Chapter Six
The Tempest
in which mettle is tested

The next day held none of the certainty the night before had. The sea rolled uncertainly under the Deliverance, so strangely that even Jack found it hard to ascend the ladders leading to the deck. Stephen himself was as unsteady as a landlubber fresh from the gaol and clung to the rail even when they reached it.

"We've got a wicked cross-sea beneath us," Jack remarked, looking down at the churning waters.

The thin, piercing shriek of gulls flying above filled their silence. The crew seemed just as uneasy as the sea around them, speaking in low murmurs and looking to the wind that filled their sails every second or so. It was just as indeterminate as the sky above them, sometimes straining the stays and other times dying away to a whisper. It had just died away when the cannon roared; a ball shot through the air at their ship and neatly decapitated the figurehead. Everyone shook their heads at the jeers from the Limerick, which they heard despite the distance that had grown between them in the night.

"This ain't the day to be fooling around like that, mark my words." Gibbs muttered, standing at the rail close to Jack and Stephen. "Someone find the captain. It's time to get this piece of godforsaken bark moving somewhere. Preferably away from here and that twice-cursed son of a twice-cursed whore. Poxed, the both of 'em."

"Just because you're insecure about your own parentage doesn't mean you have to press it onto others, Joshamee Gibbs." Anamaria said blithely as she approached. Meanwhile, a few more guns went off on the Limerick, their shots landing dancing close to the Deliverance. "Although sometimes I do think that boy is cursed with Jack's ailment- he's more crazy when he's sober than when he's drunk. He's probably just a little too sober after last night's party. Captain, the Limerick is signaling." The last phrase was drawn out in a sarcastic drawl.

By the time Jack remembered that they were referring to Jack Sparrow and not to himself, Cora was also at their side. Stephen had taken Jack's glass from where it rested in the pocket of his coat and trained it on the Limerick, making out the face of a rather maniacal Finn standing on the rail waving his ridiculous hat. He was about to snap it shut when he felt her presence at his side, but she took it from him before he could. What followed was a series of very complicated gestures that they could only barely make out from where they stood.

"Why don't he just use signal flags?" Jack asked.

"I have only the vaguest knowledge of them myself," Cora replied without moving her eye from the glass. "And I doubt Finn knows them at all. It always makes it more interesting when we have to communicate this way."

"If I may offer my opinion, it seemed when I had my eye on him that he was attempting to ask where we were going." Stephen said.

Cora straightened very slowly to look him in the eye, a very faint, sly smile on her face. She slid the glass slowly closed.

"Really, now? And are you very good at reading signs, Doctor Maturin?"

"I am. And I, for my part, know that whiskey means that someone requires medical assistance." (1)

Gibbs immediately started to laugh at this, and Anamaria soon after that.

"Why, that was very nearly a pun, Stephen!" Jack howled. "I didn't think you had it in you- and a naval pun too! Oh, how that warms my heart. To think that I've taught you something at last after so many years of friendship!"

Stephen, for his part, looked back and forth between them with a look of utter loss on his face, uncertain of what he'd done. Cora was the only person near him not laughing. That sly, quiet smile remained on her face.

"You really are quite adorable when you do not realize it, Stephen." She smiled, passing by him. As she went, she pushed the glass back up against his chest and continued to walk away, her hand trailing across him. He caught the glass and looked over his shoulder in time to see her give the order to raise the anchor and get back on course for Alameade. Finn would just have to follow them on his own.

"I didn't think she had it in her." Anamaria uttered at his side.

"What is your meaning?" Stephen asked.

"The ability to play the coquette. Her mother flirted with anything that had legs from the time she was fourteen all the way until she turned eighteen. Gave all of us a run for our money more than once."

"What happened when she turned eighteen?"

"She was raped." Anamaria said nonchalantly. Before they could continue the conversation, she too walked away.

Stephen watched her leave and then let his eyes wander to Cora, who'd gone to the helm. Dominic stood there with her, on his famed box, his hands on the helm and an expression of sublime delight. He was completely unaware that his mother's hands were on the wheel below his, keeping them steady. He found himself smiling.

"What do you think of the lad, Stephen?" Jack asked softly at his side as the ship slid into motion on the choppy seas. Stephen watched them churn beneath them in the greyish light, searching for an answer.

"I've never desired children of my own- I desired the very opposite. I did not wish to compound the miseries of the world by adding more people to it."

"And now?"

Stephen was silent for a very long time. The sea held no answer for him this time.

"You have no need to fear honesty where I'm concerned, my dear. I'm not even the ship's captain here. I am simply a very old friend."

"I speak with the sincerest honesty, Jack, when I say that I don't know what I think now. That boy could bring no misery to this world- only light. I wish to God there was some way I could've known before Cora left that she was with child."

This last was uttered with even more complete honesty; it surprised himself. Babies especially seemed the most miserable of people, with their squalling and odor and utter disregard for the comfort of everyone around them. Now he found himself wishing he'd been there to see Dominic when he was first born, when he first began to speak. He could've taught him Catalan then- it would be such a comfort to speak with his own son of the land he so loved.

It wasn't too late, he realized with a jolt. Dominic was still young. Every meeting they had proved his quick mind. Later in the day even he could start to teach him. But then he realized with an even more painful jolt that he had only two weeks with him, and that to begin and leave them both hanging would be crueler than never to begin at all.

"You could still marry her, Stephen." Jack said, as if reading his mind. But the word 'marry' brought a sudden image of Diana before Stephen's mental eye, and then directly after one of Finn Walsh. Cora said she'd been unable to love him once- but that was then. She seemed terribly comfortable around him the night before.

"I'm caught by the lee, ain't I, Stephen? I'm most dreadfully sorry. I had no business saying such a thing. I wish only for your happiness." Jack said anxiously, seeing the sudden fear overtake Stephen's face.

"Never worry, joy." Stephen regained his composure with frightening ease. "It was no fault of your own. The thought is no stranger to my own head. It would be the proper thing to do, wouldn't it? I would've felt it my duty the moment Cora told me if she hadn't said in the same breath that she hesitated to tell me because she feared that it would force us into a marriage of obligation."

"Perhaps you ought not propose it as a marriage of obligation, then."

It was the most delicate Stephen had ever heard Jack speak. He was stunned once more, but before his composure could slip to reveal it they heard another gun from behind them, calling their attention to the Limerick once more. The sloop was a considerable distance behind the faster frigate, but her position had allowed her to sight the sail first.

Someone else took the helm and Gibbs took Dominic away as Cora and Anamaria went to the rail once more, their own glasses out now. The Limerick fired once more, this time in the direction of the sails. Chase? The cannonball seemed to ask.

"We have no idea who it is. I don't feel safe," were Cora's first words.

"We can't find out who she is unless we sail closer. We need the money, Captain." Anamaria's voice dropped.

"We can't just go chasing after any ship we want anymore, Anamaria. This is a respectable ship, not-" She couldn't finish the sentence.

"Say it." Anamaria fairly growled. "Say it."

"It's not a pirate ship."

"Of course it isn't!" An angry voice called from nearby. A sailor had stopped in his swabbing to stare with hatred at his captain. "Most of us have been loyal to your family all your life or longer, and you're so ashamed of us you can't wait to stop being our captain. Now you won't even let us fill our purse a little before you go!"

The deck was silent now. The Limerick fired once more; the sails were fading away. Whoever that ship was, she'd seen them and spooked. Fleeing before she knew who they were could mean only one thing in their minds- she had something valuable aboard. Cora had no time to respond to the irate sailor.

"Give the order, Captain." Anamaria said stiffly. "Are we to chase, or are we not?"

For a moment it seemed she might stand firm. Then she saw the looks of accusation on everyone aboard and heard the final gun from the Limerick as her course altered and she began to turn towards the fleeing white squares.

"Match our course to the Limerick's. Come up alongside her and remain at least half a mile apart. Spread all the canvas you can manage. Rouse up the off-watch."

She left just as the orders were being carried out. Every eye followed her into the great cabin and lingered until Gibbs threatened to tear out every one of them that remained there a second longer.

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Weathered paper and familiar places and every haunting memory that accompanied them were Cora's companions in the cabin. Her compass traced the path again and again. Port Royal to Normandy to Alameade and back again. There should've been no turning from it. Yet she gave the order. She went over the route just once more, the compass falling into the same set of weary holes every time, as if doing so could force her back on track. Then the dreaded knock sounded.

She let the compass fall and covered her face with her hands, searching for the mask that kept her safe. It was paper-thin today. Anyone who knew her well enough to know it was there could tear it away with a flick of their wrist.

"Come in," She said at last, rising.

Her trepidation eased with shock when she saw who it was that came to her door. Jack Aubrey was the last person she'd expected. Anamaria she'd feared, Stephen she'd hoped for. But Jack?

"I hope I'm not intruding."

"I wouldn't have asked you to come in if you were. Would you care to take a seat?"

"No, thank you." He sighed. "Well, I suppose there's nothing to do but come right to the point of it. Miss Turner, if you disliked this course of action then why did you allow your crew to persuade you to take it."

"I feared angering them. The rest of our voyage would be rather uncomfortable if they resented me."

"The rest of our voyage will be much more dangerous if they think that they can bend their captain to their rule."

"Should I call off the chase?"

"I can't answer that for you. You are the captain, not I. And it is not a privilege that is to be thrust away with both hands. I would give my eye teeth to be a captain again."

"I suppose I've rather degraded the post," Cora mused bitterly. "You should've seen my mother when she was captain. She was Lady Macbeth incarnate. Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here. She may as well have said that when my grandfather turned the Running over to her. She had no fear, no indecision."

"I know for certain that you didn't take entirely after the pirate I briefly knew, but her blood runs in your veins. Stephen has spoken to me before of your decisiveness. Why does it not apply here?"

"Because I was never meant to be captain." Her voice went low with rage. "I was the eldest but I was never good enough. My mother knew I lacked the killer instinct she prized so dearly. She made it well known that she would pass her post onto Ashli, even though I was the better sailor, I was the one who studied navigation and worked two watches when she was too tired to do either. Make no mistake, I loved- love -my little sister very dearly but this was to be hers and not mine. I was never meant for this. That hung between us for all our lives- for twenty-five years."

"It doesn't matter if your mother thought you weren't meant for it. What matters is that you are a captain now, and you must take up that burden or put us all in danger regardless of that fear."

Cora stood frozen by her desk, one hand on the map of the only place she'd ever known to keep her from losing touch with the world entirely. She wasn't really conscious of the decision to listen to what Jack had told her. Her head was blissfully empty between her desk and the door. Then she was out on the deck and everything came crashing down on her at once.

The ship was writhing with action and Anamaria was steps away from the cabin door. Cora didn't stop to listen what she had to stay; instead she went to the bow where several sailors were looking to the ship that wasn't so distant from them after all. She was much larger than they'd expected, a frigate with a rather alarming array of guns on her deck.

"Can you read her name?" She asked.

"Just about." One sailor said.

A breathless moment; they drew closer. Cora's hands were damp with sweat on the rail.

"By God," The sailor uttered. "It's the ship we heard about on the Limerick. The Fraternité. She's lured us straight into a trap."

Cora's heart stopped. Jack's warning had been too late.

Almost.

"Turn us straight about. Someone fire a gun in Finn's direction. We need to get the hell out of here."

"I don't know if we can turn with this wind. We might miss stays, captain." Gibbs called.

"I don't care how we get around, just get us around."

"We have more guns than she does. We can take her and stop her from killing any more pirates!"

"We might have seventy-four guns but we can barely crew over half of them, Anamaria."

"But with the Limerick too-"

"My orders are to turn around and proceed with all due haste away from the Fraternité."

Both woman froze, startled not by the volume of Cora's voice but by the insistent authority in it. Then a smile opened on Anamaria's face like a flower that blooms only at night when no one else may see its beauty.

"Aye, Captain."

The orders were given. The Deliverance turned and while the stays screeched at the strain, the wind held true. Halfway through a gun went off, calling the Limerick from her position far ahead to turn with them. He was in no hurry to stay either.

The chase wore on with the same silent tension singular to every chase in history. The deck was cleared, the sails were set, and now all they could do was sit and watch the distant ghost in the mist and pray that she disappeared and didn't grow any closer. Unfortunately, God wasn't listening that day.

The first gunfire was far astern of them, where the Limerick struggled to keep their pace. Every head swiveled to watch with anguish as their fellows fought to keep the privateer nipping at their heels from taking the foot off entirely. Cora watched from the stern, Dominic standing before her and clutching to her hand. He was oddly solemn, as though he recognized what was happening.

"Set us on a course for the Isle, Gibbs." Cora said quietly after a moment.

"What?" The sailor's voice was harsh with what may have been anger. "Are you mad?"

"We know those waters, Gibbs. The Fraternité doesn't. We can lose her either in the fog or on the shoals."

Gibbs struggled for a moment with the urge to argue, then gave the orders and set the course. The moment he did, every man's anxiety at the chase turned to solemn fear.

Jack had remained on deck when Stephen went to his orlop, anticipating a fight, and when he saw the sudden tension he approached Gibbs at the helm.

"Where have we set our course for?"

"The Forgotten Isle. She's daft to do it, but anyone who grew up around Jack Sparrow is like as not to come out a bit mad. If you believe such things, it is an island shrouded by eternal mist and jagged rocks and the strongest currents that ever sucked a soul down to give Davy Jones the time of day. It is the home of all the souls ever lost to the Caribbean Sea. There they wander in torment and hatred- if you believe such things."

Jack decided he didn't believe these things and settled himself at the taffrail to watch the chase, confident that the course Cora had chosen was the best and giving himself no small praise for goading her onto it. His internal praise slackened somewhat when the wind worsened and the swells got deeper. It began to fade even more when the rain started. He had no time for thought at all when the storm broke in full over them after days of uncertain seas and breathy winds.

The rise and fall of the sea threw them from side to side, crashed over the deck and cracked the mizenmast. They lost two men in the first hour. Stephen declared the leg of another lost before two hours past. The Limerick they'd lost sight of shortly before the storm was unleashed, but the Fraternité remained a grey specter behind them.

"We need to sail around," Anamaria shouted when Cora and two other sailors latched themselves to the helm, holding them to their course. "We can't go straight through this storm!"

"It'll break on the other side of the Isle. This is the fastest way."

"Even if you don't believe the stories about the Isle, Cora, you know what those rocks are like. This is madness. We must sail around!"

"We will hold our course. Trust me, Anamaria."

And hold their course they did, despite every querying look. Cora clung to the wheel like a lifeline, her eyes fixed determinedly ahead even when others looked back to see the Fraternité behind them. She didn't notice when it began to fade.

True to Anamaria's prediction, rocks flashed on their sides, appearing without warning out of the mist. One raked them stem to stern, taking out a chunk of the starboard rail, but it was the worst damage they suffered. Not long after that the sea seemed a little calmer, the mist a little thinner, the rain a little less vengeful. No one dared to say it, but many thought they could see the patches of blue sky up ahead.

The Deliverance slowed as the wind died down, her tattered sails sighing and releasing their burden. Already there were orders to repair the sails and get men to the pumps. The last place where the tension released on the ship was the helm, which resisted their course for some time more. Then one of the sailors was able to slip away, leaving Cora and another. This sailor glanced at her for permission; she granted it. She leaned back and dared to close her eyes for a moment before she sensed the presence of her first mate.

"Do you know where we are, Anamaria?"

"Aye, Captain. Well enough."

"Good. Bring us home."

She glanced behind herself for the first time, saw nothing but wide horizon, and collapsed to the deck in utter exhaustion and no small dose of relief.

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A/N-- Well, they made it through the storm! But what of our French friend, the Fraternité? And where did Finn get to? Find out in the next chapter!

Thanks to silverwolf of the night and FuchsiaII for their kind reviews.

(1) For those who've forgotten, the flag Whiskey signals 'requesting medical assistance.' Stephen saw this flag flown on the Lone Star Running when Cora was injured (Chapter 11: The Pursuit of Happiness in Saltwater for Tears). His strange phrasing of this fact is almost a pun- shock of all shocks! He must be hanging around Jack too much.