded about what Marie Rose said about a storm coming.
"Bring in the topsails!" Jack called. Gibbs heard him and repeated the command, and at once they got to work, just as the waves were starting to pound the sides of the ship.
The wind had already whipped the Pearl much closer to the attacking ship by the time the crew was taking down the topsail. Much of the crew was soaked from waves washing over the side of the ship and the violent rocking threw them off of their posts. This made taking down the said sails too dangerous to attempt again.
Lightning was striking more often but was drifting closer to the enemy ship, which was firing its cannons seemingly as often as the lightning struck. Shrapnel grazed Jack's cheek, opening a gash. He cried out in pain as an earsplitting crash sounded.
Suddenly, lightning was striking the other ship as if it were a lightning rod. The wind was blowing so hard that the Pearl was completely uncontrollable. The Pearl swung past the opposing ship as it caught up in flame and was taken away.
Sparrow attempted to navigate the ship as it sped toward what was becoming distinguishable as an island. The rocky shore looked like it would create serious puncture damage in the hull of the Black Pearl, but no matter how Sparrow turned the rudder, the ocean currents inexplicably sent the Pearl straight toward the island.
Sparrow braced for the impact as his ship beached itself on shore. Several men were unprepared and fell forward onto their faces. The sound of boards splitting made Jack involuntarily cringe.
The storm ended as suddenly as it had come. Sparrow waited, as if at any moment chaos would erupt again and swallow him up completely. But the storm, and all the pandemonium that came with it, was over as suddenly as it came on, which either meant the fire spirit's work was done, or that it had finally overpowered and killed Marie Rose.
He rushed to the galley, fearing the worst. The voodoo priestess was lying in a pool of blood. The wood floor was charred with red coals glowing warmly. Her clothes were singed and burned away in parts. The dead body of a chicken lay a few feet away, discarded.
Jack kneeled next to her body, forlornly stroking her hair. He had made a grave mistake. He pressed his fingers to his lips and gently touched them to hers. Her skin was blisteringly hot to the touch. His hand went back to his mouth, licking his fingers to lessen the burn.
Aye, he had made a terrible mistake, indeed.
Olette was in her kitchen, kneading dough. Her face and hands were covered with flour. She heard Louis humming outside, and the sound grew louder as he popped his head in the doorway to their small home. Louis was grinning from ear to ear at her. He had obviously had a good day.
"What are you so happy about?" Olette smiled, wiping the flour off her forehead with the back of her hand.
Louis didn't reply. He just continued smiling and rushed beside her and swooped her off the ground with a hug from behind. She laughed and begged to be set down. Eventually he relented.
Olette rewarded him with a kiss, but the kiss became so passionate that she began to forget about her cooking. He picked her up and set her down on the clean part of kitchen counter. Her doughy and flour-covered hands touched the side of his face and ran through his hair as his hands ran up her legs under her dress-skirt.
Just as Louis moved his hand to untie his pants, the Highwind tossed violently and woke Olette from her dream.
For a moment, Olette didn't recognize her surroundings and wondered why she was on a ship and where her husband was. She reached out into the darkness tried to find her bearings, the rockiness confusing her further.
A loud knock cut into the dark and Olette turned to the doorway as Norrington was entering their room. Tensions created by the kiss with Norrington had mostly subsided, and things between them were beginning to return to normal.
"We are passing by the edge of a storm. I thought I should warn you and take down some of the things so that they don't fall on you while you are sleeping." Norrington said as he began removing his sword and belts from the shelf above the bed.
Olette began standing up to help him when the ship tossed again causing her to fall into his arms. They locked eyes for a moment before separating. Perhaps, the tension was still there.
"You better come up on deck with me. If the storm gets much worse and capsizes the ship, I would hate for you to be trapped below deck."
Olette just nodded, grabbed a coat, and followed Norrington up. He led her much of the way with a gentle hand on the swell of her back, prepared to catch her if the ship lurched again.
They reached the deck, and Olette was surprised to see that the twilight sky was darkened by dark storm clouds in one direction.
Norrington showed her to where he was working and told her to stay nearby. Olette rested her elbows on the railing and looked down into the water. She stared into the endless choppy blue. Storm clouds moved swiftly by and sprayed the Highwind with a light shower.
"James?" Olette called out to Norrington who was helping take down the sails.
"Yes, my dove?" He answered her, making sure that the crew heard him say the term of endearment.
"What are those?" She pointed to three long boats, which were slowly forming in the gray distance.
Norrington didn't answer her question. He merely said, "Stay here," and left to speak with the Captain.
After a few minutes, Captain Blackwell appeared on deck. The crewman who had the spyglass informed him that the boats were flying friendly colors.
"Their ship was probably knocked down by the storm. We should help them." Norrington told Blackwell, who agreed. The former-Commodore was an experienced seaman, and the Captain had come to respect his opinion and occasionally sought his council.
Captain Blackwell had the ship turned north, and Olette watched as the crew of the Highwind lifted men over the starboard side of the ship.
A short pompous-looking man with a large three-pointed hat appeared to be their leader. His clothes were soaked through by the storm but he still brushed off the water on his shoulder with a look of distaste.
"Thank you for the help. I will make sure that you are properly rewarded when we reach port. I'm assuming that you are heading toward Vera Cruz." The short man said this as if it were a command.
"Yes, we are. Captain-?" Blackwell was asking for the short man's name.
"The name is Lord Cutler Beckett." Beckett put special emphasis on the lofty title. "And we are with the East India Trading Company. We were on our way back to Port Royal when-" He stopped speaking when he saw Norrington.
"You, sir, are familiar to me." Beckett pointed at Norrington with his walking cane and began approaching him until they were within inches from one another. "I know you from somewhere."
"Yes, I believe we have." Norrington recognized Beckett from his court marshal in London. Beckett had been among those in the audience.
"If I remember correctly, the charge was bad leadership and treason. You foolishly led your men into a hurricane trying recapture a pirate you let escape, and they all died. Isn't that right?" Beckett recalled these details with pleasure and he smiled smugly.
Norrington didn't respond to Beckett's accusations. He felt the stares of all the men and Blackwell. Particularly, he felt Olette's gaze, and he wondered whether it was full of disgust or pity. He glanced over briefly and found it to be the latter. He so desperately wished he could turn back time and prevent her from hearing about his crimes.
Olette felt sorry for Norrington. He looked so incredibly sad. She understood now why he never spoke about the hurricane, why he was invested in the time-reversal device, and why he had turned to the bottle. Such a shameful event would destroy any proud man. Olette hated Beckett for reminding Norrington and humiliating him in front of all the crew, and she felt guilty for pointing out his boats in the water.
"I don't know whether your aware of this or not, Captain, but you are housing a known fugitive of the British Empire." Beckett said to the Captain but did not take his eyes off Norrington. "I'm assuming you have a hold that we can keep him in until we reach Vera Cruz."
The men of East India Trading Company had their guns trained on Norrington suddenly, and Olette loudly gasped. Norrington looked at the ground trying to think of what to do. Blackwell didn't have a choice. He would have to help Beckett if he wanted to remain a reputable tradesman.
"Yes, sir, I do." Blackwell admitted, as Beckett's men clapped Norrington in irons.
"That was really quite a marvelous escape that you managed last time. Sadly for you, I don't think you're going to be able to recreate the same magic and swashbuckle your way out of this one." Beckett smiled, as Norrington was led below deck.
"What are you going to do to him?" Olette grabbed Beckett's sleeve, as he began leaving to have a drink with the Captain. It had taken a while for Olette to get a hold of herself. She had been thoroughly shocked by the preceding moments and how quickly everything had gone to shit.
"I beg your pardon?" Beckett looked at her like she was diseased. Who was this strange woman, why was she touching him, why was she even on the ship? "Captain Blackwell, who is this woman?"
"She's nobody, sir." Blackwell pulled her back and moved himself protectively in front of her. "Just a passenger on her way to Vera Cruz."
"And what is your business with the former Commodore? What should it matter to you what I do with him?" Beckett finally addressed her, as if, by virtue of being interesting, she had earned the right to be spoken to.
"He is my husband." Olette lied. Deception was against her nature but she was concerned for Norrington, and she wasn't really thinking. She didn't want Beckett to brush her aside.
"Really? You must not have been married very long." Beckett eyed her suspiciously.
"Yes. You are ruining our honeymoon." Olette crossed her arms, trying to cover her tracks. "He was hoping to find work in New Spain."
"No doubt because he is a convict in British territory." Beckett nodded. Her story made sense. "I believe you are his wife, and I give you my deepest apologies for that fact. For your husband is bound for the gallows." He said brusquely, and then left her standing there alone, as he turned and walked toward the galley, entourage in tow.