Disclaimer: I own no part of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Chapter 5

The Blood Is the Life

Elizabeth was right; Orion's father was Poseidon. What could have made me forget it, when sailors are so often called "Sons of Poseidon"? I spent the next week mulling over the vague sense of warning in my dream, but I could make no sense of it. It was as maddeningly unhelpful as Jack's mystical map.

But Orion did not trouble me nearly as much as did the small Spanish journal. Each time I touched it I had the feeling I was somehow trespassing.

The first time I opened its leather binding my fingertips had detected a faint, pulsating force almost as though the book were alive. A folded square of parchment had been glued inside its cover. It was too fragile to be unfolded completely, but part of a strange little map was visible. Cuidad Blanca, it proclaimed. Innocent enough on the face of it. I gently removed the map from the journal.

Ignoring the tension in my shoulders, I read parts of the journal each night, and gradually I began to understand the voyage being described.

Most entries concerned the mundane business of readying the ship. But the book also repeated many rumours that the Spaniards had heard - mostly concerning the medicinal properties of a spring called the Fountain of Bimini. And there were notes of a different sort - darkly hinting at subjects that made the hairs on my neck stand up.

There were strange references to ancient churches in Ephesus, secret rites, and other things that discomfited me. It wasn't that the antique words were difficult to translate – quite the contrary. It was that they were frighteningly clear. There was no possible way to deny their meaning. Lágrima de merata. A mermaid's tear. Cáliz. A chalice. And most disturbingly, sacrificio de sangre. A blood sacrifice.

Explorers or not, it was clear that they were preparing for what seemed a very nasty undertaking.

I wondered what Maroto would make of it. Perhaps he would think the book was possessed. In any case, I did not trust him enough to refer to such a thing, evenly obliquely.

Two weeks after we departed Tenerife for Tortuga, I was walking about the deck with Maroto as I did each day. His hour of exercise was nearly over, and I had hardly spoken a word. Instead, I walked with my head lowered, absorbed by thoughts of the journal. I gave a heavy sigh, and Maroto darted a sidelong glance at my grim expression.

"Mira – un albatros!" he said, trying to divert me. I raised my head and he pointed in the general direction of the clear blue winter sky.

I could discern the silhouette of the bird's long, pointed wings as it hovered far above us. "An albatross is bad luck, Padre," I murmured, and dropped my head as I returned to my inner musings.

My unusually aloof manner must have puzzled him; he tried once more to engage me. "How did you come to be involved in this work, señora?"

His question caught me off guard, and I mustered the vaguest answer I could. "I made a solemn promise that duty and honour oblige me to carry out."

He stopped short and turned to me. "Ah! Then you understand! I have taken a similar vow."

Something in his dark eyes told me I was about to learn more of him. Cautiously I replied: "Understand what? I'm not sure I take your meaning."

He drew his brows together and gazed as though he could see right into my heart. "I have told you that my ancestor committed a great sin," he said. "It was done in the service of his king, in order to find a certain treasure."

This did not impress me. The ancestor that so troubled Maroto was exactly like any other privateer. My interest flagged, and I stifled a yawn, but Maroto's face was serious. His eyes held my gaze.

"I have tried to atone. I became a friar and devoted my life to prayer." He hesitated. "But my ancestor had set a deadly peril loose in the world, and I have vowed to destroy it. You must not give me to the authorities - I alone know how to defeat this evil."

I laughed. "That's the reason I mustn't hand you over? Well, I call that most convenient! If this thing is so evil, why not warn everyone? Make your knowledge public!"

"But that is the very thing that must not happen on any account!" Pinching his fingers together, he seemed poised to begin a lecture. "You must understand-"

"Your quest. Of course. Half the people I know are on quests, Padre, even Captain Sparrow. Although the object of his quest isn't saving the world – it's the Fountain of Youth."

Maroto's face grew pale. "You mustn't allow it, señora. Not if you care for your friend – it is too dangerous!"

"Oh, come now, Padre. Jack may do as he likes."

"Then may God protect him," Maroto replied. His words sent a shiver through me.

"What is this danger?" I was keen to hear what he knew, but he looked away from me and shook his head.

My face flushed with annoyance. "Oh, I see. You think I should pay you to tell me – by letting you go, perhaps?" What a fool he must be! He was only trying to fright me and buy his freedom by inventing a fanciful tale.

I was still somewhat put out after returning Maroto to his cabin. Even so, I did just look in on Jack. He was working the map.

"Still no luck," he said staring at its circles.

I made a half-hearted attempt to lessen his resolve. "What care you for a Fountain of Youth? You're young enough, I should think. Why not simply enjoy your life?"

He looked up from the map, black eyes glowing with delight as he answered. "Ah, but if you drink from the Fountain, you'll live forever, love."

My smile was less than enthusiastic.

He rose from his chair and threw an arm about my shoulders. "No worries – I'd save a bit for you, Brat. You're the only person I can trust."

His words touched me. The bonds of loyalty between us were strong, and in a flash I knew what I must do. If there was even a chance that the Fountain was truly dangerous, if there was a possibility that Maroto had got hold of some knowledge about it, I had to protect Jack. I would find out all I could from the Padre, and take action.

I started for the door.

"Not staying?" Jack looked at me quizzically.

"Paperwork." I stopped and turned to smile at him. "Remember when you taught me about the stars? Orion's dog running to help him?"

"Aye," he said, and laughed. "So you're playing the part of Sirius - off to protect me, then? You needn't worry, love – you were only ten when you made that promise."

I laughed with him, but hedged a bit. "It's only that I haven't forgot. You can count on me, Jack. Always." At last, I believed I understood my dream.

Back in my cabin, I hesitated. Maroto might want freedom in return for his information. Was that against my orders? I quickly scanned them, and was surprised that they only mentioned the release of the agent – they failed to specify the surrender of Maroto. Hector would have crowed over such a loophole.

If I could get the agent out of Havana by other means, then Maroto could go free.

Annoyingly, the agent's name was omitted. How was I to know whether I had got the right man? Perhaps it was listed on my Way Bill. I pulled out the large, rough paper.

It should have been quite simple: Augustin Maroto, listed by name, was in my custody on my trip out, with spaces for the date he would be released from my custody, and the date I took charge of the other man. Whose name, once again, was missing.

There was a knock on my door and Elizabeth popped in, looking thoughtful. "Sorry to barge in, but I wondered if you've had any glimpse of a strange ship – not nearby, but you can see her on the horizon."

"No – did you say anything to Deacon, or Jack?"

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath to suppress her annoyance. "Well, that's actually the trouble. It was only there for an instant, then it probably fell back. Of course, they don't believe me because they couldn't see it. They put it down to the baby making me imagine things."

I wondered if little Samuel Defoe had made his mother imagine things. Was that what happened when you fell pregnant? Better to reassure her in any event. "If it was on the horizon, that's miles away. Don't be anxious - I'll let you know if I see it."

Then I recalled that her father had been a Governor. "Do you by chance remember your father signing any Way Bills for prisoners and the like? Was anyone's name ever left off, like this?" I showed her the Way Bill.

"I can't really remember," she replied, and glanced over the Bill. "Hmm. Augustin del Maroto. Funny the way it's written isn't it?"

I looked at Maroto's name again and blinked hard. Why had I not noticed this? But it wasn't "del". The name actually read Augustin de L. Maroto. But according to the Spanish way of writing names, the mysterious "de L." was his proper surname.

"Actually, you've been quite helpful," I told her.

Way Bill in hand, I hurried to the brig.

Maroto was seated in his cell, and I addressed him through the bars. "I've thought about your vow, Padre, but I'm sorry to say it doesn't outweigh my obligation."

He looked disappointed, but did not speak. I brought a stool over and sat in front of the bars. "However, one hope remains for you. There is someone on this ship who matters more to me than any promise. If I believed that freeing you would protect his life, I would do so."

"If there is any chance..." he began.

"I am speaking honestly to you – I want no lies in return. Tell me why the Fountain is dangerous. Think before you reply." I slanted my eyes at him.

"Let us begin with your true name. Maroto is your mother's surname." I unfolded the Way Bill and pointed to his name. He looked at the Bill, then raised his eyes to meet mine. His voice was soft and he pronounced his name carefully, pausing slightly between each part.

"I am Augustin de Leon Maroto." He sighed. "De Leon. You understand what that means. It was none other than Ponce de Leon who committed the act I must undo."

And he revealed a most fascinating history.

"Ponce de Leon was sent on a secret voyage by King Ferdinand, who had taken a bride many years younger than he. The voyage was to discover the truth behind tales the Indians had told the Conquistadors of a fountain that could restore youth. The King wished to drink from its waters in hopes of regaining the power to sire an heir to his throne."

"He appointed my ancestor as a favour for his services, and also because there was bad blood between the de Leons and Diego Colòn." He paused. "You would say, 'Diego Columbus', in English. The King wished to help the de Leons without stirring the pot, so the voyage was clandestine."

There had to be a connection with the journal in my cabin. But the Fountain had been called something else. I probed a bit. "And so they sailed for the Fountain of Youth? La Fuente de Juventud?"

"Yes," he replied. "Although the name you use came later. They only knew it as La Fuente de Bimini."

The same name that was in the journal! An icy chill rippled through me, as though my blood was being drained away. "Go on," I said.

"Early in the voyage, they learned of ancient documents that told how the Fountain must be used. Under the spell of these documents, my ancestor, who had always been a good man, went to Ephesus, thence to Cartagena, and took two identical chalices from the old Christian churches by force. Then he set sail for a lost city called Cuidad Blanca. On the way, he had each chalice engraved with Agua de Vita." Maroto shook his head. "Perhaps it was a boast, perhaps it was to hide his sin. But now I come to the part you must understand, señora."

He leaned close to the bars and fixed his gaze on me. "The Fountain is a cheat – its promise is false. There is no Water of Life. You do not get life merely by water. The Ritual requires a living victim."

"Why?" I asked, my throat almost too dry to speak.

His voice sank to a whisper as he told me the horrific secret. "Because the blood is the life, señora. Just as it says in the Old Testament. The Fountain binds you to the world by stealing life from the blood of another, and devouring the one who is the sacrifice."

His words had shaken me, but the worst was yet to come. "They came to Cuidad Blanca and took many of its people for this purpose. The Ritual also required a mermaid's tear, so they captured and killed many mermaids. And in this way, all the years that the people of Cuidad Blanca would have lived were given to Ponce de Leon and his men."

"This would be evil enough in itself, but there is more. After they had sacrificed the victims and drunk from the chalices, they discovered the addictive power of the water. When their stolen years were nearly spent, an overpowering obsession consumed them, and they killed again, until the city became lost and abandoned, and mermaids swam in those waters no more. The only knowledge of this infernal Fountain was closely held by the de Leon family, who swore to find it and destroy it."

"Why can't you find it?" I managed to stammer.

"Many people tried to learn the secret for which my ancestor had sacrificed his soul. When I was a child, our house was robbed, and my ancestor's papers stolen. I had traced some to London, and that is why you found me in Newgate. Unfortunately, my information was wrong, and I still have not found what was stolen from my family."

I should have asked him for details, but I couldn't bear to hear what I suspected – that I held the prize he so desperately sought. My heart was thudding noisily in my breast and I could hardly connect two thoughts. I needed time to settle my mind and decide what to do.

I had one more question for him. "How long have you been on this quest? I mean, actively, not just praying about it?"

"Years, senora. Many, many years," he replied.

I nodded. "I shall give you my decision soon, Padre." Without another word, I made my way to the crow's nest.

"Knock off, Deacon. I'll take the rest of your watch," I said. Deacon scrambled down, only too pleased to have a bit of free time.

The crow's nest was the perfect place to sort out my thoughts unobserved. Just being perched high in the rigging was a tonic to me and gradually my pulse returned to normal. Perhaps Hector was less fanciful than I thought when he compared me to a bird.

I kept a weather eye on the horizon, but turned my attention to Maroto and the Fountain. He had repeated enough of the tales in my journal to convince me that he spoke the truth. The Fountain was a trap and Jack must be kept from it. Yet I knew that neither danger nor curses would stop him.

What about stealing Sao Feng's map and destroying it? But that was only one clue to the Fountain. My journal was another, and how many more books and maps might there be? Eventually, Jack would find the Fountain.

How could I keep him from harm?

There was only one way. Maroto was right: the Fountain had to be destroyed. I could not exchange Maroto. Instead, I would have to help him destroy the Fountain, without Jack's knowledge.

I decided to say nothing of the secret journal for now. I was inclined to think Maroto had not quite told me everything about his situation.

Just before the next watch was called, I heard the cry of the albatross. I squinted as I looked up quickly to see him flying nearly overhead. But I thought I saw a fleck of something on the horizon that might have been a ship.

I snatched up the glass and tried to get a better look, but there was nothing. Only empty ocean all round us, however hard I looked. My conversation with Elizabeth must have planted the notion in my mind. I looked west and thought of Tortuga.

For once, the name of that sordid town lightened my heart and lifted my spirits. I would find Hector there – I was sure of it. I closed my eyes and pictured a scene from my voyage to Tenerife the previous year, when Hector captained the Royal Oak.

I had approached him one late afternoon as he stood at the rail looking to the west. As vividly as if he stood before me came the memory. He had turned to me, happy and at ease; the sun still bright upon his face, his mouth drawing into a warm smile that invited me to his side. I felt my heart turn over in my chest, just as it had on that day. If I could have sprouted wings and flown to Tortuga, I would have taken flight that very moment. Feeling like every mournful ballad I had ever heard, I climbed down the ratlines and went to supper.

The next morning as I walked with Maroto, I proposed an accord. I would not turn him over to Spain, but only if he agreed to two conditions. He must help me free the King's agent, and then he must let me help him destroy the Fountain. And no one must know of our agreement.

"The last part won't be easy," I said. "When Jack finds out I'm not exchanging you, he'll want to know why. What am I to tell him?"

Maroto's dark eyes gleamed. "Tell him you are ransoming me to my family for enough gold to fill the hold of his ship."

I stared. "Is it true? How?"

"Yes, it is true," he replied. "I will explain it to you, and you can persuade Captain Sparrow when we reach Tortuga. I think he will accept my plan."

When we arrived in Tortuga, I scanned the harbour for any sign of the Royal Oak, but there was none. Faced with my disappointment, Jack avoided me, but Elizabeth offered encouragement. "If he knew you were here, he'd surely meet you," she said. "And you never know – he might turn up tomorrow!"

Jack rolled his eyes at this, and drew me aside. "He might turn up tomorrow, or six months from now," he assured me. "Tell ye what, Brat – I'm willin' to stay three or four days, in case your old scallywag shows 'is face. But after that, darlin', it's back t' work for the both of us, innit?" He patted my arm. "All agreed, then?"

There was no denying Jack's logic. Still, Tortuga lured him with its assortment of wenches, and I hoped to hear some news of Hector, so we decided to venture ashore at sunset.

Elizabeth was left in charge of the Pearl, having no interest in the town's entertainment. She had some advice for me however. "You should wear female attire, and attend to your appearance. Your husband hasn't seen you in months. There's no harm in dressing up a bit."

I took her advice, adding my scimitar and pistols. I had no illusions about Tortuga.

Later, walking through town with Jack, two odd figures seemed to appear wherever I looked. "Jack – I think some ruffians are stalking us."

"Anyone we know?" was his offhand reply.

"Absolutely not. One looks like an ogre and the other is small and slender, like a young woman."

Jack was not concerned. "Welcoming Committee, I expect."

The Faithful Bride had drawn Jack's footsteps like a magnet, and moments after we entered its taproom, he disappeared amongst the other customers. I had no wish to linger by myself in a crowd where every rogue was on the lookout for a wench. The tavern's card room was a better place for me. It was the only room where amorous services were trumped by a keener interest: gaming.

I looked for a likely card table with low stakes, avoiding games of hazard and other amusements. I bought a seat at a table, ordered my supper, and prepared to immerse myself in play, for three days if I had to.

After several hours, my table was joined by an older scallywag, who could have passed for a deranged brother of Pintel. He had been openly gawking at me for some time and, once seated, declared his suspicion that he had met me somewhere. His manner was rather threatening, and my fingers itched for my scimitar, but a dust-up would likely touch off a huge brawl. Better to put him off somehow without causing him to lose face.

I studied him with polite interest. "Were you ever in the West Country?"

"No," he admitted.

"Port Royal?"

"No." With each civil question, a bit of the wind went out of his sails.

"Hmm . . . I lived in Moldavia once. Have you ever been there?"

"No." He was lost now, trying to guess where I was leading him.

I laid my cards down on the table and kept my voice cool but pleasant. "What is your name, sir?"

He looked positively flattered. It had gone better than he hoped. "Name's Digger, miss."

"Well, Digger, my name is Nina." I extended my arm. "Pleased to meet you." We shook hands.

"Now, don't forget; you made my acquaintance in Tortuga." Still smiling, I picked up my cards. My direct stare told him that our discussion had reached its conclusion.

His dignity intact, he quit the table. Soon after, a scowling man who resembled a footpad took his place.

"Name's Pike," he told our table, and the game continued.

As we played on, a sensation like an electrical attraction made my skin tingle and drew my gaze to the door. Before I saw him, before I heard his voice, I knew that Hector was standing there, staring at me. The sensation grew stronger and my pulse quickened. One side of Hector's mouth suggested a slight smile. He walked over to the table and stood opposite me, behind Pike's chair.

He towered over the table, impossibly tall and elegant, and his pale visage stood out sharply against the black of his clothes and plumed hat. Yes, he was just as I remembered him – a magnificent, self-assured man whose effect on me was like a powerful drug. I made ready to quit the game.

"I'll have that!" Pike's greasy hand slammed down on my winnings before I could pick them up.

There was a high-pitched screech, and Jack the Monkey landed in the centre of the table, baring his teeth at Pike, who was startled to silence. Hector leaned over him and seized his wrist, forcing his hand off the money. "Give the lady her winnin's," he said, as though instructing a little lad of six or so. Jack threw my plate of food into Pike's lap.

With a snarl, Pike unwisely snatched at the money with his other hand. One flash of a blade, and he found that hand pinned to the table by a dagger, courtesy of my handsome, bold husband.

Pike bellowed in pain as I picked up my money and turned to Hector with an admiring smile.

"Always the gentleman," I sighed, my eyes promising him every intimate pleasure he could imagine.

He watched me, still with that hint of a mischievous smile. "Seems I owe ye supper," he said in his gravelly voice.

I fought back the urge to throw myself at him right where he stood. If the look in his eyes was any indication, he would take me right there on the table, and the patrons of the Faithful Bride would get quite a lesson in the facts of life. The thought brought a wicked sparkle to my eyes that was reflected in his gaze.

I glanced at Pike, who continued to howl. "Oh, stop your noise! At least he didn't kill you."

Hector's smile became a grin. "That were me second choice," he whispered to me. Then he offered his arm. "There be better victuals on the Medusa, milady. Shall we?"

He led me out of the Faithful Bride, then halted. With a flourish, he announced, "Our carriage awaits us." He was indicating a conveyance for hire that resembled a very gaudy coach. The coachman opened the door with a bow, and we took our seats inside. I paid no mind to the ornate vulgarity of its interior, but it all seemed to please Hector mightily.

We cuddled together, exchanging tender caresses, until I happened to glance up in the midst of a kiss. My reflection was looking back at me! I started to laugh. "I've never seen a coach with a mirror in the ceiling!"

Hector shrugged. "Well, they do cater t' many tastes," he said with a rakish grin.

I combed his hair with my fingers and put my lips to his ear. "Perhaps we should let them drive us about?" I said under my breath, nibbling at his ear lobe.

"Another time, m'sweet," he replied, working his hand under my bodice. "I'm inclined to a frolic with ye in more comfort – on the Medusa." Then he murmured teasingly in my ear, "Formerly known as the Royal Oak."

He had mentioned the ship twice. Never without an agenda, he was clearly bent on showing off the Medusa, and his next remark told me why. Studying my dress with curiosity, he asked, "Is that what ye wear when ye visit the court?"

I stole a look at him and understood. In my absence he had grown nervous of the court's supposed attractions. If only he knew how much he was the source of all my pleasures and the cure for all my ills!

"I only visit the court on business, love," I told him softly. "I am given my orders and sent away at once. If I were to attend a court function"– I smothered a laugh – "I would be required to wear a proper silk gown, and powdered hair to go with my ghostly face."

Nestling closer, I rested my head in the crook of his arm, and wormed my finger past his waistcoat to tickle his chest. "And then I would be obliged to be ever so polite to the courtiers as they went about sticking knives in each other's backs."

I picked up his hand and played idly with his fingers, then kissed his palm. "But tomorrow is soon enough to talk of all that. Tonight . . ." He touched my jaw, turning my face gently to his, and stopped my words with a slow, heavy kiss that lasted several minutes and turned my legs to jelly.

When the "carriage" drew up at the dock, we boarded the Medusa's longboat and were rowed out to the ship. Barbossa brought me up the ladder and pointed out the improvements he had made. She was, indeed, a lovely ship. She had bronze cannons, sleek lines, and a binnacle that was a work of art. Throughout my tour, Hector kept an unusually dignified and lofty air. Clearly he was not about to let London society outdo him in courtly etiquette.

After I had properly expressed my appreciation and awe, he led me to the captain's quarters, which were much as I remembered them, but adorned with richer furniture which appeared to have been made especially for her. My face was bright with happiness – Hector had made this a place for the two of us to live. "It's so beautiful! I've never seen anything quite so magnificent – truly fit for a Pirate Lord!" My eyes brimmed with tears of admiration.

We were standing some ten feet apart. I could see that he was gratified by my reaction, but an unspoken question glinted in his eyes. He drew himself up to his full height and stood with arms akimbo and chin held high.

"So, tell me," he said as his eyes searched my face, "Did yer errand just happen t' bring ye here, or were ye comin' home?"

"Oh, my angel," I sighed. He had done all of this for me, and now he wanted to know that I was there because I loved him. "I was never hindered by lack of desire for you, love."

I ventured closer to him. "From the first day, your absence has been my private hell. When I learned I was to go to the Indies, I nearly burst with joy. I came flying to you as fast as wind and tide could take me." A surge of affection made me tremble a little as I spoke.

We both stood a bit awkwardly for a moment, our eyes beseeching each other. Suddenly we lunged forward into a ferocious embrace, and began kissing each other frantically as we tore at our clothes. We sank to the floor, faces aglow with passion, and he pushed me down on my back. In an instant we were under the table and he was working his hands up my skirts as I urged him on.

I heard the door open, and the sound of footsteps. "Cap'n?" someone said.

"Fuck off!" Hector roared, throwing a boot. The footsteps beat a hasty retreat and the door slammed shut.

I burst into laughter. "By the powers, how I've missed you!" He grinned and I tugged at his wrist. "Get over here, you handsome, dirty pirate, you!"

He twisted my hair aside and gave me such kisses on my neck that I thought the blood in my veins would catch fire. "Not here," he murmured, and pulled me to a sitting position. He nodded towards an inner door. "Our sleepin' quarters."

He scooped me up and carried me through the door to a large bed. I gasped at the headboard of ornately carved mahogany, flanked by two spiral pillars. Hector laid me down tenderly. "Feather mattress," he said proudly.

We were soon quit of the rest of our clothes, and he lay beside me at last. I caressed the back of his neck, and let his presence intoxicate me. The familiar scent and feel of his skin, the sound of his breathing, the longed-for sight of him – all made my craving nearly unbearable. His wiry whiskers brushed against my face as he leaned close. He interlaced his fingers with mine and guided my arms back until my hands rested above my head.

"I missed the smell of ye," he purred in my ear. "The taste of ye." He traced the length of my neck with his tongue and my heart went into a tailspin. "How soft an' warm yer skin feels." And he nuzzled my neck and chest.

He paused to smile at me as I groaned under the heat of his caresses. "I missed the way ye fall asleep in me arms – one great twitch an' yer sound asleep." I gazed up at him, my eyes glassy with longing and desire.

And then, with slow, deliberate movements, we took all the intimate pleasures lovers know, until utter joy overwhelmed us, and our passions were exhausted. My happiness was complete.

We rested peacefully, side by side, his arms folded about my shoulders and mine wrapped around his waist. As I fell asleep, I felt myself near to falling over. My body jerked, a mere reflex. Hector chuckled and tightened his grip.

"I've got ye, lass," he whispered.

This man was my haven, my home. Nothing in this world would part us.

As I thought of the wild and dark world that surrounded us, the unknown future, the peril of the Fountain, and the malevolent forces we cannot perceive, I loved him even more for the way he shielded me from harm.

I rubbed his chest lightly and kissed his side. "Don't let go, love. Don't you let me go – ever."

Next: Chapter 6 - A Parcel of Rogues - Plans are laid and old friends return.