Much to his astonishment, James found that the following fortnight passed quickly. He had expected the journey to be the usual torture that occurred whenever he was forced to sail under another's command. And indeed, the first few days had been intolerably long, but then he had chanced upon Miss Thompson sitting quietly tucked into a sheltered corner of the deck, reading the works of Mr. Shakespeare. A combination of boredom and good manners had caused him to join her and begin discussing the merits of various works. A genuine enjoyment of their conversation kept him coming back every afternoon. As each day passed, their discourse became livelier and freer. Today, they were talking about Hamlet and they were decidedly of different opinions regarding the young man.

"Well, I think that he was an imbecile. If he had acted sooner and more directly, everything may not have turned into such a bloodbath. He should have just killed his uncle and been done with it, instead of dithering about like an old lady."

James, who had never before encountered this opinion of Hamlet's internal struggles, dryly observed, "That would have made for a much shorter play."

Katherine, who had at first grudgingly partaken in these conversations, had also found them more than tolerable. She had begun to look forward to the afternoons of literary debate and found the Commodore to be wittier than she had at first thought him. At his dry comment, she was unable to hold back a delighted chuckle.

James had never heard her laugh before and he found it appealing. Her laughter was low and musical, not the high pitched giggle that so many fashionable young women adopted. Her laughter had drawn his eyes to her mouth. Relaxed from their usual tight line, her lips were full and delicately pink and inviting. James' thoughts screeched to a halt at this last observation. Inviting? Where the hell had that idea come from and why did he suddenly have to make an effort to keep from closing the gap between his mouth and hers?

For the first time since their initial meeting, James truly looked at Miss Thompson. She still wore the same style of shapeless garment. In fact, he could swear that she had worn no more than a total of three different gowns the whole journey. All were of a muddy brown color and were outmoded enough that even he was aware that they had long since ceased be in fashion, if indeed they ever had been. Given the amount of baggage that she had brought, he would have expected more variety in dress. Her trunks were probably full of books.

Silently, he continued to study the young lady before him. If the woman had deliberately set out to make herself unattractive, she could not have done a better job. Her hair was harshly parted in the middle and tightly scraped back into a bun at the nape of her neck. There was some awful sort of pomade slathered onto it that caused her hair color to match the drabness of her dresses.

Although to her credit, he once again noted that she had a fine delicate facial structure. Her skin appeared smooth and clear, although there was a light dusting of freckles across her nose. James surmised that they were likely caused by her afternoons on the deck. His gaze slid upward and caught her eyes. Funny, he had thought that they would be a dull brown to match her gowns, but they were an intense catlike green. Currently, they were sparkling and alive with merriment. Suddenly she seemed to become aware of the intensity his scrutiny, her eyes grew shuttered and her gaze was once again focused firmly downward.

"I think that I should retire to my quarters and prepare for dinner." she mumbled.

As on the night of their first meeting, James felt a rush of pity for Miss Thompson. Really, she was not the eyesore that he had first supposed and even more importantly she had a keen mind. She had proven to be a lively conversationalist, when not paralyzed by her shyness. James could understand that awful feeling of not knowing what to say. As a young officer, he had been distressed to find out that his reticence in social encounters was often mistaken for condescension and he had worked diligently to control his own natural tendency towards shyness. Wryly, he admitted to himself that any last vestiges of this trait had been eliminated during his time in Tortuga and on the Black Pearl. However, he could not recommend that sort of cure for Miss Thompson. But he could propose an alternative.

"Please stay for a few more moments, Miss Thompson."

"Very well, Commodore Norrington." she agreed without meeting his gaze.

"Miss Thompson…" he paused awkwardly uncertain of how to phrase his suggestion, "Miss Thompson, I believe that I may have a solution to your problems."

"Which problems would that be, sir?"

She was not making this easy. He was going to have to speak plainly. "Miss Thompson, it has not escaped my notice that you are… that you are past the usual age for young ladies to be married." He stopped when he heard the hiss of her indrawn breath. Quickly he assured her, "I do not wish to be cruel or hurtful, but it is a truth that cannot be denied. Your parents made it clear that you hope to have better success in Port Royal. I fear, that unless you make some changes, this desire will not be fulfilled."

Katherine could feel the anger running through her veins at the sheer audacity and arrogance of the man. She wanted nothing more than to soundly disabuse him of the notion that she cared one whit for his opinion. What an odious man he was. She looked forward to the day when she could tell him so. Like a mantra, she repeated in her head, "A few more days and we shall be too far to turn back. A few more days and we shall be too far to turn back. A few more days…" Finally, she calmed down enough to speak and inquire in what she prayed was a sweet tone, "What sort of changes are you speaking of, Commodore?"

James felt his discomfort level grow. He should not have started this topic of conversation, but he had come to like her enough to wish to see her spared any future pain and disappointment. "Miss Thompson, you are not an unattractive woman, yet your manner of dress and deportment does nothing to highlight your natural charms," he blurted out and then winced at the bluntness of his observation.

"I have..." and here her voice wavered and broke for a moment before she continued, "I have natural charms? Am I really not so very hideous?" Her tone was one of awed wonderment.

James congratulated himself on being brave enough to have broached the topic. The poor woman had no idea that she had anything to offer. Well, he could do her a further kindness, "No, Miss Thompson, you are not hideous. While you may not be an incomparable, you do have much to recommend you. You have fine skin and clear eyes. Your mind is sharp, if of a bit too serious bent for a young lady." As he expounded, James became more confident in the rightness of his plan. "You merely need someone to teach you how to dress and conduct yourself in social settings. When we get to Port Royal, I shall ask a friend of mine, Mrs. Turner, to instruct you in these matters. With her assistance, you shall soon find yourself a husband."

James grew alarmed when Miss Thompson threw herself at his feet, grabbed his hand, and began smothering it with kisses, "Oh, would you really do that for me, sir? You are too kind. How shall I ever repay you?" she gratefully gushed.

Embarrassed by this open display of emotion, he hastily helped her to her feet. "Miss Thompson, there is no thanks or repayment necessary."

With an uncharacteristic firmness in her voice, she replied, "Oh, but I insist, Commodore Norrington. I shall definitely repay you for what you have done today. Now, I fear I am quite overcome and need to retire for awhile."

As she turned and left for her room, James noted that she once again had kept her head lowered during their entire discussion. He would tell Elizabeth that that should be the first thing they worked on.

"I swear Jenny; I'll do violence to the man before this journey is complete." Katherine angrily kicked the leg of a chair and then winced as her toe began to ache. She had been regaling her maid with the tale of what had occurred between her and the Commodore for the past few hours.

Jenny did her best to hide her smile for it would not help Miss Katherine's temper to know that she personally found it amusing. Jenny believed that she had puzzled out why her mistress so reacted to Commodore Norrington. She would bet her month's pay packet that Miss Katherine fancied him. Obviously, Miss Katherine had yet to make that discovery for herself, and pointing it out to her would slow her acceptance of the truth rather than speed it, so Jenny held her tongue. Yet, she could not refrain from prodding a bit, 'Well, miss, I think that perhaps he just was trying to be friendly and helpful."

"Friendly and helpful? Do you believe that it is friendly to tell a lady that she is past her prime and requires assistance to capture a man's attention? You would have thought I was a piece of real estate that he was appraising for sale." Katherine's tone could have frozen water.

"Now ,Miss Katherine, to be fair you have not been presenting yourself in the best light, so to speak. You can hardly blame Commodore Norrington for believing that you were an unfortunate soul in need of some direction."

"If the blasted man could see farther than the tip of his nose, he would not have been so insulting. He… he.. ." Katherine's anger was such that she could no longer articulate it. She had always known that men were shallow creatures, given to only seeing the surface of matters. But during their talks on the deck, she had grown to believe that perhaps the Commodore might have more depth than most. Evidently, she had been mistaken and that rankled, as well as hurt her feelings. He had probably spent the hours with her out of some misguided notion of honor or duty, a case of spare some time for the poor spinster bluestocking. Adding fuel to the fire of her temper was the indisputable fact that her senses quickened every time he drew near. It had happened that first night in England and had continued to occur this past fortnight. She could not figure out why she should respond so to his presence, it irritated her to no end. Brushing this line of thought aside, she ordered Jenny, "Please inform Captain Wilson that I am not feeling well, and that I shall not attend dinner tonight. Let him know, that I am unlikely to do so for the next few days."

Knowing her mistress, Jenny suspiciously inquired, "What are you up to, miss? You promised to behave until we got to Port Royal."

"I did no such thing, Jenny. I merely agreed not to act in manner that might cause us to change course back to England. In a few days time we shall be little more than a week away from our destination, and it is a certainty that the Captain would not order us to return to England rather than proceed to Port Royal. That will give me time to teach James Norrington a lesson he will not soon forget," she declared triumphantly.

"I'm not so sure that is an action you'd be wanting to take, Miss Katherine. The Commodore strikes me as a man who will not take lightly to being made a fool of. This whole deception has made me uncomfortable from the beginning. You'd be better off waiting until we reached land, where you can at least avoid the man."

"Oh, but I won't wish to avoid him, Jenny. I shall delight in his discomfort. Besides being on ship means that he will not be able to avoid me"

Sighing, Jenny went to do her mistress' bidding. At the very least, the rest of the journey should prove entertaining.

Four nights later found James stopping by Miss Thompson's quarters to inquire after her health. She had been confined to her room for the past few days and he had begun to grow worried that her illness might be serious. His knock was answered by Jenny.

"I have come to see how your mistress is feeling."

"Oh sir, she is feeling much better. In fact, she is not here. She has gone to the Captain's for dinner."

"Really? That is excellent news. Her presence at the table has been missed." He turned to head towards the Captain's quarters.

"Sir!" Jenny called out after him and he turned and awaited her further comment. "I... you should… I hope you enjoy your dinner, sir."

Finding the maid's wishes thoughtful, if a bit oddly delivered, James smiled at her. "Thank you, Jenny. I am sure that I shall." Walking down the corridor, the truth of the words struck him. Now that Miss Thompson was going to be back at the table, he found that he was looking forward to tonight's meal. He heard the murmur of voices and laughter before he reached the door. Evidently, he was not the only one who had missed her presence, for there was a gaiety to the festivities that had been lacking the last three nights For such a drab little sparrow, she had in her own way added great deal of enjoyment to the dinner proceedings. Entering the room his eyes instinctively searched for the familiar mud brown, but could find none. Instead, they alighted on a glimmer of emerald green silk and an almost indecent expanse of creamy bare skin.

James stood stock still in the door's threshold, his mind not believing what his eyes were telling him. Gone was the sparrow, and in its place was a strutting peacock. A long forgotten school lesson flashed across his brain and he remembered that it was the male of the species that had the brilliant tail feathers, not the female. No, Miss Thompson could definitely not be called a peacock. If the admiring men surrounding her had not already made the point, the décolletage of her gown left no doubt, she was most definitely not a male.