Part One: Land Ho!

The lower deck was cramped, the crew there packed elbow to elbow in the small space. Their boisterous chatter was enough to nearly drown out the deep, wooden groaning of the ship as they played some kind of game with cards that was governed by a complicated set of rules that sounded half made up. Emera Flint sat a little apart, knees to her chest, trying to listen to the sound of the ship. Impatience made the underside of her fingernails itch. While working, she had been able to ignore just how eager she was to finally get back home. But now, she no longer had that luxury.

The air was stifling, muggy and stinking of sweat and bilge and pine tar. Despite the lanterns, it was so dim that the curved walls of the ship seemed to be pressing in on all sides. Emera ran a restless hand through her coppery hair. It had grown these past months. Now, there was enough that it fell into her eyes, curling behind her ears and down the nape of her neck. But there was not yet enough for it to be tied back. It drove her crazy. She pushed it away from her face again and shut her eyes tight against the sudden roaring cheers of the gaming crew. Agitation crawled up the back of her spine until she could no longer stand it. She got to her feet and made for the hatch, practically having to step over crewmen in her haste to get out.

Emera scrambled up to the main deck where the mid afternoon sun poured off the crisp, white sails in a radiant bath of warm light. Above, the endless Caribbean sky was a soft crystal blue blanket that bled into the dazzle of the sea. Emera gripped the gunnel rail, looking out over the side of the ship as it cut along the open water. The sharp tang of salted wind ran warm fingers through her hair, turning it a pleasant kind of unruly. She closed her eyes as it whipped about her face and drank back greedy lung-fulls of fresh, clean air.

All around her, the top deck buzzed with its usual activity. The crew tended to their duties with diligence, but there was an aspect of cheerfulness that clung to them as they worked. Emera looked up into the ratlines, blocking the sun with one hand, and watched as the crew there tended to the taught sails so that not a single drop of wind would be lost. She could easily make out Lewis Perhson's familiar figure as he tied off a line. And though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was hating every moment of being aloft. He was a man who was happiest with his feet planted firmly on a solid deck. Emera watched him as he apprehensively climbed down the ratlines, waving a little when he finally saw her.

"If there was climbing to be done, I should've been the one to go." She told him as he came to join her.

He shrugged a little, smiling in a falsely easy going way that didn't become his usually honest face, "I don't mind."

"Liar." She accused, crossing her arms as she turned back to look out at the sea.

Lewis stood close beside to her, leaning his elbows on the gunnel rail, and said in a soft voice, "What could I have done, huh? I was told to go up. So up I went."

"You're a carpenter's mate." Emera grumbled, glaring out at the ocean, "You don't belong aloft. I do."

Lewis sighed and straightened. At his full height, he towered over her by at least a foot. Emera had to look up in order to see the broad angles of his face. His fair hair, so blond it was nearly white, had grown long enough to be plaited. He also wore a healthy beard now, that made him look older than he really was. Emera hated it. And for that reason alone he had elected to keep it until they reached the shores of Clearwater Bay. She frowned at him and his false smile and his beard, knowing full well that her foul mood wasn't in anyway his fault.

She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, "I'm sorry, Lewis. I should be better."

"I'll say." He agreed, his Baltic Sea accent colouring his words nicely, but this time when he smiled it was genuine, "Remind me never to sail with you or your father when the two of you are fighting."

"We're not fighting." Emera snapt instinctually, then said more gently, "We're well past that."

Her maiden voyage as a member of her father's crew had gone from bad to worse. Tortuga had been just the beginning of Emera's troubles. The unsanctioned sailing trip she had gone on in the dead of night had awoken a deep thirst for adventure where before there had only been a longing. And with Anamaria Mercier along as an accomplice, each port The Rose put in at became a field of opportunity. The surprising thing had been just how utterly unstoppable the two were as a team. Captain 'Bloody' John Flint, Emera's father, had been practically powerless against their combined enthusiasm and cunning. Leogane was little more than one big plaything the whole of the week they were there. And Port Royal had only been worse.

Emera shut her eyes tight, bighting the inside of her lip against the swell of emotions in her chest. She had loved every moment, every wild escapade, so much that it hurt. But Anamaria was long gone now. Port Royal had always been her destination. She had a life there, with her mother and sisters, full of a job and responsibilities she couldn't walk away from. It was something Emera had understood from even before they decided to sail together, but that didn't mean it made their goodbye any easier. Standing on the docks, knowing she had been about to sail away from Anamaria forever, had reminded them both sharply of another, similar, goodbye not that long ago. Just thinking about it caused Emera's throat to go tight.

"Your father can't keep you suspended from your duties forever." Lewis pointed out, trying to be helpful.

"Oh, but he fully intends to do just that." She told him without meeting his gaze, "Haven't you heard? I'm through on The Rose."

Lewis leaned down at an angle so she would have to look into his devastated brown eyes, "You don't mean that. You're exaggerating."

"No." She shook her head, twisting her silver and blue coin pendant between her fingers, "No, I'm not. He told me this morning. I'm done."

"What? What will you do?" Lewis spluttered, "Just... stay on the island forever?"

Emera had to resist the urge to rest her hand over the pocket of her dark blue waistcoat just to feel the reassuring crinkle of the note she had stashed there. She had carried it with her ever since it had come into her keeping a week ago. The battered and smudged paper was a promise waiting to be fulfilled. She only hoped she wouldn't be too late.

"I'll think of something." She told Lewis, a sliver of optimism in her voice, "Don't worry."

He thought about this for a moment, gripping the rail so tight that his knuckles went bone white, then he sighed resignedly and said, "But what about me? What will I do?"

"I've no idea." Emera teased, smiling up at him, "But you're sort of clever. You'll think of something eventually."

Lewis was untouched by the joke. He only stared at her with the weight of concern in his eyes as he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. The moment his hand touched her arm a wolf-whistle ripped through the air with whoops and jeers on its heels. As one entity Emera and Lewis flew apart and turned on their crewmates with a flurry of unintelligible insults and rebuttals. The scrap rose to a din of voices all shouting over one another until a sharp, piercing whistle cut through the wall of noise. Emmett Hold, Quartermaster and ship's cook, stood on the steps to the quarterdeck with his fingers in his mouth should a second call to attention be needed. But the crew fell silent at once.

"Back to work, you ravenous pups!" He barked out in his sharp, gruff voice.

Then he pointed at Emera and signaled for her to join him on the steps. She managed a quick glance at Lewis as she passed him, feeling for all the world like a child about to be reprimanded for the second time that day. Emmett crossed his arms as he waited. The stern look on his lined face didn't suit him any more than Lewis' false smile had. Emera wished it didn't have to be like this. But even so, if given the chance, she would have relived her weeks with Anamaria over and over again without a second thought.

"Causing trouble?" Emmett asked so only she could hear.

"Apparently." Emera replied more sharply than she probably should have.

He raised his grizzled eyebrows, but there was no anger in his voice when he said, "Best you be watchin' yourself, then. Its not too late to toss you in the hold."

"I'd almost rather that than this... uselessness." She told him, "I'm all but a passenger."

"Mayhaps you ought to have thought on that afore you ran amok." He said pointedly.

Emera had to resist the deep rooted urge to roll her eyes or stomp her foot or both. Emmett was, in every way that really mattered, an uncle to her. But on ship she couldn't snap or snark like she would have at home. Instead, all she could do was place her hand against the pocket of her waistcoat. The paper tucked inside crinkled reassuringly through the smooth fabric. And, as though on cue, a voice from aloft signaled that land was now finally insight. The crew rushed to the bow of the ship, lining up along the gunnels for a glimpse of home. Emera and Emmett shared a look, one that spoke of expectation and frustration on both sides.

"Sounds like you have work to do." Emera said.

"Best you keep out from underfoot." He replied in the same dry, resigned tone.

She nodded and stepped down to the main deck, keeping out of his way as he passed. Looking out across the ship she was able to meet Lewis' uneasy gaze once more before he set to work alongside the others. A sense of purpose and precision hung in the salty air, now. Men from below were coming up to help. Emera had to press herself against the gunnel to keep from being trampled as they fell into step with the others. She watched, uselessly, as the crew made ready for the ship's landing.

Emera pressed her hand to her pocket again. She knew every word of the note by heart.

Dearest Emera,

I will be in Nassau within the week (trusting that you get this in a timely manner.) There is a tavern there called the Mermaid's Song that I'm fond of. Its rather fitting, don't you think? Perhaps I shall see you there before very long. I've much to tell you. And I'd like your help with something.

Yours ever,

Captain J. Sparrow.

P.S. What do you know of Masquerade Balls?

Captain Jack Sparrow, that strange, extraordinary, ridiculous young man who had so easily fallen into Emera's life, was waiting for her. The last time she had seen Jack, he had been sailing away from her in a stolen boat with the hopes of finding a wonderous treasure. A Gem forged by a Mermaid that would protect who ever bore it from all harm while at sea. Perhaps he had found it. Or, at the very least, had discovered more information as to its whereabouts. He had already been on Nassau for quite some time according to the note. Would he still be there? Or had she missed her chance at seeing him again?

Emera chewed her lip, twisting her pendent necklace around her fingers as she carefully leaned out over the gunnel rail. The misty shape of Clearwater Bay loomed like a greenish smudge against the brilliant blue of the sea and sky. It wouldn't be long now.