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

Chapter 8

The Spanish Prisoner

He stared through the iron bars, this King's agent whose identity had so vexed me. My heart swelled with pity and regret, and I wished that I could preserve the illusion that it was James whose face I was gazing at, instead of . . . this man.

"Jeremy Norrington," I whispered.

His smile widened. How exactly like James he looked! His warm, hazel eyes had the same intelligent, engaging directness, but I knew that behind them lay a sly and calculating mind, very unlike that of his earnest twin.

Although he had somehow contrived to stay relatively clean-shaven, his skin showed the pallor so characteristic of prison inmates, and his clothes were very mean and worn. He was clad in ragged, moss-coloured breeches and a dirty linen shirt, open at the neck. He had neither waistcoat nor wig, but his chestnut brown locks had been pulled back untidily and bound with a black ribbon. Lying folded upon his narrow bed was a velvet coat of deep sienna, trimmed with gold embroidery.

"Preparing to take your vows, Miss Bitter?" he enquired, with a wry glance at my novice's habit. "I would have thought you'd be wed by now."

"Perhaps it doesn't suit me." I forced a chilly smile. "In fact, I've come to get you out and assist you with your mission."

"I see." He regarded me with sceptical mirth. "May I hope that this is more than some outré whim?"

"You may." I raised my hand and uncurled my fingers so that he could see the Messenger badge I was holding. He looked surprised but made no reply, and I dropped the badge back into my apron pocket.

The guard was summoned, and admitted me to Jeremy's cell. As I entered, Maroto gave the man a coin and drew him a little way down the corridor to wait.

I sat on the cramped, dirty prison bed, and Jeremy stood, sometimes pacing, as we conversed in near-whispers.

"How long have you been here?" I enquired.

"Six months, I think," he replied. "I was taken shortly after James and the mad-brained Lord Beckett were defeated by a veritable armada of pirates."

I tried to appear at ease, but a sudden fearful thought had rendered me incapable of the slightest movement: it would be only natural if Jeremy wanted vengeance on the Brethren. What would he say when he learned that I had brought pirates to rescue him?

Hands clasped behind his back, Jeremy walked a few steps away from me, then continued without turning. "I presume you heard that my deluded brother had been commissioned as an admiral by that odious little bug."

"Jeremy," I began gingerly. "I was very grieved to hear of James' death . . ."

He faced me, eyebrows raised in a graceful arc. "But why?"

Seeing me at a loss for words, he continued in an offhand manner, as if he were speaking of some trivial gossip and not the death of his brother.

"Don't waste condolences on me, my dear. Everyone knows I'm estranged from my family, never to be reconciled. As for you, why should you grieve? In your hour of need, James followed your uncle's orders like a good boy, and called off your engagement."

I caught my breath, and he smiled.

"You see? I am not wholly uninformed," he said. "But you were well out of it. He wrecked his prospects in the Indies, fell in with Beckett's imbeciles, and shared their fate. What is the old proverb? He that ships with the devil must sail with the devil."

I knew of the enmity between the brothers, yet Jeremy's lack of feeling shocked me. At the same time, a glimmer of hope had appeared: he seemed inclined to blame Beckett, rather than the pirates, for James' death.

"I'm sure he acquitted himself well, despite the EITC's shortcomings," I said with a sidelong look.

"I couldn't say. I only know he's dead," said Jeremy. He crossed his arms and lounged against the wall, one foot propped in front of the other.

I probed a bit more. "And you hold Cutler Beckett responsible?"

"Who else?" He stared at me as if this were the most obvious fact on earth. "Do you think King George cared that a few tattered miscreants roved the seas?" He answered his own question with a laugh. "Of course not! England has far more worthy foes-the Empire of Spain, for example."

Dropping his arms, he approached the pallet and sat with me. "Beckett's greed led him to deliberately stir up a hornet's nest, with his so-called War Against Piracy. It is hardly surprising that the hornets should sting him."

I took a deep breath; it was time to lay my cards upon the table. "Jeremy, let me be frank: I have made an alliance with two pirate captains to free you from El Morro. If there is any reason you don't like it, I implore you to tell me at once. They have acted on the King's behalf in the past, and they are ready to help you now."

One corner of Jeremy's mouth twitched upward. "Sailing with pirates, are you? You do impress me."

"Then what say you? Will you accept their help?" I asked.

"Obviously, I shall seize any means of escape," he said with a shrug. "They may even find I have the resources to reward them, if I can complete my assignment."

He stood up and helped me to my feet. "Now, just how do you propose to get me out?"

"The guards will bring you to us," I said. "But you must do as I ask. Firstly, you must tell your gaoler that you've asked for further spiritual instruction."

"Is that what they're calling it, nowadays?" he remarked drily.

Ignoring his remark, I held out a tiny glass vial Dr Suarez had given me. "Then, drink this when you wake tomorrow. You won't have a pleasant time of it, but the guards will see that you are ill."

"It won't do to poison me, you know." He spoke lightly, but his expression was rather stern. He reached for the vial, and our fingertips briefly touched as he took it from me. Surely there was nothing to it, but I found myself momentarily rattled.

"We will visit you in the morning," I said. "And you must leave the rest to us."

I walked towards the door, then turned to him. "By the by, I was told you had an alias. What name did you give?"

"The first that popped into my mind," he answered. Then he chuckled, and again I imagined I saw James' handsome smile. "Oddly enough, it belonged to an old sot who once served on my brother's ship, one Joshamee Gibbs. Probably dead from drink by now."

My jaw nearly dropped. "I see," I stammered. At least he wasn't calling himself Jack Sparrow.

I bade him farewell and quickly departed.

As Maroto and I left El Morro and made our way along its gleaming white ramparts bristling with cannons, I was too distracted to admire the sight, and could think only of crossing the drawbridge and getting back to my room. Although my body moved forward with slow, deliberate footsteps, my emotions were in an uproar. I wished that I were dealing with anyone other than Jeremy Norrington.

"He is a friend of yours?" Maroto's question jolted me out of my ruminations.

I stopped and faced him with a sigh. "I was engaged to his brother years ago." There was almost nothing I could add that would tell in Jeremy's favour.

Maroto glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. "And you are troubled," he said.

"I'm merely anxious about our escape."

This was not true. Maroto's scheme, which called for both ships to sail from the harbour together, seemed well-conceived. But I was nervous and off balance, beset with forebodings I could not quite define. I needed time to gather my thoughts.

When we reached the University, the midday meal awaited us, but I put my hand upon Maroto's elbow and stopped him in the hallway.

"Please convey my regrets," I told him. "I won't be joining you at table today-and I beg that you will keep the prisoner's name secret." He nodded.

I retreated to my small chamber, where I lay upon the bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. What was vexing me? Closing my eyes, I drew long, slow breaths, and tried to recall what I knew of Jeremy Norrington.

James had seldom spoken of his brother. He had disclosed his opinion only once, when I had asked if he and Jeremy were very alike.

The words had come as if they were dragged out of him. "Not, ah, not very similar." Then he had seemed to cast about for a way to explain. "He's like Father. When those two . . ." Then he had broken off, shaking his head.

But I knew, just as half the population of Cornwall knew. Tales of the strife between Jeremy and his father were everywhere. The elder Norrington was a man of many parts-as intelligent as he was devious, and as cold as he was ambitious. It wouldn't strain credulity to think that Jeremy possessed those same qualities.

On the other hand, a slippery fellow, whose fine intellect served his love of intrigue, might be well-suited as an agent and spy for his Majesty. At least he didn't share James' obsessive rancour towards pirates, especially towards-

"Jack!" I muttered, as my eyes flew open. Now I knew what was making me agitated. How could I ask Jack to rescue the brother of his deadly enemy?

If he were told all the facts, Jack might simply decide to bunk off - without us – and that would overthrow Maroto's escape plan.

Then a second realisation sent a chill rippling down my arms: I could not completely trust Hector either, once he knew Jeremy's name. There was no predicting Hector's reaction towards the man whose twin I had nearly married, but there were several unlovely possibilities. I shuddered.

If only we could keep to Maroto's plan and get away before the pirates learned who they had rescued! After a moment, a stratagem suggested itself: Jeremy must be hidden until after we set sail. Once safely on our way, I would persuade Jack and Hector to take Jeremy at least as far as Tortuga.

I decided to take the air in the University's garden. It was designed as a series of squares, like the gardens of Alcazar, and bordered by long white paths of coquina stone along which professors and students were wont to stroll. I hoped its simple geometry would encourage calm reflection upon the merits of my plan.

Once in the garden, I was surprised to see Hector, who appeared almost to have been waiting for me. I greeted him politely, mindful of the many strangers present, and we walked to the fountain at the garden's centre.

I pretended to admire the fountain, but Hector saw the tension in my face. He crossed his arms. "Did ye find the prisoner?"

"With ease," I replied, attempting to laugh. "He was the only Englishman in El Morro."

"Then what ails ye? And don't tell me 'tis nothing."

I glanced about me at the fragrant orange trees and topiaries, and then shared the one misgiving that I could. "I'm nervous of keeping our secrets-that's all. He's quite the courtier, this prisoner. You wouldn't want him to learn of our marriage, for instance; it would place us under his power."

Hector stared into the distance, and I saw a glint in his eye that boded ill for Jeremy.

"Remember, I am accountable for his safety," I told him. "It's only that we must be careful. Until we're rid of him, I will need my own cabin on the Medusa."

"Ye said he had a mission – what is it?"

"There was no chance to ask at the prison," I replied. "Once he's aboard ship and we show our heels to Havana, I mean to find out. I do believe there's gold in it."

He grunted his acknowledgement and reached for me, scowling when I drew back. I indicated the other people strolling about the garden. "Not here," I said. "Even though I slept alone on a wool mattress last night, hating it, and wanting you. But we must remain 'Captain Barbossa' and 'Miss Bitter' until we reach Tortuga."

He narrowed his eyes. "That be a week or more, madam."

"You insisted on a clandestine marriage," I replied. "I'm only trying to keep it so. For now, I must behave as if I'm an unmarried woman."

He gave a single, reluctant nod. "Just don't go forgettin' that yer not," he said. Then he stepped back and made a sweeping bow. "Miss Bitter." With that, he strode off down the stony path, leaving me standing at the fountain.

The following morning, Maroto and I made ready to return to El Morro. Dr Suarez gave me a small, folded handkerchief, and a warning. "Cuidado, hija," he said. "The venom is more powerful than curare."

We presented ourselves at the prison, and the guard ushered us into Jeremy's cell.

Maroto rushed over to the prisoner, and then turned abruptly to face the guard. "Que pasa aquí?" he demanded with a dramatic wave of his arm.

Jeremy was lying on his bed, groaning and apparently unable to rise. His face was alarmingly pale and though he was sweating profusely, he had his coat wrapped about him and was clutching it as if to keep off a chill. I turned my back and quickly shook out the handkerchief in a corner whilst Maroto hovered over the sick man, uttering more expressions of alarm.

Seconds later, I let out a little scream of fright and pointed to the floor. Maroto and the flustered guard hurried towards me. "Don't touch him!" Maroto cried, holding us back from the tiny purple frog. "It is a poison dart frog!"

He looked back at Norrington, then at the guard. "This must be what made him ill – he will die within hours. We must act at once." He used a small rag to collect the frog, then shooed us out of the cell.

We sought out the officer in charge, and Maroto explained the situation. The Englishman, a State prisoner of some value, was dying from the effects of the frog's venom, but by an amazing stroke of good fortune, the most highly-regarded authority on poison frogs resided in Havana - none other than the learned Dr Dionisio Suarez. He was, without question, the only person qualified to deal with such matters.

"Send the prisoner and this frog to Dr Suarez," Maroto proposed. "Perhaps he can create a tonic, and the man will live. But it must be done at once."

And so it was that Jeremy was brought to Dr Suarez on a litter, still wrapped in his coat, manacled, and barely conscious. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hector watching the procession from a window.

Once Jeremy was settled in a small room and the guards had gone, I slipped into the room and picked the locks on his manacles. "Try to rest," I told him.

He looked up at me, and I felt for a moment as if it were James lying there in pain. I managed to catch myself before I reached out to brush the hair out of his eyes.

"Don't let them take my coat," he mumbled, and rolled over to face the wall.

The poor man is delirious, I thought. The contents of the vial have made him sicker than we anticipated. I left the room in haste, and informed Dr Suarez, who assured me that all would be well.

Since I could contribute no more at the University, I slipped into my room and changed the novice's habit for my usual boy's clothes. Then I gathered my belongings and went to bid farewell to Dr Suarez, who was in his study.

"I could not take my leave without saying how extremely obliged I am to you, sir," I told him. "If there is ever anything I can do to repay your kindness, you have only to ask."

"If you help Padre Maroto, that will recompense me," he replied, looking very grave.

"Yes, of course."

He gazed at me for a moment, as if making some decision. "You may find your courage tested," he said.

I thought of Ponce de Leon and felt a little shiver as if a ghostly finger had tapped my shoulder. "Well . . . keep me in your prayers, Doctor," I said with a heartiness I did not feel.

Slinging my duffel across my back, I departed. Just before I walked out through the great courtyard of the University, I heard a cough and turned to see Hector a short distance away. As usual, there were other people about, so I merely touched three fingers to my lips and then turned my hand towards him. He nodded and disappeared through a doorway.

I hurried through broad, dusty streets where the sounds of families gathering for supper drifted through open windows, accompanied by delicious aromas. The moon had risen by the time I found the dock where the Medusa was berthed, and I was ravenously hungry.

I bounded across her gangway and entered the captain's quarters, where I found Elizabeth and Jack eating from a platter of crusty bread, fine cheese, and mouth-watering avocado. I tore my eyes away from the plate and said, "Sorry, Jack – I really must speak with Elizabeth in private, and it can't wait."

He flashed a delighted grin. "In private, eh? I shouldn't think you'd have any secrets left, Brat. Not after that parrot finished squawkin', savvy?" He leaned back jauntily in his chair, gold teeth gleaming as he rested his booted feet upon the table.

But I knew how to encourage him to leave.

"Stay, if you like." I shrugged, then feigned excitement. "By the by, there's a one-eyed man in El Morro, rather like Ragetti; but wait 'til I tell you his story!"

A hint of unease appeared in Jack's expression, and I pressed on, with morbid glee. "He was a lookout, and he kept his spyglass in the crow's nest. Well, he didn't know it, but a spider nested in the eyepiece. When he put the spyglass to his eye, the spider must have panicked-"

"Would you mind just telling the rest to Lizzie?" Jack's face looked pinched as he jumped up from his chair and made for the door. "I don't like spiders."

As soon as he was gone, I slid into his chair and eyed the bread and cheese, but my appetite had fled, thanks to the knot of tension in my stomach.

"We've found the prisoner," I said. "Maroto is bringing him here tonight as per the plan. But,"-I hesitated, realising there was no easy way to break the news-"I'm afraid the King's agent is Jeremy Norrington, James's brother."

Elizabeth gasped, but recovered herself. "Perhaps he's an imposter. I never heard James speak of a brother," she replied.

"He – they had disagreements." I bit my lip and stared at the floor. "But it'll be obvious when you see him – they were twins." I gave her a searching look. "You see what I mean? Everyone who, let us say, 'crossed swords' with James, will recognise his brother the moment they see him. And some may not be very keen to rescue him."

Her eyes widened as she realised who I meant. "If Jack finds out, who knows what he'll say!"

"It's what he may do that has me worried," I replied. "We need to hide Jeremy for at least a day."

Elizabeth concurred with a quick nod. "Alright. When they bring him tonight, I'll see that he's taken straight to a cabin. No visitors allowed until you're ready."

"Thank you." I breathed a sigh of relief. That was half the battle; I needed to secure only one more promise from her.

I crossed my fingers under the table, hoping my next question would be answered as I expected. "Is it true," I asked, "that Hector and James never actually met when the Aztec curse was broken? Or later, during the War Against Piracy?"

"As far as I know," she said slowly.

"Good." I took a deep breath. "I would be obliged, then, if you didn't tell him Jeremy's name."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "But he's captain of this ship! Surely he'll find out, even if we don't tell him."

"I'll tell him as soon as we've put Havana to our rudder," I hastened to assure her. "But at the moment, we're under the eye of the Spaniards. I don't wish to upset Jack or Hector and risk the lot of us being found out and tossed into El Morro."

She drummed her fingers on the table for a moment, then nodded. "Very well," she said. "It's only for a day." Then she frowned. "Will Jeremy agree to stay in his cabin?"

"I'm not even sure he'll be conscious," I replied.

I took my duffel to the only remaining vacant cabin, the one farthest from the captain's quarters. I had no sooner set it down, than Rufus appeared at the open door.

"Good t' have ye back," he said. Then he stepped inside the door and spoke quietly. "Mrs Turner did say the presoner's t' be keept in his cabin."

"Until we're well underway," I said with a sigh. "I hope this ends soon, Rufus. I'm mortal tired of keeping secrets."

"Ais, well, tedn't natural to ye," he replied. "But ee that be shipped wi' the devil must sail we' the devil, as they d' say."

"Indeed."

I gave a weary sigh. Why must he quote the same proverb as Jeremy? Were there no others? I hoped it was not an ill-omen. Still, I was greatly reassured to have Rufus aboard. I could see why my father had always trusted him more than any other man on the Misty Maiden.

If all went well, Jack and I would meet again after midnight. I was to help him take some measures that would ensure our safe departure, but that was all I knew.

At about midnight, Hector and Maroto arrived in a wagon bearing several large wicker trunks. Some of these were loaded onto the Medusa, and others onto the Pearl. Maroto caught Elizabeth's eye and indicated one trunk, which she ordered brought to the cabin next to mine.

Hector began to follow, but there was a loud screech from high in the rigging; Jack the monkey was impatient to see his master. As monkey and master greeted each other, I quickly followed Elizabeth. Rufus joined us in the cabin, and we extracted Jeremy from the trunk and settled him in his berth.

He looked somewhat stronger, but was weak enough to be tractable, except that he still clung to his coat. We locked him in and left Rufus to stand guard.

I entered the captain's quarters and found Hector happily feeding treats to his little companion. His smile faded when I told him I had moved into my own cabin, which adjoined that of the King's agent.

Just then, the door opened and Jack strode into the room, wearing the uniform of a Spanish admiral. "These are for you, darlin'," he announced, handing me a set of clothes. "I'll collect you in an hour, and we're off. I've a bit of work to do."

I stared at him in shock. Spain and England were at war, and wearing the uniform of one's enemy counted as espionage. If they caught us, we would be hanged for spies.

Next: Chapter 9 – Running Before the Wind - Nina's obligations to the King's agent begin to take a toll on her marriage.