A/N: Yay! I'm glad the last chapter turned out to be a success! I apologize for the slower update on this one, but I've been working this chapter a good deal, adding things, etc, up until about a half-hour ago!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter! That sort of feedback gives me confidence to write and post segments like that again, although none are lined up at the moment…

Well, here is the next installation!

Chapter 13: Compass and Conversation

Warnings: cursin'

Upon Elizabeth's leave, Beckett practically fell backwards onto a barrel in the brig, the images of what had just occurred running through his head. He suddenly felt exhausted. However, I need to clean up before I can go to sleep. Thankfully the makeshift porthole supplied him with ample water and soon he was curled up on his hammock, wanting so badly to sleep but his brain teeming with thoughts, images, feelings…. Never had he felt so utterly… flustered.

Elizabeth bloody Turner. He had never felt such feelings wash over him so quickly, and so close in proximity to each other…. Why oh why didn't I take that just a bit further? I could've done so. I know she was waiting for it… Although, I do admit, I guess I am rather rusty at that sort of thing by this point. Let's see; how long has it been? He counted his fingers silently, frowning and pursing his lips as he raised finger after finger on his left hand, then his right. He glared at the standing fingers, shaking his head. I'm not even going to think about just how pitiful that is, he mused. I could have had any woman I wanted. Anyone would have been happy to marry the lord of the East India Trading Company. But no. First I wasted my time with that bloody Azores wench, and then I wasted the remainder of my life chasing those bastard pirates all over the seas.

But then… I get my chance, with a governor's young, beautiful… dirty daughter, no less… and I blow it—twice, as a matter of fact—in rather quick succession. Bloody hell. I need to regain my endurance, if I hope to keep up with her insatiability. I'm not as young as I once was, nor as experienced as I probably should be at this point.…

But do I really think that sort of thing is ever going to happen again? Elizabeth allowing for me to—well, actually wanting me to spank her. Ha. Maybe if I just think of it as only a dream, it'll make reality easier to bear.

I have priorities, damn it. And none of them consist of my remaining here—or remaining near Elizabeth, for that matter. The Azores is where this all will end—and where my new life will begin. My redemption. Because that's what I want most… right?

I wonder where Jack's compass is…. That'll clear things up rather quickly… but then again, how does a compass point to something such as redemption?

He sighed, realizing how impossible it'd be for him to know these things. He then looked at the ring on his finger, the representation of his old life. The ring he had acquired upon becoming lord of the East India Trading Company.

The compass should point to my ring, which would represent what I want back. When I get a hold of the confounded thing, I'm going to hold it in the hand without the ring. To make sure that I can see for certain….

Elizabeth retreated to her cabin to briefly compose herself before meeting up with the other members of the ship. She looked too flushed and felt too lightheaded to be comfortable walking amongst her unknowing crewmates.

Oh, I can't believe how much I enjoyed that. Oh, but with Lord Cutler bloody Beckett of all people…. What if my nausea is a serious ailment, and I'm dying? I think if that is the case, then there must be a reprise to what occurred earlier today…. But then, if I don't see Beckett, I can't be tempted… But then, I have more than nine years to wait to do anything again. He's right about everything…. I've signed my entire life away.

I need to stop thinking, stop hoping, stop rationalizing. Need to get away from my thoughts, for once. To get away from this odd new hope I have. Hope is a dangerous thing.

Jack spotted her as she ascended to the main deck.

"So, how'd it go?" he said. She had silently worked out her automatic responses in her head beforehand, rehearsing them in her room to be sure they sounded convincing.

"He won't be lying to you again," she said, giving him a little smile.

"Ye beat 'im that bad, did ye," he replied, cringing a bit.

"Well, I hope I have set your mind at ease."

"It is, luv; it is. 'Course, I'll have to be certain you didn't kill the little prig, though that would not be a sad thing to hear… but yes, you have set my mind at ease."

"Good. How much longer before we arrive?" she asked him, hopefully segueing successfully.

"Should be there by th' next sunrise," he replied. "I thought we were a bit closer, but I was mistaken."

Her insides sort of flopped down into the bottom of her stomach. She had wanted to get some fresh air, wanted to get away from the crew, and now that she had done this thing with Beckett, to get away from him. But he was going to bring her to the doctor, she quickly remembered. Egh, she was going to be continually embarrassed around him until this whole ordeal was over. Well, not embarrassed, really…perhaps reminiscent? Perhaps even a bit fluttery in the stomach?

Barbossa soon ascended above deck, eyeing her up as if she could attack him at any second.

She just looked right back at him, unable to speak. Hopefully he hadn't stolen a glance, or heard anything earlier….

"Mrs. Turner," he said in a very formal tone, "I take it that ye carried out the punishment on Mr. Beckett."

"Yes," she said curtly, feeling her face getting hot.

"I heard 'is whimperin's at a point, so's you must've been layin' it on 'im pretty good," he replied, the look on his face showing suspicion.

Jack looked at Barbossa.

"Is that right?"

"Aye," Barbossa replied, looking at Jack. "'Tweren't the loudest o' whimperin's an' yelps, but they be noticeable all the same."

Jack turned to Elizabeth and gave her a smile. Barbossa continued.

"However, I recall not hearin' the sound o' th' tails. I know them to be a good bit loud when strikin' flesh."

She was prepared for this, fortunately.

"That is because I flogged him over his shirt," she said, a true statement. And not only that, I barely put any force behind it. Not that I need to mention that, of course.

Barbossa gave her a nod of understanding. Hopefully his curiosity was satiated. Jack looked satisfied as well.

"I take it the prig is nursin' 'is wounds as we speak," Jack ventured to say, noticing no sign of Beckett.

"I'd assume so," Elizabeth replied, feeling much more at ease.

Jack and Barbossa were both a bit leery of the situation, though neither was about to make that obvious to Elizabeth. Besides, they couldn't reveal how much it irked them in their respective ways to imagine flirtation between Elizabeth and their enemy. A common fear existed in the troubling aspect of how or if Turner could even learn of this betrayal—if the betrayal was actually occurring.

Elizabeth, Barbossa, Jack, and Gibbs ate a late lunch in Jack's cabin. When Jack had retreated hungrily to the hold to fetch the food, he thought he smelled an odd smell but didn't think much else of it because of his growling stomach. And he didn't even notice Beckett sleeping in the brig in his hammock on his way down or back up to his cabin. The depressing fact was that these last few pieces of food he was able to acquire were the last food products aboard the ship.

Jack returned to his cabin, holding four sticks of saltpork in his hand, but no other food. Elizabeth, Barbossa, and Gibbs prepared to take a seat. Wordlessly Jack passed out two pieces of saltpork to each of the stunned people around the table, and then sat down, immediately biting into the dehydrated meat. Barbossa and Gibbs followed, Elizabeth slightly hesitating before being seated. Jack looked at this with interest, but forgot soon enough after Barbossa turned to face him, his face twisted into a furious scowl.

Barbossa glared at Jack, not yet touching his food.

"Where be the rest o' the food," he growled, watching Jack continue to fill his mouth with the unappetizing cuisine.

"Gone," Jack said, his mouth stuffed full.

"What are ye sayin'? That this is all we have left?"

"Aye," Jack said with a muffled tone, the food still in his mouth, "but once we arrive in th—"

"This trip best not be a failure, Jack. Or else ye'll be the firs' crewmate we sacrifice."

Jack cringed a bit but continued to chew quite loudly. Elizabeth could see why Jack had stuffed his face quickly, because if Barbossa hadn't spoken up, she would have… had she not felt the scandalous sting upon sitting down. It was making her paranoid that she was able to feel this and yet no one knew what had happened, how her flesh was buzzing once again… though they would be made aware of it if she made it obvious. She in turn stuffed her mouth full, keeping silent. Jack then spoke, as if having an epiphany.

"I just thought o' something. Th' perfect way to buy us back some food."

Barbossa looked on with interest, a bit perturbed by the word buy.

"By cashin' in on our livin' breathin' reward, o' course," he said smilingly.

Barbossa gave him a knowing nod. Although he hated giving in to being an honest member of society (for once), he wasn't comfortable with what was potentially happening between Beckett and their Dutchman's bride, and so he wholeheartedly supported ridding the ship of Beckett. He watched Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye as he spoke.

"'Tis a good idea, Jack, an' bein' as good ideas fer ye are few an' far-between, I'll agree to this'n."

"Great. It's settled then. I shall be informing our traitorous cohorts of their duty in due time."

"Ye shan't inform 'em o' their duties while they be aboard the Pearl, Jack. Be best t' wait until we're on land an' Beckett's in custody."

Oh, no. What about the doctor? Elizabeth mused, feeling a twinge of nausea at the thought that she might be sick or even dying, and not getting the proper treatment for it. But she couldn't allow for anyone else to feel sorry for her. No, she couldn't make them see her vulnerability. It had taken her long enough to establish her equality aboard the Pearl, and she couldn't let it slip now. Especially if this problem was a petty one, which it could very well be.

Suddenly Jack turned to Barbossa and spoke, pointing a finger at the taller captain.

"Wot's different about your face," he said to a stubble-free Barbossa, who had a little black scab on his cheekbone.

Elizabeth almost choked on the saltpork she was chewing.

Barbossa glanced at her with interest, and looked at Jack.

"Got a shave," he said.

"Couldn't've been Marty," Jack countered. "He doesn't shave that close—but then again, he also doesn't nick."

Barbossa gave Elizabeth a big toothy smile of confidence.

"Mrs. Turner did me the honour," he began.

Jack looked at her inquisitively.

"An' how did this come about, pray tell?"

She held her breath, frightened as to how much he'd divulge. Barbossa continued his explanation.

"I asked her, an' she did it." He flashed his big smile at Jack now.

The dreadlocked captain touched his own facial hair thoughtfully.

"Now, there's no need fer her to work on yer beard," Barbossa shot, "bein' as ye can't even grow a respectable one."

"When it comes to beards, less is more," Jack replied, looking unaffected. "Th' more beard, the older ye look. So you look to be aroun'… seventy, perhaps?"

"Yer theory's already shot," Barbossa said. "Yer nowhere in range."

"How old are ye, anyway?" Gibbs timidly asked.

"Le's jus' say, old enough t' be able to refrain from admittin' to me age. It's a rare thing these days, a pirate gettin' pas' middle age."

"Ain't that th' truth," Jack said, shortly before picking up a bottle of rum, uncorking it, and pouring it down his throat.

Elizabeth made a decision. I am going to sneak off the ship early with Beckett so that he can take me to this doctor, and then return rather early to the Pearl, so as not to arouse suspicions when he is to be taken in for the reward. We need that reward badly right now, being as most of us are probably suffering from starving to death. She touched her own stomach, which was bloated-looking. Full of air, more than likely. Yes, that is what I shall do. It'd be for the greater good of everyone… save for Beckett…. He can never divulge what happened in the hold if he's not around to divulge….

But he and I are even now. Doing that would quite tip the scale in my direction. Oh bother, why do I even care?

She paused.

Why do I care what happens to him, anyway?

Later on that evening Jack and Elizabeth ventured to the brig, Elizabeth following Jack with a sort of dread. How was Beckett going to act? Was he going to allude to something happening between them? Or would he keep his vow… not that he had a reason to do so, being as she had previously broken hers.

The pair stumbled down to the brig, awakening Beckett from his slumber in the hammock. Rather than pull out weapons and tumble out of the hammock, though, Beckett just opened his eyes to mere slits, smacked his lips together quite loudly, and pulled the frockcoat that was covering him as a makeshift blanket up closer under his chin.

"Beckett," Jack said coaxingly. Elizabeth touched Jack's arm.

"Let him sleep, Jack. He's had enough for one day."

"We arrive on the morrow. He best be above deck to help us sail into port," Jack said, looking at the motionless figure in the hammock.

Although he remained completely still, Beckett was fully awake. He had remained all day in the dank brig, not daring to set foot elsewhere. It was rather enjoyable rehashing the earlier activities, rather than have them shot to pieces by a nasty sneer from Elizabeth, or something along those lines….

However, his curiosity for the compass was literally aching him inside. He wanted to know for certain what his greatest desire was, if only to put his mind at ease.

I feel like such a fool having to have such a thing confirmed by a bloody compass, he mused, hearing Elizabeth and Jack breathing ever so softly as they watched his lounging form. Even so, I must know.

She stared at Beckett fearfully, watching Jack pace across the room.

"What's wrong, Jack?" she asked, nervous at his hesitancy to leave the brig. She just wanted to get out of there and avoid any retribution. After all, it had been rather nice to think about herself and Beckett involved in a scandal that only lovers could participate in, and any look he gave her not reflecting naughtiness or secrecy would dash her daydreams.

"I think that rum would help me think," he replied.

"But in your thinking that rum will help you think, you're actually already thinking, and thus, you need no help."

He looked totally lost for a moment, and then seemed to understand her statement all at once. His eyes lit up and he smiled at her, a corner of his mouth upturned in a very handsome grin.

"Luv, that sounds an awful lot like somethin' I would say," he murmured, watching Elizabeth smile back at him. "I guess I'm rubbin' off on ye, eh?"

Beckett rolled his eyes under his eyelids.

"Well, the thing is, Jack… I don't think we have any more," she stated very carefully, remembering an argument that Cotton and Pintel had gotten into earlier in the day over Cotton's drinking the last drops of rum on the ship. In response to her revelation, Jack gaped at her, skin paling noticeably. After several seconds of silently staring at her, though, his colour returned, and he sighed.

"What? Did you think of something?" Elizabeth said.

"Actually, yes I did. My secret stores…" He gave her a smile, and began to move past her, towards the ladder to the hold.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Where else? To get me rum, o' course."

She watched him descend the steps. I can't help but feel like that the hold is now a place of scandal, she said. Oh, I cannot believe what happened down there…. She looked back at Beckett with a coy smile.

Simultaneously upon Jack's disappearance into the brig, Beckett sat up in his hammock, nearly scaring the wits out of Elizabeth. Here goes… where's the odd expression he'll flash me any moment now?

He looked at her with wide eyes, and put a finger to his lips upon watching her mouth fall open. She gaped at him, as he appeared to be fearful—of being caught by Jack. This felt scandalous indeed. A heavy little secret they had between them. But there was something else. Had he been waiting for this moment? Was he going to lock Jack in the hold and have his way with her?

Why is my heart pounding like I just ran a mile in a corset? she mused, watching him ever so slowly crane his neck to view her straight-on, beckoning her over with the finger that had been on his lip only moments before.

She approached timidly.

"What's this all about?" she whispered in a raspy, yet high-pitched tone.

"I need you to do something for me," he said. Watching her jaw drop again, he cleared his throat quietly. His expression was dead serious. "Please."

At the sound of those words coming out of Beckett's mouth, Elizabeth's mind couldn't help but jump to rather peculiar conclusions. Did he have some other dirty idea in mind? Was he going to make her kiss him or something?

"What," she heard herself say in a croaky whisper. Wait—I'm already agreeing to this?

"I want you to get something of Jack's for me." He bit his lower lip, looking up at her as she stood beside the hammock. She crossed her arms, half disappointed.

"And what would that be?"

"His compass. He keeps it on his—"

"Why."

He flashed her a look of utter exasperation, and exhaled rather forcefully.

"Because."

"He's going to notice that it's gone, you know."

"I only need it for a short while. It'll be returned to him before he's aware of its absence."

She smirked at him.

"Do you not know what you want?" she said, eyeing him suggestively. He felt his heart pump out of rhythm. It figures. And I had hoped she hadn't learnt the purpose of that stupid instrument. Seems like she knows something about everything. Bloody hell; what is she trying to do to me….

"It's not that. I'm just not certain of where it is at the moment," he replied snappishly.

"What a pitiful excuse. I can see right through it. It's all in your eyes, you know," she said in a whisper, leaning towards him.

He gave her quite the nasty glare.

"Tell me; what do my eyes say now?"

"Now, that's not very nice," she said in a tsking tone. "It's quite the shame that you have to resort to the compass to know your own—"

"What about you, hmm? I find it rather vexing that a married woman was participating in an activity that—"

"You blackmailed me!"

"And yet, you enjoyed it all the same. You can't possibly expect me to believe that you didn't like what was going on. It was all in your eyes, you know," he replied with a smirk, mocking her earlier statement.

She looked taken aback, mouth agape, colour flooding into her cheeks and forehead. Even so, the smirk remained on his face as he watched her expression go from that of shock to ire.

He watched as she raised a hand to slap him and flinched away a bit too quickly, the fast motion and sudden weight shift on the hammock causing it to flip over, spilling him to the floor. Immediately he was embarrassed. He hadn't meant to flinch with quite that much rigor. And now he was flat on his face on the floor, Elizabeth standing above him, a triumphant grin on her face. Ha. And I hadn't even actually planned on following through with the slap, because well—he's right. Even so, he's quite the coward, I must say.

"If I'd have known I'd be asked so many bloody questions, I would have just done it myself," he muttered grumpily, getting to his knees. "I should know by now that I can't trust you to do me a fa—"

She was absolutely fuming. This time she was willing, and her slap found its mark. Beckett took the slap to his cheek with no more than a slight turn of the head, even though it had been rather unexpected. What's he going to do now? I shouldn't have done that. Oh, God, he's probably going to reveal everything to Jack now…. Elizabeth watched, shocked, as a smirk reappeared on his face, having only temporarily disappeared before the slap.

"So… Missus Elizabeth Turner. You do like to play rough. I must say, I rather like that aspect of your—"

The creaking of the ladder boards could be heard as Jack climbed the steps. Without hesitation, Beckett shut his mouth and crawled on his hands and knees over to a dark corner behind the hold's ladder to the brig. He was smiling, for his white teeth glinted in the dim glow of Jack's approaching lantern light. Elizabeth watched as he positioned himself on one knee, facing the direction that Jack would be crossing.

"What in God's name are you doing?" Elizabeth hissed angrily at him. Suddenly realization struck. Oh, no. He's going to snatch Jack's compass! And I'll just be standing here, gaping at him all the while as if I had a part in it.

As the top of Jack's hat appeared, Elizabeth ran for the stairs.

"Jack," she said insistently.

"Wot, luv?"

She could see that he was carrying two bottles of rum, one covered in a strange slimy green substance, the other one soaking wet with what smelled like stagnant seawater. Apparently he had hidden his stows quite well. The compass dangled at his waist, tethered with a miniature leather belt to his own belt. How in the world was she going to convince him to give up the compass without arousing suspicion?

He took the last couple of steps up the ladder, walking right at her so as to cause her to back up several steps.

"I was just wondering—where do you hide your rum?"

Surprisingly, he began to laugh.

"Wot? You plannin' on torchin' the rest o' me stows? Sorry, luv. I must stay mum about me rum." He laughed again, making her face twist up with confusion.

"I'm quite clever, aren't I? Didja hear that? A rather good phrase, that was. If my hands weren't full wiv tryin' to hold these slimy things, I'd say that statement deserved a nice long swig o' rum."

Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth watched Beckett creep up behind and to the side of Jack, hand outstretched towards the compass. She immediately focused on Jack, so as not to arouse suspicion.

"That was really clever, Jack," she said. I have to think. Jack cannot move further into the brig, because then he'll see Beckett's absence from the hammock. And of course what happened will then be revealed 'in my eyes'. I can't risk that.

"Are those your last bottles of rum?"

He looked at his hands, a bottle clutched in each one. He then glanced at her with a hint of suspicion.

"No," he replied, looking back at her. "As a matter of fact they are not. Always have to plan ahead to ensure a constant supply of rum."

Beckett's hand was now on the leather strap that held the compass to Jack's belt. He reached his other hand out to remove the object as steadily as possible.

"But we've run out of food, Jack. I tend to think that food is—"

"I know wot you're gonna say, luv, but it's not true that food is any more important than rum. It was rum that saved both you an' I both while on Rumrunner's island; do you not recall? Not food."

"Well, that was because I used it to make a signal fire—"

"That matters not. It's th' principle of th' thing," he said, lifting a finger from its clutch around the neck of the grimier-looking bottle. "The firs' time I was stuck there, th' rum was th' reason that the rumrunners returned, an' thus, enabled my escape from th' bloody place. It was neither coconuts nor crabs nor sea turtle—"

"Even though you claim that you escaped using them," she murmured, an amused grin on her face. He looked mildly affronted.

"A claim that only you an' I know is a mere claim. However, it makes a rather good story, so let's not spoil th' adventure of it all for everyone else, savvy?"

Beckett had at this point pulled the compass off Jack's belt, and had snatched it away back into the darkness.

"Can I have some rum too?" Elizabeth asked him, looking behind Jack, down at the hold.

Jack glanced at the two bottles in his hands, and then grimaced.

"I would offer you one of mine, but one is not nearly enough for me to—"

"It's alright. I understand. But can you get me another one? I'll allow you to keep your secret by staying put right here."

He gave her a look of confusion, then suspicion, and then, upon realizing he might just be getting drunk with Elizabeth Turner tonight, flashed a broad smile.

"Alright, luv. However, I'm takin' these wiv me for the time bein'…"

She gave him a nod and a smile, and he whirled around, preparing to traverse to the hold again to fetch a bottle for her.

Closing his eyes in the darkness in a silent prayer, Beckett flipped open the lid of the compass as quietly as he could manage, holding the item away from his ring so that he could see it point there for certain. The arrow spun. It paused momentarily, spun around again and stopped on its target. It didn't move again. Scoffing quietly, he shut the lid, gave the compass a little shake, and opened it again to see the same result. This time the arrow hadn't even paused anywhere else first.

Oh, God. I feel ill. Ugh, where's the bloody ginger when you need it?

As Jack descended to the hold again, Beckett slid the compass across the floor. Just get that rubbish away from me, he mused, watching it stop right in front of the entrance to the hold. Perfect. Now Jack can assume that he dropped it.

Elizabeth watched the compass stop by the entrance to the hold, and could barely make out Beckett's sour expression in the darkness where he knelt.

"Not happy, are we?" she said teasingly, though quietly.

He stood up, moving into the light, a smile on his face.

"Actually, I'm quite happy in fact, being as I didn't even have to ambush Captain Sparrow to achieve my goal. You did quite a good job, I must say."

"I didn't do it for you," she shot.

"Why don't you pick up the compass then, being as you worked so hard to acquire it for yourself. I'm curious as to know what you want most."

"Why do you assume it's going to point at something obvious?" she hissed, eyes narrowed. She really didn't like where this conversation was going. I'm never going to touch that compass. Not for him to see… or for me… to see. I don't even want to know what it's going to say. However, I do wonder what the compass revealed to him.

"First, you must tell me what you want most," she said, "being as you just consulted the compass. You can't claim that it's not fresh in your mind."

"What I want cannot be pointed to by that bloody compass," he replied. "What I want is a nonphysical entity, a—"

Oh, wow. What a liar! It had to have pointed at something that he wasn't pleased with. Maybe even me… But wait—that's awfully presumptuous of me. Ha, to think that I matter that much to him because I tickled him and we exchanged secrets then he got to punish me and run his hand over—

Suddenly the ladder to the hold creaked.

"Beckett, get back into the hammock! Jack is going to catch you!" she exclaimed in a whisper.

His face became quite sober, and he scampered back over to the hammock, plopping himself down on it as Jack reached the next to the last step of the ladder. Holding three bottles of rum now, one sticky with gruel, Jack looked down at the floor to the brig.

"Hey, wot's my compass doin' here—" he said aloud, though not specifically to Elizabeth or anyone in particular.

"It must have fallen off your belt. I noticed earlier that the strap seemed to only be holding on by a thread."

He placed the rum bottles on the ground and picked the round instrument up, reattaching the strap to his belt. I didn' hear it fall, but maybe it fell while I was headed down these creaky stairs. They could very well have drowned out the sound.

"So, did you steal a peek, Lizzie?" he said to her, flashing her a dashing smile, as he picked the bottles back up off the floor and held them in outstretched hands.

"I actually only just noticed that it was lying there a second ago, so no. So, did you get me a bottle?"

"Aye. Which bottle do you prefer?"

She looked at the three bottles, each disgusting in its own way. After a short time, she pointed at the gruel-covered bottle. Jack handed it to her as if handing her his firstborn child. He watched her carefully as she held the neck of the bottle timidly, for it was covered in mushy lumps of pale food.

"What?" she said to him.

"Well, aren't you going to drink?"

"Not down here," she replied. "We can go upstairs, if you'd like."

"Right. We can do that. Y'know, it smells awful strange down in the hold. Have ye noticed that?"

"No." She felt her face flushing. "What's it smell like?"

"Smells like th' Pearl's first night upon makin' berth in Tortuga," he replied. "Even though we've not had that particular run o' nighttime visitors for quite some time now…."

"Odd," she said, slowly. He has quite the sense of smell. Hope he's not onto me….

He continued speaking, wrinkling his nose a bit in the process.

"Maybe somethin' is rottin' in a mos' odd way. That's the only way I can see that particular smell becomin' present, bein' as it's impossible for it to have happened in th' Tortuga sense…."

"Well, shall we leave then? It's awfully dark down here," Elizabeth replied, feigning disinterest.

Thankfully Jack was more interested in watching her drink the rum than he was of further exploring the source of the odd smell.

After Jack and Elizabeth had left the brig, Beckett opened his eyes to the darkness of the brig.

So we are very close now. All I have to do is sneak Elizabeth off the ship early in the day, and bring her right in. She's never been to Pico Island, so she won't have the foggiest idea where I'm taking her. She won't even be aware of what I've done until it's too late….

Did anyone notice a quote in there from a rather famous movie? I'll give you a hint: it stars Tim Robbins, but the quote is not his own.

I hope I'm keeping everyone in character. That's my only concern, that they don't say or do something totally unlike them, because then you, the reader, would be disappointed in the veering off of that characterization.

Oh, and before I forget:

Preview for chapter 14:

Thank you for minding your own business, Beckett mused, looking at the back of Elizabeth as she continued to walk down the street.