Disclaimer: None of the POTC characters belong to me. They belong to Disney. Now, if I were Empress of the Universe, I would insist that they at least loan me Norrington . But, alas, I have no such power.

Katherine tossed and turned all night. Finally, towards dawn, she at last fell asleep, only to have her slumber filled with dreams that both shocked and disturbed her. The dreams were so vivid and detailed that when she awoke she could almost swear that she felt the Commodore's touch burning on her bare flesh. Tentatively she ran the tip of her tongue across her lips, half expecting them to be swollen from kisses. She punched her pillow in frustration born of both anger and thwarted desire. This was a complication that she could live without.

What was it about the dratted man that caused her to respond in such a manner? He was arrogant, pompous and concerned about appearances; all qualities that she detested in a man. Yet, there was an undeniable current of attraction. She wondered if he felt it as well. He had been about to kiss her but it had been evident that it would have been against his better judgment. What had made him change his mind? For a moment she considered dropping her plan to teach him a lesson, but then rebuked herself. She was not some silly damsel who ran at the first sign of danger; she just needed to proceed carefully or risk getting her fingers burned. With proper care, she could handle James Norrington and not be injured too much in the process. Besides, she guiltily admitted to herself, she still wished to know what his kisses tasted like.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jenny entering, carrying a breakfast tray and bearing important news.

James had no dreams that night, because he had no sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was her inviting lush mouth. Finally, he gave up and grabbed a book to distract himself. That failed to work because as he read he kept thinking of points that he would like to debate with Miss Thompson. Blessedly, a few hours before dawn, fortune supplied him something with which to distract him from the maddening and improper thoughts he kept having regarding Katherine Thompson.

Lieutenant Blackwirth tapped softly on his door. His face registered surprise when James appeared at the door, fully awake and alert. His words came out in a rush, "Oh, I hope that you have not taken sick as well, Commodore. I was counting on your assistance."

With his usual implacable calm, James queried, "What seems to be the matter, Lieutenant?"

"It's the men, sir. As near as I can tell the venison at dinner must have been bad. The men are so wretchedly ill that they are unable to perform their duties. Even the Captain has been struck down."

James pondered the situation for a moment and then asked, "Surely the majority of the crew must be fit to serve? The venison was served at the Captain's table and most of the men do not dine with us."

"That is just the problem, Commodore. Cook used the leftovers from the table to fill out the evening's stew. I fear that we have less than a quarter of our crew fit and able. It appears that only those who did not eat the venison or the stew have escaped the sickness. The Captain asked me to check on you, in the hopes that you were one of the few. He requested that, if you were well, you take over command of the ship."

James felt awkward. Surely it was the Lieutenant's place to take over command?

Correctly interpreting the Commodore's hesitation, Blackwirth reassured him, "Do not worry, sir. I am not insulted by the request. The Captain knows that I am capable of sailing the ship, but as you know we have entered pirate territory and a different danger lies before us. Your exploits with Captain Sparrow are well known. Frankly, I would be relieved to have you at the helm while we are out here like a plum ripe for the plucking."

"Give me a few moments to dress and then I shall meet you on deck." A thought occurred to him, "Has anyone checked on Miss Thompson to see if she has taken ill?"

Lieutenant Blackwirth proudly beamed, "I've already taken care of that, sir. I awoke her maid to have her look in on her mistress. She reported that Miss Thompson was peacefully sleeping. Apparently neither Miss Thompson nor Miss Jenny cares for venison. Wasn't that a stroke of luck?"

"Indeed," replied James. It was obvious that Miss Thompson had truly won over the young man. Equally obvious was that she had given no further thought to their encounter the corridor.

Several hours later found James pouring over charts. He was plotting a new course. One that would have them skirt the edges of the dangerous waters. It would add extra time to their journey, but it was the safest plan of action. They really did not have enough men to sail the ship. As long as the fine weather held, there was no immediate danger to their safety but it would be pressing their luck to boldly cross through pirate waters. Better to take some extra time and not tempt fate. His stomach rumbled and he realized that it was already very late in the morning and he had not eaten. He decided to take a break and find some food. It would not help for him to become ill from lack of nourishment.

Jenny had informed her mistress of the situation adding, "That handsome young Lieutenant was most concerned about you, miss. I believe he fancies you."

However, Katherine was too concerned about the situation to discuss such trivialities. Yesterday at dinner, some of the men had been talking about how they had entered pirate waters. Now they were crippled by sickness and had become a floating target. "Jenny, I know that it is not your job but I should like you to offer your services in the galley. It will free an extra pair of hands to assist on deck. I would offer to assist, but my talents are better utilized elsewhere." She added wryly, "Besides, with my cooking skills, I'd most likely finish off the remaining men."

"Yes, miss. I should like to feel of some use. I may not be a fine chef but I can make the basics."

"Before you go, I need you to do me one more service."

"Really, Miss Katherine, I can not condone this." Lieutenant Blackwirth weakly objected and then blushed at his familiar use of her name.

"Lieutenant, this ship will not sail herself. I know that it is unusual, but so are our circumstances. Believe me when I say that I have the experience necessary to assist." Katherine pled her case.

"Miss Thompson, the Commodore would most certainly not approve and he is in charge. Why don't you ask him?" he replied evasively not wishing to outright deny her anything.

"Blast the Commodore. You know what he would say. Look, Lieutenant, the Commodore does not know all of the crew. With me dressed as I am, he'll just assume I'm another member and be none the wiser."

Blackwirth reluctantly surveyed her. With her hair tucked up and the men's breeches and shirt she could, perhaps at a distance, pass for one of the crew, if one did not look too hard and notice the curves that were subtly visible through the material. Well, he supposed that Commodore Norrington had more pressing things on his mind than the study of the form and figure of a deckhand. There was a small chance it could work. Reluctantly he agreed, "Very well. However, do not blame me if it turns out badly."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. You won't regret it. I would have gone mad sitting idly in my room when I could be helping."

"It's not me who might have cause to regret it. If Commodore Norrington finds out, you'll have hell to pay. I warn you that I'll deny all knowledge."

Enthusiastically she kissed him on the cheek and reassured him, "Do not worry, Reginald. I shall handle the Commodore if necessary. Now let me get to work."

It was late in the afternoon and the hot sun was beating down on her causing perspiration to drip from her forehead. Impatiently she wiped it away, and tried to concentrate on untangling the line. It was difficult enough working several yards in the air with only a thin plank of wood to balance on without the added discomfort. Oh well, she had wanted to assist and this job was perfect for her skills. She was unafraid of heights and had the small dexterous hands necessary for the task. At last she freed the line and carefully climbed back down. Feeling triumphant, she jumped the last few feet to the deck and nimbly landed on her feet.

A softly dangerous voice silkily inquired, "Would you mind telling me what the bloody hell you are doing, Miss Thompson?"

Katherine slowly turned around to find the Commodore looking thunderous. She recalled her easy words to the Lieutenant about being able to handle him and now had a doubt as to the veracity of that claim. She philosophically thought to herself, at least I was able to get away with it for the better part of the day before being discovered. What was the worst that he could do? Confine her to her quarters? This gave her the courage to flippantly reply, "It would appear that I was untangling that line, sir. Or perhaps, I was merely sun bathing. You decide."

"Come with me." He strode away, not even waiting to see if she followed his command.

Katherine was tempted to stay where she was but realized that this conversation would probably be better held in private. Resentfully, she trotted after him as he went to the Captain's quarters. She closed the door behind her and curiously looked around. Presumably Captain Wilson was bunking with the other sick men and the Commodore was using his quarters as an office. There were charts and maps strewn all over the dining table.

He rounded on her, "Explain yourself."

Hating that she felt intimidated, she overcompensated by saying belligerently, "You have eyes in your head. I was helping to crew the ship."

"If you wish to assist, go work in the galley," he said dismissively.

"I have already sent Jennifer. I myself have no skills in that area."

"Then assist in caring for the sick men."

Although she did not like to reveal any weaknesses, she admitted, "I do not… I do not do well with sick people."

Exasperated, James snapped, "Then stay in your room. I do not care what you do as long, as you stay off deck."

Her temper began to return, "You are an ass, Commodore. You are down to a skeleton crew and yet you refuse help."

James made a snorting sound. "Do you really believe that parading around dressed like that is helping? You are taking the men's minds off of work. Learn to do without flattery and attention for a few days."

This unfair accusation made Katherine so angry that she wanted to hit him. She bit out, "I have sailed since before I could walk, Commodore. Almost every weekend I sailed with my uncle and I know my way around a boat. My uncle's vessel may not have been as large or grand as this ship but the principles of sailing remain the same. Are you really so small minded and pig headed that you would refuse an able pair of hands?"

Seeking to end the argument, James grabbed her hands. He intended to show her just how delicate her skin was and how it would soon be ripped to shreds by the required work. Turning them palm up he looked at them, stunned to see the callous patterns clearly visible. She had not lied about having done this kind of work before. Evidently, she had sailed enough to have developed the necessary natural protection against blisters.

Katharine knew what he had sought to do and smiled triumphantly, "I believe this bolsters my claim. I am capable of assisting in crewing this ship."

James liked to believe himself a rational man. Rationally, it would be foolhardy to turn down another pair of hands. "When was the last time you crewed for your uncle?"

"My uncle died a few years ago. But I went sailing the week before we left England."

James could see no reasonable alternative but concession. "Very well. Mind you, I expect you, like any other crew member, to follow my orders without question."

She could not help the grin as she replied, "Yes, sir," and turned to head for the door before he could change his mind.

"Find something else to wear. I will not have you distracting the men."

Later, as she replayed the events in her mind, she could only attribute her reply to the giddiness that had come from getting her way. Saucily she teased over her shoulder, "The other men do not seem to have a problem with my attire. Only you seem focused on it." Once again followed Violet's past example and exaggerated the swing in her hips before adding, "Perhaps you see something you like, Commodore?"

She heard the growl before she felt his hand encircle her wrist. As he dragged her away from the door and towards him, she knew a small thrill. He was going to kiss her! She would at last know the taste of his kiss. The next thing she knew, he had placed one foot on the rung of a chair and she was situated uncomfortably over his leg and staring at the ground. The swat took a moment to register and then she howled with outrage, "Let me up, you brute." The stinging slaps continued and she wished that she had layers of petticoats on rather than the thin breeches. "Ouch. You are hurting me. Let me up." James did not deign to answer her and continued the blistering swats. "Stop it. I swear I'll kill you, James Norrington!" Another dozen hard smacks later, he finally let her up.

Tears of fury and pain filled her eyes but she refused to give him the satisfaction of crying. "How dare you? You, sir ,are no gentlemen," she threw at him.

"And you, Miss Thompson, are no lady. If you insist on acting like a spoiled willful child, then I shall treat you as one," he calmly informed her.

"When we get to Port Royal, I shall report you to the authorities."

"Report what? That I disciplined one of my crew members?" he smugly asked and then watched as she tried to figure a way around that one. If she wanted to help sail the ship, she could not deny that she was a crew member.

Acerbically she inquired, "Do you always spank your men, Commodore?"

Amusement at her question caused him to laugh, "Miss Thompson, if one of my men had issued the invitation you did he would likely be keelhauled."

Katherine hotly denied, "I issued no invitation."

James merely quirked an eyebrow and asked disbelievingly, "Did you not?"

"No. I bloody well did not."

"Really, Miss Thompson, such language from a young woman." James chided, immensely enjoying that she was so infuriated.

"You… you impossible man." Realizing that she was not going to win this battle, she stormed toward the door.

As her hand touched the doorknob, James called, "Oh, Miss Thompson?"

"Yes?" she snarled.

"I shall expect you on deck tomorrow at sunrise. Do not be late."

The only reply he received was the slamming of the door. He burst out laughing. He had truly bested the annoying little chit. After a moment, he sobered. What had possessed him? Ruefully he admitted to himself that it had been a choice of kissing her senseless or taking her over his knee. The later had seemed like the safer option. The memory, of the way that she had looked with those breeches stretched tightly across her backside as she tried to wriggle free, caused his private parts to stir and swell uncomfortably. Perhaps he had chosen poorly.