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

Chapter 21

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Cannons! There was no mistaking the sound of great guns.

But now that I had awakened, all was silent. Had the roar of a ship's guns broken through my dream, or were they part of it? I strained to hear, holding my breath. There was nothing. I must have dreamt the sound so vividly that it startled me awake, its faint echo ringing in my ears even now.

I raised my head, then propped myself up on my elbows. Hector sat up beside me, tense and alert. Perhaps it hadn't been a dream after all.

"Did you hear it as well?" I whispered. "Could Jack be bringing the Pearl back to help us?" But I knew that was impossible. The Pearl had sailed hours ago, under cover of the heavy fog. She had gone long before the mutiny.

"Nay," Hector muttered. "Twas the sound o' some other ship's guns."

We sat motionless in the dark brig, listening uneasily.

After a few moments, Maroto's words suddenly popped into my mind. If you even think he is attacking...

"We need to go," I burst out. "Now, while we have time. This is our chance!" I began working my wrists back and forth, slowly but steadily loosening the ropes. At last I was able to squeeze one hand enough to pull it out. Then I tugged the ropes off my other hand and was free.

I grabbed Hector's manacles and took a pin from my hair. He chuckled. "You an' yer pins…"

"Hold still," I said. "I must do this by sound and touch." A few moments later and I had released him. "Now for the door."

"Wait! We've no plan, woman-no bearings nor heading! Ye can't make it up as ye go along! How d' we plan to take back the ship?"

"We're not taking her back," I replied, busy with the door lock. "We're abandoning her."

A heavy paw clamped my shoulder and spun me about. "Abandon her?" He sounded horrified. "Yer as mad as Maroto! An' where, pray tell, do we go?"

"Into one of the longboats," I said impatiently. This seemed the merest detail-my concentration was on leaving the Medusa as Maroto had advised.

A second blast came, followed by a crash directly above us. "That one struck her gun deck!" Hector exclaimed.

"Don't you see?" I demanded. "If it isn't the Pearl, then who is it? What other ship would be out here in the midst of an uncharted sea?"

He hesitated, but only for an instant. "I care not if it be the devil himself! I'll still be takin' me ship back, thank ye-an' the map with it!"

His pig-headed insistence made me want to kill him. How was I to get him off the Medusa, short of pushing him? But before I could deliver a volley of angry words, I had a sudden inspiration. I nodded my agreement. "As you like-weapons first. Then, to your quarters for the map."

We soon discovered that our weapons had been jammed muzzle-first into a small wooden barrel near the foot of the stair. Arming ourselves, we rushed up to the gun deck. The uproar was deafening. The attacking vessel had blown holes in the sides of the ship, and chaos reigned as the gunners scrambled to ready the cannons amidst clouds of dust and debris. The deck was strewn with splinters of iron and wood, bits of broken rigging and pools of blood. A cacophony of shouted orders assaulted our ears, whilst ammunition and buckets of water were delivered at a hot pace, and casualties were dragged away.

I had hoped we could slip past in the confusion, but some of the men spotted us and charged. I fired my pistols and dropped two of them, then drew my scimitar.

Hector, a cutlass in each hand, held off four gunners, slashing the weapons from their hands with lightning fast strokes. "Main deck," he shouted to me. "Now!" Without pausing to question his orders, I dashed up the steps and emerged just outside the great cabin. I hid behind the quarterdeck stairs and scanned my surroundings.

It was quieter up here, though I could hear Jeremy on the deck above me shouting orders. He wanted the men ready to sweep the deck of the attacking ship with gunfire when she drew near. I sighed. His orders would be futile if the other ship was the Santiago. He would find no one on that deck.

I turned to the door of the great cabin behind me and saw that it was very slightly ajar. Scimitar at the ready, I eased it open just a fraction more. I peered through the crack and saw Digger standing at the chart table with his back to me. In the centre of the table was the golden map. Jeremy must have left it there when the ship was attacked. Digger extended his left hand to take the tablet. In his right he held a cutlass.

As I watched Maroto's murderer, my mind's eye recalled other images: my poor friend, shot by this villain and left to be devoured. The look of ugly satisfaction on Digger's face at the sight of my distress over Hector's bloody wound. I began to see everything through a red mist of pure anger.

I threw open the door. He turned quickly, saw me, and laughed as he stared at the scimitar in my hand. We'll see if you're laughing when I'm through with you, I thought, tightening my fingers around its hilt.

"What d' ye think yer doin'?" he asked contemptuously, holding me three feet away with the point of his cutlass at my throat.

"Preparing to kill you," I spat back.

"With a short blade like that? How-"

I dodged under his arm, gripping my weapon at both ends. It came down on his shoulder like an axe and he dropped his cutlass with a yell. I leaned towards his face and put the blade under his chin. "That's how!" I hissed, as I cut his throat.

He dropped to the floor, blood spattering the air. I picked up his cutlass and ran him through for good measure. "For Maroto, you Judas dog!" I spat, turning just as Hector came through the door. Our eyes met, and I knew he understood every last drop of anger and sorrow that clenched my heart.

"I've killed the bastard," I muttered wearily, letting Digger's cutlass clatter to the floor.

Hector picked it up and hurled it away. "'Tis a good habit," he explained. "Many a man's been killed by an enemy he thought was dead." Then his gaze turned to the stern windows and his eyes widened.

"Down!" he roared. We hit the deck as the cabin exploded around us. Furniture was blown apart, the jagged pieces striking the bulkhead like spears. I crouched in a corner as the round shot bounced and ricocheted about the room. Another blast peppered the walls with smaller projectiles.

When we looked up, the cabin no longer had a door, and we could see Jeremy moving quickly towards the bow of the ship. Barbossa frowned. "What's he doing?"

"Who cares?" I seized the map. "You've got this-now we're for the stern boat!"

As I spoke, a bottle of rum rolled aimlessly about the floor, fetching up against my foot. Impulsively I picked it up, then grabbed some bread and cheese from the wreckage. Stuffing these items into my clothes, I ran to the gaping hole where the stern windows had been. The lines holding the longboat were just within my reach, but as I touched them they slithered of their own will, like snakes. I let go with a gasp of disgust, and the lines began to lower the boat to the water with no human intervention. I remembered the Sword of Triton and a chill like an icy fingernail traced a path up my spine to my hair.

But there was no other choice-it was either the Medusa or the boat. Dropping the tablet into the boat as it descended, I swung myself onto the nearest line, and went down hand over hand until I could step aboard the small vessel. Then I looked up to see Hector, fully armed, climbing down the rope in similar fashion.

"I said we stay on the ship!" he argued as soon as he reached the boat.

"We can't!" I countered. As I spoke, the lines and block pulleys released our boat, and we were free of the Medusa.

"Now pull, if you value your life!" I seized an oar and pushed us away from the ship's hull. Hector and I took up oars, and began to manoeuvre our craft away from the fighting.

The fog closed round us with unsettling speed, and it wasn't long before we lost sight of the Medusa. The shouts, explosions and flashes from the cannons continued for a while, but became fainter.

At last, there was no more cannon fire. There were no more voices. The acrid smell of flames and gunpowder faded, until only the salty smell of the sea remained.

We ceased rowing, and listened without speaking. There was silence but for the lapping of the water on the sides of our boat. And fog, nothing but fog, on all sides. I tried to catch Hector's eye, but he seemed to be lost in thought. We drifted quietly for what seemed an eternity as night came on and the eerie blue-grey fog thickened.

Doubt began to take its toll on me with unanswerable questions. Had I done the right thing? I had kept my promise to Maroto to leave the Medusa if I thought she was under attack by Ponce de Leon, but what use was that if Hector and I were left to die at sea?

When I could stand the silence no longer I cleared my throat, but Hector stopped me with a sharp glance and an impatient wave. I subsided, sliding off my seat and reclining with my back against one side of the hull and my feet resting on the other.

Then I folded my arms and my gaze fell upon something that lay near my elbow. The tablet. My little golden rival for Hector's heart.

I glanced at him again and wondered how long his silence would continue. Then I tried to guess whether Hector would have boarded the longboat with me if I hadn't tossed the tablet into it first. Would he have chosen to follow me, or would he have stayed with his ship and his prize? A little voice within me whispered a suggestion: even if he had lost the Medusa, perhaps he would have been happy enough in the boat by himself, with the map.

I raised my eyes and peered out from under the brim of my hat. Hector was still sitting as before, staring into the fog. Still thinking, no doubt. Probably wishing he had never laid eyes upon me or paid any mind to my mad impulses.

He slowly shifted his gaze and saw me looking at him. We stared for a moment.

"So, satisfy me curiosity," he said. "What move are ye plannin' next?"

The truth was that I hadn't a clue. "Hector-the Medusa and every soul on her were doomed," I tried to explain. "I knew we had to leave the ship. We had no choice."

"An' how did ye know that, if ye don't mind me askin'?"

I gulped, certain my next words would infuriate him. "I knew from a dream I had just before the first cannon volley."

There was a long sigh from Hector. I decided to press on with my defence. "But that wasn't the only reason. Maroto told me. He made me promise to jump ship-"

Hector's temper erupted. "Maroto got himself killed! That's how clever he was! Tell me why, by all the powers, do ye think he knew a blazin' thing?"

"He knew a great deal," I shot back. "And I discovered most of it!"

"An' like as not, most of it be tall tales!"

Perhaps he thought to have the final word. Instead, he had thrown down the gauntlet, and I took up the challenge furiously. "You think you wed a simple maid, don't you?" I retorted.

I seized the tablet by its smooth, cold edges and held it up for him to see. "This is why you wouldn't believe Maroto. Because if you credited his story, you would have to stand off from your search for the Fountain. But you're bent on this map and the dark glamour of eternal youth! So you refused to believe his warnings, and when you got the chance, you took him to get the map. The only difference was that Maroto wanted to destroy it. You want to claim it and use it."

"What if I do?" he argued. But he didn't disagree with what I had said. I was longing to heave the map overboard, but something nameless stopped me, just as it had before.

Frustrated, I put the tablet down. "I know Maroto told the truth. I translated the journal. I studied the old map. And I spent a great deal of time trying to dig answers out of him."

"Lucky fer you, I ain't a jealous man," Hector remarked acidly. "So that be the reason ye went promenadin' about the Pearl with him every day, accordin' t' Jack."

He was trying to change the subject and get under my skin-the closest he could bring himself to conceding that I had won the argument.

"What other reason would I have?" I said to the man who wasn't jealous. "I sacrificed all my mornings, and begrudged every moment. Would you like to know why?"

He acknowledged my question with an indifferent nod.

"Because I thought of you a thousand times each day," I said softly. "I wanted no conversation from others. Half way round the world, and you were more vivid to me that anything on that ship. You are as necessary to me as the air I breathe."

He gave no reply, but after a moment or two, he made his way over to me and sat down. Once settled, he draped one arm over my shoulders. The bottle of rum from the Medusa was wedged between our hips. "What's this?" he said, pulling it out.

"I had thought…some provisions," I mumbled.

He pulled the cork with his teeth, spat it out, and took a swig before passing the bottle to me. I tipped the bottle up to drink and he kissed the side of my head, remarking, "If we'd stayed on the ship, we'd likely be dead."

But this failed to lift my spirits. "I've made you lose your ship."

"Ah, well." He gave me a squeeze. "I'll tell ye me secret. I don't keep 'em long. I generally sink 'em after a few ventures-otherwise, the Royal Navy gets t' know what they look like, an' goes lookin' fer me."

I thought about this. "But you would never sink the Pearl, would you?"

"Nay, the Pearl be a different matter," he admitted. "When I win her back, I mean t' keep her."

I decided to ignore the implications of this for Jack. "Then she's bad luck for you."

He froze, and turned to me with an enigmatic, searching look, as though my remark had some particular meaning for him.

"That's how your enemies would find you," I explained. "They would know the Pearl. And Jack has enemies too. You don't know who might be hunting him down."

"I'll take me chances," Hector said stubbornly.

We sat for a while without talking, passing the bottle occasionally, but my thoughts belied the seemingly tranquil atmosphere. How long would it be until we were discovered by a ship, or floated ashore on some deserted beach? How long must the rum, the cheese and the bread last?

My chest tightened as I faced the worst possibility: what if we were never rescued? What if we drifted until thirst and starvation killed us?

"How long can we last out here?" I asked, voicing my thoughts.

Hector shrugged. "There be two or three days yet, where we can save ourselves."

I shivered. "And after that?"

It would be a frightful death-painful and lingering. We would know the end was coming long before-

Hector gave me an affectionate squeeze, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. "Ye needn't fret, little bird. If it should come t' that, I'll see that ye don't suffer. 'Tis the least I can do as a gentleman."

I rested my head on his chest, but his well-meant words drove a stab of horror clean through me. His meaning was clear, at least to me. If it became certain that we would starve to death, he was willing to shoot me, to give me a quick death and spare me the agony. I could scarce comprehend that our lives had dwindled down to a few days in a wooden boat.

Every muscle in my face strained with the effort of keeping my tears from falling, but I couldn't suppress one tell-tale gasp. I clutched his lapel.

"Courage, missus!" he said.

I pulled away from him and clasped my arms about my knees, bowing my head so he couldn't see my face. I gritted my teeth and tensed my muscles. "I need a moment," I said in a muffled voice.

He put one hand on my back.

"Don't!" I said quickly.

He withdrew his hand. "Be there somethin' ye ain't tellin' me?"

Yes, l wanted to shout. Yes, I'm expecting a baby and fear has me by the scruff of my neck like a terrier catches a rat. I want a life with you, I want this child, and instead, I think we're all about to die. But I couldn't. I would spare him that much at least. Better that he never know.

I shook my head, no.

Hector cleared his throat. "Yer allowed t' cry, y' know," he offered.

"No I'm not." I refused to burden him in that way. I would be strong, no matter what. I banished my terror to the darkest, most distant corner of my mind and managed to compose myself. I turned to Hector. "I owe you an apology. We're in a fix that's all my doing, and I haven't a clue how to get out of it."

"Well, ye wouldn't, would ye?" he replied with some surprise. "But an old sea dog knows many a way t' cheat death." He took my elbow and pulled me back to him. "And ye were clever enough t' get him into the boat with ye."

I settled against his side, calmed and comforted by the warmth of his arm around me. "What shall we do then?"

He kissed the top of my head and began to smooth my hair. "'Tis nearly morning. That's when we take stock an' decide on the best plan." He spoke as if he were telling a bedtime story to a child who will not fall asleep, but it was exactly what my despairing spirits needed. I nestled my cheek against his chest and laid my hand softly on his waist.

"What do you think we should do?" I murmured drowsily.

"Well…" He hesitated, drawing out his answer. "When the fog's burnt off, I'm inclined t' run up our colours."

Something in his voice had changed. I looked up and saw a mischievous spark in his eye. "Our colours?"

"Aye. I'll be takin' yer shirt an' breeches, an' tying 'em to an oar."

I pushed myself away from him, indignant. "You would strip me naked and wave my clothes at passing ships?"

He tried to look offended, with widened eyes and lifted brow. "Nay, sweetheart-never!" Then he grinned. "I would strip ye naked, hide meself, an' let 'em see ye as nature made ye! We'll be picked up in a trice." He chuckled, relishing the success of his jest.

"Admit it – I stopped yer bawlin', didn't I?" he said. Then he reached out his hand and caressed my face as he leaned over to kiss me. "We ain't done for yet, sweetheart."

He gathered me in and I clung to him, a bird safe in her nest. I worked my arms under his coat so that I might be closer still, holding him tightly as I kissed his face, his whiskers, his mouth. We are so very close, I thought. He is closer to my heart now than ever before. I'm sure this is the time to tell him...

"Hector," I breathed gently. "Hector, my heart…I'm-"

Something struck the side of our boat with a dull but solid bump. We stared at each other for an instant, then scrambled to our feet.

Hector's long arm reached out through the fog, searching. "By the powers," he whispered in amazement. "Tis the side of a ship!"

I gasped with joy, but he hushed me. "Do y' hear anything?"

I listened. There was no sound. "No."

"An' not one light," he said, pondering the matter.

"Is she a caravel?" I asked in a small voice.

"Nay," he answered. "Hull's the wrong shape. My guess is, there be no one aboard her. She's a ghost ship."

But I was desperate. "Ghost ship or no, she's a ship! She must have sails! And a rudder!"

He nodded his quick agreement. "Look fer anything ye can hold onto, so's we don't drift away!"

We quickly patted our hands along the ship's hull, reaching fore and aft as far as we could. I judged myself to be nearly amidships, when the tips of my fingers touched something. "Here!"

He was at my side in a heartbeat, and his longer reach was able to grasp something. "A line!" he said.

We braced ourselves in our boat as he pulled us closer to the unseen line. When we were near enough to get a look at it, I drew in a sharp breath. "Oh, no."

A black rope ladder was hanging from the mysterious ship's deck. A Jacob's ladder. I ran my palms over its wooden rungs. I knew this ladder. We had left it in this state not four days ago. My courage wavered.

"There is no one on this ship, Hector," I whispered.

Of all the benighted ships in the oceans of the world, we had collided with the Berwick.

A look of recognition passed between us, and he laughed. "So 'tis the devil or the deep blue sea, eh?" he said. "Well, I'm minded t' ship with the devil just now." He seized my hand and put it on the rope. "Hold fast," he ordered me. "An' wait fer me t' summon ye."

"Aye, Captain."

He drew his sword and, true pirate that he was, held it between his teeth. He began to climb, until the fog hid him from my sight. Then he must have stepped onto the Berwick's deck, because the rope ladder became motionless and idle in my hand. I was well and truly alone now. I clutched the ladder with both hands, and waited.

Next: Chapter 22 – The Spectre Bark – Nina gains a greater understanding and appreciation of Hector.