Chapter One
April, Tortuga Town
Privateer Captain James Norrington jumped out of the longboat as soon as it bumped up against the decrepit dock. "Tie her up, lads. Back at eight bells of the morning watch, sharp." His men looked at him blankly, and James said patiently, "An hour past dawn." Their faces brightened in comprehension and they busied themselves tying up the boat. James exhaled sharply through his nose and set off down the rubbish-strewn street. The squalor was beneath his notice, however, as he was engaged in the fierce brooding that had occupied him obsessively since fate's twists had taken him from Commodore in the Royal Navy to Admiral of the East India Company to common privateer in a mere year's time.
Of all the things he had lost, from his ceremonial sword to his Admiral's coat, from the woman he loved to very nearly his own life, he had been surprised to find that the thing he most longed for was the simple order and discipline of life aboard a naval vessel. While the letter of marque that James carried stated that his activities were quite legal, James' crew suffered from distinctly piratical tendencies including a woeful lack of respect for such pillars of civilized society as rank and breeding. While James grudgingly admitted that judging a man on his actions was rather more sensible than conferring merit based on birth alone, he bemoaned the fact that his crew seemed to feel that his actions had not yet merited more than a modicum of respect. Therefore, they had the disconcerting habit of questioning him and ignoring any order that sounded even remotely military in nature.
"Aye, ye bilge rats. An' ye know what's good for ye, ye'll have yer flea-ridden carcasses back on deck by dawn," said James under his breath, adding an experimental, "Arrrr," for effect. He shook his head, feeling more like an imposter than ever, and cursed Sparrow and Turner once more to the depths of Hades for bringing him to this sorry state. There was another name. One he would not…could not curse. A name that would never again pass his lips or be allowed to linger for more than a split second in his mind. But Turner and Sparrow he could curse and did, at length and with great creativity at every opportunity.
His dark thoughts accompanied him down the street and to the door of Madame Kitty's establishment. He paused with his hand on the latch, wondering as he always did whether he should not just continue on up the street, forgoing the pleasures offered within. Not that he ever received anything but bodily relief from Kitty's girls. But three months at sea left a man in serious need of bodily relief. "And why should I deny myself?" he thought. He was a pirate, was he not? Best act like one and lose himself for a short time in the scent and softness of a woman; be she whore or no.
Resolutely, he opened the door and was immediately assailed by the wave of sights, smells and noises unique to such establishments. Tobacco smoke entwined with the earthy smell of hops and the sharper smell of hard liquor. The girls were a blur of gaudy, bright dresses and painted lips, their companions providing dark counterpoints in the dim light. High giggles and low moans punctured the night and James fancied if he listened hard enough, he might hear the creak of bedsprings in the upstairs chambers. He stepped in and closed the heavy wooden door behind him. He was no more than three steps into the room when he heard his name called over the din. The French perfume with which Madame Kitty doused herself enveloped him in a flowery cloud, underlain faintly by the not-so-pleasant tang of her sweat.
"James! Bienvenue, mon cher. How ees it with you thees evening?" Madame Kitty stood on tiptoe so she could brush each of James' cheeks with a feathery kiss. He assisted by leaning down so the diminutive woman could more easily deliver her effusive greeting.
"Tres bien, Madame. Et comment allez-vous?" answered James, politely responding in perfectly accented court French. She laughed and smacked him lightly on the arm with her fan.
"Ah, mon cher, with me you must always speak ze Eenglish. Eet is good practice, ça va?" She took his arm and led him to a quieter corner, signaling to one of the girls for brandy and glasses. She settled James on a red velvet sofa that had seen better days, bustling around and making him comfortable. "Cher, I am glad you come een tonight. I have need of, how you say? A favor."
The madam poured a generous draught of brandy which James made a little ceremony of tasting. It was a very fine vintage. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Madame, if I may be so bold? What the bloody hell are you up to?"
Madame Kitty gave him an innocent look. "Such language! I am up to nothing, cher James. In fact, eet ees you I hope can be up tonight," she batted her eyes coquettishly. "I have a new girl who is une innocent, ca va? I was thinking p'raps you would like to break her in?"
"A virgin? In Tortuga?" James snorted rudely. "Madame, you insult my intelligence." He drained the last of his brandy and made as if to stand. Madame Kitty stayed him with a hand on his shoulder.
"James, you are shrewd. You try to bargain with me. I know the cost, she ees a leetle more for une virge, but my girls say you have a gentle touch. She will appreciate zees and remember, I am sure, een the future. Think of eet as an investment."
"By all the hells, you're serious! Where did you find such a marvel, Madame?" James' voice dripped sarcasm but the light of interest was in his eyes.
The madam waved her hand airily, knowing that all she need do was reel in her catch. "Zat ees of no importance. But I swear ze girl is pure. I examine her myself, non?" Her eyes took on a hungry, appraising look.
James stifled a sigh. Much as he hated to admit it, privateering suited him. In fact, he was damned good at it and Madame Kitty knew it. Parting him from his barely-legal gold was a closely-held goal of every madam and barkeep on Tortuga; a goal that often went unmet, thanks to the fact that James almost never made stupid mistakes. Almost never.
"Sooo…" the madam's syllable was drawn out inquisitively. "Do you want her, mon cher?"
James thought hard and he thought fast, scenarios and possibilities tumbling through a mind trained by the finest tacticians in the British navy. The opportunity to bed a virgin, unsoiled by the scum of Tortuga, was a heady temptation. He envisioned silky skin, an unpocked face, and slender limbs twining around him as he taught the art of giving and receiving pleasure. The way he might have taught… Ruthlessly, he forced the forbidden name from his mind and turned back to the business at hand.
The odds of Madame Kitty actually procuring a virgin in Tortuga were little better than her procuring a mermaid. Still, if the madam spoke the truth he felt duty-bound to comply. James had sufficiently mastered his conscience enough to bed whores from time to time, but he could not in all honor leave a virgin girl at the mercy of the scum who typically frequented Madam Kitty's establishment. He had no illusions about what might follow, but perhaps he could give the girl a decent experience to start with. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do and he hardened his heart against the spike of chivalry that threatened to pierce it. That part of his life was gone for good.
He pulled a pouch from his pocket and selected a coin. He handed it to the Madam and arched a brow as she tested it between her teeth. "Ah, cher James, your gold, she ees always good. But you forget. I say zis girl, she is more costly." She eyed the pouch in his hand.
"I haven't forgotten," James said smoothly, rising from the sofa. "That is a deposit equal to the fee for a turn with one of your regular girls, I believe? If this girl truly is an innocent, I'll pay the balance when I'm finished." The Madam opened her mouth as if to protest, then closed it again. The truth was, handling a new girl took skill and care. The regular louts were as like to simply break her as break her in. Even if James reneged on his promise of additional payment, he could still ensure that the girl emerged capable of earning her fair share for the house.
"Very well, cher. She ees up in the garret room. You know ze one?" The madam pocketed the gold coin and escorted James to the staircase. "You make ze right decision, mon cher. I guarantee you will not be disappointed."