EL LOBO DEL MAR

[Welsh Wench]

Honour drew a deep sigh and looked again at her sleeping husband. She was beginning to think there may be life after Rhys Morgan.
True, she and Jack had a most unusual start to married life but the more she knew of him, the more he reminded her of Rhys. Until she no longer compared him to Rhys.
Jack stood on his own merit.

She walked over to the bed and drew the covers down. She carefully slid back into bed so as not to disturb Jack.
He was half-awake when he mumbled, "Everything alright, love?"
She snuggled closer to him and put her arms around him. "Yes, darling."

Or they will be.
As soon as we settle in Barbados.
And with that thought, she drifted to sleep.

Honour awoke to the wet, familiar nose of Muir nuzzling her hand. She smiled and scratched the neck of her longtime companion as she yawned. Sunlight fully illuminated the multicoloured glass panes of the gallery windows. It was then she realised Jack was already gone. "He must have gotten an early start," she mused. She could hear the watch bell ringing from the quarterdeck above. 1, 2, 3... 4? She'd slept until noon!

She dressed quickly and made her way with Muir to the weather deck. The sky was a deep turquoise with hardly a cloud in sight, and a brisk wind filled the white sails above her. The salt air cooled and invigorated her. She couldn't remember a more beautiful day. Everything felt right with the world.

"Good boy, Muir!" Jack called from the quarterdeck. "We thought you were going to lie abed all day, darling. It's far too perfect a day for that. Come join me up here, would you? I'll have a plate and tea sent up for you. How do you feel about making a day of it?"

Honour joined Jack and Briggs on the quarterdeck, and she shared a plate of smoked meats and soft bread with Muir. Briggs kept a watchful eye on the crew as they went about their tasks. Jack entertained his bride by teaching her about the various portions of the ship and their functions.

"Voile, voile!! Navire devant et au-devant de nous!" came the excited cry of the lookout from high above the weather deck.

"What's he on about, I wonder?" Briggs asked.
Jack turned and gave him a puzzled look. "You signed him on. Didn't you notice he was French? What's his name?"
"He didn't say much. Not as much as a peep, actually. But his friends vouched well for him. Called him "Le Cancrelat", I think.
Jack rolled his eyes as he extended the perspective glass. "Your friend the Cockroach just espied a sail ahead, bearing toward us. Let's see who wants to chat."

[Welsh Wench]

"Jack, is something wrong?" Honour asked worriedly.
"Nothing of any import, love. Seems we've got some company. Probably a packet ship or a small merchantman."

He looked through the glass and quickly made out the approaching vessel. She was the same size as El Lobo, painted black with red trim. The sun glinted off the ship's gilt appointments. No flag could be seen, but her full sails were emblazoned with the Burgundy Cross. Jack recognized her instantly.

"There's only one ship fitted out that brazenly, Josiah. The Mercedes."
"Sweet Mother of God! Mendoza?"
Jack's eyes were pure fire, but his voice was icily cold. "Call the men to Quarters, Mr. Briggs."

Without hesitation, Briggs picked up a small drum slung by the wheel and pounded out a steady beat. "To quarters!! To quarters!! Clear these decks for action, ye lazy slugs!!" he shouted.
Jack's voice was the next to ring out. "Hands to the braces! Stand by to strike the main course and raise topgallants! Make ready all guns!!" He turned to face the approaching enemy ship. "It's about time you showed your face, Colonel," he said quietly.

The crew launched into a frenzy of activity at the call to quarters, the order to make the ship ready for battle. Anything that wasn't critical for fighting or maneuvering was stowed away or lashed aside. On the lower decks, temporary bulkheads were knocked down and secured. Guns were rolled back so their crews could ready and load them. Half barrels with water for swabbing the guns and putting out fires were dragged into position, and powder and shot were brought up from the magazine and placed in reach of the gunners.

Honour stood transfixed as Jack's rowdy and seemingly undisciplined crew transformed into a synchronised living machine. She was startled when Jack took her firmly by the shoulders and fixed her eyes with his. Gone were his easy smile and quick laugh, replaced by a grimly determined mask that truly frightened her.
"Honour, darling, I need you to go below to our cabin and stay there. Do not come out until I send for you. Please do this for me."
"But, why? Jack, what are you---no!! Tell me you're not attacking that ship!" she cried.
"Settling an old score," he said gravely. He put his arms around her and kissed her. "Always know that I love you," he whispered in her ear as he held her close. Her tear-filled eyes searched his for answers, but found none. "Josiah, please see that she makes it safely below."
"Come along, ma'am. Please." Briggs urged her gently.
Honour reluctantly allowed him to escort her from the quarterdeck. She looked back at her husband, but he had already returned his gaze to the enemy vessel.

For the first time since that fateful night Rhys died, she felt helpless and alone.

Once inside the companionway, she tried again to get answers. "Josiah, why is he doing this? Who is Mendoza?"
Briggs sighed heavily. "A man what should've been sent to Hell long ago. A man Jack has too many reasons to hate. Colonel Diego de Castille y Mendoza."

They reached the great cabin, and Briggs set about shuttering the gallery windows. "Y'see, Colonel Mendoza was responsible for the flow of commerce between Spain and her colonies along the Main. Jack was havin' too easy a time plunderin' the Spaniard's treasure and supply fleets, or so the Spanish Crown thought, seein' as how they nearly stretched Mendoza's neck for not bein' able to 'contain the problem.' Finally, Jack's luck ran out the same day ol' Mendoza's picked up. Ended up in a Spanish prison house, he did. Tortured at Mendoza's own hand on and off for nigh on two months, he was."

Honour's face went ashen at the thought of what her husband must have endured. "Dear Heaven above us! How did he manage to escape?"

"He finally struck a deal with some of Medoza's men who didn't care much for the Colonel's heavy hand. They busted him out and helped him commandeer Mendoza's own flagship, El Corazon. Tale is that Mendoza was so outraged by the insult, he swore a blood oath that if he ever crossed paths with Jack again, he'd fight him to the death. And Jack is all too willin' to oblige him."

"Over a ship?! Why didn't Jack just leave it where Mendoza could find it? Don't tell me. He burned it out of spite?" she asked.

"No, ma'am. You're aboard her. Now, I'd best be gettin' back above decks and help Jack. It's about to get plenty rough."

Colonel Diego de Castille y Mendoza coldly examined the ship now know as El Lobo del Mar through the spyglass. She was not as he remembered her, and what he saw made his blood boil.

Her forecastle had been cut down level with the main deck, and the stern had been chopped to a mere fraction if its former height. The ornate woodwork that once adorned the gunwales had been stripped away, and her intricately carved figurehead, a perfect likeness of his deceased wife and soulmate, Mercedes, replaced with a snarling ebony wolf.

Pirates typically cut ships down in this fashion for the additional speed and cargo space they could gain. Mendoza understood this, but understanding did nothing to lessen what he saw as a desecration and personal insult. "What have those animals done to you, mi Corazon?" he whispered. "I swear, Wolfe, you will pay for this."

Mendoza had compensated for the material loss of the flagship he'd built in memory of his wife by building an exact replica and naming it after her, but the psychological wounds would begin to heal only after he either recovered the original vessel, or destroyed her and the man that had taken her from him. The desire for revenge had completely consumed the colonel. And he would have it at any cost.

Captain Javier Vega was a loyal and cautious man. He enjoyed the station and generous salary provided him by Colonel Mendoza, but the nobleman's overbearing nature and continual interference in ship's business irritated him no end. He found Mendoza's sudden interest in the newly sighted ship more than a little worrisome.

"Steady on, Sr. Guitano," Vega ordered the sailing master. The sooner we make Maricaibo, the sooner we enjoy our pay, no?"
"Si, Captain. Steady as ordered," Guitano smiled. He thoroughly enjoyed serving with Captain Vega, but like most of the men, he much rather the Colonel had stayed ashore tending to his mansions and politicking. The last thing any ship needed in his opinion was a lubberly martinet mucking up the works.

"A word with you, Captain," Mendoza sniffed.

One thing Vega could not stomach was being talked down to by anyone. Mendoza never spoke to anyone any other way. "Si, Colonel?" he replied, trying to unclench his jaw.
"Intercept that ship. Take it, or destroy it. I care not which."
"Colonel, we are far too heavy with cargo to engage in battle, much less give chase."
Mendoza's face clouded with impatience. "As usual, I must think for everyone around me. Lighten the ship. Starting with the least valuable cargo, of course."
Vega ground his teeth in frustration. "As you desire, Colonel. Lieutenant Santos! I have instructions for the quartermaster."

Lieutenant Hector Santos, the captain's assistant, dutifully approached the quarterdeck. "Si, Captain? Your orders?"
Vega descended the steps to the main deck, out of Mendoza's hearing. "Please tell Quartermaster Diaz to begin dumping cargo," he said quietly, "starting with the heaviest nonessentials."
"But those would be the luxuries Colonel Mendoza purchased for his home in Maricaibo, Captain," said Santos. "Are you sure you want to anger him so?"
"He's just as soon have us toss over our food and powder to make ready for a fight. What do you think we should do?" Vega replied.
Santos smiled and nodded in salute. "I'll have him begin right away, sir."

Vega ascended once more to the quarterdeck and observed his prey and the weather for a short time. Finally, he spoke. "Sr. Guitano! Bring us 6 points to starboard. I want to overtake that ship, but keep us to windward of her! I want command of the wind in this fight. The rest of you, to quarters!! Make ready for engagement! All crews to your guns!!"

The more experienced crewmen sprang into action. But for a few seconds, the younger men, many of them on their first cruise, froze like confused deer. The stories about hunting pirates and glorious battles against the infidel enemies of the Spanish Empire they'd heard all their lives suddenly rang hollow as fear overtook baseless courage. Chided by their elders, the young men went to their duties, though not with the enthusiasm they imagined they'd have. Vega watched his men, and silently recited his customary prayer before combat.

Briggs emerged on the weather deck and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light.
"Josiah! I need a favour from you, dear friend," Jack called.
"Aye? And what be that?"
"You know that discarded figurehead we have in the hold?"
"Aye! The one Mendoza had made of his lady?"
"That would be the one," Jack smiled."
"Oh, you've got not but mischief in your head," Briggs grinned.
"See that it's brought on deck, Master Briggs. And trice it up to the foremast. Should the men take a liking with what paint's available, tart her up as they please. Good and bold."
"Lookin' to piss Mendoza off to a fare ye well?" Briggs asked.
"Commensurate to her reputation, I assure you. But we don't have enough paint for that, do we?" Jack laughed. "Helm!! Put our heels to that ship. Half sail."
"Half sail, aye!!" cried the helmsman.
Briggs ran up the steps to the quarterdeck. "Half sail? Are ye daft? Do you want Mendoza to catch us?"
Jack winked at his friend. "Oh, yes. Yes, I do."
____________________________________________________________________

"They're running! They're running!!" cried Guitano.
"All sail!!" yelled Medoza. "Turn to... what is it? Larboard! And fall in behind! Run down that ship!"
"Belay that!" countered Captain Vega. "It's a trap, it has to be!" He turned his attention back to Mendoza. "This is still my ship, and I command her!"
Mendoza fixed his gaze on Vega. "You forget who owns this ship, Señor Vega. And I say you are unfit to command her. You are relieved and stripped of command."
"I'm... what?" Vega was struck dumb by this twist of fate.
"Relieved and honourless. Now get below before I have you dragged there," Mendoza growled.
"Si, Colonel Mendoza. The ship is... yours." Vega spat. "And God help us all."
"You heard me! Clap on all sail, now!! Chase that bastard Wolfe down, I order it!! Twenty thousand reals to the man that drags Jack Wolfe before me so that I might kill him!!" Mendoza bellowed.

The crew did their best to comply to Mendoza's orders. Men ran aloft the ratlines and pulled loose the sailstays. Canvas unfurled and filled with wind. Guitano tried his best to hold the ship on course, though he heard the mainmast creak and pop under the strain of the wind. With every passing moment, the masts were weakened by the overloading stress of too much canvas exposed to the wind. "Dios mio," he whispered. "Por favor, hold together, cara mia! We cannot take this too long!"

The Mercedes accelerated toward El Lobo, threatening to quickly close the gap between the two ships.

"Here they come!" Briggs cried as he watched two men install the freshly painted figurehead into the mastwork.
"They've taken the bait! Keep those sails braced, prepare to take in the main courses and hoist topgallants!" Jack ordered. "Mister Briggs! Make ready to drop the starboard anchor on my signal. Be sure to take an ax with you."

Briggs nodded once and headed for the forecastle, and the capstans used to raise and lower the anchors. He stopped momentarily to retrieve a boarding ax, hefted it approvingly, and continued on his way. "This may not be the craziest thing you've ever done, Jack," he grumbled. "But it's damned awful close!"



Jack took over the wheel from the helmsman and watched as Mendoza's ship continued to close. "Just a little closer, you devil. That's it... that's it... and... NOW! Rig sails for engagement!" The sails topsails and topgallants were hoisted fully as men feverishly gathered in the main sails. They could now maneuver with ease and still make good speed, which El Lobo quickly gathered.

Mendoza peered through the perspective glass to try and see what was happening aboard his former ship, and more to the point, try to catch a glimpse of Jack Wolfe. He got his wish when he trained the glass on El Lobo's quarterdeck. He was finally close enough to see the face of the man he'd sworn vengeance on. But why was Wolfe point up? He lifted the glass in the direction the pirate was pointing. It was the original figurehead of his wife, painted up like a two-bit trollop.

Diego's blood boiled when he saw what they'd done to the likeness of his beloved. "Fire at them, now!" he very nearly screamed. "1,000 [/]reals to every man that helps sink that accursed ship, and 10,000 reals to the man who kills Jack Wolfe!"

Guitano swallowed hard, knowing full well his words would only enrage Mendoza more. "Colonel, we aren't in range of the muskets yet. All we have are the two bow guns until we can turn our side to her."

"I don't care! Are you deaf as well as stupid? Fire them!" Diego roared.
"Si, Colonel. My apologies. Bow chase guns, fire!!"

Within moments, the the forward guns spoke, their smoke obscuring their view of the target for a few seconds. The smoke soon dissipated enough for them to see both rounds splash harmlessly into the sea. Mendoza cursed and slammed his spyglass to the deck. He turned to Guitano, his face beet red. "Get us close to them. Close enough to blast every ounce of shot we have into them. Do I make myself clear enough?" he growled.

"Si Colonel. We will find more speed," Guitano lied. Mercedes was already pushed to her limits. He was surprised her masts hadn't already snapped.

"Look at that!" Jack laughed. "The good Colonel has fired a salute in our honour! It would be ungentlemanly of us not to return so cordial a gesture! Stern chase crews!! Make your target and fire when ready!!" This ought to get Mendoza's last goat, he thought. The four guns fired in quick succession, volleying grape shot at the Spanish ship. Musket ball-sized rounds pelted the forward deck, riddling her bowsprit sail with small hole and sending crewmen diving for shelter.

Honour paced nervously within the confines of the great cabin. Jack seemed certain she would be safest there, but she felt trapped. Any time she'd been in danger before, she'd managed to find a way to escape and hide. Not this time. To make matters worse, she realized she wasn't afraid only for her life. She feared for her husband's as well. She tried to keep herself calm by focusing on the sounds of the sounds of the ship; the creaking of timbers, the call of the crew as they worked the lines, and most importantly, the sound of Jack's voice as he directed what seemed like incomprehensible chaos. She slowed her breathing and tried to let the fear fall away from her, just as she'd been taught.

A new sound interrupted the familiar pattern. Two dull thumps. Were they being fired upon? Had the battle begun? She braced herself for the worst. But instead of what she could only imagine as the sounds of battle, she heard laughter! Had that terrible ship broken off the chase? Maybe Jack had a change of heart and decided to run for Barbados and their new life together...

The decking under her feet shuddered violently. Her ears rung with a thunder worse than any she'd ever known. In terror, she dove onto the bed and covered her head with pillows. "No, not like this. Not like this!" she pleaded. But the destruction she thought was imminent did not strike. SHe uncovered her head and listened. Everything seemed normal again, save the smell of freshly spent gunpowder. "We shot back? He's really going through with this madness," she said sadly.

Honour sat on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. She fought down the urge to get sick. Suddenly she heard a whining and scratching at the door.
'Muir! Oh my God, how could I forget Muir?'
She ran to the door and flung it open. Her beloved companion practically leaped in her arms. Standing in the doorway was the ship's cat, Li'l Puddin, eyeing her balefully. She picked him up and cradled him.
"Puddin', Jack would never forgive himself if you got hurt."
The cat reacted nervously, trying to squirm out of her arms. She kicked the door shut with her foot.
Muir was hiding under the bed.
"That's the best place for you, Muir. You will be safe from any shells or balls under there. I just may join you."

Li'l Puddin' paced back and forth, meowing. Honour tried to stem the rising panic in her.
'You've been through this before, haven't you, Puddin'?"
Honour opened up her armoire and quick as a flash, the cat jumped in. Honour shut the door on him.
'At least you will be safe there, kitty."

She sat on the bed again, touching her silver chain.
'Please, Mother, watch over him and keep him safe. This may be my last chance for happiness.'

She tried not to cry. All her dreams of a new life in Barbados were going up in smoke.
Literally.

[Welsh Wench]

"Well, come on! Have you the stomach for this, or not?" Jack grumbled impatiently at the pursuing ship. Despite his grousing, this was the part of a sea battle he enjoyed most. Employing strategy and deception to gain every tactical advantage possible. Confound them with your brains and you'll stand a better chance of conquering them with your guns.

"Oi, Cap'n! She's makin' 'er move to windward, runnin' out 'er larboard guns, she is!" one of the foremastmen in the rigging cried.
"Open the starboard gun ports, but do not run out the guns yet!" Jack ordered. "And everyone, make fast your positions!"
"Starboard ports, righto!" the master gunner answered. "Stay sharp, lads, to a man. He's got somethin' up his sleeve besides a bottle o' rum this time, I'm thinkin'!"

Mendoza watched El Lobo's gun ports swing open one by one along her right side. Wolfe is making the mistake of fighting us broadside for broadside, he thought. "Fire as we come along side! I want nothing left of that abomination or it's captain!!" The crew cheered heartily, each one thinking of how fat their pockets would soon be once the pirate lay a burning hulk. The Colonel gloated over how easy the chase had been. Yet another victory was at hand. He was a little sorry, though, that the pirate hadn't made more of a fight of it.

Jack watched carefully as the Mercedes began her bid to overtake his ship and gain the important windward position from which to fight. Her sails shifted and finally set as the Spaniard committed to their course.
"Larboard guns, run out and prepare to fire! Mr. Briggs, loose the anchor to 10 fathoms and hold there! The gun crews hastily opened the ports and shoved the guns into position, as 3 men freed the starboard anchor and let it fall into the sea. Briggs stood by the capstan brake and stopped the anchor's descent at the requested depth. Jack let go of the wheel as the sudden drag created by the anchor and its thick hemp cable as they hauled it through the water made El Lobo veer hard to starboard, cutting across the path of the onrushing ship. Men clung to the rails and rigging to keep their footing.

Master Guitano didn't wait for the surprised Mendoza to say anything. He fought the wheel back to larboard, fearing that a collision at their present speed would doom both vessels. "Starboard guns, make ready and fire!!" he yelled.
"What do you think you're doing?!" demanded Mendoza.
"Making sure we don't all die," Guitano replied though clenched teeth. Mercedes resisted, but ultimately began turning back inside the pirate's course. They were going to pass dangerously close. Below decks, the gun crews scrambled frantically to lash down the larboard guns and respond to their new circumstances.

"Cut the cable, now!!" yelled Jack.
"Back off, boys, lest ye lose somethin' you're fond of!" Briggs brought the axe down hard, cutting more than halfway through the woven ropes. He swung again, and the anchor was free. One of the men had to duck away as the severed cable, no longer under the tremendous stress, came flying back and slammed into the gunwale next to him. Briggs grunted in satisfaction and handed off the axe. "What are ye standin' around for like a bunch of lost pups? Get movin'!" he barked as he headed back to the quarterdeck.

Jack adjusted course to ensure the Mercedes would be squarely in the reach of El Lobo's guns. He now commanded the weather gage, and Mendoza's ship was traveling too fast to do anything about it. Now it was Jack's turn to inflict pain on his old nemesis, and he would do it at pointblank range.
"Fire as they pass!" he ordered.
"Fire all!" Briggs echoed.
"All guns, make your target!" said the master gunner. "And FIRE!!"

Smoke, flame, and metal erupted from El Lobo. Cannonballs smashed into Mercedes' starboard side even as her crew struggled to get their guns into place. Shards of wood and debris sprayed throughout the gun deck with hellish force. Tho guns were blasted fully from their carriages, maiming and killing anyone unfortunate enough to be in the way. One of the barrels slammed into the foremast hard enough to dislodge it from its footings. Chain shot slashed though rigging and sails, fouling the Spaniard's ability to work their ship. The few guns they'd been able to run out fired in response. Because of the speed they carried, only a couple rounds found their mark near El Lobo's forecastle, the rest going wide. Mercedes sail past, wounded, her crew shocked.

"Starboard guns at the ready!" Jack called. "We'll cut back and give 'em another! Haul away, and put your backs into it!"
"Herd them ahead of us, and pick 'em apart by hit and run?" asked Briggs.
"Seems like the thing to do on such a pleasant day, don't you think? If Mendoza thinks he's going to best us with a crew of cowhearted regulars, he's sorely mistaken. They're likely huddled below decks praying or some such. I doubt we'll see much of a fight out of them."
Briggs gave Jack a puzzled look. "We'll be givin' them quarter, then?"
"If there's anyone left after we finish Mendoza and his pretty ship, they can swim along side us to Barbados."

Colonel Mendoza picked himself up off the deck and tried to comprehend what had just happened. How could it be? How could he have been duped by that heretical pirate? He looked down on the weather deck and watched as the crew shook off the blow they'd been dealt. They went about making what quick repairs they could to restore maneuverability and keep their ship in fighting order. Other crews might well have panicked, abandoning their posts and anything resembling military discipline in hopes of saving their individual hides. But these seasoned, highly paid veteran mercenaries were well acquainted with the heat of battle. Defeat was worse than death in their minds.

"Why did we sail past them?" Mendoza demanded. "Turn us around so we can fight!"
"It doesn't work that way, Colonel," answered Captain Vega as he climbed the steps to the quarterdeck.
"I relieved you, Vega," Mendoza spat.
"And now you're going to get us killed," Vega said calmly.
"How dare you..."
"Because I don't particularly feel like dying today, Señor. And I pray to God you don't either. Now, if you haven't noticed, the pirate is winning. Is that the result you are working for?"

Vega's defiance would have earned him a solid flogging under normal circumstances. But he was right. Mendoza wanted to see Wolfe dead more than anything, even if he had to swallow his pride for a little while.
"Fine," the Colonel said. "Station."

Guitano could scarcely contain his smile as Captain Javier Vega resumed command. "Welcome back, amigo."
"That remains to be seen, but thank you," said Vega quietly. "Now for a proper fight. Splice the forebrace and tie off! And reef those courses!!" he ordered. The crew redoubled their efforts now that a real man of the sea was giving the commands.
"Hold us on this heading, Señor Guitano. Let's find out if this Anglo dog is as clever as he pretends. Gun crews at the ready, and hold!"

Mendoza was still fuming. "And this foolishness of slowing the ship and sitting here like dull-witted sheep will accomplish what, exactly?"
"Very simple, Colonel," Vega replied. "I intend to bring the Wolfe to us."

Briggs surveyed the wounded Spanish ship through the spyglass. "Looks like we hit 'em good, Jack! They're takin' in sail, holdin' a steady course. Y'know, I never figured crossin' swords with that beast Mendoza would be so... anticlimactic."

Jack finished setting El Lobo on a parallel course with her sister. "Would you rather this had been a protracted artillery fight, Josiah? I wish you'd told me sooner, so I could have let them catch us."
"I'm likin' this just fine," laughed Briggs.
"In the spirit of sportsmanship, we should run run up our colours, don't you think? Just in case Diego is unclear about our intent," Jack mused.
"You'll be wantin' the red one?"
"Aye. It suits my mood."
Briggs took a blood red flag, the signal that no quarter would be given and none expected, from a deck locker and hauled it up the ensign staff.

"Gunners, take your aim!" Jack called out. "And 100 extra pieces to the crew what hits her magazine!" The crew cheered, and a feral smile played across his face. "Be of good cheer, Diego. You're about to square an old debt."

"They are almost in range, Captain," Lieutenant Santos announced. "And they've raised the bloody flag!" Mendoza paced the weather deck below like a nervous cat, his blood pounding in his ears.

"Have Ramirez's guns crews concentrate fire on their masts and rudder. Carry the order personally. We'll see if that flag still flies once we show our teeth," said Vega. Mendoza's orders had been explicit: destroy El Lobo and her master at all costs. But Javier was willing to gamble on the Colonel's generosity should he manage to bring Wolfe aboard Mercedes in chains.

Santos hurried to the master gunner with the revised orders. He used what passed for military formality to avoid the gaze of the Colonel. Normally, Santos avoided the gun decks entirely, but the deafening roar there was far preferable to another of Mendoza's tirades. Ramirez's report came even quicker than Vega had hoped. "We have our targets, Captain!"
"Excellent, excellent!" Vega answered. "Musketeers, get aloft!! Guitano, take us closer after the broadside. Ramirez, fire at will!!"

Ramirez watched his prey carefully, and timed the swells to better his gunner's accuracy. He caught the rhythm of the ship on and the water, and gave the order. "And... now! FIRE ALL!!" With that, Mercedes threw her full fury at El Lobo del Mar in the form of ball, chain, and bar.

Jack turned from the gunwale to speak his orders. "Starboard guns, fire when ready!" To his surprise, it was not El Lobo's guns he heard first. He whirled back to see smoke and muzzle flashes burst from Mercedes' gun decks, just as his own ship's weapons began their barrage. Whirling chains tore at El Lobo, gouging her masts, hacking at her rigging and sails. The heavier bar shot did double duty against both ship and crew. He felt the familiar thud under his feet of balls striking the hull near the stern as the Spaniard tried to shoot away his rudder. But the sound of class and wood shattering from and errant shot made his heart lodge fast in his throat.

The Spanish ball had just caught the starboard aft corner of the ship at the level of the great cabin. Honour ducked down beside the heavy bed, which shielded her from the worst of flying bits of wood and glass the cannonball had scattered in it's wake. She stayed there for a while, huddled and trembling, waiting for the next wave of unholy thunder and destruction. It wasn't long, however, before the urge to run and his became more than she could bear.

She lifted the bed skirt and looked underneath. Muir had wedged himself as far underneath the bed as he possibly could. When he saw her face, he whimpered and started to crawl out of his cubbyhole.
"No, Muir," she said as soothingly as her shattered nerves would allow. "Stay here, and be safe." Her words were as much a prayer as they were and instruction. The wold-dog's ears fell a bit, and he laid down with a heavy sigh. Her eyes welled with tears as she left the bed to cross to the armoire and check on Puddin'. The door was ajar, most likely knocked open from the impact of the cannonball. When she peeked inside, Puddin' lifted his head and made a noise that clearly conveyed his annoyance at having his nap interrupted.

The absurdity of it all nearly made her laugh. But survival was foremost on her mind. She bit her lip hard, and slipped out of the great cabin. The shouts of the men were horrible and terrifying. As she emerged from the companionway, she saw her husband's ship transformed from an idyllic transport into a killing field. Men were being dragged off to the forecastle in hopes that their tattered limbs could somehow be saved. In desperation, Honour dove underneath the canvas of a longboat. But despite her fear, she couldn't help but peek out and watch the mayhem unfold about her.

"Shore up our starboard defenses, you sorry sons of whores!!" Jack bellowed. "Prepare to return fire! Musketeers, get your worthless arses aloft, double time! Look! She's closing in as we speak! Firepots at the ready! Damn me if we'll be taken!!" he howled.

Honour scarcely recognised her husband. He was like a fury, bellowing orders and slamming his fists against the gunwales. She was overwhelmed by his force of will as he commanded his crew.

Jack ground his teeth as he watched his crew respond slower than he'd like. No human could ever match his expectation in battle.
"Damn it all, Jack! And you, too! They're doin' all they can!" Briggs countered.
"Then carry them all to Hell! I want action! And I want it NOW!! Target that ship, and send it to the Devil what spat it forth!!"
Briggs looked hard at his friend. "If this doesn't work, Jack, you've consigned us all to Davy Jones Locker."
"A risk I'm willing to take, Josiah. The order is given!"
Briggs looked his captain hard in the eyes. "You heard the Captain!" he yelled. "Fire all!!"

Jack looked out over the weather deck as his crew fought like madmen to get their guns in place and throw a devastating broadside against the Spanish ship. Their previous effort had crippled the Spaniard, dropping her foremast and dismounting the majority of her guns. Their next volley left Mercedes a broken hulk. Captain Javier Vega watched his dreams of glory fade before his eyes as Guitano cradled him in his arms. "I nearly had him," Vega coughed. "I nearly..."

Guitano closed his captains eyes. "You nearly got him. Your family will know you served with honour," he whispered.

El Lobo delivered her final devastating broadside against her enemy. Colonel Mendoza tried to mount the steps to the quarterdeck, only to have a dismounted gun barrel roll up on his legs. "Musketeers," he cried. "Fire!! Clear their deck!!"

Jack watched as his guns tore into the Mercedes. "Yes!!", he yelled. "That's what we want!! Firepots away!!" he bellowed. Even as he spoke, he caught an odd motion out of the corner of his eye. He turned and focused, to see Honour's face peering out from under the longboat's canvas.

"Honour, what are you doing?!" he yelled. She wanted to explain her reason for being up on deck, but she could only stare in horror as Jack was spun to the deck by a Spanish sniper's shot.


"JACK!!" she screamed.

Could it be? Had she just watched her husband die?

[Welsh Wench]

 
"JACK!  OH MY GOD!  JACK!"
She rushed out from under the canvas and felt a ball whiz past her ear. Jacob Davis yelled, "GOT HIM!"
Honour looked up in time just to see a Spaniard fall from the rigging of The Mercedes and into the sea.
She threw herself down on the deck next to Jack and cradled him in her arms.
"BRIGGS! WE NEED THE DOCTOR HERE!"
Briggs rushed over to see the blood on Honour's dress and on her hands. He ripped Jack's shirt open and saw where he had been shot.
"Honour, he's been hit in the shoulder. Get him out of here and down to your quarters NOW! The Mercedes is out for blood and Mendoza wants the Captain dead!"

The blood drained from Honour's face. "But he needs the doctor. NOW!"
Jack came to and groaned. Honour patted his face. "Jack? Oh, Jack, my darling. You've been hit."
Jack managed to say, "Briggs, the ship is yours. Get us out of here and have Duckie take care of the men."
Honour looked over her shoulder and said, "You'll do no such thing! YOU GET THE DOCTOR AND YOU GET HIM NOW!"
She was on the verge of hysteria.
Jack whispered, "Get me below to our cabin, Honour."
Briggs helped Jack stand. "Briggs, put that heaving hulk of Spanish manure to our rudder and get us away as fast as you can," he said.
To Honour he gasped, "What the HELL were you thinking of, Honour? You could have been killed or worse  had they boarded us. I told you to stay in the cabin and not to come out until I called for you."
She started to cry.
"A cannonball landed on the bed. Muir is under it and Puddin' is in the armoire. I panicked. I had to get out of there. I was afraid I'd be trapped or blown up."

"BRIGGS! OVER HERE!  I NEED YOUR HELP!" Dr. Gander yelled.
Briggs draped Jack's arm around Honour shoulder and said, "You need to get him down to the Captain's cabin."
"But there's glass everywhere!"
"So clean it off.....I'M ON MY WAY, DUCKIE."
Jack leaned on Honour and said, "Just get me down to the cabin and we will take it from there."

 
Honour supported Jack's body with her own, which wasn't very easy since she was not a big person. He clutched his shoulder with a torn rag which was rapidly turning red with blood.
Half-dragging him, she slowly led them back to the great cabin. Jack's complexion was turning ashen and he looked about to pass out from the pain.

Bumping the door open with her hip, she was able to get  set him on the chair while she shook out the coverlet. Then she guided him onto the bed. He moaned, sweat running in  rivulets down his face.
Honour slowly removed the cloth and gasped. The blood continued to flow out.
Jack grasped  her hand and said rasply, "You need to dig the bullet out."
She paled. "Me? Jack, I know nothing about pistol wounds!"
He was taking shallow breaths. "It's the only way. I'll talk you through it."
"Why can't I run to the deck and get Dr. Gander?"
Jack shook his head. "The wounded men come first. Sorry, Honour, but that is the code I live by. If you don't do this, you very well could be a widow by nightfall."
Tears filled her eyes and she fought back the rising tide of panic.
"But I'm afraid, Jack. What if I make it worse?"
He managed a wan smile. "How is that possible? Death is probably the ultimate outcome."
She nodded, fear in her heart. "Aye. I'll do it."

He laid back against the pillows and said, "The shirt needs to come off."
She took her sgian dubh and began to slice through the silk.  It lay in tatters.

Jack said quietly, "In the cabinet there, get two bottles of rum."
"Two?"
"Aye. You have to aenesthetize and sterilize."
She retrieved them and took the cork out.
"Now fill a tankard up and help me drink it."
She lifted his head up and helped him get it down.
"Honour, I'm going to need more periodically through this whole thing. Now in the top drawer over  there, you will find a small knife in a brown leather scabbard."

She looked and there it was.
"Good. That's my darling. Now...pour the rum over the knife to sterilize it."
With trembling hands, she held the knife over a basin and poured it over the blade.
"Now what, Jack?"
Jack had been holding some cloth over the wound, compressing it. "It needs cleaned and then you have to dig for the bullet."
Honour looked at Jack with horror-filled eyes. "I--I can't do this. I can't, Jack!  I'll hurt you!"
He tried to smile and said, "You think I'm not already hurt? Love, this is the only way. Now give me another tankard of rum. And put a splash of that Irish whiskey in it too."

Having taken a few more tankards of rum and whiskey, Jack closed his eyes and instructed her next.
"Now...pour some of the whiskey into the wound.
"B--but, Jack, that will sting!"
He tried to focus on her face as the spirits were taking effect. He commanded her, "DO IT!"
She jumped. He had never used his 'command' voice on her. She poured it on the wound. Jack gritted his teeth and said, "Now the fun part."
"What? I can get Dr. Gander now?"
He shook his head. "You need to insert a knife into the wound and find the bullet."
"WHAT?" she shrieked. "Jack, I can't do that!"
His wound started bleeding again. "Honour, if you don't, I most likely will bleed out and then it is over the side in a canvas sail and a cannonball for me."
She took a deep breath and ran her fingers nervously through her hair. "You will talk me through it?"
"Certainly. Just go slowly and listen to everything I say."
She nodded wordlessly and sent up a prayer.

"This is going to be the hard part for me, " Jack said. He closed his eyes and said, "You need to take the sterilized knife blade and insert it in the wound."
Honour put her hand to her mouth and whispered, "There has to be another way..."
Jack shook his head and said hoarsely, "Honour, darling, you need to work quick. If I pass out  from pain or too much spirits, I can't direct you. Are you ready?"
She nodded.
"Good. Now carefully insert it....AAAAHHH!"
Honour felt the tears fill her eyes and one trailed down her cheek. "I'm so sorry----"
"Not your fault," he could barely get out. "You..need....to...to find the bullet. You will feel metal on metal. Gently slip the tip of the blade beside the ball and use the tip to slowly roll the ball back up through the wound tract and then...."
"Jack? JACK!!"
He couldn't hear her. He was unconscious.

In about five minutes of probing, Honour felt a distinct scrape. Sweat was running down her back and she couldn't even brush her hair out of her eyes. If she lost the ball, she would have to start all over again. Mercifully, Jack was in oblivion.

The ball slowly rolled like a cannonball on an uneven deck. Because the wound entrance was ragged, the ball wouldn't pop out.
'Oh, please, God,' she prayed. Jack was still blacked out. She could barely see the ball.
There was only one thing left to do.
She had to remove the ball with her fingers.

She took a deep breath and carefully inserted two slim fingers into the wound track. She was thankful Jack was not conscious as she would never have been able to do it if he were looking at her with pain-ravaged eyes. Carefully grasping the ball, she extracted it.
She sat back and held it between her fingers, dazed and surprised at the size of the ball. Hearing Jack moan, she realized he was coming back to consciousness.

Honour took cloths and wiped his face down. He opened his eyes and groaned.
"Am I...dead?"
She felt the tears trailing down her cheek as she wiped  them away with the back of her hand.
"No, my love, you are quite alive. But Jack, the blood is starting up again."
He took a shallow breath and said, "In the washstand below in the cupboard, you will find cotton. You need to pack the wound."
"Shouldn't I get Dr. Gander to take a look?"
He tried to smile and said, "Another tankard, if you don't mind. Darling, you are almost done..."
She poured a generous amount of whiskey and held his head up so he could drink it.
He laid back against the pillow and said, "You need to insert the cotton in the wound as far as you can. I-it's called packing the wound."
She bit her lip and inserted it in with the blade and then continued until Jack said, "Enough. My darling, you did it. I can see why I married you. An angel of mercy..."
He lapsed back into unconsciousness.

She washed his face and covered him up with a blanket. He was still ashen but his breathing had become slow and steady.

Honour walked out to the companionway as Briggs was coming towards her. "How is Captain Wolfe? Is--is he....?"
Honour said shakily, "He's asleep and the bullet is out and..."
Honour then made a dash to the rail and promptly got sick.
Briggs stayed a respectable distance behind until she turned and said, "I--I'm sorry. I don't usually get sick."
She then leaned with her face to the wall, her arm covering her eyes and she sobbed as if her heart would break.
"It's all my fault. If I had stayed where I was told, he would have seen the sniper and he wouldn't be wounded."

Briggs, moved with pity for the young lass,  took her in his arms and gently rocked her and awkwardly stroked her hair.
"Ye saved the Captain, Missus, and fer that the crew of El Lobo thanks ye."

[Welsh Wench]

Honour stayed at Jack's side as he slept until exhaustion finally overcame her. She couldn't rid herself of the image of her husband falling to the deck. She'd gone through what seemed like a thousand "what if" scenarios in her mind. What if she'd stayed put? What if she hadn't distracted him? Was it really her fault that he was hit? Sleep took her at last, and gave her a bit of peace.

Some time later, a soft knock came at the door, followed by a rattle as the latch turned. She stirred from her sleep, straightening a bit in her chair. "Thank you, Mr. Briggs. But for the fourth time, I'm not hungry."
"I'll let our good Josiah know the next time I see him," a man's voice replied. The gentleness and refinement of his voice startled her. Honour tried to collect herself, but he stopped her. "Now, now. No need getting up on my account," he reassured her.

"You're Doctor Gander. I remember Jack pointing you out to me on Castara."
"Jack's never been one for social propriety." The doctor bowed slightly in mock formality. He looked to be around Jack's age, but there was a wizened, almost sad quality to his eyes. "Dr. Drake Gander, at your service. And you must be the resourceful Mrs. Wolfe," he smiled.
"Please, call me Honour."
"All right, then, Honour. And you must call me 'Duckie'. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, even under these less than desirable conditions. How is our patient faring?" he asked as he placed a small wooden box on the table.
"Resting, but fitfully. He's said a few words in his sleep, but I couldn't make them out."
"No doubt a combination of the liquor and the pain. Otherwise I'd write it off as another one of his nights in town. How are you bearing up, my dear?"
His question surprised her. "I'm sorry?" she asked. "I wasn't injured."
"A person can be wounded in more ways than the physical. You've endured and survived things today that no lady should ever have to. Aside from refusing food, how are you."
"I am exhausted," she admitted reluctantly.
"As well you should be! I'll leave you something to help you sleep once I'm done here." Duckie left her side and sat on the bed beside Jack. "Now, let us see the handiwork of the Captain's personal physician, shall we?"

Honour felt oddly at ease, and more than a little charmed, by the doctor's bedside manner. How on earth did a gentle soul like him end up on a pirate ship? He seemed to know Jack almost as well as Briggs did.

Duckie went about examining the wound dressing she'd made. "Very nicely done. Very nice, indeed. As much as I dislike having to disturb your work, we should change this dressing. There's more packing and gauze in my box, if you wouldn't mind. Oh, and there's a small jar as well."
She found herself blushing at his praise for what she'd done, as well as some pride. She'd had to call on everything she'd been taught by the Order, with a healthy dose of improvisation. She retrieved the items and handed them to the doctor as he needed them. He started with the clay jar. When he opened it, the pungency of the paste within made her eyes water.

"What in heaven's name is that? It smells horrid!"
"It's a concoction I learned from some Carib Indians several years ago. They use it to treat knife and arrow wounds, but it works equally well on gunshots."
"You- you spent time with the Carib's? Aren't they supposed to be..."
"I was around them for just short stretches of time. They're much more hospitable on a full stomach. The packing, if you please?" He finished troweling the salve into the wound, then carefully placed the packing over it. Within a few minutes, the dressing was changed.

"You did a remarkable job removing that ball, Honour. That was a deep wound. The average, inexperienced practitioner wound have made a real mess of things. I'm quite impressed." said Duckie.
"Thank you," she replied, hoping he wouldn't ask more probing questions. "I suppose when it's one's own husband in your hands, one tends to be more careful."
He looked at her thoughtfully. "I suppose that's true. In any case, we're all fortunate you were on board to care for him, no matter where you received your training. You saved his life, you know."
Honour's face clouded, and she could feel the tears well in her eyes. "More like nearly got him killed, you mean."
"Come again? How do you figure that?"
"He told me to stay here. I couldn't, and when he saw me up on deck, he turned away from the Spanish ship. That's when he was shot. If it weren't for me, he'd have seen the musketeer and avoided the fire."
Duckie stepped closer and took her hands in his. "Honour, listen to me. It's obvious by gaping hole in the corner that you weren't safe here. And you say that Jack turned away from the ship when he saw you?"
"Yes. It all happened so fast..."
"My dear, if he hadn't turned when he did, that ball could easily have buried itself in his chest or his head. Thank God you were there when you were. Looks like you saved your husband's life twice today." He reached into the box and retrieved a small vial of laudanum. "This is to help you sleep. No more than two drops under your tongue. Now dry those tears and try and get some rest. We'll talk more later."

As he picked up his box to leave, Honour's curiosity got the better of her. "Doctor, exactly why to they call you 'Duckie'? It doesn't quite make sense, especially given your last name."

Duckie smiled. "This is a pirate ship, Honour. Not a lot of what goes on makes any particular sense. Some things take hold, and some go by the boards, and no one really knows for certain. Now, get some rest. I'll have some food sent down for you. You don't have to eat it, mind you. But staring at a full plate seems a bit silly, don't you think?"

"Thank you for everything, Duckie. I do appreciate it."
"Don't mention it. Now, pleasant dreams, Doctor Honour," he winked as he closed the door.

Honour set about sweeping the glass and splinters out of the cabin. She looked around. Jack's collection of books was untouched. The only thing the cannonball seemed to hit was the wall next to the bed where the galley windows were. It was a miracle she and the animals were not hit.

She looked under the bed. Muir was sleeping soundly. There was a scratching at the armoire door. She opened it and Puddin' hopped out and went his merry way. There was a knock at the door and one of the men stood there with a tray.
"Doc said to send this down to ye, ma'am. He said t' be sure t' eat some of the fruit t'keep yer strength up. Somethin' about blood sugar. Whate'er that be."
She took the tray out of his hands.
"Thank you."
The crewman looked over her shoulder. "How be th' Cap'n? Heard ye fixed him up."
She said, "He will be fine. Please tell the crew that until the Captain is functional, that Mr. Briggs will be in charge."
"Aye. Give our best t' Cap'n Jack, ma'am."
"I shall."

She took a bite of an apple and just couldn't face the thoughts of food. She shook out the blanket and covered Jack up with it. The men had nailed a few boards over the hole to keep the wind out.
Jack continued to sleep but his colouring was better. He moaned occasionally when he moved his shoulder.
Honour walked over to look out. She could see the sky filled with stars.
How could the heavens look so peaceful after the conflagration on the high seas? She rubbed her temples, the start of a headache from the day's stress.
She washed her face and slipped into a fresh chemise. Checking Jack's breathing once more, she closed the door and made her way to the upper deck.

The ship was eerily quiet. Just the groaning of the riggings. Splinters of wood were everywhere and the sails were tattered, their strips fluttering in the night breeze. Honour glanced up and was surprised to see a startling sight.
It was a huge carving of a beautiful woman. Or it had been at one time. The carving had a haughty face with flowing black hair.
And something else.
An overabundance of red paint applied to its cheeks and lips.
That face looked garish under the the light of the full moon. Almost as if it were sneering.
Honour's attention was riveted to it.
A voice behind her said quietly, "Lovely woman, wasn't she?"
She turned to face Josiah Briggs.

"Briggs, what is the meaning of this--this thing?"
Briggs lit his pipe and took a deep draw on it. Pointing with the stem, he said, "That be Mercedes de Castille y Mendoza. Wife of Diego."
Honour stared. "Wh--why is she painted up like that?"
Briggs chuckled. "It were Jack's idea. Something to twist the knife into Mendoza."
"Good God," she whispered.
Briggs leaned over the rail. "Aye. He knew that would provoke Mendoza to no end. Bad enough that Jack stole his flagship. Carved her up almost unrecognizable and then gave her the Spanish name of The Sea Wolf. But to desecrate his beloved was the final insult. And that is what provoked the fury of this attack."
"What happened to the Mercedes, Briggs?"
"Right after the last volley, before Jack got hit, we did damage and they limped away."
"Do you think Mendoza is dead?"
Briggs shrugged. "Don't know for sure. Maybe some day we will find out. But I didn't feel the tremors of the sea when Hell spat him back so I don't know."
Honour sighed. "I'd best get back to my husband."
Briggs touched her shoulder and said awkwardly, "Ye done right good, young missy. Better'n I expected. Ye'll be a true pyrate's wife yet."
Honour felt her eyes well up with tears. "That is what I am afraid of."

She walked back into the great cabin. Carefully so as not to disturb Jack, she pulled the covers back and slipped into bed next to him. Suddenly she began to shake as a reaction to all that had happened. She drew herself closer to Jack and felt the warmth of his body next to hers.
All of a sudden, an irrational fear surged through her. The sensation startled her.
It was the fear of losing him.
She laid her head against Jack's chest and whispered, 'Forgive me.'
But it was not to Jack she whispered it.

It was to the memory of Rhys Morgan.

Cade stowed the last of his belongings in what could only euphemistically be called his ship's great cabin and gave an expansive sigh. "Fine. I'll just keep taking ships until I find one I'm not too tall for," he thought aloud. He sat at the table going over the charts and manifests for the upcoming voyage, but his mind kept wandering back to those incredible blue eyes that danced when she laughed. Honour's eyes. The eyes of the woman who, as fate would have it, was married to his friend and mentor. He tried to push her out of his mind, but to no avail. Why on earth had a woman of such grace and beauty cast her lot with Jack confounded him. Everyone new that no sooner had a bit of gold crossed his hand that it would be pissed away in the taverns or stews before the next sunrise.

He picked up a sheaf of papers and rummaged through them; bills of lading (some false, some not), a list of repairs to be made whilst under weigh, a fresh commission from Governor Culley (blank, as usual), and a letter. If the scrawling on the envelope didn't reveal enough about the sender, the wax seal of a wolf's head removed all doubt.

"My Dear Cade,

By the time you find this Note, Honour and I shall have safely completed our Passage to Barbadoes, with the Full and earnest Intent of building a New and happy Life in this place. Doubtless this comes as a complete Surprise to you. I myself am only now beginning to grasp the Enormity of it all.

I am, my Friend, truly happier and Content than I have ever Known, more than I can possibly express with the written Word. And as you are the closest Soul I should ever consider claiming as my own Blood as a Son, it is imperative that you hear this from Me, as tavern-stories are scarcely more reliable than those of the most Trustworthy politician.

When you have made ready your Ship and Crew, you must join us for a while in Bridgtowne as soon as possible. There are certain legal Instruments requiring your Attentions, for the purpose of reducing my Stake in the Castara Co. to no more than 15%, with the Balance and full Control of said company to be transferred to Yourself, effective immediately.

We expect to receive You within the next two Weeks.

Fair Winds and Following Seas, Capt. Jennings.

Capt. J. Wolfe
Mrs. H. Wolfe"

Cade stared at the letter in disbelief. Jack Wolfe, the man who, he was certain, never had a waking thought that wasn't part of a scheme to relieve someone else of their wealth, was walking away from a successful life of piracy? For a woman? "Women serve a great many delightful purposes," he remembered his mentor saying on many occasions. "The least of which is their maddening talent for relieving you of your money, no matter how delightful the distraction." But Cade could understand how this time, things were different. He tried to ignore the pang of envy he felt at Jack's having found that one woman who could change his mind. Luck would have it that's she'd be the one Cade couldn't stop thinking of.

He read the letter over again, and found himself increasingly bothered by it's tone; relaxed, with no sense of foreboding, and certainly none of the panic he'd seen in the man's eyes only a few days ago. Had someone discovered Jack's plan? Or had Bonita filled his head with tales of another one of her visions? It wouldn't be the first time he'd thrown meticulously detailed plans to the winds because of "fresh information." Bonita was always the source, though Jack played it off as his own uncanny intuition.

He was going to find out what was afoot, and he knew the perfect person to ask.



Jennings left his ship in search of of Jack's dreadlocked oracle. After over an hour's search, he found her kneeling in the sand of a sheltered beach. She was gathering shallow clay dishes from near the water, scraping the salt left there by the evaporated sea water into a jar. Cade set his jaw and walked purposefully toward her, the letter clutched in his hand.

"An what bring young Cap'n Jennings lookin' for Bonita, when he supposed to be makin' him ship fit to sail?" she asked without looking up from her task, in a knowing tone that completely unnerved him. "You know how anxious Jack get when he have to wait for anyone."

So she seemed to know where Cade was headed and why. "Been going through my quarters, have you?" he demanded, slapping the papers in his hand.

Bonita looked up at him with hardened eyes. "Dere be nothing aboard you ship day I would need or want. Dis island, she have eyes and ears, and she tell Bonita everyt'ing I need to know."

"Then you know of Jack's decision to give up the sea for Honour?"

"Dat little piece of paper tell you such a t'ing?"

"In his own hand."

She gave a derisive snort. "Jack Wolfe is a pirate by choice, and by him nature. Him little wife, she turn him head and maybe, maybe even him heart. But him soul... day always belong to de sea."

Cade's face clouded over for a moment. "Ahhhhhh, dere it is!. De golden-haired one, she turn a head other t'an Jack's, just as I t'ought"

"Nonsense!" he protested. "She's my best friend's wife, after all. I'm concerned for both of them."

"De heart, it want what it want," she said, her damnable knowing smile never fading.

He felt like she was reaching right into his mind, groping in all the dark corners. "In his letter," he said, hoping to change the subject, "Jack said he expects me to meet him in two weeks. But as he was leaving-"

"He were frightened, an' told you to hurry so as to meet him in two days, no?"

"Did you have a hand in his state of mind?" Cade shot back.

"Every time Jack embark on a new journey, he ask Bonita to read for him," she answered, her demeanour becoming evasive. "It were our way of t'ings."

"Tell me, then. I've never seen him in such a state. What did you tell him? What did you see?"

She turned to face him, and fixed him with her dark eyes. "People t'ink dat Fate be somet'ing dey can run from. Dey are mistaken. No matter how hard dey run, dey are running toward they fate, defenseless as a babe."

Cade swallowed hard. "You mean, he's thrown himself and Honour straight into..."

"It have already happened. If you care for dem, as you say, den you are needed. Go. Now."

He gave Bonita a bewildered look, then ran for the docks as fast as his legs would carry him.

Bonita watched the young man charge off in hopes of helping his friends. A smile slowly spread across her face. "Dat's right, young Cade," she said softly. "Run to play your part in they fate."

[Welsh Wench]

Jack awoke in the dawn's breaking light. He looked over at the small form of his wife curled up next to him, her arm around his waist and her head on his chest. Her blonde hair spilled into her face and lent her the air of an angel fallen to earth. Jack tried to move, his shoulder throbbing. He tried to stifle a moan. Honour's head jerked up.
In her sleep-laden voice, she said, "Jack? You're awake."
He groaned, "I was hoping it was just a bad dream. But the pain is a sharp reminder I can scarcely remember what happened. So...what happened?"
"You don't remember anything?"
He said quietly, "I remember seeing you look out from under the canvas on the longboat. Then excruciating pain. Now here I lie with a bandage, dressing and a pain that is out of this world."
Honour said, "You were felled by a Spanish sniper in the riggings. Davis picked him off."
Jack closed his eyes. "Remind me to give him an extra portion of booty next time we pre-emptively salvage a vessel."
Honour looked up puzzled. "But you aren't doing that anymore. Remember? We are going to buy Monsieur Picou's sugar plantation. Five hundred acres with a house and cabins for the hired help."
"Slaves."
"Hired help."
"Whatever."

Jack got up and immediately sat down. "I guess I am a bit dizzy."
Honour reached over for her dressing gown. "It's because you haven't eaten for twenty-four hours. You had all that whiskey and rum on an empty stomach."
"Not to mention blood loss."
He tried to peek under the bandage and Honour smacked his hand. "Leave it alone."
She handed him some fruit and a biscuit.
"I need to find out how the ship fared."
"No, you don't."
"Excuse me?"
Honour replied, "You need your rest."
Jack said crossly, "My crew needs to see their captain up and about. Good Lord, Honour! It's a flesh wound."
"A flesh wound? A FLESH WOUND? It was a flesh wound that I had to dig for the bullet. Do you think that was fun for ME?"
"And do you think that was a rollicking good time for ME? I swear, the next time I run into the Mercedes, I'll send that bastard to hell where he belongs!"
"There won't be a next time. Jack, we planned on starting a new life together in Barbados. With a house and a pigeonnaire and a veranda and big windows and babies and...."
She was suddenly silent.
So was Jack.
She said sadly, "Was it all a lie, Jack? Something to pacify me with in Castara?"
Jack said nothing.
She said softly, "I see. A man will say anything to get a woman flat on her back. Even 'I do.' Well, go. Go and play pirate with your friends."
Jack said briskly, "I need to see what damage and loss of life we have sustained. We'll talk about this later."
She said determinedly, "No, we will talk about it now."
"Later. I have a ship to run."
He opened the door and made his way to the quarterdeck.

But not before he heard the sound of a nice piece of porcelain thrown against the door.
Ah, too bad. It was from the Ming dynasty....El Lobo may have carried the day, but she'd be battered and bloodied doing so. The weather deck fared scarcely better than his own cabin. A large section of the larboard gunwale had been patched with a network of lumber and rope. The two guns that should have been there were missing.A quick scan of the masts showed that they weren't carrying half of the half the canvas they should be.

His ship was now a wounded crippled thing, easy prey for a lesser foe with a mind to make a name for himself.

"It was matter of time, I suppose," a voice came from behind him on the quarterdeck. "Master Briggs, here's your money. I should have known better than to wager against his stubbornness."

Jack turned to see Dr. Gander drop some coins into Briggs waiting hand. "weed puller bullheaded as they come, doctor. Just like I said. Good to see you up and about, Jack."

"I'm sure you mean that from the bottom of your purse," Jack replied sarcastically. "What be the state of my ship?"

"We handed that blackhearted bastard a right proper pastin', we did," Briggs began.

"I'd assumed as much, give that none of us is in chains. My ships, Josiah."

Briggs drew a heavy breath. The carpenter's got the hull patched well enough, but I'm keeping two men on the pumps to be sure. All but the other the mizzen took heavy damage. I can't see us adding any more sail without losing one or both of the remaining masts, God help us if we have to make a run for it.'

"Could make a fight of it if we had to?" The pain and fatigue were taking their toll on him. By this time, he was only half-listening to his comrades.

"Aye, if we convince 'em to sit still, we might have a chance. We lost three guns total. I'll have the lads remount one on the gun deck. That's the best we can do out here."

"I'll take it," answered Jack. :Any more good news for me?"

"None worth mentioning, no."

"There's a relief. If the carpenter has any spare planks, please have him report to my quarters. We seem to have acquired a draft."

Jack was getting woosier by the second, but he was bound and determined to get his status update. "And the crew, Doctor?"

"Three dead, eleven wounded, Captain. One of the more grievously injured men refuses to accept medical treatment or advice. I'm concerned that he'll quickly become a liability and a danger to his shipmates.

"Unacceptable," Jack winced "Chain him to the surgery on my orders, What's the man's name?"

"John Michael Wolf," Duckie responded, not missing a beat,

Jack looked at his fiend in surprise. "All right, doctor. You've had your fun as my expense."

"Oh, I assure you, Jack, "Duckie replied with sarchasm in his voice. "The past two days could hardly be considered entertaining by anyone aboard. I for one take no joy watching you bleed through your bandages." The doctor hooked him by the arm. "Back to bed with yout. Your wife did too fine a job saving your life for you to go around ruining it."

"The Lobo will be fine, Jack," Briggs reassured him. "Another couple of days or so, and we'll be safely in port."

Jack tried mightily to nake his eyes focus on the Quartermaster, to now avail. "I'll hold you to it."

Brigs gave Duckie a worried look. The doctor nodded reassuringly, but his expression belied his exasperation with his roaming patient. "Come along, Jack. Time to get you back into your nice comfy be. And I need to refresh your dressing."

"Is there a free bed in the surgery?" Jack asked.

"What's the matter with your bed? It's better than anything I can provide."

Jack thought a moment. "It's ... complicated," was the best he could muster.

"Oh, dear," Duckie sighed. "You have been a busy boy..." He made a mental note to check in on Honour after he got Jack settled in.

Honour picked the pieces up from the crashed vase. 'Good! I didn't like it anyways, ' she thought.
She picked up the largest piece and hurled it against the door and yelled, "DAMN YOU!"
Just then the door opened and Dr. Drake Gander ducked down.
"Whoa there, Mrs. Wolfe! Are you a one-man destroyer or will anyone do?"
She felt her face flame red and stammered, "I'm sorry, Dr. Gander. I seem to have let my..fatigue get the best of me."
Duckie soberly surveyed the 'situation'. "Let's see...it looks like Jack is now missing a priceless Ming vase from a pillage he did in '66. Spring, I believe it was. It was a ship heading towards Bonaire..."
"I'm sorry, Duckie. I don't think I can do this anymore," she said softly.
He took her hands and said, "What, Mrs. Wolfe? Cleaning up the shards? Changing the bandage on Jack? Putting up with a stubborn man who won't let himself rest and heal?"
She felt a tear trickle down her face and Duckie handed her a handkerchief.
"The life. Piracy. I am beginning to think that Bonita was right. She told Jack I wasn't one of them. That I didn' t have what it takes to be a pirate's wife. And I am beginning to wonder if she is right."

Duckie sighed. "I was afraid it would come to this. Honour, I am hoping you will take Jack away from all of this. As good a pirate as he is, like all pirates I fear he will some day be on borrowed time if he isn't already."
"Borrowed time?"
Duckie nodded. "Did you know your husband attended Oxford, majoring in philosophy?"
Honour was shocked. "No! Jack? Why, he is the most fearsome pirate in all the Caribbean!"
Duckie nodded soberly, "Jack Wolfe is bloody brilliant. Anything he puts his mind to, he's successful. He left in his last year of school. Jack could have been a professor at any university in England."
"But why didn't he finish school?"
"His father died and the money ran out. His father was a shipwright. His brother is in the King's Navy and when Charles Wolfe--that's Jack's father--died, so did the business. Jack signed on with a merchantship and then was pressed into service upon a pirate's ship. He liked the ready cash and it was a way to support his mother."

Honour sat down, astounded at the news her husband had been in Oxford. She knew he was smart but didn't know about this secret he kept hidden. He was also educated. It made sense. The books. The telescope he kept. The artwork on the walls of the cabin.

Duckie sat on the bed next to her. "I think that you were heaven-sent, Honour. To try to redeem Jack from this life. You were meant for him. And he was meant for you."
Honour walked over to the cabin window, looking to the sea. She murmured, "Duckie, if I tell you something, would you swear never to reveal it on pain of death? Promise on your hypocritic oath?"
"Hippocratic oath, Honour."
"Whatever. Do you promise?"
Duckie raised his right hand and repeated, " 'What I may see or hear in the course of the treatment or even outside of the treatment in regard to the life of men, which on no account one must spread abroad, I will keep to myself, holding such things shameful to be spoken about.' "
Honour looked at him and he replied, "It's part of the oath. It means doctor-patient confidentiality. It means I won't snitch. I can't. I'm not allowed."

She stared at a space above the bookcase as if the answers to life were written there. Slowly she turned to face Dr. Gander.
"Have you ever heard of Rhys Morgan?"
Duckie nodded slowly, "I met him through Jack. A good man. A good pirate. Maybe even a bit better than Jack was, but Jack has now equaled him."
"Duckie, how did Rhys Morgan die?"
She walked over to the window once more and stared out.
Duckie sighed. "He was having an affair with a married woman. From those that saw them together--I think it was only once in Cardiff for a week--she was a beautiful woman. From all accounts, Rhys was in love with her. And she was in love with him. She was married to an older man. Very unhappily. But one night the husband came home and she was in bed with Rhys. The husband ran Rhys through and the husband was found with a bodice dagger in his heart. The safe and all the jewelry--vanished! As did the woman herself.
The sons of the husband vow they will not rest until they find Rhiannon Castlemaine."

Duckie paused, although he had a suspicion.
"Honour, why do you ask?"
She lifted her head up to look into Duckie's tired eyes and whispered, "I am the woman to blame."

"Jack? Jack! Are ye sleepin'?"
He slowly opened his eyes, unsure of where he was or even what day it might be. Finally, through the thick morphia fog he made out Briggs' worried face. "Josiah! What- what day is it?"
"It's only been a couple hours or so since you were up on deck. Askin' about the ship, remember? Then the Doc walked you down here to change your bandages. Looks like he dosed you up pretty good to boot."
"That was considerate of him," Jack slurred. "Why are you here? Are you hurt?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Briggs sighed. "The men have been askin' about ye. They're worried, seein' as how ye looked like death walkin'. The missus must be beside herself, you wanderin' the decks in your state."

Jack blinked hard, trying to clear his mind enough to at least halfway follow Briggs. Nothing. Duckie had meant for him to stay put this time. "Oh, that. Not much help with morale, was it?"
"They'll be fine, once I tell 'em I talked to ye. It was quite the stroke of good fortune, weren't it?"
"What was?"
"Honour. Her knowing somethin' about medicine, enough to save your sorry hide like she done. Did ye have any idea she has doctorin' skills?"
"No. No, I didn't," Jack said slowly. He couldn't remember her saying anything about medical training. He knew they taught women such thing in convents and such, but she was hardly the nun type. What else hadn't she told him?
"Well, no matter. A bit of Providence it was, in any case. What with Duckie hands full of wounded. But I have to ask ye, Jack. Why aren't ye resting in your own quarters?" asked Josiah.
Jack sighed. "We had a bit of an argument before I came topside. She'd much rather I gave up the roving life, especially after our run in with Mendoza." His head was starting to swim from the combination of fatigue and the doctor's sedative cocktail.

"What in the world would she have ye do? Rovin's what ye do best. Hell, better'n most all of 'em," Briggs said.
"We'd talked about buying a sugar plantation."
"Ha! That's a fine one! You, a gentleman farmer? Landed gentry? I've seen ye get land sick after six or seven days from the sea! You'd find yer way back on the deck of a ship before very long, and ye know it."
Josiah's ribbing was good natured, but it gnawed at Jack. He'd made a promise to her, and the battle might well be a sign his luck had run out. Getting out sounded so inviting. But was Briggs right? Had he made a promise to Honour that he couldn't keep?
"Besides," continued Josiah, "this ship's as much a part of ye as yer own bones."
"Maybe you're right," said Jack. "Can we talk about this some other time, Josiah? I'm so tired..."
"Aye, Jack. You rest up and get yer strength back. We'll mind the ship for ye." With that, the quartermaster slipped quietly out of the surgery.

Jack thought about Briggs' words, and the promises he'd made Honour. Guilt and conflict dogged him as he slipped into a dark, fitful sleep.

[Welsh Wench]

Duckie hesitated and then quietly said, "I see."
Honour looked at him with pain in her eyes. "I had to tell someone. What if I died and no one knew who I really was?"
"Shouldn't it be Jack you should be telling this to?"
She shook her head vehemently. "I can't. How do you think he would feel if he found out his friend died because of his wife?"
"He would understand." Duckie asked, "Did you love Rhys Morgan?"
"Yes."
"Why did you not leave your husband and run off with Rhys, if you don't mind my asking."
She shrugged. "I planned to. Rhys and I were going to sail off. I was kind of waiting....."
Honour grew quiet after that.
"Waiting for him to die?"
"Yes. But I wasn't about to help him on his way, if that is what you were thinking."
"I wasn't thinking that at all."
"He coughed alot."
"Probably consumption."
"How did you meet Rhys?"
"I would go up to the bluffs and write poetry. One afternoon, Rhys was up there sketching," she smiled at the memory. "It seems I am drawn to educated pirates. A pirate that sketches and paints doesn't depict a very fearsome pirate, does it?"

She continued. "I was only seventeen. I was too young to be stuck playing Lady of the Manor. Madoc--my husband, Lord Madoc Castlemaine--was supposed to be sitting on the House of Lords in London. It was a ruse. Without being graphic, he caught Rhys and me together. He ran Rhys through and then charged for me. I barely got out of the way and threw my bodice dagger. My aim was true. It was self-defense. I held Rhys as his life-force ebbed away. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I emptied the safe and then fled from Beaumaris. I took a ship to St Lawrence and assumed an alias."
"Honour Bright. Unusual."

She laughed bitterly, "Isn't it, though? I think it was a private joke to myself. Honour Bright. A reminder to be true to myself. As Honour Bright is a sworn oath of fidelity."
She felt her eyes beginning to tear up.
"Duckie, am I being unfaithful to Rhys' memory?"
"How so, Honour?"
She took a deep breath. "Something went terribly wrong when I married Jack Wolfe. Something that wasn't supposed to ever happen."
"What is that, my dear?"
"I fell in love with him."

"Land Ho!" the watch in the crow's nest called out.
Captain Cade Jennings leaned against the main mast, his eyes scanning the horizon. His ship, The Gryphon, was nearing Bridgetown. He was following Jack's instructions to meet him.

Cade sighed. It wasn't Jack that he was anxious to see. It was Honour.
"Almost to Bridgetown, Captain Jennings." His quartermaster Robert Verro announced. "You are to meet Captain Wolfe?"
Cade nodded. "Aye. He wants to go over some business concerning the Castara Company. Seems he is going to go into the sugar industry."
Verro said, "Sugar. A good commodity. He can export the rum he makes while in his various ports."
"You don't understand. He intends to settle down in Barbados."
Verro stared at Cade in amazement. "Settle down. As in give up the account?"
"Hard to believe, I know."
"Heard he also got married. She must have some sort of bewitchin' over him to get him to be settlin' down. What's next? Babies? Maybe even a dog?"
Cade shrugged. "They've only been married for a few weeks, Verro. But yes, she convinced him that raising sugarcane and becoming Lord of the Manor would better suit his interests."
Verro exclaimed, "Ne'er thought it would be that way with ol' Mad Jack. Thought he would die with his boots on and not under some tart's bed!"
Cade's jaw set. "She's not a tart."
Verro looked at his captain and a look of concern crossed his face.
"I'll be gettin' the ship ready to dock, Captain."
Cade looked back over the waters and said quietly, "Thank you, Verro."
Robert Verro looked back again at Cade and shook his head to himself. "I don't like the feel of this. Not one bit. Looks like trouble brewing..."

By mid-morning the ship had docked. The crew was given shore leave save a few that drew the watch. Cade headed towards The dim bulb and Bull tavern. Entering, his eyes adjusted to the light. Behind the bar was O' Brien, the tavern keeper. Cade walked up and said, "O'Brien! Been a while!"
O'Brien turned and squinted his eyes. "Do my eyes deceive me? Can that possibly be you, Cade?"
Cade grinned, "Sure as I am standing here!"
The tavern keeper clapped him on the shoulder and exclaimed, "Praise be! Ye have grown since I last saw ye a few years ago. Not so much in height but in face. Ye became a man!"
Cade laughed, "Well, I've been a man for quite a while."
O'Brien winked, "And I bet the ladies be glad of it! Any special one ye courtin' now, Cade?"
All of a sudden Honour's blue eyes danced through his mind and he could barely catch his breath.
"No. No one in particular. So....where's Jack?"
The tavern keeper drew his brows together. "Jack? Mad Jack Wolfe? Ain't seen him. But I heard tell he took the vows. And I don't mean as a priest, either. Rumour has it he went to Castara on a little honeymoon trip."

Cade's heart skipped a beat. "Not here? But..but he left four days before me. And it was smooth sailing and calm seas! Are you sure? No word of them?"
O'Brien shook his head. "Nary a one. An' ye know this is the first place ol' Jack heads when he is in port."
He winked and added, "Well, maybe it will be now that he is married and..Cade! Where are you going?"
But Cade never heard the question.

He went outside, trying to catch his breath. His head was swimming. 'They left four days ahead of me. FOUR DAYS!'
All of a sudden, Bonita's words came back to him.

"It have already happened. If you care for dem, as you say, den you are needed. Go. Now."

He tried to stem the rising tide of panic.
Jack.
Honour.
Where WERE they?

All afternoon, Cade made a few inquiries but no one had seen anything or any reports on El Lobo del Mar. It was if it had vanished from the face of the earth. But Cade continued in his efforts to find out anything he could. If they had been attacked, it would only be a matter of time--and soon--before some crew came in bragging how they had taken down the ship and its infamous captain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was setting when El Lobo del Mar limped into the port of Bridgetown. Honour stood on the deck, wrapped in a cloak and watched as the ship drew nearer the port. She took a deep breath and thanked all above that she would be able to step on land once again.
Her mind drifted back to the last few days.....

"Duckie? Where is my husband?"
Dr. Gander was coming out of the infirmary, closing the door behind him. He put his finger to his lips and said quietly, "Jack is in there. He was wandering the deck, checking on this and that and making a general nuisance of himself. I didn't fancy having him fall overboard so Briggs and I led him down here. I changed his dressing and then dosed him pretty well with morphine."
"Was that necessary, Duckie?"
He nodded. "You know how stubborn he is. This was the only place I could keep an continuous eye on him. I couldn't very well keep coming into your cabin, could I?"
"But I could have taken care of him."
He patted her shoulder and said, "I'm sure you could, Honour. But you need rest yourself. You've been looking extremely tired the last few days. It's better this way. Jack will heal faster and I can continue to put the salve in the wound and stop any infection before it starts and--now, don't look at me that way! I know you have ony been married for three weeks but you and Jack have a lifetime ahead of you. Let me tend to him and I swear, you can have him when we get to Bridgetown."
Duckie didn't have the heart to tell her that Jack requested a bed elsewhere. He knew how determined Jack could be.
Honour reluctantly nodded in agreement.
"May I see him?"
"He's sleeping."
"I just want to see for myself that he is alright."
Duckie sighed and opened the door. She peeked in and saw Jack sleeping on a cot.
"He doesn't look comfortable. If he was back in our room..."
"Honour, please. Get some rest. You've been through things no gentlewoman should go through. Do you need any more laudanum?"
"No. I prefer not to take anything, Duckie. But thank you."
"I give you my word I shall keep you informed. But right now, Briggs is acting captain and Jack needs his rest to replenish his blood."
He cupped Honour's chin in his hand. "You look pale, dear. Go. Get some rest."
She nodded. "Promise me you will take good care of him."
"Upon my life I swear. And I shall report back to you. But right now you both need time to recuperate."
"Thank you, Duckie."
"Honour?"
"Yes?"
"Are you telling me everything?"
She nodded.
"Yes, Duckie. I'm going to rest right now."

She crawled into bed and threw the covers over her head, falling into a sound sleep.
For the next four days, the ship limped along. Briggs did a magnificent job of keeping her from falling to pieces. The course was slow and steady. Fate looked out for them as they passed no marauders to prey on a vessel so damaged.
Jack was kept in the infirmary. Honour only briefly saw him as Duckie didn't want any undue stress on Jack. Or on Honour. He felt there was a strain between the two but nothing he could put his finger on. They were polite with one another. But...something was wrong.
Something was missing.

The cry 'Land ho!' went out while Honour sat at Jack's bedside. Duckie had let her stay about five minutes with Jack. When the cry went out, she rushed over to the porthole and looked out.
"Jack, I see land! Oh, I see land!"
The joy in her face was unmitigated. But Jack's eyes reflected something...something Honour couldn't quite discern. A....reluctance?
He sat up but Duckie came in the room.
"Jack, what are you doing?"
He said, "I have a ship to dock."
Honour said, "Jack, I can direct the ship to dock."
He said irritatedly, "No, you can't. Heaven help us, girl, if you were to even try. Isn't El Lobo damaged enough?"
She said nothing, but her face reflected hurt. Duckie was quick to see it.
"Jack, I'll stop the morphine now. You've been sedated long enough. Honour? Would you tell Briggs I need to see him after he docks?"
She nodded and walked dejectedly out of the room.

Duckie whirled on Jack. "Are you out of your mind? Why did you treat her like that?"
Jack replied, "It's just a small argument. She'll get over it."
Duckie looked at his friend and then spat, "Jackass!"
He turned and walked out of the room.

On deck, he saw Honour standing there, her cloak swirling in the wind as the crew worked to get the ship ready for port. Duckie put his hand on her shoulder and said, "Honour, he didn't mean that."
She said nothing but continued to stare at the land coming into view.
He sighed. "Yes. Well. I'll see to other matters."
He gave her shoulder a squeeze and walked back down the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cade looked over the port of Bridgetown, his despair rising by the hour when he saw a familiar sight. Well, not familiar as the damage was considerable. But the figurehead of a snarling wolf was unmistakable.
'Thank God!' he breathed. 'They are home!'

[Welsh Wench]

Duckie hesitated and then quietly said, "I see."
Honour looked at him with pain in her eyes. "I had to tell someone. What if I died and no one knew who I really was?"
"Shouldn't it be Jack you should be telling this to?"
She shook her head vehemently. "I can't. How do you think he would feel if he found out his friend died because of his wife?"
"He would understand." Duckie asked, "Did you love Rhys Morgan?"
"Yes."
"Why did you not leave your husband and run off with Rhys, if you don't mind my asking."
She shrugged. "I planned to. Rhys and I were going to sail off. I was kind of waiting....."
Honour grew quiet after that.
"Waiting for him to die?"
"Yes. But I wasn't about to help him on his way, if that is what you were thinking."
"I wasn't thinking that at all."
"He coughed alot."
"Probably consumption."
"How did you meet Rhys?"
"I would go up to the bluffs and write poetry. One afternoon, Rhys was up there sketching," she smiled at the memory. "It seems I am drawn to educated pirates. A pirate that sketches and paints doesn't depict a very fearsome pirate, does it?"

She continued. "I was only seventeen. I was too young to be stuck playing Lady of the Manor. Madoc--my husband, Lord Madoc Castlemaine--was supposed to be sitting on the House of Lords in London. It was a ruse. Without being graphic, he caught Rhys and me together. He ran Rhys through and then charged for me. I barely got out of the way and threw my bodice dagger. My aim was true. It was self-defense. I held Rhys as his life-force ebbed away. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I emptied the safe and then fled from Beaumaris. I took a ship to St Lawrence and assumed an alias."
"Honour Bright. Unusual."

She laughed bitterly, "Isn't it, though? I think it was a private joke to myself. Honour Bright. A reminder to be true to myself. As Honour Bright is a sworn oath of fidelity."
She felt her eyes beginning to tear up.
"Duckie, am I being unfaithful to Rhys' memory?"
"How so, Honour?"
She took a deep breath. "Something went terribly wrong when I married Jack Wolfe. Something that wasn't supposed to ever happen."
"What is that, my dear?"
"I fell in love with him."

"Land Ho!" the watch in the crow's nest called out.
Captain Cade Jennings leaned against the main mast, his eyes scanning the horizon. His ship, The Gryphon, was nearing Bridgetown. He was following Jack's instructions to meet him.

Cade sighed. It wasn't Jack that he was anxious to see. It was Honour.
"Almost to Bridgetown, Captain Jennings." His quartermaster Robert Verro announced. "You are to meet Captain Wolfe?"
Cade nodded. "Aye. He wants to go over some business concerning the Castara Company. Seems he is going to go into the sugar industry."
Verro said, "Sugar. A good commodity. He can export the rum he makes while in his various ports."
"You don't understand. He intends to settle down in Barbados."
Verro stared at Cade in amazement. "Settle down. As in give up the account?"
"Hard to believe, I know."
"Heard he also got married. She must have some sort of bewitchin' over him to get him to be settlin' down. What's next? Babies? Maybe even a dog?"
Cade shrugged. "They've only been married for a few weeks, Verro. But yes, she convinced him that raising sugarcane and becoming Lord of the Manor would better suit his interests."
Verro exclaimed, "Ne'er thought it would be that way with ol' Mad Jack. Thought he would die with his boots on and not under some tart's bed!"
Cade's jaw set. "She's not a tart."
Verro looked at his captain and a look of concern crossed his face.
"I'll be gettin' the ship ready to dock, Captain."
Cade looked back over the waters and said quietly, "Thank you, Verro."
Robert Verro looked back again at Cade and shook his head to himself. "I don't like the feel of this. Not one bit. Looks like trouble brewing..."

By mid-morning the ship had docked. The crew was given shore leave save a few that drew the watch. Cade headed towards The dim bulb and Bull tavern. Entering, his eyes adjusted to the light. Behind the bar was O' Brien, the tavern keeper. Cade walked up and said, "O'Brien! Been a while!"
O'Brien turned and squinted his eyes. "Do my eyes deceive me? Can that possibly be you, Cade?"
Cade grinned, "Sure as I am standing here!"
The tavern keeper clapped him on the shoulder and exclaimed, "Praise be! Ye have grown since I last saw ye a few years ago. Not so much in height but in face. Ye became a man!"
Cade laughed, "Well, I've been a man for quite a while."
O'Brien winked, "And I bet the ladies be glad of it! Any special one ye courtin' now, Cade?"
All of a sudden Honour's blue eyes danced through his mind and he could barely catch his breath.
"No. No one in particular. So....where's Jack?"
The tavern keeper drew his brows together. "Jack? Mad Jack Wolfe? Ain't seen him. But I heard tell he took the vows. And I don't mean as a priest, either. Rumour has it he went to Castara on a little honeymoon trip."

Cade's heart skipped a beat. "Not here? But..but he left four days before me. And it was smooth sailing and calm seas! Are you sure? No word of them?"
O'Brien shook his head. "Nary a one. An' ye know this is the first place ol' Jack heads when he is in port."
He winked and added, "Well, maybe it will be now that he is married and..Cade! Where are you going?"
But Cade never heard the question.

He went outside, trying to catch his breath. His head was swimming. 'They left four days ahead of me. FOUR DAYS!'
All of a sudden, Bonita's words came back to him.

"It have already happened. If you care for dem, as you say, den you are needed. Go. Now."

He tried to stem the rising tide of panic.
Jack.
Honour.
Where WERE they?

All afternoon, Cade made a few inquiries but no one had seen anything or any reports on El Lobo del Mar. It was if it had vanished from the face of the earth. But Cade continued in his efforts to find out anything he could. If they had been attacked, it would only be a matter of time--and soon--before some crew came in bragging how they had taken down the ship and its infamous captain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was setting when El Lobo del Mar limped into the port of Bridgetown. Honour stood on the deck, wrapped in a cloak and watched as the ship drew nearer the port. She took a deep breath and thanked all above that she would be able to step on land once again.
Her mind drifted back to the last few days.....

"Duckie? Where is my husband?"
Dr. Gander was coming out of the infirmary, closing the door behind him. He put his finger to his lips and said quietly, "Jack is in there. He was wandering the deck, checking on this and that and making a general nuisance of himself. I didn't fancy having him fall overboard so Briggs and I led him down here. I changed his dressing and then dosed him pretty well with morphine."
"Was that necessary, Duckie?"
He nodded. "You know how stubborn he is. This was the only place I could keep an continuous eye on him. I couldn't very well keep coming into your cabin, could I?"
"But I could have taken care of him."
He patted her shoulder and said, "I'm sure you could, Honour. But you need rest yourself. You've been looking extremely tired the last few days. It's better this way. Jack will heal faster and I can continue to put the salve in the wound and stop any infection before it starts and--now, don't look at me that way! I know you have ony been married for three weeks but you and Jack have a lifetime ahead of you. Let me tend to him and I swear, you can have him when we get to Bridgetown."
Duckie didn't have the heart to tell her that Jack requested a bed elsewhere. He knew how determined Jack could be.
Honour reluctantly nodded in agreement.
"May I see him?"
"He's sleeping."
"I just want to see for myself that he is alright."
Duckie sighed and opened the door. She peeked in and saw Jack sleeping on a cot.
"He doesn't look comfortable. If he was back in our room..."
"Honour, please. Get some rest. You've been through things no gentlewoman should go through. Do you need any more laudanum?"
"No. I prefer not to take anything, Duckie. But thank you."
"I give you my word I shall keep you informed. But right now, Briggs is acting captain and Jack needs his rest to replenish his blood."
He cupped Honour's chin in his hand. "You look pale, dear. Go. Get some rest."
She nodded. "Promise me you will take good care of him."
"Upon my life I swear. And I shall report back to you. But right now you both need time to recuperate."
"Thank you, Duckie."
"Honour?"
"Yes?"
"Are you telling me everything?"
She nodded.
"Yes, Duckie. I'm going to rest right now."

She crawled into bed and threw the covers over her head, falling into a sound sleep.
For the next four days, the ship limped along. Briggs did a magnificent job of keeping her from falling to pieces. The course was slow and steady. Fate looked out for them as they passed no marauders to prey on a vessel so damaged.
Jack was kept in the infirmary. Honour only briefly saw him as Duckie didn't want any undue stress on Jack. Or on Honour. He felt there was a strain between the two but nothing he could put his finger on. They were polite with one another. But...something was wrong.
Something was missing.

The cry 'Land ho!' went out while Honour sat at Jack's bedside. Duckie had let her stay about five minutes with Jack. When the cry went out, she rushed over to the porthole and looked out.
"Jack, I see land! Oh, I see land!"
The joy in her face was unmitigated. But Jack's eyes reflected something...something Honour couldn't quite discern. A....reluctance?
He sat up but Duckie came in the room.
"Jack, what are you doing?"
He said, "I have a ship to dock."
Honour said, "Jack, I can direct the ship to dock."
He said irritatedly, "No, you can't. Heaven help us, girl, if you were to even try. Isn't El Lobo damaged enough?"
She said nothing, but her face reflected hurt. Duckie was quick to see it.
"Jack, I'll stop the morphine now. You've been sedated long enough. Honour? Would you tell Briggs I need to see him after he docks?"
She nodded and walked dejectedly out of the room.

Duckie whirled on Jack. "Are you out of your mind? Why did you treat her like that?"
Jack replied, "It's just a small argument. She'll get over it."
Duckie looked at his friend and then spat, "Jackass!"
He turned and walked out of the room.

On deck, he saw Honour standing there, her cloak swirling in the wind as the crew worked to get the ship ready for port. Duckie put his hand on her shoulder and said, "Honour, he didn't mean that."
She said nothing but continued to stare at the land coming into view.
He sighed. "Yes. Well. I'll see to other matters."
He gave her shoulder a squeeze and walked back down the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cade looked over the port of Bridgetown, his despair rising by the hour when he saw a familiar sight. Well, not familiar as the damage was considerable. But the figurehead of a snarling wolf was unmistakable.
'Thank God!' he breathed. 'They are home!'




Honour slammed the door to the cabin.
"BASTARD!" she yelled out loud.
To no one.

She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and said to herself, 'Get a grip on yourself. Are you going to let a man see how much he hurt you? How much you care?'
Honour looked out the window and saw Bridgetown get closer. Within a half hour, they would be docked.
Almost mechanically, she started to clear the dresser drawer of her things and dump them into her trunks. The ship was so heavily damaged that it would be quite a while--if ever, if she had anything to do with it--before she would ever set foot back on El Lobo.

She opened the armoire and Li'l Puddin' was laying on the shelf. She picked him up and gave him a gentle hug.
"I think I'm going to miss you, Puddin'."
He batted her nose as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes again as she laid him in her arms and cuddled him.

"We're almost to port."
She turned around and Jack stood there in the doorway. She continued to pack, not saying a word to him.
"The ship is going right to dock and staying there. Everyone has been given shore leave. So I've arranged for us to take rooms at the White Hart."
"Rooms? More than one?"
"Not just for us. Cade Jennings is in port. I see his ship. It's been a standing arrangement that we stay there. I'll probably be in conference with Cade for the better part of the day. I have a few things to do before I leave the ship so you go on."
"In Bridgetown? Without an escort?"
"Take one of the crew if you don't feel safe. But as you are a former tavern wench, I should think you would feel comfortable walking through a port."
His reply stung and she felt the tears come unbidden to her eyes. She willed them away. She'd be damned if she let Jack Wolfe see her cry. No matter how much he hurt her, she would never let him see her cry ever again.
He turned to leave, his hand on the doorknob.
"Honour?"
"Yes?"
He hesitated. "Never mind. I'll see you at the White Hart."
She continued to fold her clothes.
"As you wish."

Bascomb, a crewmember, stuck his head in the cabin.
"Mrs. Wolfe, ma'am, we be sent by the captain to fetch yer trunks."
She closed the lid and locked it.
"That's everything, Bascomb."
"Lots of trunks, Mrs. Wolfe. You want to leave some on board?"
"No." Her answer came a bit too swiftly. "I'll take it all, thank you."
Bascomb nodded and motioned to the other two crew members to take her trunks.

Honour brushed her hair out and wrapped her cloak around her. For some reason, the breeze was exceptionally cool for May. Almost as if it were a sign. An omen sent from...Bonita?
She shook her head and said in a quiet undertone, 'Impossible.'

Walking along the deck, she saw her husband directing his crew right and left, giving commands. He was almost back to the Captain Jack Wolfe she fell in love with. But something had changed. A slight change in his demeanor? But a change none the less.
For a brief second, she caught his glance. Or so she thought. Maybe not. He kept giving instructions. Then she saw him walk over to Briggs and the two of them disappeared to the quarterdeck.
Seh tightened the cloak around her and tilted her chin defiantly as she walked down the gangplank and towards the port.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Room for Captain and Mrs. Jack Wolfe."
The innkeeper stared. "Ma'am? You just said MRS. Jack Wolfe?"
She nodded. The innkeeper said under his breath, "Well, I'll be! Ol' Jack done taken the vows."
He handed her the keys and then grinned. "Up the stairs, second door on the left."

"Honour...um, Mrs. Wolfe? Thank God you are alright!"
She turned to look into the face of Cade Jennings.
His pleasure at seeing her reflected in his grey-green eyes and something else...relief? Concern?
"Mr. Jennings!"
"I was worried sick about you and the Captain. You were delayed over four days."
""We ran into a bit of trouble."
"A BIT? I'd say El Lobo sustained extensive damage. What the hell happened, did you battle a Kraken?"
"Just about. It was a Spanish ship named The Mecedes."
"Mother of God! Captain Mendoza! Is Jack alright?"
"Yes. It's a long story and I need to get to my room, Cade."
"Then you can tell me over an ale in the tavern. Why don't you freshen up and I'll meet you down here in a half hour?"
"I think Jack can tell it better than I could."
Cade shook his head. "Jack would just candy-coat it. I want the unvarnished truth."
He took her hands. "Please say you will meet me."
She gave him a slight smile and said, "A half hour. I'll be here."

[Welsh Wench]

Honour took a look around the room. It was simply furnished with a brass bed and a chest of drawers. A writing table stood in the corner with a candlestick and holder. Very sparse. She sighed. 'Not exactly the room we had in Castara Bay....'

Bascomb and his men had delivered the trunks and Honour shook out a dress of rose pink. She stepped out of the dress she had on and filled a basin of water from the pitcher. As she looked in the mirror, she was startled at the face reflected back. Her face was drawn and there were shadows under her eyes.
'Just a rough week', she thought. 'I'm exhausted.'
She thought how nice it would be to get into a decent dress and sit down to a table that wasn't rocking. Brushing her hair and letting it loose, she stepped into the dress and laced up a pair of boots. She looked in the trunk and saw something buried deep but the corner was peeking out.
It was a lavender lace shawl.
The gift left behind for her from Cade Jennings.

She descended the stairs and walked into the tavern. Cade Jennings was sitting in a table in the back. He quickly rose when she walked into the room.
Pulling the chair out, he said, "I'm so pleased you could join me, Honour."
She gave him a smile. "It feels so good to be on dry land."
"I see you found my present to you before you left."
She touched it and said softly, "It is beautiful."
"As is the woman that wears it."
She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks.
"What would you like?" Cade asked.
"If you don't mind, I'll forego the ale and have a small glass of wine."
Cade signalled for the barkeep and gave him their order.
"Now...what happened?"

Honour related how Jack was quite agitated before they left the port of Castara Bay. How he seemed to relax once the port was behind them.
Relaxed...until the Mercedes came into the spy glass and all hell broke loose.
The maneuvering of El Lobo.
The battle.
The sniper and Jack falling to the deck.

She caught her breath as she related how she had to dig the musketball out of Jack's shoulder.
"Cade, I was never so nervous in my life. Dr. Gander said I did an excellent job and that I saved his life with my make-shift medical skills. Jack guided me through it until he became unconscious."
Cade took her hand and said solemnly, "Honour, you are quite a woman. Most wives would fold up at seeing their husband felled right in front of them."
She blushed slightly and looked down.
"I did what I had to do to keep my husband alive."
Cade felt his heart drop a little at the words 'my husband'. How much easier it was to think of them as 'Honour' and 'Jack' instead of husband and wife.
He cleared his throat.
"And how is Jack recuperating?"
Honour grew quiet and then picked her words carefully.
"Dr. Gander kept him in the infirmary and dosed him with morphine because Jack was still in shock. He was trying to run the ship yet he was as weak as a kitten. Duckie said he needed to rest and replenish his blood loss."
"Makes sense. Jack has always thought himself invincible as long as I have known him."
She shook her head. "It--it's something else. I almost think that he wanted to be there. Like he didn't want to be near me. He's been curt and irritated with me and we haven't...we haven't.... my God we have only been married for three weeks!"
She didn't need to finish the thought.
No boots under her bed there, Cade thought.
Cade took her hand and brought it to his lips.
Don't worry, Honour. I'll be here for you. And for Jack."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bascomb and a crewmate named Teague entered the tavern of the White Hart. As was the habit of pyrates, they quickly scanned the tavern and tallied numbers mentally.
Teague nodded in the direction towards the back. "Look'ee there!"
Bascomb looked to see Honour and Cade in earnest conversation. Just then, Cade smiled and brought her hand to his lips.
Bascomb narrowed his eyes. "Dinna waste any time, did she?"
"You gonna tell the Captain?"
"Not me. You know how he is. He'll string up the bearer of bad news."
Teague shrugged, "T'will all come out eventually anyways...."



Cade pulled the chair out for Honour.
"Thank you, Cade. The stew and bread was delicious."
He took her shawl and wrapped it around her, like a mother would her child.
"Can't have you out in the breeze. For May it is a bit windy."
She felt her face get a bit warm at the concern that Cade was showing her. Jack never really did. Jack was all enthusiasm.
"Would you care to go for a bit of a stroll, Honour?"
She thought for a moment and then broke out in a smile. "I'd love to. I lived in St Lawrence but never did get over to Bridgetown."
He offered her his arm and she gently placed her hand on his arm.
As they passed by, Cade nodded to Bascomb and Teague.

Teague shook his head, "T'ain't right. T'ain't right at all."
Bascomb lit his pipe. "Not much ye can do 'bout it. Everyone knows ye dinna mess wit' what belong to th' captain."
"When he sees Jennings, his life ain't worth the powder to blow him away. Where you suspect Mad Jack be anyways?"
Bascomb took the pipe out of his mouth and pointed it towards the town.
"Cap'n always pays a visit to 'is Bridgetown lady."
"Cap'n got a lady in town?"
Bascomb chuckled. "Well, not a lady per se."
"But Cap'n is a married man now. Got a right bonnie bride now. An' young."
Bascomb shrugged. "Ol' habits die hard."
They both looked at each other and burst out laughing.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack emerged from the shipyard after a gruelling marathon of haggling over repairs needed to make his ship whole again.  The heavy sky matched his mood, knowing now that he would be shackled to dry land for nearly a full month.  Longer still, should Honour have her way.   He decided to avoid the bustle of Broad Street and opted for the more circuitous route through side streets and alleyways back to the inn.  The grey overcast muted everything into a monotone palette and seemed to blur everything together in his preoccupied mind.  He paused at the end of an alley as a carriage rolled past, when he saw a familiar house just down the lane.  It was painted gaily, in  colours that made it stand out a bit from the surrounding houses.  A smile managed to find its way into his face.  Jack knew the house well.  It belonged to Renée de Bertrand, or Madame Renée as she was known to the women who resided at her "boarding house".  He couldn't see any harm in dropping by to visit an old friend long as he was in the neighbourhood.  She was bound to find out about his marriage from some wag.  Might as well be him, he decided. 

There were two doors on the front of the house; one unpainted, with a plain brass handle, and another trimmed with red paint, with an ornate brass knocker and no exterior handle.  He went to the second door and rapped three times, paused, once, paused again, then twice more.  After a few moments the door opened just a little, preventing him from seeing who was on the other side.  It was  Renée's custom to keep a couple of burly lads on hand to manage unruly clientèle and nosey outsiders. 

"Yes, hallo?  Is Madame de Bertrand about?  Tell her there's a Jack Wolfe at her door-"  He had barely finished the pun when the door swung open.  Two hands grabbed him by the collar of his waistcoat and puled him inside.  He found himself pinned against the wall of a narrow hallway.  Before he could protest the rough treatment, his assailant pressed her warm, soft lips hungrily against his.  Ordinarily he would have gladly gone wherever such a cordial greeting led, but the pain in his shoulder and an uncharacteristic flash of conscience conspired to leave him more startled than enthused.

"Owwww..." he managed to say around her insistent kiss.

The raven-haired girl broke their embrace, her brilliant blue eyes were still full of fire.  "I'm sorry.  Did I bite you?" she asked in a heavy whisper.

"No, my shoulder," Jack began,

"Silly man.  I was nowhere near your shoulder... yet," she cooed.

"Angelique, darling, I'm here strictly on a social call.  Now, where's Renée?"

The pretty girl gave him an exaggerated pout.  "Oh, fine then.  But you owe me!"  She grabbed two great handfuls of skirt and stomped off down the hall, Jack following in her wake.  He stopped at the main parlour and helped himself to the house's fine selection of liquor while he waited.  He'd settled comfortably onto a velvet covered Roman couch when Renée appeared at the doorway.  She was a striking woman with long auburn hair and a disarming smile.  She wore a heavily embroidered purple dress, and a necklace of pearls adorned her neck.

"Jackie Wolfe, as I live and breathe!" she said happily.  "I thought you'd still be down in Castara..."  Her voice trailed off when she noticed his drawn and dishevelled state.  "Oh, dear God.  What happened to you?  You're a bloody wreck!"

"Mendoza," said Jack.  "Among other things."

She fetched a glass and set it down on the table in from of him.  "Pour and talk.  I hope you finally bagged that sodding bastard."

"I do, too."

"What?!  You didn't hang about and finish him?"

Jack finished off his glass and poured another.  "He was crippled and burning when we broke off.  We had troubles enough of our own to even think of risking a boarding action."

"Trouble,"  Renée said thoughtfully.  If I had a penny for every time I've heard a man use that word when his wife is involved." 

Jack nearly choked on his drink.  "Who told you?"

"Oh, please, Jackie," she laughed.  "A whisper's as good as a shout on this island.  And getting married in the street isn't exactly low profile.  Bound to get tongues wagging, even if you weren't the great Captain Wolfe.  I take it that bit of news was the reason for this social call, not just to tell me you nearly got your precious ship shot out from under you?  Or are you going to tell me what's really got you lower than a well digger's arse?"

He stared into his glass as he swirled the dark liquid around and around.  "The Lobo will be in the yards for nearly a full month."

"So what?" she asked bluntly.  "Keep yourself busy.  It's not the first time you've been landlocked for a spell.  At least this time you've got that pretty young bride to take your mind off things.  Her belly will be swelled up in no time, knowing you.  Daddy."  She capped her friendly jab with a sly wink, but Jack wasn't laughing.

"Yes, well..." he said haltingly.  "Honour- that's her name- has her mind..."

"'Honour'?"

"Yeah.  Honour Bright."

"What the hell kind of name is 'Honour Bright'?"

"Welsh?"

"I rather doubt it," she scoffed.  "Sounds like an alias to me.  You can't be too careful of anyone going under an alias."

"This, coming from Pip Woolston of Cornwall?  Sage advice," he quipped.

Renée stuck her tongue out.  "Your bright idea, don't forget.  Mister 'You can't run a proper whorehouse with a farm girl's name'.  Go on, finish your thought."

Jack sighed heavily.  "We've talked about buying a plantation here on Barbados.  He paused to drain his glass.  "About me quitting the Trade once and for all."

"Oooh, landed gentry!  Jack Wolfe, gentleman farmer and pillar of the community.  It's got a ring to it, it does."

"I thought you'd be a bit more surprised as all that," he said glumly.

Renée laughed.  "Rubbish!  It's not anything you haven't daydreamed about for the past two years.  Although this has to be the most sober you've been talking about it.  So where's the problem?  The daydream's about to come true, and you can't seem to get the salt water out of your veins?"

"If you're intent on engaging in gross oversimplification, yes.  Something like that, I suppose."

"Oh, Jackie.  Stop and think things through, would you, you silly git?  What if all this is the opportunity you've been waiting for?  No more looking over your shoulder.  No more running.  You've settled your score with Mendoza, and narrowly escaped with your ship and sorry hide largely intact.  You've got a wife and the means for a fresh start.  Do you realize the number of folk who'd give their right arm for the chance you've been handed?"

jack shifted uneasily in his seat.  "That's your advice, then?  Chuck it all, trade in my ship for sugar cane fields and my crew for a house full of mewling children?"  He took the bottle to pour more liquor for himself, but this time  Renée put her hand over his glass.

"I'm saying it's time for you to grow up and do right by... what's her name again?"

"Honour."

"I'll never get used to that one.  Anyway, you've got responsibilities and obligations now.  Ones that mean something.  Most of all, you've got a real chance, Jackie!  Call in your favours with that preening windbag Culley for a full pardon and be done with it."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack sat back and thought for a few moments.  Once again, Renée was right.  It didn't make accepting the truth of it any easier, but he couldn't argue her logic.  Such decisions weren't just about him any more.  Honour had equal shares and equal stakes in the enterprise.  "You have a damnably annoying habit of pointing out my shortcomings, love," he finally admitted.

"Thank goodness none of them are physical," she said with a wink.  "As your friend, I want to see you happy.  As your business partner, I need you to have a clear head about you.  Speaking of partners, where's Ducks?  Usually he's the one stuck pounding some sense into your thick skull."

"We had a falling out, I'm afraid," he said sheepishly.

"That's my Jackie," she said with a roll of her emerald eyes.  "Why burn one bridge where two or three are just as easy?  Go.  Go back the White Hart, heal up that shoulder, and start mending fences.  That alone should keep you busy for the next month.  Oh, and before I forget again, I came across something you might be interested in."  She crossed to a small writing desk and retrieved a folded, wax-sealed piece of paper.  She looked at it for a moment, then handed it to Jack.

"What's this?" he asked.

"A bit of information you've been looking for.  Go on, open it up!  You're lucky enough I found it, I'll be damned if I'll read it to you as well," she said slyly.  He broke open the seal and read the words on the page.

Prof. Armand LaFourche
43 Rue Bacas
St. Pierre, Île Martinique

He stared at the page in disbelief.  "How did you find him?  I've been trying for nearly a year!"

"A dealer in antiquities stopped in about two weeks ago.  The girls knew you've been after this professor bloke, and Annie managed to get him chatting after a few well placed, um, questions.  I hope it turns out useful for you.  Seems LaFourche's search for whatever it is that piqued your interest drove him right off his nut.  He's under the care of his young daughter, Ceily.  If he's really gone all loony, you two should get along famously."

"I'd imagine the good fellow's not using his journal any more," mused Jack.  "Someone really should take up his research, all in the name of science of course."

Renée chuckled.  "The science of filling your purse, more like it.  And what a grand cause it is."

He folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket.  "Much obliged, Renée.  I'll be holding onto this for a rainy day.  After I mend those fences."

"Well, I'll be damned," she said.  "You really do love her!  The Jackie I know would be out the door and on his way without a second thought."

"Keep it between us, love.  I've got a reputation to think of."  He rose from the couch and put on his hat.  "Thanks for setting me straight, Renée.  You've lifted my spirits yet again."

"A swift kick is what you needed," she laughed.  "I'd be lifting more that your spirits, darling, but you're a married man now.  Now get out of here and convince that wife of yours that you haven't really turned into some horrid troll."

They exchanged smiles and he turned to leave.  "Oh, Jackie?  I'm curious," she said hesitantly.  "How did our Bonita take meeting the lovely missus?"

He cocked an eyebrow.  "As well as one might expect, I suppose."  With that, he patted his pocket and with a wink, departed.

The colour drained from Renée's face.  "Oh, no."

[Welsh Wench]

"And over there is the Governor's house." Cade pointed to a large colonial house. "I've heard he has a very well-kept library."
Honour looked over at the house. "And so near the center of town, too."
She looked down the lane. "And what house is that with the two doors?"
Cade shifted a bit, his face taking on a bit of a blush. "That's Madame Renee's. She runs a 'boarding house'.  She's a good sort and contributes alot to the local economy."
"Why the two doors?"
"Well, one is for the townsfolks and respectable business and the red one is for...visitors."
"Oh." She said quietly. "St Lawrence had them too over by the dock but they didn't mind if you used the same door."
"Well, one of her business partners suggested it. Would you like to stop for a light refreshment? I know a place over on Broad Street."

Cade was busy telling her about the goldsmiths and jewelry-makers in port to notice Honour's gaze back at the house of Madame Renee's.
It was then that she saw a familiar tricorn hat at the red door. With an even more familiar face under it. She watched as a beautiful woman with long auburn hair touch the man's face and give him a kiss. The man patted his pocket and took the woman's hand and kissed it.
Then he ran down the steps and leaped over the gate, a jaunty step to his walk.
Yes, she'd know that tricorn anywhere.
Because under it was her husband.

She felt light-headed and Cade turned his attention to her.
"...and they specialize in Brittania silver with gems as big as..HONOUR! Are you alright?"
For a brief second, Cade thought he saw despair in her eyes but as quickly as he thought it was there, her blue eyes reflected a steely look.
"I'm sorry, Cade. I think it was just a momentary feeling of light-headedness. It comes and goes."
"Shall we sit down?"
She glanced back to the retreating form of Jack.
She drew the lavender shawl closer to her and took Cade's arm in hers. "I'd like that. And a cup of tea would be wonderful."

Cade and Honour spent the afternoon in the bazaar where Cade showed her the merchants. They watched a goldsmith melt down ore and they stopped to observe a glassblower fashion a vase. There was merchandise from all over the world. Before they knew it, the sun was starting to dip down in the sky.
"I'm sorry to have monopolized  your time, Honour. The afternoon just slipped away."
She leaned on his arm, looking up at him with her blue eyes and tossed her blonde hair.
"I'm not sorry, Cade. I can't remember when I have enjoyed the afternoon so much."

She had put her arm through his and for all appearances, they were a couple.
He felt a warmth flood through him, totally ignoring the voice inside him that was saying, 'You stupid lout! That is your best friend's wife....'

He walked her to the tavern door. "Best allow me to walk you to your room, Honour."
She shook her head. "No, it won't do for you to be seen in my hallway. I am sure Jack is up there by now. I'll perhaps see you on the morrow?"
Cade tipped his hat to her. "You can count on it."
Honour drew him close to her in the shadows and reached up, drawing his face towards her. For a brief moment, they looked into each other's eyes. Cade couldn't be sure but did he see a glimmer of hurt in her eyes?
She closed her eyes and parted her lips. Cade was drawn like a moth to a flame. He touched her hair as he drew her face closer to him. The kiss was like a spark catching fire. When they parted, he saw a touch of a blush on her face as she whispered, "Goodnight, Cade."
And she turned towards the stairs.
Cade stood there watching her ascend and then went out the tavern door.

Teague turned to Bascomb and said in a hushed voice, "If I dinna see it wi' me own eyes, I'da not believed it."
Bascomb shook his head. "The new Missus Wolfe an' Cade Jennings? Lord ha' mercy, Mad Jack will kill 'em both!"
Teague replied, " 'e ain't gonna hear it from me. Whatcha goin' ter do, Bascomb?'
Bascomb's eyes turned flinty. "Take it to Briggs and let him deal with it."
They went back to their ales.

Honour stopped at the top of the stairs and counted two doors down. She fumbled in her purse for the key when she heard a strange noise from the room. It sounded like someone playing a..violin? And not just any tune. But a gypsy tune. It can't be Jack..he doesn't know how to play a violin.
As she put the key in the lock, she heard the music stop. Opening up the door, she saw her husband sitting there on the bed taking his boots off.
"Ah, there you are! I was about to start searching the vendors for you. Where were you?"
She hung up her lavender shawl, touching the fringe and not daring to look him in the face.
"I was out seeing the sites. And yes, visiting the merchants."
"By yourself?"
"Yes. By myself." She hid her face to conceal the blush.
"Jack, I heard music from this room."
Jack shrugged, "Must be from the tavern across the street."
"But...it came from here."
"You're mistaken, Honour. What would I be doing with a violin?"
"Who said it was a violin?"
Jack grew quiet. "I just assumed it was. Guess I heard it too and never paid heed to it."

He put his arms around her and kissed her. She felt herself holding herself at a distance. How could she confront him on where he had been? He would just lie to her...
He unlaced her and her dress fell in a silken puddle on the floor.

That night, as he laid next to her sleeping, she fought back tears. It seemed the tenderness was gone when they made love. Made love? More like Jack had used her. She vowed she would never let Jack Wolfe know how he hurt her. Married three weeks and he was already up to his old habits. She never denied him before. Why would he have to turn to another woman?
Somehow...some way, Jack Wolfe...you'll be sorry.
She sat up and wiped a tear away from her face. 'You'll be sorry you ever used me like a common strumpet, Jack. Just you wait....'
She fought the sick feeling that came over her. She slipped out of bed and as she did, her foot bumped against something peeking out from under the bed. She bent down and pulled it out.
It was a violin.

Honour ran her hand over the instrument, it being well-worn and used. Like it had been in someone's family for a long time or had been lovingly played. She looked over at Jack sleeping soundly.
'You lied to me, Jack Wolfe. How many other lies have you told me?'
She quietly slid the violin back under the bed and laid back against the pillows.
Her stomach lurched at the fact that the man whose bed she slept in and made love with was a complete stranger to her. Was she just a commodity, someone for Jack to use? Suddenly she felt worthless.

'Some wives would just turn a blind eye to it, Jack,' she whispered. 'But not me..oh, not me. No one uses Rhiannon Conaway. Not in this lifetime or any other.'

With that, she rolled over, taking most of the covers.
'Deal with it, Jack. Just...deal with it.'
And she fell asleep.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack awoke to the chill of a morning breeze wafting over his skin.  The sun had broken the horizon, bathing the room with a soft orange-rose glow.  Unwilling to rise or, more to the point, leave his bride's side just yet, he reached to pull up the covers.  He quickly discovered the reason for his chilly awakening; Honour had wrapped herself in the majority of the bed covers like a caterpillar in its cocoon.  He smiled and and gently stroked her long golden hair, then tenderly kissed the nape of her neck.

Honour was already awake.  She had been off and on throughout the night, her sleep plagued by suspicions of the man she called husband but now saw as a stranger.  She willed herself not to shrink from his touch, the same touch that only days before could ignite her passions like summer lightning, by imagining for a fleeting moment that it was Cade who caressed her.  Just as she had the night before.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Jack whispered.  Honour pretended to stir from slumber, but did not turn to face him.

"Good morning," she replied, trying to infuse her voice with something resembling warmth.

"How on earth am I supposed to show my appreciation for your beauty when you're wrapped up like a mummy?"

"I'm sorry, Jack," she replied.  "I've woken up with a headache."

"Should I send Duckie round to check on you?"

"No, I'll be fine.  I just want to sleep."

He kissed her head gently and got up from the bed.  "I have some ship's business to attend to.  Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours at most."  He splashed his face with water, then set about getting dressed.  "If you're not feeling any better by the time I get back, I'm sending for Duckie.  Wouldn't do to have you fall ill, now would it?"

"Oh, all right," she sighed.  "But I'll be better after I rest.  Don't worry yourself."

"Of course I'll worry about you!" he said cheerily.  "I'm your husband.  It's my job to worry about you."  He gave his boots a final tug and retrieved his hat from the bedpost.  "Sleep tight, darling.  I'll be back soon." 

So I'm a job to him, not just a commodity, Honour thought as Jack closed the door.  She'd had enough.  She was going to find out what he was up to once and for all.  She silently counted to ten, then sprung from the bed and dressed hurriedly to follow him, hopefully to the truth.  No matter what the result, she had to know.  She quickly brushed out her hair and pulled it back into a simple braid.  The last time she'd thrown herself together this quickly, she was rushing to meet Rhys after being waylaid by a talkative novitiate.  If only this was as happy an occasion.

She watched out the window for Jack to emerge so she could being her pursuit.  Finally, he did.

Jack strolled out of the White Hart's front door, whistling a cheerful tune.  For the first time since the battle with Mendoza, his heart was light.  It had felt so good to make love with Honour once again.  He felt like a fool for pushing her away, but he was now bound and determined to make up for his mistakes.  Today's business was that of atonement.

As he approached the alleyway next to the inn, he could hear a raucous conversation going on, most likely men gaming at dice.  What he heard during a pause in their laughter, however, soured his mood in an instant.

"Seen it wif' they own eyes, they did!  That Jennings didn't waste no time getting' 'is hooks into ol' Jack's wife!  Stole a kiss on the stairs what was more'n just friendly, what after paradin' 'er about town big as you please, 'e did!  An' she weren't upset by it none neither, if ye get me meanin'!  Looked right 'appy on 'is arm she did, like they's th' married ones!"

"Ha!  That Jack gone an' taught Cade a littl' too well, didn' 'e?"

"You're daft is what you are, the both of ya's!  Jack Wolfe, a cuckold after less than a month?  Never 'appen.  Not an' they live t' enjoy it."

"God's own trufe, mate.  Ask 'em yerself an' they'll tell ye same as I 'bout Jennings an' that little trollop..."

"Who will tell us?" a voice boomed from the end of the alley.  The three men turned to see a silhouetted figured walking slowly toward them.  They grouped together and backed away from the advancing man.  He drew his sword and quickened his pace.  "Answer me, damn you!"

The men broke ranks and ran.  One man became tangled in an old crate and fell to the ground.  Before he could get back up, he felt the cold edge of a cutlass against his throat.  Jack stared down at the prone man, his eyes like flames.  "I'll have names, or your blood.  I'm not inclined to be choosy."

"I- I don' know!  'e tol' us, but I don' remember, I swear it on me Mum's life!  Please don' kill me, Cap'n Wolfe!  I'm beggin' ye!"  the man pleaded.

"Then take this back to your friends, you miserable, feculent tosspot!" Jack growled.  "The next man who so much as thinks about uttering such scandalous lies about my wife, I'll cut their heart out and feed it to them."  He stared into the sailor's eyes with burning hatred until he could see that the message had taken hold.  Then he stepped back from the man, turned on his heel, and returned his blade to its scabbard as he stalked back down the alley.

Honour stepped through the inn's doorway and into the brilliant sunlight.  She shielded her eyes and looked down the street in the direction she'd seen Jack walk, but he was nowhere in sight.  As she began walking, she heard the heavy sound of boot heels striking the cobblestones of the alley just ahead.  She knew that sound anywhere.  It was Jack!  Panic took her for a moment, and she turned back the way she'd come just as her husband turned the corner.  A silent prayer was on her lips that he wouldn't discover her.  Thanks to his preoccupation with the rumours he'd just heard and the simple manner in which Honour had dressed that day, he never noticed her as she backtracked toward the inn.  She sighed with relief as the sound of his footsteps faded down the lane.  When she was confident he was far enough away, she turned around to follow.  She paid little attention at first to the dishevelled soul who came from the alley as she walked past, but there was something familiar about him that made her look back.  He was a crewman from the Lobo.  The expression on his face left her shaken to the core.  It was the look of disgust a pious man gives a common harlot.

Guilt about the time she'd shared with Cade yesterday gnawed at her as she followed Jack through the streets of Bridgetown.  She knew it was wrong of her to kiss Cade, but he'd been so kind and attentive to her.  He'd shown her the respect and tenderness Jack seemed to have forgotten.  Her mind returned again and again to that one sweet, stolen moment.  And if that kiss was so wrong, why did it feel so sensually wonderful?  Why did it feel right?  Besides, she asked herself, since when did Jack Wolfe give a damn about right and wrong?  If he could live his life in shades of grey, so could she.

Honour quickened her pace to close the gap between them as they approached the street where Renee's "boarding house" was.  She was confident he was headed back to that nest of strumpets.  Her heart pounded and ached as she waited for him to turn down her street and walk up to that horrible red door.  To her astonishment, he kept walking.  He never so much as looked in the direction of the house.  Where was he going?  She'd been so certain she would catch him in an act of betrayal. Now thoroughly confused as to her husband's attention, she followed on.

After two more blocks, they entered the city's warehouse district.  Low, wide buildings with only a few windows mounted well above street level lined the carriageway.  Jack finally stopped at the entrance to one of the nondescript buildings, where he was joined by none other than Josiah Briggs.  Honour ducked around a corner to avoid being seen, then gingerly peeked back out to continue her spying.  Doubt began to cloud her thoughts as she watched the two men talk.  It didn't change the fact she'd seen him waltzing out of a whorehouse the previous day.  But maybe this time he'd actually told her the truth.

Finally, Jack and Briggs went into the warehouse, allowing her to creep closer so as to listen in on their conversation.  She had to know if there was a shred of truth left in anything he said.  The two tall,wide doors of the warehouse were left standing open.  She slipped up to the entrance and flattened herself against one of them.  The men's voices echoed in the cavernous building, making her goal of listening in that much easier to attain.  She could hear them walking around, their conversation little more than friendly chit chat.  Now and again she'd steal a glimpse of the warehouse's interior.  Boxes, bundles, and barrels were stacked haphazardly in no discernible order, much like the hold of the Lobo had been.  At long last, their discussion turned to something of interest to her.

"And the guilders, where are they at?" asked Jack.

"Right over here," answered Briggs.  He pulled a tarpaulin off the several large crates marked "PRINT WORKS".  "All twenty-seven chests, just as they were when we left for Castara."

"Good.  I need them re-crated.  All but five.  The rest are to be moved to the private storehouse on St. Michael Street.  The remaining five are to be put under lock and key here."

"Aye, it'll be done.  To number 11 it is.  I'm guessin' you'll want their whereabouts kept secret, as usual?"

"Absolutely.  We'll be using the money from here to buy that plantation Honour and I talked about."

She could scarcely believe her ears.  He wants the plantation now?  Maybe he's really had a change of heart.  Maybe he was only telling Renee about their marriage, and it wasn't what it looked like...

"You're goin' through with it?  Turnin' from corsair to cane farmer?"

Jack laughed.  "Don't get ahead of yourself, Josiah.  It's a good investment no matter how you look at it."

"I take it ye'll be lettin' the missus know about chests we're movin' as well?  A little butter and egg money, as it were?"

"No," said Jack.  "You and I are the only ones to know where they are.  Honour doesn't need to know."

Honour clamped her hand over her mouth to smother a gasp.  He was hiding the money from the Dutch ship from her?  The ones he's boasted about when they met?  She wondered what elaborate lie he'd concoct to cover their whereabouts.  Damn him!  So he didn't trust her after all.  Her mind offered up a myriad of reasons why he'd hide so much money from her.  He'll probably use it to keep that damnable doxy in satins and lace, the bastard! 

"Fair enough," Briggs said.  "It'll stay a secret.  Not sayin' I agree, but I'll keep it mum."

At least Briggs tried to be a voice of reason, for what good it did.

"That'll do, Josiah.  How are repairs going on the ship?"

That damned ship of his.  I wish he'd get rid of it!

"Comin' along well.  Seems the structural damage weren't near as bad as we'd thought.  Should be ready to sail a week early!"

No...

"Excellent.  I want her made as good as new, with all her teeth!  Ready to sail and fight."

Tears welled in Honour's eyes.  He was going to leave her there on that island and sail off, the son of a belch!  Probably get himself killed and leave her alone to fend for herself.  She'd heard enough.  Choking back tears, she fled from the warehouse.  She needed someone to talk to, someone she could trust.  Why was Kate so far away when she needed her?  Then it dawned on her.  Duckie!  He'd been quick to defend her when Jack had been so awful to her on the ship.  She could trust him.  She already had with her secret, and he hadn't let her down.   "Damn you, Jack Wolfe!" she sobbed.  "I'm never going to let you hurt me again!"

"So you're goin' ahead with the sale?" Briggs asked.

"That's why I want her shining like a new penny, my friend.  If I have to sell her, I want top price!"

"Have ye' told Honour about all this yet?"

"I want it to be a surprise for her.  The sale of the Lobo, purchase of the plantation, and those chests we're moving will comprise the nest egg for the next generation of the Wolfe family," Jack said proudly.

Briggs laughed heartily.  "Hell, Jack, I never dreamed I'd see the day, but it does this old salt's heart good!  You, a pappy?  God help us all!"

Jack smiled, but the events of the morning were still weighing on his mind.  "Josiah, I have a question, and I need you to be honest with me."

"Aye, ye know I usually am.  Unless you're bein' a roarin' pain in the arse.  No point in talkin' to ye then.

"When am I like that?"

"Most days what end in a 'y'," Briggs joked.

"Remind me to send you flowers next time.  Seriously, though.  Have you heard any troubling rumours from the men?" asked Jack.

"Ye mean outside the usual scuttlebutt?"

"Yes.  Anything about myself or... or any other parties?"

"No, I haven't.  Why?  Have you?" Briggs asked with concern.

"I'm not certain.  It was probably nothing more than idle gossip."

"Jack," said Briggs, "You and I know half these men yap just to hear their fool heads rattle.  It was about Honour, wasn't it?  Otherwise ye wouldn't be askin'."

Jack's jaw clenched as he remembered the slurs against his wife.  "Yes.  It was."

The quartermaster shook his head slowly.  "She's a beautiful woman, my friend.  Everyone can see the effect she's had on ye, and there are those who'll begrudge you that bit of fortune."  He put a reassuring hand on Jack's shoulder.  "Whatever was said, there ain't a shred of truth to it.  Pay it no never mind.  Come tomorrow, they'll be on to some other foolishness."

"Thank you, Josiah.  I'll take your advice.  My skin is usually thicker than this."

"It's worse when it's about those ye love, mate.  It'll pass, believe me.  Now, didn't ye say ye had some other business to tend to?  You're slowin' me down with all your chatter!  Turn yer rudder and shove off!"

Jack smiled at his friend, and walked off toward the shipyards.

[Welsh Wench]

Honour walked quickly away from the warehouse district heading back to the inn. Her thoughts were lost in a jumble as she remembered bits and pieces of overheard conversation. The plantation...the sale of El Lobo del Mar..guilders....secrets...secrets..more secrets...
"Ooof!"
She ran into a man who caught her by the arms.
"Honour!"
"Duckie!"
"You alright?"
She looked down at the ground and shook her head. When she lifted it up, Duckie saw nothing but distress in her eyes.
"You look like you need to talk. Tell you what...I haven't had lunch and I bet you haven't either. So what do you say I pick up some bread and cheese and a bottle of wine and we go over to the grassy area over by the dock and spread a blanket down and just have a nice visit. Will that help?"
She nodded. "I'd like that."

Within a half hour, they were sitting on the ground. Duckie had his shirt sleeves rolled up and he was pouring a small glass of sherry for her.
"Now..what is on your mind, Mrs. Wolfe?"
"That is the problem."
"The sherry?"
"No. The 'Mrs. Wolfe' part."
"I don't understand."
"The more I find out about Jack, the more I realize I don't know who he is."
"Well, you DID get married in a fever, as it were."
"May I ask you a question?"
"You can ask. Don't know if I will answer."

She took a deep breath. "I heard music. Gypsy music. And it was coming from our room. I asked Jack about it and he denied hearing it. Later that night, I went to get out of bed and my foot hit something. It was a violin, old and worn, under the bed. Duckie, why would he lie to me? And what else hasn't he told me?"

Duckie sighed. "Honour, Jack Wolfe has taken alot of blows in his life. He's done things and had things done to him the average man would fold up and crumble."
"Where did he learn to play the violin?"
He cut a piece of cheese off a wheel and handed her a piece along with some fruit. "In Odessa."
"Odessa...Russia?"
Duckie nodded. "Before he took the Mercedes as his own and renamed her El Lobo del Mar, he was captain of  a ship called Poseidon's Revenge. It was dry-docked in Odessa, South Russia for two months while it underwent extensive repairs. Jack, being the scholar he is, ended up talking to a gypsy..his name was Reuben--and he was the chieftain. He invited Jack back to the camp and they immediately took a liking to him. So much so that he would go to their camp every night and sit around the campfire and even eat dinner with them. Reuben taught him to play the violin.. Jack learned old gypsy tunes at the feet of Reuben. Now, Jack was only about twenty-one at this time and he was a quick learner. When it was time for Jack to ship out, Reuben--being the emotional people they are--gifted Jack with a violin that was his grandfather's. Jack has cherished it ever since."

Honour bit into an apple. "But why did he lie to me, Duckie? I would love to hear him play."
Duckie cut off a slice of bread.
"Because Jack is a private person. Ever since I have known him, he has a vulnerable side he won't show to the world. Jack IS a wolf. A wolf without a pack. He'd gnaw his foot off before he would show his hurt. And he always found solace in music. Says it helps him relax and think."

Honour stood up and brushed the crumbs from her skirt.
"Thank you, Duckie. And I'll keep this to myself."
"I'd appreciate it, my dear. I am sure in due time more of Jack will be revealed to you. He finds it hard to trust. He's been dealt a few bad hands in life."
Honour gathered her shawl and said, "I'm heading back to the inn. The last week has taken its toll on me and I'm tired. I'll see you later."

As she walked off, Duckie looked at her retreating form. If there were anyone who was the opposite of Rose, it was Honour Bright.
'Honour, don't do it. Don't break his heart. I don't know if it can take another blow...'

[Welsh Wench]

As Honour made her way to the inn where she and Jack had a room, she entered through the tavern door. Cade Jennings was having an ale with a few of his friends from El Lobo.
He caught sight of her and rushed over to her, the pleasure of seeing her undeniable on his face.
"Honour! How grand to see you! I thought you might be with--" he couldn't quite bring himself to say 'your husband'--"or shopping. Would you care for something to eat? Something to drink?"
She shook her head no. "I'm a bit tired, Cade. I'm afraid that the crossing to Barbados took more out of me than I expected it would. I'm usually of sturdier stock but the battle and all that..."

Cade touched her shawl and pulled it up around her shoulders. He said softly, "It wouldn't do for you to catch a chill, would it now?"
Her hand accidently brushed against his. She said softly, "I'll be alright."
He brushed her hair back from her shoulder and said, "You always are a bit of alright, milady."
"Cade?"
"Yes?"
"N--never mind. I shall see you around later, perhaps?"
"I shall be here."

She started up the stairs and turned back for a second. Cade was looking at her with a look of tenderness that Honour hadn't seen on a man's face in a while. She hurried back up the stairs.

Hennessey and Dolan, the two crewmates that Cade had been sitting with, watched the exchange. Dolan nudged his mate and whispered, "Looks like maybe Bascomb and Teague weren't too far off the mark. Cade looks downright smitten."
Hennessey nodded. "Just hopin' ol' Jack gets his ship ready to sail and takes 'er out o' here and away from Jennings. I like Cade. Don't want to see him run through."
"Then let's be hopin' that it don't look like what it be lookin' to us."
Cade came back and sat down. "Did I miss anything?"
Dolan said, "Just the bleedin' obvious."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothin', Cade. Just...nothin'."

Honour closed the door to the room she shared with Jack. The bed had been made and fresh water had been filled in the pitcher.
She hung up her shawl  and unlaced her bodice. She loosened the drawstring on her skirt and stepped out of it.
Filling the basin, she splashed water on her face and then laid down on the bed. Her mind was in confusion.
So many things about her husband that she didn't know.

He knew how to play the violin. Expertly. He was a student at Oxford until he had to leave as the money for education had run out. What really happened between him and Mendoza to make them mortal enemies?
She flung her arm over her eyes.
Jack planned on buying the plantation. At least he was investing something from his plunder. As his wife, she would have a roof over her head, no matter what Jack was up to.
Was he expecting her to be a patient little wife and walk the widow's walk with a spyglass waiting for her wayward husband to wander home?

Jack was an enigma wrapped in a riddle. Whatever happened in his life shaped the way he is today. She wasn't ignorant of the fact that Jack was a very sensuous man. He proved that to her. Perhaps he just went to the bordello to tell a friend that he won't be coming back.

She sighed. Duckie knew Jack in their youth. If he said Jack has a vulnerable side, then it was up to Honour to find it.
To see if she could tap into it and salvage something of their life together.
Because if she didn't...there was no hope for them.
No hope at all.

She rose from the bed and looked out over the torches that were beginning to illuminate the lanes. Jack would be back any time now.
And Honour was determined to try once more.
To salvage their life together.

But Cade Jennings' tender look came unbidden to her mind.
She quickly dismissed the thought.
Her place was with Jack.
And Jack alone.