Disclaimer: I own no part of Pirates of the Caribbean. Original characters and plots are owned by me.

Chapter 15

The Lure of Green Apples

As I watched Maroto walk away, a single thought ran continuously through my mind: he was working alone, and always had been. I was foolish to have regarded him as a friend.

Unbeknownst to me, we had been getting closer to the Fountain all this time. My efforts to keep Hector and Jack safe had been of no more account than dandelion seeds, blown away with a single puff of air. But how could it have been otherwise, with Maroto holding back what he knew?

From the moment he had discovered our destination, he had known what Jeremy was doing. But he had said nothing to me. He had concealed the most fundamental fact – that within the city was a map showing the way to the Fountain. Instead he had signed up as part of our crew.

Only when it was too late for me to do anything had he revealed his secret - one secret, at any rate. The devil alone could say what else Maroto knew. A flush of annoyance warmed my neck, and my gaze fell upon a loose pulley. I felt a sudden longing to heave it violently overboard.

That such perfidy would provoke my temper was only natural. But my anger was swiftly replaced by a shocking sensation: I realised that I was utterly alone.

There was no one in whom I could confide, and I had reached the limits of what my own abilities could supply. I felt like a starfish, helpless on an alien shore, deserted by every creature that the ebb tide carried away. My spirits sank into my boots.

Perhaps I was destined to fail as a King's Messenger.

It had seemed so fitting, to honour my adored uncle by following in his footsteps. And it was the thing I felt best equipped to do with my life. But he had been a man of exceptional, even heroic virtue. Who was I, other than a poor judge of character?

My gloomy reflections were interrupted by loud voices calling the next watch. Startled, I saw that it was nearly morning. Hours must have passed as I stood musing over my failures. The sun had not quite risen, but its red rays fanned out from the east, lighting the undersides of the clouds and turning their edges a lurid pink.

Long, wispy plumes drifted along the horizon, while above me the clouds resembled an immense herd of tiny sheep, all racing across the sky in the same direction.

Mares tails and mackerel scales, the sailors say. And . . . I frowned. How did the other one go? Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. The last word caused a strange sensation at the back of my neck.

I looked due west, where a hazy yellow moon hung tardily in the heavens, like the last guest at a ball, reluctant to depart. All in all, it was a confused, deceptive sky, one that matched my state of mind to perfection. I made a mental note that we would have rain later.

Then a singular cloud caught my eye.

One of the mare's tails stirred a memory. I frowned, closed my eyes, and then I recognised it. The cloud's strange, twisting shape was similar to the sign at the top of Jeremy's map. But now I remembered something more. I had seen that sign on another map – the one I had pulled from the old journal and hidden behind the captain's berth.

I groaned, and cursed my inability to recall what that map showed. Had it only been Cuidad Blanca, or was there more? My heart began to pound with fear that it might show the way to the Fountain. I had to retrieve it before Hector discovered it.

If he kept to his usual habits, Hector would emerge soon from his quarters and take the wheel. That would be the ideal time to enter the great cabin unobserved and steal the map. I waited expectantly.

And waited.

Hector did not appear.

After another hour or so, I saw three men bringing victuals to the great cabin, followed by Jeremy, who caught my eye and nodded. Forcing a smile in return, I resigned myself to sitting through breakfast and pretending to eat.

If both men departed the cabin after breakfast, I could get at the map.

-o-

Breakfast seemed to take forever. I managed to sip a bit of chocolate and take a few bites of toast, but the fresh-laid eggs and gammon of bacon were too much for me. Despite my diminished appetite, I became preoccupied with Hector's bowl of apples. Having exhausted my supply of grapes, I began to regard these juicy green orbs with an interest that I took pains to conceal.

But no one really noticed me. Hector was evidently conjuring up some scheme, judging from the inscrutable look in his eyes. And Jeremy, who seemed to be allotting more and more authority to himself, was occupied with provoking Hector.

As he finished his eggs, Jeremy glanced at me. "You've a smudge, dear girl," he remarked.

I tore my eyes away from the apples. "Sorry?"

"Just here. Allow me." Putting down his fork, he reached across the table and brushed my face. Evidently intending to annoy Hector, he smirked at our captain. "Too pretty a face for smudges. Don't you agree, Barbossa?"

As if he hadn't heard Jeremy, Hector broached a new topic. "D' ye find me chart table t' yer likin', Mr Norrington?" he enquired, in the tone he used for negotiations, smooth and obliging. My ears went up.

"It does very well," Jeremy replied. "Though all the back-and-forth with the map between here and my cabin gets a bit tiresome."

"Well, that does seem a pity, does it not?" Hector purred. Then he lounged in his chair, still with a cordial expression. "Here's what I'll do for ye: you bring yer map t' me quarters, and I'll give ye the great cabin until we reach our destination."

Waving expansively at the sleeping cabin, he continued. "There be a lock on that door. Ye can keep the map safe when yer not usin' it, and save the trouble o' fetchin' it back and forth each time." He smiled.

There was a pause while Jeremy hesitated. He must have sensed some ulterior motive, yet he could hardly refuse.

"What about Jack?" I burst out. Anything to keep Jeremy from moving into the room with my hidden map.

"Jack'll come with me, of course," Hector growled. The monkey chirped obediently as Hector glared at me.

"Oh, but, do you think-," I began, but Hector silenced me with a look.

"Well, if you're not too discommoded," Jeremy said at last. "Thank you, Captain. The smaller cabins do seem rather ill-suited for the study of maps."

I decided my best chance was at hand. Breakfast was ended, and both men rose from the table.

I fanned myself. "Oh, dear! I feel a bit faint – the rich chocolate, I think. Do go about your business gentlemen; I shall join you shortly." Hector grunted and turned away, followed by Jeremy. My shoulders relaxed as the door shut, leaving me alone at last.

I took a knife from the table and hastened into our berth. Working the blade between moulding and panelling, I managed to hook a corner of the map. I drew it out with some difficulty, but I was determined to keep it from ripping. Once I had it, I tucked the six-inch square under my shirt, and smoothed the crackling paper against my ribs. I fastened a few buttons on my waistcoat, and brought back the knife to the table.

The bowl of apples winked at me, their fresh, sharp aroma tantalising my nose.

I hesitated. Then I quickly stuffed them into my pockets.

-0-

There were a mere four steps between me and my cabin door when I came face to face with Hector. The deep shadows of the cramped passageway hid my face, or he would surely have read the guilty look in my eyes.

He halted and drew a bit to one side. Without my cargo of stolen apples and secret map, this would have allowed me to edge by. As matters stood, however, I got only part the way past him before being obliged to halt.

We faced each other in the darkness, our waistcoats almost touching. He loitered, without saying a word. Lowering my eyes to his chest, I thought, he is so close, so close. My heart's ease, my soul's companion, is within an inch of me. I became aware that he was slowly inclining his neck towards me, until his lips were quite near the crown of my head. In another moment I felt, or else imagined, a ghost of a kiss on my hair.

With a little gasp, I remembered the map under my shirt. The map he didn't know I possessed. I quickly reached past him and opened my cabin door.

He frowned, and I knew I had offended him. Then his eyes scanned my figure, from chest to hips. A ripple of panic ran over me. Had he noticed some indefinable change that revealed my condition?

But his mouth widened into a wry grin.

"Apologies, madam. Some of me apples seem t' have found their way into yer pockets." He held out one hand.

Feeling immensely relieved, I surrendered the stolen apples, which he dropped into his coat pockets. Then he reached for my waist, in order to slide his arm about me. His fingers nearly touched my shirt where I had hidden the map.

I quickly grasped his hand, smiling weakly. "I'm so very tired. I didn't sleep last night."

He straightened up to his full height and narrowed his eyes for a moment. Then he started off down the passageway with his long, uneven gait. "I wish ye pleasant dreams," he said over his shoulder. I would have gone after him – I should have gone after him. But he had his pride to keep him company, and I had my secrets.

-o-

So many matters demanded my attention, and I was in no fit state to deal with any of them. I stowed the map securely under the mattress, and crawled into my berth, resolving to use this time to refresh myself as far as possible with sleep.

When refitting the Medusa, Hector had partitioned her former ward-room and officers' mess into four new cabins, one of which I now occupied. All were newly panelled in teak and, though cosy, were clean and still redolent of freshly-sawn wood. However, despite each one having a porthole, they were rather warm and stuffy during the day. Added to this were the unaccustomed bangs, scrapes and occasional voices that issued from the neighbouring cabin, as the crew carried off Jeremy's personal effects, and brought in Hector's various requisites.

I dozed fitfully. Twice I dreamed of being in some candlelit room and hearing the murmur of voices discussing what I understood to be dire and urgent plans. In both dreams, I was always just on the point of catching their exact words when I would awaken, momentarily alarmed. I fell asleep a third time, only to dream of a ship sailing towards me, which frightened me very much, although I couldn't say why, or recall anything odd about the vessel.

At last I decided to give up the idea of sleep, and see what I could make of the mysterious map. I unfolded it and gazed once more at the strange symbol. There was nothing to indicate whether it was meant to show a sword, or rivers, or some tribal hieroglyph too ancient for deciphering. The map itself was the same as Jeremy's larger version, and in fact, was likely the original from which his had been copied.

My apprehension eased when I saw that it only showed Cuidad Blanca, and not the Fountain; however, there were other markings that I didn't recall seeing on Jeremy's map. These turned out to be incomplete, cryptic phrases: "under the offering table" was one, and something "dormir", so whatever it referred to was "sleeping". Jack was right, I thought; these things truly are just maddeningly unhelpful.

If Maroto hadn't played me false, I would have been tempted to show him the map and put my questions to him. I fidgeted with the paper for a few moments before deciding against it. I no longer trusted Maroto, and it suddenly struck me that he and Jeremy were not at all dissimilar. Both kept secret agendas. Both withheld information, trusting no one, but presenting the appearance of frankness and camaraderie.

As I compared the two of them, another comparison nagged at me. I could not avoid thinking how often I had served Hector in just the way Maroto and Jeremy had served me. I had withheld much that I knew, or presented it in a way that would mislead him. He had trusted me as I had trusted Maroto, but I was no better than those I condemned. Not for one moment had I taken Hector completely into my confidence. I recalled his plaintive insistence that he had done nothing to merit such treatment. Had my heart been made of stone? How could I have used him so?

My cheeks grew very warm as I considered my actions, and I felt a lump of remorse in my throat.

I put the map aside. Had I become an untrustworthy, habitual liar? No other conclusion was possible. Sitting cross-legged on my berth, I rested my chin in my hands and pressed my fingertips hard against the sides of my face. No wonder Hector had been easily convinced that I intended to leave him: how could he trust my word on anything?

But what if I had told Hector everything about Maroto and the Fountain, or Ponce de Leon's journal and the map? Who could say what he might have done? I had lied for his own good and the good of the mission.

I'd had an excellent reason for what I did.

And yet . . . that was exactly how Jeremy or Maroto would have defended their actions. Maybe that was what all liars told themselves.

I curled up on my side, both hands tucked near my chin, the picture of misery. Was I really that sort of person? Did I want to be like Maroto or Jeremy, forever alone, forever scheming? That was where my lies would lead - away from the one who meant everything to me, and down a solitary road from which I would never return.

He makes you happy. Don't throw that away, Jack had said. But I wasn't throwing it away – I was only keeping Hector in the dark to protect him, wasn't I? Or was I?

No, the person I was truly protecting was myself. The lump in my throat grew larger. I couldn't bear any harm coming to him. And I couldn't bear discovering that I meant less to him than his own wilful ambitions. Closing my eyes, I pictured a wooden chest, locked and hidden, with the beating heart of Tia Dalma's lover within. For the first time, I understood and pitied Davy Jones.

But we love whom we love, I thought. There could be no secrets between Hector and me. No one can escape the perils of attachment, and it was a mistake to separate ourselves from those we love and belong to. If I wanted a strong and lasting love, there would have to be an end to my lying.

-o-

After supper that night, I retired to my cabin in an agony of indecision. Where would I find the courage to tell Hector all that I knew?

I hadn't been able to eat much, but now I was hungry, and had no grapes left. I was considering whether a walk on deck would prove beneficial when I heard a soft knock.

I pulled open the door to find Hector standing outside. In his hand was a handkerchief filled with the green apples I had stolen, which he had neatly sliced for me. He thrust the handkerchief through the doorway. "There be more in me cabin," he said when he saw my delighted smile.

I raised my eyes to meet his warm, blue-eyed gaze, and we stood staring for a moment. Then all at once I had him by his coat and was dragging him inside, shutting the door and locking it.

Turning to face him, I suddenly felt quite shy and abashed. His tall, commanding figure seemed to fill up the little cabin and tower over me. "I-I don't know quite how to begin," I stammered.

He eyed me with an expression of bemused delight, much as I would imagine a wolf would eye a plump hen that, having dropped unexpectedly from the sky, now lay obligingly at his feet. "I'd recommend takin' yer weapons off first," he suggested with a sly grin.

"But I have" - I took a deep breath - "something to show you."

His grin widened. "I know ye do. Now, get yer kit off, sweet, so's we can renew our affections."

I was fast losing my nerve, and so I answered by pulling the map from its hiding place. "I promised you no more secrets," I blurted, adding, "If we're to trust each other once more, this is where it must begin." I swallowed nervously.

Hector's eyes went from the map to my face, then back to the map. I handed it to him. "Open it," I urged him. "Then let me explain."

We sat facing each other on the berth, with the map spread between us, as I explained about the journal, and told him everything I had learned from Maroto. Hector listened carefully, staring at the map all the while.

When I had finished, he looked up at me from under his heavy eyelids. "Why d' ye believe Maroto?" he asked.

I was completely taken aback; the question had never occurred to me. "I didn't, at first," I admitted. "But his tale fits so much of what is in the journal, I thought . . ."

"He could be a Spanish agent," Hector pointed out. "Tryin' to take the same prize. He might be tryin' to fright ye with stories. There be no way to tell where he learned those things. He might've read the journal himself, before it was given t' ye."

"I will concede that I should have been more sceptical," I replied. "But what if he is telling the truth?"

"'Tis plain that we need to find out more," he grudgingly admitted. "But I'd counsel ye t' be cautious. He likely has his own designs on whatever's buried in that place."

"Be wary, Hector," I said softly. "Cuidad Blanca is a bad place – I feel it in my bones. I beg that you'll act wisely in this. If Maroto is telling the truth about the map, it could be very dangerous, and Jeremy is exactly the wrong person to possess it. You and I must prevent him from getting his hands on it."

Hector snorted. "And how d' ye propose we do that, not knowin' what it be or where it lies?"

"Neither does Jeremy," I said. "And I haven't given up questioning Maroto. But there's one thing more." I held his hands, feeling his rough, warm palms as I begged one favour.

"Please say nothing of any of this to Jack," I implored. "I would sooner die myself than see him become a ghoul under the power of some cursed Fountain."

"Ye needn't fret about that," he replied. "I'll say naught to anyone. This venture be no one's business but ours." Then he rested his hand on the side of my neck and caressed my jaw with his thumb. "Now, what about showin' me somethin' else?"

Moment later we were in each other's arms, our clothes and weapons strewn about the floor. His kisses were incendiary, and I groaned with pleasure as his hands greedily fondled my breasts. "Plump and perfect," he rasped, nuzzling my ear. "Ye must be eatin' well." My eyes flew open; but I did not intend to tell this particular secret just yet.

"What if?" I whispered to him. "What if there had been no complications when we first met? No misunderstandings, no cursed gold. Only you and me." Our eyes met, bright with love and desire.

"I'll show ye what if," he answered. And he gave me every satisfaction I could imagine, caressing me until my back tensed, arching with passion under his touch. I threw my arms around him with all my strength, and we ravished each other like animals, consumed by a wordless, primal craving.

And then all was joy. There was no cabin, no ship, no world – only Hector. I clung to him afterwards, breathing in his musky scent, my limbs so relaxed that I was only half aware of their existence. Kisses followed kisses, tenderness followed need.

Gradually, I grew bold enough to venture one question. "May I ask why you told me 'no brats' when we married?" I murmured softly.

His manner did not change; he continued tracing affectionate patterns on my skin, and after a moment, he answered with a kiss. "No."

I did not press the matter, knowing that his kiss was a promise. One day I would have the answer.

As we lay in our embrace, the rainstorm I had expected began to sweep over the Medusa. He held me close. "Sleep, sweetheart," he said. "I'll stay with ye for a while yet."

"Don't let Jeremy find us," I mumbled.

In the moments before I fell into sleep, I thought drowsily of what I had done. I had shared everything I knew about the Fountain, without negotiating an accord, without imposing conditions, and without lying. Hector was free to do as he liked.

Hector, I pleaded silently, don't disappoint me. Don't break my heart.

Next: Chapter 16 – Into That Silent Sea – The mystery of the Berwick deepens, and Barbossa takes an interest in discovering more about Ponce de Leon.