EL LOBO DEL MAR

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

The portly merchant picked up some coins from the table and looked at them suspiciously.  "Dutch guilders, Captain Wolfe?  You'll forgive me, but I prefer to be paid in the currency of the Commonwealth."

"You're new to the Caribbean, aren't you, Mister Archer?" asked Jack.  "Money is money.  It all melts down the same.  If you decide to be picky, you'll find yourself starving, not that it could hurt.  A handsome payment for a few days passage to Martinique is what that is, mate!  Do we have a bargain?"

Archer looked down at the coins, then back to Jack.  "We cast off late tomorrow afternoon, Captain.    I'll have some men come round to the White Hart for your things.  She's the Aphrodite Merchant, don't forget!"

"Who could forget the goddess of beauty?" Jack replied.  He glanced out the window as Archer pocketed his money and noticed the firefly glow of lanterns beginning to dot the lane.  He'd promised Honour he would be gone only a few hours, and here the day was nearly gone.  He breathed a silent curse for being neglectful once again, and wondered if she was feeling any better.  "Speaking of beauties, my wife will have my head for allowing business to keep me this late!"

"We'll walk out together then," Archer offered.

"No need, mate.  In for a penny, in for a pound.  I'll finish my drink before I go to face the music."

Archer smiled cordially.  "Good evening to you, Captain Wolfe.  I shall see you tomorrow."  Jack raised his glass as the merchant gave a slight bow before walking away.  He settled back and thought about the day.  The money that would secure his and Honour's future together was safely tucked away.  The ship was scheduled for auction two weeks after the completion of her repairs.  Now he stood to procure the notebook of Armand LaFourche, and try his hand at unravelling a mystery that men had been trying to decode for over 100 years.  It had been an immensely satisfying day.  For the first time in days, he felt like things were going his way once again.

A sailor took his drink from the bar and walked over to a table where his friends sat waiting.  He had a smug look on his face, and his mates look expectantly for what he seemed to know.

"Well, spill it!  You said you knew somethin' 'bout what Wolfe's been up to, talkin' to the auction house an' the like!" the first one asked.

The smug man sipped his drink and smiled.  "Captain Wolfe is goin' to Martinique.  In a right hurry, from the sounds of it.  Been talkin' to merchants most of the day, he has."

"What's 'e up to?  Takin' a packet like some lubber don't make sense!" said another.

"Don't know what why he's goin', but I do know this," the smug one said with a conspiratorial air, "It's just the chance Cade Jennings would kill for right about now.  And Jack Wolfe is handin' it to him."
One of the men was so deep in his cups that he seemed likely to fall over.  But one of the names roused him from his drunken stupor.  "Cade Jennings!" he exclaimed.  "That bloke what's been cattin' about wif ol' Wolfe's pretty pretty?"  His friends tried to hush him, but it was too late.  Jack had heard him, but he made no outward sign that he had.  A tavern girl came by with a bottle for another table, but Jack grabbed it and tossed a few coins at her.  The rumours had surfaced again, and this time he was going to find out just what was being said.  He pulled out a sheaf of papers and slouched down in his chair, pretending he had heard nothing.

"Nah, nah, nah!  Wai' a minute!  Lemme talk!" the drunken wag continued.  "What I was told, that Cade's been moonin' over that, wha's her name!  Yeah!  Honour!  Been actin' like a lovesick puppy since Castara.  I hear tell they got cozy a bit there, I did."

"So did I!  Spent every second Jack was away with her, he did!  Poor stupid blighter, his own student stealin' his women out from underneath him like that!  "

"And I'll tell you another!  With the stallion out of the barn, Jennings'll tend to that filly right an' proper!  And it wouldn't be the first time, you can be sure of that!"

Jack sat listening to the men laugh and jeer at his expense, talking on and on about how everyone knew Cade was lying with his wife behind his back and had been since he had been foolish enough to introduce them.  For the next half of an hour, Jack drank and brooded and listened as they laughed at him.  Laughed at the blind cuckold.  He'd seen how Cade looked at her.  How the boy watched her every move.  He'd ignored it, and why shouldn't he have?  Honour was a beautiful young woman.  Heads turned wherever she went.

He had taught Cade everything he knew.  How to be ruthless and calculating, how to be cold and merciless in the pursuit of the prize.  And now his own apprentice- his own heir!- had betrayed him.  And so had his wife.  Her head was turned the moment she met a younger man.  Bonita was right.  Honour was nothing more than a treacherous child.  But what of Bonita's other accusations?  Had that tavern wench truly enchanted him?  Used him for what he could lead her to, only to discard him at the first opportunity.

Anger and despair boiled in his veins.  The next thing he heard pushed him to the breaking point.

"... but I never thought in all my days I'd see Jack Wolfe become a cuckold and a has been!  He can't control his right hand nor his own woman!"

Jack exploded into rage.  He jumped to his feet and whirled to face the men who were so gleefully slandering him and his bride, the bottle held like a club in his hand.  The men fell silent at the sight of him.

"How long have you people known this?!  Answer me, damn you all!!" he roared like a wounded lion.  He smashed the bottle against the table and began to advance on the gossips.  "Start talking, you sorry sons of whores, before I cut it out of you!!"

The men tried to back away as Jack came towards them, bumping and stumbling over furniture as they retreated from the bellowing fury.  One of the men fell backwards against a table, and in moments Jack was on him.  He grabbed the sailor by the throat and held the broken bottle just inches from the terrified man's face.  "How long have you known?!!  Tell me while you can still speak!!"

The sailor's mouth moved, but no words came out.  The hold on his throat was too tight.  Out of control with rage, Jack drew back the jagged weapon to strike.  But at the last moment, the bottle was knocked from his hand.  The tavern keeper grabbed him in a choke hold and pulled him off the man.  Jack kicked and fought like a demon, shouting obscenities and spitting death oaths as he was dragged out the door and thrown into the street like a common beggar.

He got back to his feet, his mind still churning with rage.  "You're a dead man, Jennings," he growled, and lurched off toward the White Hart Inn.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

The door of the inn flew open with the percussive force of a cannon shot.  All conversation abruptly halted as the stunned patrons turned to find Jack Wolfe standing in the doorway. He strode purposefully to the center of the room, looking each person there dead in the eyes. Cade Jennings was not among them.  No matter.  Revenge would be exacted in time.  He became increasingly aware that everyone was staring at him as he swayed drunkenly like a reed in the wind.  Forcing a smile, he doffed his hat and gave a theatrical bow.

"Gentlemen, please!  As you were!"

The tension was broken, and conversations resumed.  With a stiffly measured gait, he strode up the stairs.  He was not about to show them the jealous husband who had lost control back at the tavern.  The practiced façade he wore into battle would serve him well once again.  The people below hardly noticed the creak of a door as it opened, but the window rattling slam that followed could not be mistaken.

Dolan gave a low whistle.  "Oh, this ain't lookin' good."

Honour sat bolt upright in the bed, the covers clutched up around her neck.  "Jack!  What on earth is the matter?  You scared me half to death coming in here like that!"  She looked out the window and saw that the sun had set.  "And where have you been?  You said you'd only be gone a few hours."  Her hand was still trembling from the slamming of the door as she brushed her hair back from her face.

Jack couldn't bring himself to look at her, so he stared at the windows as he pulled off his frock coat.  He tossed it on the bed and removed his baldric and sword.  Honour noticed the dirt on the coat's sleeve, along with a tear near the elbow.

"Jack, your favourite coat is torn.  Hadn't you noticed it?"  Her questions continued to be met with silence.  "Why won't you talk to me?" she asked in frustration.

He looked askance at her.  "Why do you care if I came back at all?" he slurred.  "I thought you'd be happier the longer I stay away."

"Jack, you're not making any sense.  You're drunk, aren't you?  Please, get undressed and come to bed..."

"I AM DRUNK!" he erupted.  "Tell me, oh wife of mine, why I should share a bed with you tonight?  I can practically smell him on you."

"Smell... What is wrong with you?  Why are saying such terrible things?"

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out?  The whole town's talking about Jack Wolfe, the cuckold pirate!"  He turned to face her, his anger boiling to the top once again.  "Parading around on his arm in front of the entire town, the two young lovers!  More like the backstabbing cur and his little slut!"

"No, no, Jack!  No, you were busy, and... and Cade offered to show me the sites until you returned...  It's not what you think!!"  Even she could hear the note of guilt that slipped into her voice.  Yes, she had thought Cade attractive and charming.  Yes, she had stolen a kiss with him.  And yes, she had imagined making love with him.  She could feel her face turning red as hot tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh, I can imagine the things he showed you!" he went on, pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed.  "How long have you two been together?  Since Castara?  How could you betray me like this, Honour?  Why?"  The hurt in his voice tore at her.

"I haven't!  Jack, I love you!  I'd never betray you, never!  You have to believe me!  Please!" she begged, tears streaming down her face.  "I've been far truer to you than you have to me!!"

Her last words stopped Jack in his tracks.  "Now how can that be possible?" he mocked.

Honour fought to regain her composure.  Her body trembled with distress, but a wave of anger began to build within her.  "I saw you.  I was on the corner when you came out of that... house," she said, her voice becoming more and more forceful.  "You didn't have the decency to accompany me to the inn before you ran off to lay with some whore!  Another of your many 'friends'?  Friends with benefits is more like it!" she spat sarcastically.  Honour had found her voice at last.  All the frustration and mistrust, all the hurt and anger she'd so dutifully stifled over the past month came roaring forth like a spring flood.

He laughed derisively.  "How dare you accuse me?"

"And how dare you, my husband?" she retorted.  "My hands are clean!  But you... all your promises and solemn oaths that conveniently change with the wind!  I gave myself to you, body and soul!  I saved your life when you were shot, and this is how you repay me?  With accusations and infidelity?"

"You've humiliated me!! I've treated you with generosity and kindness up 'til now..!"

"You've treated me like rubbish!!  Everything's roses when times are good, but when I need you, when I need my husband with me, you're never there!  If I have done the awful things you say, who could blame me?"

Jack's eyes went wide with rage.  He stepped menacingly toward her and drew back his hand to strike, but Honour found the courage to face him defiantly and not cower.  She stared him straight in the eyes though her face was streaked with anguished tears.  "Damn you, Jack Wolfe!" she said with steely resolve, "Go ahead.  Hit me.  But if you do, I will walk out that door and NEVER come back!"

His hand flew up once more, but her only reaction was an almost indiscernible flinch, her eyes never leaving his.  He stared at her, his face a mask of anger and heartache.  Suddenly he turned and went to the writing desk.  She followed him a few steps, relieved that he had not followed through with his threat.  Maybe she could reason with him now, and make him understand she'd done nothing wrong...

She gasped in horror when Jack whirled and pointed his pistol at her.  The combination of alcohol and adrenalin had him so unsteady that his aim wavered as if he were on the deck of a pitching ship.  "Jack, please, no!  Put the gun away.  This is all a terrible mistake!" she pleaded.

"The mistake was in marrying a deceitful little trollop like you!  A mistake I intend to remedy here and now."  He pulled the hammer back slowly.  "Your precious Cade will be along to join you in Hell shortly."

Terror gripped Honour's heart.  Instinctively, she lashed out with a sweeping kick that caught Jack's arm.  The pistol flew from his hand and landed harmlessly on the floor.  Enraged, he lunged at her, but she quickly sidestepped and watched as he lost his footing and stumbled head first into the wall.  Her breath came in ragged, panicked gasps as she waited for him to get back to his feet.  But he didn't move.  Carefully, she knelt down beside him and put her small trembling hand near his face.  A small wave of relief washed over her when she felt his breath across her fingers.  He wasn't dead.  But she knew it wasn't safe to stay there.  The familiar urge to flee overwhelmed her.  She hurriedly dressed and left the inn, and ran down the street as fast as she could to The Horse, Hunter, and Stag.

She knew she would find safety there.  Cade would protect her.

[Welsh Wench]

 
 
Honour pulled the hood of her cloak closer to her face as she approached the innkeeper of The Horse, Hunter and Stag. In a soft, halting voice she said, "I-I'd like to see Mr. Cade Jennings, if you please."
The innkeeper hesitated and said, "Don't rightly know if I should give you his room number, Missy..."
She tried to smile and said, "I'll be sure to knock first. Sir, I am not his wife or a jealous female trying to catch him with another woman."
The tavern keep saw the emerald ring on her finger and said quietly, "First door on the left at the top of the staircase."
She nodded, drew her cloak tighter around her and ascended the stairway.

Cade opened the door to her timid knock.
"Honour! What are you doing out this time of night?"
"May I come in, please?"
He looked at the tearstained face and said quickly, "By all means."

He took her cloak and saw that she was dressed in a chemise and skirt. No bodice, no corset, no stays.
She shivered. He sat her down and opened a bottle of brandy and poured a glass for her.
She drank a bit and started coughing.
"Careful, Honour."
"I'm sorry. I've been feeling a bit under the weather."
He sat down on the bed next to her and said quietly, "It has to be a problem for you to come here alone and at night too."

Honour nodded miserably. "It's all falling apart, Cade. I'm married almost a month and it's all falling to pieces."
He brushed her hair back and said soothingly, "Do you want to talk about it?"
She felt the tears well up.
"Jack accused me--us--of some vile things. He called me names. I confronted him on the fact that I saw him come out of a brothel the first day he--"
"Brothel? You saw him? When?"
"When we were walking the first day in port. He came out of that house with the two doors."
"Madame Renee's?"
"You know her?"
"Everyone knows Madame Renee."
"Cade, Jack went there for....for....."
She felt the tears coming again. He put his arm comfortingly around her. "You don't know that for a fact, Honour. He could have been visiting an old friend. He and Renee go way back."
She wiped the tears from her face. "I'm young but I am not a fool, Cade. I know what I saw."
"Honour, I can understand why you are upset but--"
"There's more. He accused me and you of...well...he accused me of infidelity."
"He WHAT?"
Honour nodded. "It gets worse, Cade. He..."

She leaned against him and began to cry.
"He pulled a gun on me and yelled, 'The mistake was in marrying a deceitful little trollop like you!  A mistake I intend to remedy here and now.'
"Oh...Honour."
She could hardly talk.
"He pulled the hammer back on the pistol and then said in a deadly calm voice, " 'Your precious Cade will be along to join you in Hell shortly.' "
"Was he drunk?"
"Yes," she said as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes again.
"Cade, I kicked the gun out of his hand. He lunged for me but I moved and he ran headlong into the wall and was knocked out. I--I checked and he was still breathing when I left. Oh, Cade, I can't go back! He will kill me!  And you!"
He held her and rocked her a bit as she cried, "No, he won't kill us. He's crazy with rum, Honour.  Or whiskey. Or both."
"I can't go back. I--I can get a room here for the night or sleep in the common room here."
"Honour, all the rooms here are booked. The Ebony Heart just docked and all the crew have shore leave. A pretty little thing like you in the common room with a port full of drunken pirates who haven't seen a woman in three months? Not even an option."
"But I can't go back."
"Stay here. I can sleep in the chair."
"I can't ask that of you, Cade."
"I insist. No arguments."
She stood up and looked him in the eyes. "I can't thank you enough, Cade. For all you have done."

Cade put his hands on his shoulders and said, "Anything for you, Honour."
She looked up into his eyes. Their bodies were touching and Cade softly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Anything..."

Before she knew it, their eyes closed and their lips met in a kiss that was anything but casual.  They broke apart, each not knowing what the other would do.

Honour whispered, "I've been accused, judged and condemned. I may as well be guilty of the crime as well."
Cade tilted her face up to meet his and whispered back, "Then we shall pay the price together."


~~~~~~~

With a start, Honour woke up. The moonlight streamed onto the bed, illuminating Cade's face as he slept next to her. His arm was flung around her as he spooned against her. She quietly slid from his arms, placing a pillow in her place.
She wrapped her cloak around her body, her chemise and skirt laying on the floor giving clues as to what had taken place. As if the man in the bed wasn't testimony enough to damn them both.

Honour stood there, a feeling of despair washing over her. Messing up once in her life was enough. The main attraction was the same, only the key players had changed.
Would Cade have the same fate as Rhys?
And what of Jack? While he was not Madoc, his fury was unmatched. Twice in one lifetime was too much for a woman to be threatened with death, this time for a crime she hadn't committed.
Until after the accusations.

She walked over to the window and looked out. A few pirates straggled out of the taverns, spilling onto the lane. So far the only one who knew she was here was the innkeeper. And he didn't even know her name.
She leaned her forehead against the mullion of the window and began to cry quietly.
Bitterly.
To herself, she whispered, 'Rhiannon...how many times are you going to mess up? How many places can you run to?'

Honour wondering how she was going to face Cade in the morning.
But much more importantly was this--how was she going to face Jack?
If he was ready to kill her and Cade over an imagined infidelity, how would he react if he ever knew that his suppositions became actualities?

'Rhiannon', she thought, 'you sure do know how arrange things. Those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.  When will you learn, girl?'

The voice repeating those words were not hers. The voice was that of Gwydion.
'When will you learn?....when will you learn?....'
Will I ever learn?

She closed her eyes, knowing she would use all her wits to pull herself out of the funeral pyre.
Because Jack was holding the match.

[Welsh Wench]

In a tavern in Castara Bay, the solitary figure drew her shawl around her. The moon shone through the palmettos as she closed the door behind her. She walked towards the beach, the soft sand cushioning her footfall.

In a clearing overlooking the bay, she laid her shawl down on the ground and sat upon it. In her leather bag she withdrew what she needed. An urn filled with sea salt, a few bones and a leather box.
She very carefully laid what she needed on the flat boulder she used so many times before. Clouds raced across the moon, lending an eerie feel as if shadowy fingers embraced the orb.

She stood and sprinkled a circle of the salt around herself and the boulder. Facing east, she took the bones out of the bag and cast them on the boulder.  Three bones scattered. Three touching, one touching and then rolling away from the breast bone. She inhaled sharply, a small smile coming to her face.
Three times.
Three results the same.

Withdrawing her cards, she drew three out.
The Lovers.
The Tower.
The Devil.

'It already happen,' she whispered. 'Dey run to de Fate dat be cast for dem. No turning back. De great Jack Wolfe find out how it feel to hurt. Him pretty little bride and he dat he treat like a son. Him have destruction around him head.'

She reached once more into her bag and withdrew two small dolls. A male and a female. The one had a ribbon, the other had a lanyard. The poppets were back to back, bound with a black ribbon. Touching but not facing.

She held it up to the moonlight and whispered a few words. 'Wit' dese cords, I bind toget'er dey spirits, and hold apart dey hearts. Dey lives, dey be forever entwine, forever connected, but never share as man and woman.'
The very words she chanted when she first bound them together.

A chuckle escaped her lips which grew into a laugh.
'Sail away, Jack Wolfe! Sail away!  Two already betray you. Two, so dear to your dark heart. Dey already cut you to de quick, and cause you such joy and pain. Your heart will break three times."

She put her charms back into her bag, still chuckling.
She stood and faced the horizon, the dark waves lapping the shore in the moonlight.
Softly she said, 'Bones no lie, Jack Wolfe. Bones no lie. Neither do Bonita.'

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack's eyes fluttered open, but screwed shut almost immediately from the pounding throb in his head.  He made a tacit vow to himself not to overindulge like he obviously had again, just as he'd vowed a thousand other mornings before.  Smiling in the solace of at least knowing for certain who it was he'd find lying beside him, he stretch drowsily and reached toward the other side of the bed... and found it cold and empty.

"Honour?" he called quietly.  When no answer came, he sat up and looked around their room.  She was nowhere to be seen, and her cloak was missing.  He was still in the shirt and breeches he'd worn the previous day.  As he struggled to remember the events of last night, he noticed the pistol lying on the floor, its hammer still cocked.

"Oh, God, no.  No, what did I do?" he wondered desperately.  Bits of memories came drifting back: the tavern, the awful rumours, the argument with Honour and the terrible things he'd said to her, the hurtful accusations.  Remorse hit him in a sickening wave.  Why did he not trust that she was telling the truth?  Why didn't he explain his friendship with Renee?  "Damn you and your pride, Jack," he said aloud.  She had endured hardship and peril, never once wavering from his side.  How did he repay her love and fidelity?  By judging her guilty on hollow charges and no evidence, because HE felt humiliated by the idle chatter.  Instead of standing beside her, he had thrown her to the wolves over wounded pride.

He went to the window and looked down on the street below.  The sun had just risen, and people were beginning to go about their morning routines.  He caught a glimpse of a woman's cloak near the inn's entrance.  It was the same colour and style as Honour's.  The woman seemed to hesitate at the door before entering.  If it was Honour as he hoped, he could not blame her for being apprehensive about returning.  Curiosity about where she may have been was drowned out by his relief that she was safe, and had found it within herself to come back.  Jack hurriedly straightened the room, being sure to safe the pistol and hide it out of sight.  He splashed some water on his face and tried to do something with his unruly mane, to no avail.  Finally, he rummaged around in a small wooden chest, retrieved a green velvet pouch, and stuffed it into his pocket.  His heart pounded with hope and dread as the door handle rattled, then slowly turned.

Honour stepped gingerly into the room, her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her ears.  The guilt she had felt upon awakening in Cade's arms was nothing compared to what wracked her being now.  She could not bear to even look at her husband, so she kept her face hidden by her hood as she turned and closed the door.  At that moment, she longed to once again be that carefree girl sitting at the cliffs near her childhood home watching the ships come and go, far away from this place in a far simpler time.  But she would not run this time.  No, she would face her husband and accept whatever came next.

Strangely, the angry tirade she'd expected was not there.  An eerie silence, almost claustrophobic to her, hung in the air.  Why didn't he say anything?  Where were the now well founded accusations she was certain he'd hurl?  Unpredictable to the last, she thought.  No small wonder his foes found him so maddening.  Honour sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that Jack was going to force her into facing him, the adulteress before the humiliated cuckold.  She pulled her hood back and began to remove her cloak.  To her amazement, she felt it lifted from her shoulders with incredible delicacy.  Fighting against her own shame, she turned, head bowed, to discover what judgement awaited her.  Astonishingly, what she found was nothing like what she expected.  And her heart broke.

Jack Wolfe, the most feared pirate in the entire Caribbean, stood before her as the epitome of contrition.  "Honour," he said softly and slowly, his gaze directed at the floor in front of her, " I am so terribly sorry for the way I mistreated you last night.  I have been a poor husband to you.  I see that now.  When you needed me, I was not there.  When I should have offered explanations, I didn't.  When I should have trusted you, I didn't.  Though I do not expect you to, can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Her mind reeled.  He was begging forgiveness, when it was she who had broken their marriage vows?    She knew in her heart that there was no way he could know yet of her sin- committed with the man who Jack loved like a son!- but that only seemed to make her feel worse.  "No, Jack," she said, her voice nearly cracking with shame.  "I'm the one who should be asking forgiveness.  Not you."

"Nonsense!" he interrupted.  He stepped towards her and drew her into his arms.  It felt to Honour as if he was holding on to her for dear life.  "No, my love.  This has all been a terrible misunderstanding, and it is my fault.  All I ask is a chance to make things right."  He pulled the velvet pouch from his pocket and opened it.  She gasped when she saw the intricate diamond and emerald necklace as he drew it out into the light.  "I was holding this for a happier occasion, but I want you to have this now as a token of apology."

"It's beautiful," she whispered.  So overwhelmed was she by what was happening, it all began to take on a dreamlike quality.  Jack held up the necklace, and she turned around to let him put it on her.  She swept her long blond hair away from her neck.  The glimmering stones were cool upon her skin.  He gently kissed the back of her neck as he put his arms around her.  Honour leaned back into his embrace and turned her head to look at him.  Their lips met, and at that moment the flood gates that had been restraining their emotions burst open at once.  Their kisses became hungry, almost desperate.  She moved her body against his as he caressed her.  His fingers loosened the ties of her chemise and deftly pulled it free from her shoulders.  The garment slipped down over her body onto the floor as she turned and began undressing him.  They held and touched each other, losing themselves in their sensual tempest.  Finally, Jack swept Honour up in his arms and laid her gently upon the bed.  She insistently drew him down on to the bed and over her, guiding him to her.  As they made love, she kept her eyes closed tightly so he would not see the pain in them, and a single tear ran down her cheek.

Honour lay in Jack's arms, her back to him, their bodies and emotions spent.  She wondered what would happen next.  How long before Jack found out she betrayed him with Cade?  And what revenge would he exact once he knew the truth?  Would he kill them both as he had threatened last night?  She was thankful Jack couldn't see the haunted look in her eyes.  There was no way to run from her terrible mistake, no way to hide it, no way to undo the wrong.  She was trapped.  The chill of hopelessness began to creep into her heart, so she snuggled back against her husband.  He gently stroked her hair the way he always had after they made love, but this time it brought her no joy.

Jack sighed heavily.  "Honour," he said quietly, "I have something to tell you, darling.  I wish now that I didn't, and I hope you won't be too angry with me."

How could he possibly make her angry after what she'd done to him, Honour wondered.  "Please, just tell me, Jack.  All our breakables are in storage, so you have nothing to worry about," she feebly tried to joke. 

"All right.  You remember the notebook I told you I was trying to find?  The one that belongs to a French naturalist?"

"I think so.  Why?"

"I know where he is.  Martinique.  It's practically in my grasp, love!" he enthused. 

"How so?" she asked.  "Is someone bringing it to you?"

"This is the part I fear will upset you," he said cautiously.  "I'm going to Martinique to buy it.  Today."

Honour turned over quickly to face him.  "You're leaving?  Today?!" Her voice was full of hurt.  Damn him!  He hasn't changed one bit, and never will.  Leaving her behind while to go chasing after treasure?  "But we were supposed to look at the plantation tomorrow!  What if someone buys it before you decide to come back?  Have you considered that?"

"In fact, I have.  I've set more than enough money aside to buy the plantation, at your disposal.  Briggs will make sure you have it in hand first thing before you go to the property."

"What, I'm supposed to negotiate the contract?" she asked incredulously.

Jack smiled at her.  "Of course!  What better way to prove how much I trust you than to let you buy your dream home?  You'll do a fine job, I know it."

The news hit her like a kick in the stomach.  Was this to be her destiny, to live the solitary existence of a seaman's wife and pace the widow's walk every day, hoping to see his sails on the horizon?  "Jack, no!  This is important, and I need you there with me!"

"I promise, Honour, I'll only be gone a few days.  You'll be fine!  When I return, we'll start moving in to our new home."  He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.  "Now I really should get my things in order.  I sail in just a few hours, and they'll be by shortly for my baggage."  He smiled happily at her, then rose from the bed to get dressed.

Honour pulled the covers up around her, her heart bursting with despair.  In the space of less than a day, the marriage that had brought her so much joy had come crashing down around her.  She rolled over again, her back to him.

"Do what you have to do, Jack.  You always do."

[Welsh Wench]

Honour stayed in their room after Jack had left. Her stomach was tied in knots from the events of the past few days.  She had a tray sent up to her room but only picked at the food. The goodbyes were awkward. Jack apologizing for leaving her but the enthusiasm on his face showed that his mind ws elsewhere. He hardly noticed the stilted way in which Honour said goodbye.

Staying in the room afforded her the opportunity to avoid Cade. She knew he would be in the tavern. And she didn't feel up to facing him or the awkwardness that would follow. She looked down and touched the diamond and emerald necklace that Jack had given her. Just like a man to think that a gift would make things right. The name-calling. The aborted strikes he almost laid on her. And finally pulling a gun on her.
She shuddered to think what would happen if she hadn't kicked the gun out of his hand.

And she was beginning to realize there was more at stake than just her own life. She pulled the covers back and hugged her pillow. She cried until there were no more tears left and she fell into an exhausted sleep.

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

The next morning the sun shone through her curtains. Something was knocking...and a whining.
'Muir..stop that scratching...'
Then she realized that Muir was still on the ship with Briggs.
She sat up suddenly and realized someone was knocking at the door.  Hurriedly she put on her dressing gown and opened the door slightly.
"Mrs. Wolfe...Honour, ma'am..it's me. Briggs."
She opened it fully and a ball of fur came hurtling towards her. She laughed for the first time in days and said, "Muir!"
Briggs shifted uneasily from side to side and said, "Yes, well...he was beginning to chew various boots on the ship so we all took a vote and decided instead of becoming chum, the pooch would be better off with you."
Muir licked her face as she laughed. "Quite allright. Muir, you are just what I need right now!"
Muir ran and got Jack's shirt and dropped it at her feet.
"I'm sorry, Muir. He--he went away."
Briggs also handed her an envelope. "Captain left this bank draft for ye to purchase the land ye talked about. Made out to ye, Mrs. Wolfe. Just put it over at the moneyhouse and they can handle the transfer for ye. Should be plenty there, Ma'am."
She took it and said quietly, "Thank you, Briggs."
She hesitated, "Oh, Briggs?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Briggs...would you..would you please give Puddin' a hug for me?"
He tipped his hat and said. "Ma'am..."
And with that he left.

Honour walked out the front door and as she did, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped a mile.
"Cade!"
He looked at her softly and said, "You were gone when I woke up."
She looked down and said, "About last night..."
"We need to tell him."
"Tell...who?"
"Tell Jack. About us."
"Cade..."
"It's only right, love. We need to tell him so we can make our plans."
"Plans...?"
"Honour, look over at the harbor. What do you see?"
"Ships."
"See the one second from the right? Next to the Dark Vexation?"
"Dark Vexation? Is Captain James Blake in port?"
"Yes, but that is besides the point. The ship next to her is the Gryphon. She was on auction and she is now mine. I'm telling Jack I'm going on my own account now. No more being under Jack's thumb, Honour. We can be free to do what we want. Jack will just have to understand. Now that I am a captain of my own ship, Mad Jack Wolfe and I are equals."
She murmured, "He certainly taught you well, Cade. In all respects."
He took her hands. "Where is Jack?"
She cautiously removed her hands from his. "He's gone."
"Gone? Gone where?"
"To Martinique. To find someone named Armand LaFork."
"Armand LaFourche?"
"Yes..I guess that is the name."
Cade whistled low. "He's really going to do it He's really going to look for the Ancients' chest."
"You know about it?"
"He's talked about it long since I can remember. He's going as loony as LaFourche."
"He'll be back in four day's time. Cade...."
"Darling, I have to go. I have to close the deal on the ship and take care of some business in St Lucia. I'll be back in a week and then we can tell Jack."
"But Cade....."
He kissed her and said, "Don't worry. It will all work out."

And with that he walked down towards the docks.
Honour sat down suddenly trying to fight the rising tide of nausea. 'This just keeps escalating.'
She touched her silver chain and whispered, 'Mother..please. Help me! Which way am I to go?'
She was beginning to suspect her life was about to undergo some changes. But deal with the present now and worry about the future later....

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

St. Pierre, Île Martinique

There it was. 43 Rue Bacas.  The home of the mad naturalist and linguist Armand LaFourche.  For years he had been renowned for his abilities to understand dead languages and their equally dead practitioners.  But if the stories were true, his attempts at understanding a forgotten people known only as the Ancients had gotten the better of him.  Instead of unravelling their secrets, their secrets had unravelled his mind.

Jack stepped up to the door and knocked.  It was answered by a young woman, Honour's age or close to it.  She was a frail thing, tall and pale, with eyes that belonged to someone much older.  "Mademoiselle LaFourche?" he inquired politely.

"Oui."

"My name is Cap... is Jack Wolfe.  Please forgive me for dropping by unannounced.  I am a great admirer of your father's work.  Might it be possible for me to meet him?"

She sighed heavily.  "Monsieur Wolfe, my father is a very sick man."  Her heavy accent lent her voice a far more authoritative ring than one might have expected.  "I am afraid it is out of the question.  Au revoir, monsieur."  She began to close the door.

"Please hear me out!" Jack insisted, and the woman paused.  "This is more than just a social call, mademoiselle.  I have a business proposition that I believe you would be interested in."

She mulled his words over for a moment, then opened the door wide.  "Please, Monsieur Wolfe.  Éntrer."

The interior of the house was cramped.  Not from an ill-conceived floor plan, but rather every available bit of wall space had been converted into bookshelves.  The air was heavy with the stale smell of leather, cloth, and vellum.  The young woman led Jack through the winding maze of texts.  He decided it was as good a time as any to try and break the ice.  "Forgive me, but I don't believe I caught your name."

"Cecile," she replied pleasantly.  "But you may call me Ceily.  Everyone does.  You are here to buy my father's journal about Les Anciens, oui?"

"Oui!  Yes, that I am.  You'll find I am prepared to pay handsomely..."

Ceily cut him off with a wave of her hand.  "I would happily give you the journal, Monsieur Wolfe.  But I think you should see what that knowledge has done to my poor father before you accept.  The price is far steeper than you think," she said ominously.

She brought Jack to a small sunny room.  Armand LaFourche was there, sitting in a simple straight backed chair.  He was looking out at a small garden Ceily no doubt maintained for him in an attempt to soothe his tortured mind.  Jack watched as the disturbed man rocked gently back and forth, quietly chanting something inaudible.  Ceily motioned Jack into the room and pointed to a chair for him to sit in next to her father.  As he sat, he found the man wasn't chanting, but was instead singing a children's song.

Sur le pont d'Avignon
L'on y danse, l'on y danse
Sur le pont d'Avignon
L'on y danse tous en rond
Les bell' dames font comm' çà
Et puis encore comm' çà...

Ceily kneeled down beside Armand and gently touched his shoulder.  He stopped his song to smile at her.  "Papa?" she said softly.  "Papa, Monsieur Wolfe voudrais vous parler."  She nodded toward Jack.  Armand looked at his visitor, his strange smile never fading.

"Je ne sais pas vous," he said warily.

"Monsieur LaFourche, my name is Jack Wolfe.  I've come to ask you some questions about the Ancients."

The man's eyes went wide.  "Les Anciens!  Oui!  Oui, but of course!  I can tell you everything about them!"  His voice was suddenly infused with life, the confused fog lifted from his eyes.  Such a  radical change in his demeanour helped to ease Jack's mind.  Perhaps the quest for knowledge about these people had nothing to do with LaFourche's madness after all.

"Did you ever find out where the Ancients lived for certain?" he asked carefully.

"No.  No, I never did.  But I learned things far more important."  Armand's expression turned gravely serious.   "Things I will tell you, only if you swear to me you will never tell another soul."

"Believe me, I'll keep anything you tell me a secret.  Just between us."  Jack was gambling that even though he seemed lucid enough, Armand might still be soft enough in the head to give up something useful.

"The Moon and Sun in endless chase, must come together in one place." the man said.  Jack blinked and looked to Ceily, who could only offer a shrug.

"That's very interesting, monsieur.  Could you be more specific?"

The crazed look was creeping back into Armand's eyes.  "In the Chamber of Tomorrows, the Keeper of Kings will awaken."  He smiled as if Jack should have understood his riddles clearly.

"I'm afraid I'm not following," said Jack.  "Perhaps if we back up a bit..."

"Three Kings will hide before your eyes.  Yes, yes, they will hide...  until she finds them..."  The enigmatic smile was back, and Armand LaFourche was lost once more.  Jack leaned back in his chair, utterly perplexed.  Ceily nodded toward the doorway, and the two retreated from the room to the hall.

"So, monsieur.  You see what they have done to his mind.  Do you still want the journal?" she asked, certain he would decline like everyone before him.

"I think he gave me something to go on.  Yes, please.  I'll take it off your hands," he replied without hesitation.

Ceily shook her head sadly, and retrieved a worn book from its place on the shelf.  She touched the stained cover, which read 'Un Journal de Conclusions sur la Race perdu connu seulement comme Les Anciens, comme compilées par Armand LaFourche', then quickly handed it over to Jack.  "Here.  Take the cursed thing.  And may God take pity on you, Capitaine Jacques Wolfe."

Jack smiled gratefully.  "Why should He start now?  Adieu, mademoiselle."

[Welsh Wench]

 
"Monsieur Picou?"
"Oui?"
"I'm here to meet you regarding the sale of your plantation."

Monsieur Picou looked her up and down and said, "I was expecting both you and your husband, Mrs. Wolfe. Has he been detained?"
Honour laughed a bit self-consciously. "Oh, I'm not Mrs. Wolfe!  I apologize for not introducing myself. My name is Mrs. Castlemaine. Captain Wolfe was called away and Mrs. Wolfe changed her mind and joined him. But their circumstances have changed. She persuaded him to migrate to the New World. Charleston, specifically. She inherited money from her father and convinced the good captain to settle there. I am her cousin twice removed.  She told me of the land she was interested in and I decided I may want to invest in Barbadian property so I decided to keep her appointment."
He looked doubtful. "You are so young. You have money?"
Honour nodded. "My late husband--may he rest in peace--left me well off. We were emigrating to Barbados and he drank the water and died. Typhoid."
Monsieur Picou expressed his sympathy. "I'm so sorry."
Honour affected an air of resigned grief.
"Yes. I was devastated. We were only married a short while. But I know Byron would want me to carry on. And he had dreams of investing in sugar cane. I really would love to fulfill his dying wish."
Monsieur Picou wiped a tear from his eye for the young 'widow'.
"Then let us go in to see the house."

Honour gazed at the grandeur of the manor house. A verandah wrapped around three sides of the house. A second balcony was supported by six Grecian columns. The stairs of brick led to a massive front door in oak. The red brick shone in the sunlight.
"Monsieur Picou! This is beautiful!"
He beamed with pride. "Oui! But since my wife died, I want to go back to France. That is where I want to spend my last days."
He opened the front door. A marble staircase greeted them. It ascended up the middle and then split into two staircases. He led her into the parlor which was furnished with lovely furniture. A piano stood in one corner.
"Do you play, Madame?"
She ran her finger lightly over the keys. It had been so long since she sat down to play.
"A bit."

The French doors looked out over a brick patio and onto the ocean. The sheer curtains blew in the breeze.
He led her to the formal dining room.  A solid mahogany table with sixteen chairs and a glass chandelier hung from a carved plaster ceiling. A cabinet of crystal stood in the corner and a sideboard for platters was against the opposite wall.

She peeked out the door and there was a detached kitchen with a pergola covered with grapevines and a brick walkway. Forethought to keep the kitchen separate as fires were not unheard of.
Exotic flowers made up the garden. Their perfume filled the air.  For a moment, Honour thought of her honeymoon in Castara Bay. It brought up all sorts of feelings but she pushed that thought far away.
Jack messed up their relationship. Chasing after a dream and leaving her alone to deal with this.
So it was his fault.
Whatever happened, it was Jack's fault.
Even Cade.
That was Jack's fault too.

"Let's go upstairs to see the rooms. Take your time and enjoy yourself. I shall be in the office on the left looking at the final accounting my overseer left for me."

They mounted the marble staircase and Honour explored the rooms. The master bedroom also had French doors with a balcony that overlooked the ocean. She sat on the four-poster rice bed and bounced on it a bit, her fingers running over the down comforter. An armoire and chest of drawers completed the set along with oil paintings of scenic countryside. She looked into the alcove and there was a small handcarved cradle. Her heart melted a bit at the sight of the nursery.
The rest of the rooms were tastefully appointed with furnishings that bespoke of opulence.

"What do you think of it, Madame?"
"It is beautiful. How much did you say?"
He named his price and Honour replied, "That is quite pricey and a bit more than I was willing to pay."
"You must remember, Madame, that it is over 500 acres."
"I'm prepared to offer you this sum if you reduce it by 15%."
She passed him a paper that she had written an amount.
Mr. Picou mulled it over. "Since you love it and will take care of it....Deal."

The money draft was presented and the new deed was filed.
But not under the name of Honour Wolfe.
It was deeded to R. C. Castlemaine.

Jack would never know that his wife was the legal owner.
The sole legal owner.
Honour was five hundred acres richer.
Jack was 5,000 guilders poorer.
And that was Jack's fault, too.
It was enough to secure her future and her independence.

Never would Rhiannon Conaway Castlemaine be dependent on anyone again.
Especially a man.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Conscripted?!" Jack roared at the master of the merchant ship Fidelity. 

They were supposed to weigh anchor that day, bound for Barbados, but the captain had been served a decree stating that his ship was no longer a private freighter, but a supply ship in England's Navy.  Ships of all types were being pressed into the service of the Commonwealth now that Cromwell had launched his Western Design, meaning that England's tempestuous relationship with Spain had finally escalated into all out war in the Caribbean.  Since the French had nothing but contempt for the Spanish, they were more than happy to have English troops on their soil to lend a hand.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wolfe, but there's nothing I can do.  There's a whole slew of Marines aboard her right now, offloading every bit of cargo.  The owners won't be happy, not one bit."

Jack tried his best to rein in his temper.  He knew it wasn't the captain's fault, but he desperately wanted to yell at someone for this incredible inconvenience.  "You have my sympathies, Captain Sumner.  But you'll excuse me.  I have to find someone with a ship that's NOT BLOODY CONSCRIPTED INTO SOME STUPID BLOODY STUPID WAR!!  Good day, sir!"

He straightened his hat and stalked to the door of the harbour master's offices, where he was pleasantly surprised to find them open for business.  Two deep breaths later, he stepped inside.  There were some irate merchants venting their frustrations to an English officer, who offered in return little more than a stony expression as he stared at nothing in particular.  Jack bypassed the group and went to the clerk's counter.  There was nervous man behind it who was trying desperately to ignore everyone and everything around him.  Jack gave him his best cheery smile, and the man seemed to relax a bit.

"Excuse me, but I'd like to speak with the harbour master, please," he said calmly.

The man looked around, and said quietly and quickly, "I'm him.  I'm the harbour master."

"Ah, good!  I'm in need of a ship.  Bound for Barbados, the sooner the better.  Heard of any?"

"Well, actually..." the harbour master began.

"My ship will be making for Barbados," said another man who was signing some documents.  He was a grizzled old salt, but clean and well dressed.  "We'll not be much for taking cargo, but we can carry a passenger if you stay out of the way.  Who wants to know?"

Jack extended his hand.  "Jack Wolfe," he said quietly.  "And you are?"

"Cap'n Stephen Mathwig, at your service.  Your name has a familiar ring, Mister Wolfe.  Have a ship of your own, do ya?"

"Me?  A ship?  No," Jack lied.  "If I had a ship, why would I be here begging passage home?"

Mathwig nodded.  "Good point.  Anyway, if you're in a hurry like it sounds you are, I can't help you much.  We just made port, and won't leave for another four days."

"Four days?" Jack said, crestfallen.  He looked to the harbour master.  "Are there any other ships for Barbados leaving sooner?"  The man nodded no.

"Looks like I'm your best bet, Mister Wolfe.  Interested?"

"Where shall we discuss terms?" asked Jack.

"Meet me in an hour, just down the street at Le Cheval Rouge.  We'll iron everything out and make certain you have a berth on the Homecoming," replied Mathwig.

Jack smiled wanly and walked out to the street.  His return was now delayed, and it would be nearly ten days away from Honour instead of the promised four.  He hoped she would understand.  He pictured her standing on the widow's walk of the manor house on their new plantation, watching every sail that approached from the north and hoping that it was the one carrying her husband home to her.  "This is the one and only time she'll ever feel the need to do that," he vowed.  "Never again."

[Welsh Wench]

 
Leaving the magistrate's office with the new deed, Honour wondered if she were doing the right thing. Jack had been so tender and loving yesterday. And then he casually told her he would be gone and back in four days. No discussion. No...nothing.
He just expected her to make a major purchase.
And why?

'So he would have a place to stow me. A convenient place to put me so he wouldn't have me getting in the way of his fun. Like the necklace. Try to kill me one day and placate me with jewelry so I would forget all about it. Now he wants a place to hang his hat when he's in port.'

She had a feeling that her life was about to change. She had begun to suspect it ever since she came back to Jack from her one-night mistake with Cade.
But did Cade want her for himself? Or was it because she was Jack's wife?
She felt light-headed and sat down. Too many questions, not enough answers...

"Honour?"
Her head jerked up.
"James Blake!"
The privateer grinned at her. "Or should I be formal?"
He swept his tricorn from his head and gave her a deep mock bow. "Why, Mrs. Wolfe! What a pleasure to run into you. May I inquire as to your health? And how fares Mr. Wolfe?"
She grimaced. "Making fun of me are you, James?"
He sat down next to her.
"Not at all, Honour. How are you?"
She shrugged. "I've been better."
"Ah. The life of a pirate's wife not agree with you?"
"It's not that...it's just...James, do you believe in Fate?"
He looked off to the harbour. "I think we all have a destiny we follow. Things happen for a reason, Honour. Why do you ask?"

She looked down and said, "Things have gone terribly wrong. And I wonder if I am being punished for past sins."
"That will need some explaining."
She looked up at him and tears were beginning to form in her eyes. "Something I did once ended up terribly wrong. I am wondering now if I am paying the price. Is it my destiny to have happiness elude me?  It's like trying to hold onto water in your hand. You scoop it up only to have it run through your fingers."
He took her hand and said "You are too hard on yourself, Honour. There is no guarantee of happiness in this life. Just...life. We live it the best we can."

She finally got up the nerve. "James...where are you going and when are you leaving?"
"I'm headed for Port Royal and I'm leaving first thing tomorrow. Why?"
Honour became almost desperate in her request. "I need to leave, James. Don't ask me why. Please. Just know that this will save a few lives if I do. I want to book passage with you to Port Royal. I'll give you another name and no one will know it was you who took me out of here."
"Honour, I don't know..."
"PLEASE, James! I'm begging you! I--I have a few chests in storage I need to take. Only a few. If you have a few of your men meet me at St Michael's Number Eleven..if they can meet me this afternoon, I can be ready to leave at dawn. Take me to Port Royal and I'll book passage out of there to somewhere else."
"Honour, I need to know what has happened."
"James, I can't tell you. I can't!  The less people know the better. Trust me on this."

Her voice took an almost hysterical edge to it.
"Alright. On two conditions."
She nodded.
"First, Jack Wolfe must never--NEVER!--know I was the one who spirited you out of here. Second---that you tell me the real reason you are leaving. And I want the truth."
"I swear Jack won't know. And I'll tell you the reason as soon as we clear the harbour. I promise."
James nodded solemnly. "I know I have your word. I'll send two men to meet you at that warehouse at four bells."
She couldn't stop the tears from falling as she took his hand. "Thank you, James. Thank you with all my heart."
He sighed."It had better be a good reason, Honour. A damn good reason."
She whispered, "It is. It really is."

~~~~~~~~~

She packed her things quickly and quietly. There was a knock on her door. She heard a voice say, "Honour? It's me...Cade. Honour? Are you in there?"
She held her breath and didn't answer. After a few minutes she heard his footsteps down the hall.
'It's for your own good, Cade. Godspeed.'

Muir sat there watching his mistress empty drawers into a few duffel bags. The necklace Jack bought her was still in the pouch. She held it up to the window and watched the light refract through the diamonds. It was valuable to be sure. She touched it gently and slipped it into her pocket. The last of the drawers was empty. Honour stood up and arched her back. "Packing is hard, Muir."
He ran under the bed and came back out with a shirt of Jack's, laying it at her feet and looking expectantly up at her, his tail wagging. This brought a fresh round of tears.
She hugged Muir and cried. "Oh, Muir! I wish it didn't end this way. But it has to. I can't think of just myself any longer. And we aren't running away...we are running TO something."

She closed the drawer but it caught on something. Something shiny. Reaching in, she pulled out the obstruction. It was the hideous piece of gold that Jack had given her instead of a wedding ring that night they
married. She held it up to the candle and said, 'It really was ugly. I should just pitch it....'
She threw it into her duffel bag and tied the drawstring.
She looked down at her hand and sadly transferred her gold wedding ring with the emeralds from her left hand to her right.
To Muir she said, "I'm doing the right thing, Muir. For all of us. But especially for...."
She didn't finish her thought. It was too new a notion yet.

~~~~

Dawn saw Honour down at the dock. Captain James Blake was directing his crew when he caught sight of her. He took her hands and said, "Walk with me for a minute."
When they were out of earshot of everyone, he said, "I booked your passage under the name of Mary Carter. You can sleep in my cabin. There is room and you will be in comfort there. The crew will think you are my woman and you will be untouchable."
She drew her hood closer to her face. "James, I can't thank you enough."
"Remember our bargain."
"As soon as we clear the harbour."

Within the hour, the wind filled the sails of the Dark Vexation. The sun was beginning to rise as Bridgetown was to their rudder. Blake took her by the hand and said, "Time for our little parlay, Mrs. Wolfe. Follow me to the quarterdeck. We shall have privacy there."

The two of them stood side by side at the gunwale.  The silence was palpable. Finally Blake said, "Alright, Honour. Time to fulfill your promise."
She looked over the horizon and began to relate the story she had for James. It was an edited version of what really happened.
"James, it has been a very confusing month for me."
He smiled slightly and said, "Running into you in Castara was startling enough. But to have you presented as Mrs. Jack Wolfe..well, I couldn't quite believe it. Does Jack know about...us?"
She shook her head. "There was no need to tell him. It was before I even met Jack. We were but a moment."
James Blake smiled wistfully. "Two weeks, Honour. A very wonderful two weeks. And a memory I shall always treasure."
"I told you if you are ever in port again..."
"Yes, but I never counted on the infamous Mad Jack Wolfe as being in the picture. Startled the hell out of me."
She nodded. "It startled me, too. There I was laying whiskey down at the Varlet and Vixen and in a few hours I was standing before the magistrate exchanging vows. With practically a total stranger."
"Were you happy, Honour?"
She looked over the horizon and said softly. "For a while, I was happy. Blissfully so. It all started to unravel when we encountered the Mercedes."
James nodded. "I heard all the tavern talk. And then some."
"What did you hear?"
"The usual talk when a ship takes a hit. Who did what and where they went wrong."
James didn't have the heart to tell Honour of the malicious talk about Jack and the unsavory speculation about her and Cade.

James turned to her and turned his face to his.
"Honour, you're peaked and tired. You aren't sick, are you?
She shook her head no. "James? You asked me for the truth on why I am leaving. So I am keeping my end of the bargain. But you can never breathe a word of it to anyone. ANYONE! Promise me first."
James nodded solemnly. "Honour, you can always trust me. I hope you know that."

"I do. James, I am leaving because... because I need to protect myself.  And someone else. Jack has such a temper and I don't know if he could ever accept what I am about to tell you."
"You are leaving Jack for Cade?"
Honour looked shocked. James shrugged and said, "Idle tavern talk."
Honour felt sick. She should have known that the loose tongues of the pirates in port would wag.
She continued, "At first I didn't think it to be true. But the signs are all there, James. I'm having a hard time grasping it myself."
"Jack has another woman?"
She shook her head. "No. James, I can scarcely believe this myself. Something wonderful came out of all this chaos. Something very unexpected."
"And that is...?"

She looked up at James Blake, tears in her eyes but they weren't tears of sadness.
A smile trembled on her lips as she said quietly, "I'm going to have a baby."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

From the deck of the aptly named sloop Homecoming, Jack watched the twinkling lights of Bridgetown.  They had arrived too late for the pilot to bring them into port, so the vessel rode quietly at anchor near the harbour's mouth.  To be so tantalizingly close to hearth and home was maddening for him.  Four days had turned to nearly ten, and the only thought on his mind was how sweet it would be to hold Honour in his arms once again.  With the plantation in their name and the Lobo to be auctioned in four days time, Jack Wolfe was finally ready to settle down and make a real home with his wife, and one day soon, their children.  He swore to himself that he would never be away from Honour's side ever again.

The trip to Martinique had gone far better than he'd hoped.  Armand LaFourche's daughter Ceily had practically thrown her insane father's journal at Jack, believing it was the cause of poor Armand's madness.  Now it was his turn to try his hand at decode the mystery of the long dead Ancients and, more importantly, their fabled treasures.  If there was even a shred of truth to the stories, it could mean a delightful little adventure he and Honour could share together.  At the very worst, it would be an interesting intellectual diversion.

Jack had sent two brief letters ashore with the ship's jollyboat, one to Briggs and another to Honour, informing them he would be ashore not long after first light.  Though he was restless with anticipation, he managed to quiet his mind enough to try and sleep.  He had no intention of being exhausted and bedraggled when he was reunited with his bride.  He had come to miss Honour terribly, even more so when he was forced to stay in Martinique a few extra days waiting for passage home.  That was all behind him now.  He drifted off to sleep, content in the knowledge that in a few hours he would be with his beloved Honour, and home.

The harbour pilot came aboard as the sun rose like the Phoenix over the island, and within the hour the Homecoming was nearly into her slip.  Lines were thrown, hauled, and tied off with practised efficiency.  Jack stood at the gunwale, searching the faces gathering there at the dock.  He spied Briggs and waved to his friend.  The quartermaster waved back, but his expression was anything but cheery.  Honour was nowhere to be seen.

Jack was the first one down the gangplank, and he immediately searched out his friend.  "Josiah!  It's good to see you!  Where the devil is Honour?  Is she ill?"

Briggs set his jaw and sighed.  "I figured from your happy mood ye didn't get the letter I sent.  Damn.  I didn't want ye to find out this way.  Let's walk a bit."

The two men walked along the dock toward the carriage Briggs had hired.  "What the hell is going on?!  Where is my wife?"  Jack demanded.

Briggs stopped and face him.  "Honour's gone, Jack.  She packed up and cleared out a couple days after you left for Martinique.  I'm so sorry."

Jack felt suddenly sick.  An awful light-headedness swept over him, making his legs feel like rubber.  Briggs reached out and steadied his stricken comrade.  After a minute or so, Jack found his voice again.  His words came slowly and deliberately, as if it took all his strength to form them.  "Did she... did she leave with Cade?" he asked through clenched teeth.  A terrible dread gripped his soul.  The answer he feared would destroy him.

"Cade?  No, not with him.  Nobody's quite sure who gave her passage, but it weren't Cade Jennings."  Briggs paused for a moment.  "But ye ain't goin' to like the news about him, neither."

Jack looked around and found a short barrel to lean against.  He crossed his arms and looked at the planks of the dock, totally unsure what to think or feel.  She hadn't left with Cade.  That meant the rumours were untrue.  But why did she leave at all?  "Josiah, you've just told me my wife has left me, God only knows why.  And you tell me there's even more bad news?"

"I'm sorry, Jack, I really am," Briggs said softly.  "Ye know you're the last man I'd ever kick when he's down.  Things went to hell in a right hurry after ye left.  The very next day, Cade bought himself a ship, the Gryphon I think she's called.  He's broke company with ye, Jack.  Left port that day to go rovin' on his own account.  Seems he'd been plannin' it for a while now."

It felt to Jack like he was being hollowed out, one devastating stroke at a time.  "I knew it would happen one day," he said, his voice barely audible.  "Why didn't he tell me, instead of accepting the run of the Castara operation?  I would have understood!"  The chill of suspicion crept back in to his heart.  First Cade leaves, then Honour.  Did they plan it that way, to throw Jack off the scent?  Did they think he wouldn't suspect they might be meeting up elsewhere?

"I ain't goin' to pretend I know what goes on in the head of a boy like Cade.  Impulsive to a fault, that one.  Probably why ye took a shine to him.  But I'll wager anything that pup will bite off more than he can chew sooner than not!"

"I want him watched."

"Eh?"

"I want Cade Jennings watched,"  Jack repeated, punctuating each syllable.  His voice was like ice.  "I want to know where he goes, what he does, what his plans are, and especially who he's with at all times.  The same applies to Honour.  If she's in the Caribbean, I want her found.  See that the word gets out."

The single most effective weapon in his arsenal was an extensive information gathering network that stretched to every nook and cranny of the Caribbean.  Everyone knew that Jack Wolfe had eyes and ears everywhere, and they never rested.  Those who betrayed him found out very quickly that there was no place to hide.  He would find them.  And they would pay dearly for their treachery.

"Aye, I'll see to it," said Briggs.  He knew better than to ask questions when his captain's voice went cold.

Jack looked up at him, looking for all the world a beaten man.  "Please tell me that's all the news you have, Josiah."

Briggs shrugged sheepishly.  "Sorry, Jack.  There is one more bit of insult to injury, and it ties right back to that wife of your'n."

"Don't tell me.  She took the cat?"

"I wish to hell she had.  No, a carriage she hired was at one of the storehouses on St. Michael street early the day she went missing."

"Number Eleven."

"Aye," said Briggs.  "All told, between the money for the plantation and the withdrawal she made from the First Bank of Jack Wolfe, ten full chests are missing."

Jack stared blankly out across the waves, as if by some miracle he would catch a final glimpse of Honour.  "Ten chests..."  he echoed.  Why didn't she take all of them?  One more indecipherable riddle added to the mix.  But the driving force was all too clear to him.  "She used me, Josiah.  This entire time, all she wanted was the money.  How could I have been so blind?"

"She had us all fooled, Jack.  Every last one of us."

"Not everyone," Jack shot back.  "Bonita tried to warn me, but I was too lovestruck to listen."

"With that witch's riddles, how can ye be certain?  No, that Honour is a cagey one.  If that's even her real name.  I guess we'll never know now."

"I don't even know what's real any more, Josiah.  Do you know if she actually bought the plantation, or was that just another of her charades?" asked Jack.

"Beats me.  I trusted her, too, remember."

Jack stood up and straightened his waistcoat.  "We're going to the magistrate's," he said, walking full speed for the carriage.  "I want to know just how much that woman swindled me for."



The carriage splashed through mud left by a passing morning shower and came to a stop outside the offices of the magistrate.  Jack exited quickly, leaving Briggs to deal with the coachman.  He opened the office door with enough force for it to band sharply against the wall, startling the magistrate's clerk and causing him to drop a stack of papers to the floor.

"Hello there!" the clerk said with annoyance, "You can't come barging in here like that!  Have a bit of civility about you!"

Jack gave a mocking half bow.  "I beg your pardon, but I'm on a matter of some urgency."

"It will wait whilst I collect these papers, if you don't mind," replied the clerk.

Unable to contain his temper any longer, Jack reached for his pistol.   It wasn't there.  He'd left it at the White Hart because he was travelling as a common gentleman.  One more blow to his ego for the day.  He was helpless to intimidate a snotty office clerk.  Finally the man moved the stack of documents to it's new resting place and returned to the counter.  May I help you, sir?"

"I need to see all the records of land transactions for the past fortnight," said Jack.

"I'm sorry," the clerk said smugly.  "You'll need a letter of- WAIT!"  Jack grabbed two fistfuls of the man's waistcoat and dragged him halfway over the counter.

"The records.  Now," he growled, and released the clerk, who was suddenly all to happy to comply.  Within moments, Jack was thumbing through the pages of a large ledger.

"What did she say his name was?  Picard, Picou... That's it!  Picou!"  He checked every entry to be certain not to overlook the name if it were there.  Finally, he found it.  The record of sale for a plantation.  The seller, Monsieur Henri Picou.  The buyer...

R. C. Castlemaine.

He stared in disbelief at the page.  She'd lied about the plantation.  She'd lied about everything.  Everything...

He angrily shoved the massive book off the counter and stormed from the office, his face burning with humiliation. Briggs had stayed behind, waiting at the carriage so Jack could conduct his search of the records in private. The look on his friend's face told the quartermaster everything he needed to know. "The White Hart," he told the driver. "Take your time."

Briggs climbed into the carriage across from his captain. In all the years he'd known Jack, he'd never seen him like this. Lost. Crushed. The wild fire in his eyes all but extinguished. There were no words to cajole or comfort this time. The two men sat in silence as the carriage rolled on.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack paused at the door to their... to his room.  The terrible emptiness he felt seemed to grow a thousandfold as his hand touched the door handle.  He knew what he would find, but what the mind understands and the heart feels seldom ever reconcile.  He took a deep breath and turned the handle.

What was once the temporary home of Jack and Honour Wolfe was now a room at an inn, like any other.  Nondescript, void of the feminine presence that had given it warmth.  Empty, save for a single shirt left upon the bed.  He picked it up and held it to his face, thinking back to the many times Honour had worn his shirts instead of her dressing or night gowns so he could catch her subtle scent of jasmine when he wore them next.  All that was gone now.  He  dropped the shirt on the bed and turned to the dresser, expecting to find there a letter explaining why she'd left with no word or warning to anyone.  But there was no letter.  He searched the dresser drawers and the writing desk.  Everything that belonged to her had been removed, even the ugly golden piece he'd given her for their wedding.  No explanation, no clues.  Honour Bright, his wife of nearly one month, the woman he was only now realizing how much he loved, was gone from his life.

Sadly and silently, Jack Wolfe unpacked his sea bag, and began to restore some small semblance of order to his world.



That night, Jack sat alone in his room.  The plate of food and bottle of brandy he'd sent for were still on the dresser, barely touched.  He poured over the journal of Armand LaFourche once again, this time for the distraction its riddles and strange pagan imagery offered more than anything else.  It would take months if not longer to gain a basic grasp of the concepts the madman had tried to communicate in his writings.

Candlelight played over the stained and yellowed pages, lending an almost otherworldly quality to the meticulous renderings of bizarre creatures and nightmarish gods.  He took a sip of brandy as he studied a drawing of a chest labelled "The Keeper of Kings," just like LaFourche had spoken of in one of his riddles.  There was no mention of what it might hold, only that it was roughly a yard in length and to unlock it required two keys.  Jack remembered a cryptic partial entry he'd read previously that seemed somehow connected.  He flipped back to near the front of the book.  As he located the passage, he noticed that one of the pages seemed thicker than the others.  Closer examination revealed  that two pages had indeed become stuck together over time.  He set his brandy aside and ever so gently pried the leafs of parchment from one another.  The drawings they had hidden from him left Jack staring in wide-eyed astonishment.

He knew them.

He owned them.

Or, he had until recently.

There before his eyes were exquisitely detailed images of the two keys that would open the Keeper of Kings.  The first was a silver disk, with some sort of grinning face engraved upon it.  Short blunt spikes of varying lengths protruded from the disk's outer edge in all directions.  The second was a disk of gold, with a hideous snarling face and long, slender arms reaching out from its perimeter.

Two critical pieces needed for solving the riddle of the Ancients, and he'd given one of them away to a woman who had vanished as if taken by the wind.

"The Moon and Sun in endless chase," Jack quoted aloud, and sat back in his chair with a self deprecating laugh that soon took on a bitter edge.  "How fittingly ironic, my love.  I don't know where you've gone, Honour Bright, but I will find you, if it takes the rest of my life!"

[Welsh Wench]

"Honour? The longboat is ready."

Honour snapped out of her reverie. She hastily wiped the tears off her face and through the door, her muffled reply was heard.
"Give me ten minutes, Jack. I'll be out."
"Alright. We are loading the chest now."

She blew her nose and washed her face. Changing into a pair of breeches and tall boots, she slipped a light shirt over her and picked up her scabbard and attached it to her belt. She ran her finger lightly over her rapier, making sure it was sharp.
As she put her cavalier hat on her head, she thought back to the trip that led her to Glenlivet. And Mad Jack Wolfe back into her life.

The plantation was hers and hers alone under the name of R.C. Castlemaine. Through Monsieur Picou, she retained the overseer so the plantation was not abandoned. The main house was under the care of a housekeeper. Money had been left in escrow to pay expenses through the bank in Bridgetown.

The crossing from Bridgetown to Port Royal had been uneventful. Honour stayed in James Blake's cabin most of the time, only occasionally coming out for a breath of fresh air. She didn't want to talk to anyone of his crew lest they realize that the wife of Jack Wolfe was on board.

James had been most solicitous. He had her dinner brought to the cabin every evening and he had joined her. James knew the whole story and was the keeper of her secrets. From Port Royal, James secured passage for her from Port Royal to the Isle of Anglesey. His friend Captain Edmund Underhill was trustworthy and made sure Honour had quarters to herself.
And made sure that Honour was handed over to the one she was going home to.
Her sister Megan.

Megan was delighted to have Honour back home. She was more than surprised to find that Honour was with child but relieved that she was married first. During a walk in the garden at Megan's estate, Honour bared her soul on everything that had happened.

"Really, Rhiannon!  For Father to marry you off to Lord Madoc Castlemaine, of all people!  Gwyneth was very upset and you know Dilys...she told Father what she thought of him. But of course we didn't know until it was all over."
"Megan, I'd like to stay here until the baby is born and then go back to Barbados. I've secured a future for the baby and me. But it won't be for a couple years. Will Dafydd mind?"
"Of course he won't!  And the children will be delighted with a little one here."
Honour hugged Megan and felt the tears of gratitude well up in her eyes.
"Megan, I'm so scared."
Megan held her sister close and said softly, "I know you are, sweetheart. But I'm here for you."
The sisters stood there with a bond known only to sisters.
"It's so good to have you home, Rhiannon."
She felt the tears slip down her face."It's so good to be home, Megan."

Honour was on her way home to Barbados by way of Glenlivet to arrange for her new life. But life--not to mention a certain captain who kidnapped her--had a way of interrupting her plans.
Back in Wales was someone waiting for her who meant more to her than anyone in the world ever could.

A baby with her mother's eyes.
And her father's chin and dark hair.
A little bundle named Zara Wolfe.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Puddin' rolled onto his side and playfully batted at Jack's hand, bringing his master out of his memories and back to the present.  Jack laughed and picked the grey cat up in the crook of his arm like an infant.  "She spoiled you into this, little beggar!  And we found her, didn't we?  Maybe this time, I can do things right and we won't have to be without her.  Then she can carry you about like this all day, would you like that?  Who knows?  There may be competition for your favourite spot yet!"  He kissed the purring cat on top of the head and set him down on the table.  On that same table were some maps, the journal, a compass and sundial, and a leather pouch containing the Moon key.  He scratched Puddin' underneath the chin, then set about placing the items into a leather haversack.

Jack stopped at the door of the great cabin and looked back at the bed and thought about how good it would feel to wake up with Honour in his arms once again.  After they put down the mutiny together, it felt as if all the animosity between them had been washed away.  He hoped that what he had said was true; maybe this time he'd get it right, and he'd never have to be without her again.  As he left the cabin, his thoughts turned briefly to those dark days.

In the days after Honour disappeared, Jack pulled El Lobo from auction and had her fitted out for roving.  After six months of fruitless searching for his wife, he returned to Castara with the intent of salvaging the smuggling operation there.  It had never fully recovered from its abortive start.  Cade Jennings' unexpected departure had thrown everything into disarray, and with Jack's attentions elsewhere a power vacuum had developed.  Captains who had united under Jack's colours now squabbled over territory and prizes.  His return helped to lessen the infighting, but it became obvious after nearly four disheartening months that the operation was a hopeless failure.  The company was disbanded at the cost of a considerable amount of private funds, more than a few friendships, and what was left of Jack's credibility as a major player in Caribbean piracy.

Bonita had been exceptionally welcoming of his return, almost gleefully so.  She said and did everything she could possibly think of to convince Jack he was better off now that Honour was out of his life.  Her attempts even went as far as adding sacred herbal concoctions to everything he ate and drank in order to turn his heart to her.  Eventually, though, she had to concede defeat.  No amount of cajoling, manipulation, trickery, or seduction could change the fact that there would never be room in Jack  Wolfe's heart for any woman but Honour Bright.  This was temporary setback in Bonita's eyes.  If she couldn't control the man, she could always influence the circumstances of his life.

Jack had told her time and again over the years about his desire to obtain Armand LaFourche's journal and, ultimately, the treasures of the Ancients.  Bonita had more than a passing interest in these lost people, almost a familiarity with them.  She sensed something had changed when Jack returned to Castara, but the opportunity to find out more never presented itself.  One day, after the final remaining issues with the smuggling operation had been closed and El Lobo was being made ready to sail on another search for Honour, she found her chance.  The island was nearly deserted, and everyone was out of the tavern tending to the needs of the few remaining ships.  Bonita slipped upstairs and into Jack's room like a wraith.  None of his belongings had been transferred to the ship yet, just as she'd hoped.  She went work rummaging through the boxes and chests in hopes that Jack had indeed gotten his hands on the fabled journal.  "Dat man, him such a pig!" she groused as she went though the disorganized containers.  Finally, amidst a jumble of books in various languages about ancient civilizations, she found the the item she sought.

She held the book up before her and ran her fingers over its cover, tracing the words "Un Journal de Conclusions sur la Race perdu connu seulement comme Les Anciens..." with her fingertips.  Greedily, she undid the ties holding the book shut and went to the window for more light to read its contents.  Her eyes were wide with wonder as she drank in the images.  They were so familiar to her, though she was seeing them for the very first time.  The strange writings made sense, and the relationships of the objects to one another and their significance were all so crystal clear!

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Like a cat disturbed in the midst of a kill, Bonita's head snapped around at the sound of the intrusive voice.  Jack stood in the doorway, displeasure clearly registered on his face.  She quickly recovered her composure, her bared teeth snarl melting into a disarming smile.

"Jack," she purred, "Why you not tell Bonita you found Armand LaFourche and him book?"

"I didn't think it was important."

"Not important?" she asked with feigned surprise.  "Whatever is important to Jack Wolfe is important to Bonita.  We share so much, but dis him keep to himself?"

"The information in that book is worthless without the Sun key, and it vanished along with Honour," he said testily.  "You'll forgive me if I choose not to dwell on that small fact.  Hand it over."

She casually fanned herself with the journal, her smile never wavering as she tried to charm him.  "What if Bonita tell you she knows t'ings.  T'ings dat can help you find de Ancients.  Bonita can help you find de missing key.  And you precious Honour."

Jack stepped toward her and snatched the book from her hand, drawing an angry look from the dark woman.  "You steal into my room, dig through my things and catch a glimpse of some drawings, now you're a bloody expert on the Ancients?  That's slightly less preposterous than some insincere offer to help me find my wife, Bonita!  You hated her from the first.  Why should I think you would honestly do anything to change the situation?"

"Because dat golden haired child hold de t'ing you need!  Bonita knew she would break Jack Wolfe's heart," she hissed.  "Did him listen to reason?  No!  Him were too much in love."

Jack resisted the urge to lash out at her mockery.  "As I recall, you claimed she was a witch, not a swindler.  A wee bit off the mark, love."

"Dere is somet'ing not of dis world about her, or wit' her!  Believe it!"

"Rubbish..."

"Believe it!!"  A wild look, almost frightened, took over Bonita's eyes.  "Dere are forces around dat girl even she do not understand!"

"I've had enough of your lies, Bonita!  As if what happened isn't bad enough, you have to concoct these ridiculous stories to keep the wound fresh?  Look around you, woman!  She's not here!  She's gone!  Gone with the key, gone from my life!"

"Not as far away as you t'ink—"

Jack angrily stabbed a finger at the open door.  "Get out of my sight!  Now, Bonita!  Before I do something you regret!"

Bonita glared angrily at him for a moment, then took heed of his warning and left the room quickly.  Upon reaching her quarters, she flung the door open and stormed inside.  "Damn you, Jack Wolfe!" she swore, and kicked a wooden stool in her rage.  The stool hit the wall hard just beneath a set of shelves, knocking some boxes to the floor.  Inside the largest of the boxes, amid various trinkets and charms, were two poppets bound back to back with twine.  The shock of the box hitting the floor was enough to loosen the twine around them.

When the container stopped its tumbling, the dolls were almost face to face.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

The weather deck was abuzz with activity as final preparations of the longboat were being made.  The chest, wrapped in a tarpaulin to disguise its true nature, was already secured for the secretive expedition, along with provisions and shelter for two in a large pack.  Men traded speculation as to what might be afoot with the captain and his bride.  All agreed upon one thing; no one could be certain when Jack Wolfe played his cards this close to the vest.

He took the deck, almost immediately catching  the eye of Josiah Briggs.  "Cut him down before Honour arrives," he ordered, gesturing to the still swinging body of Samuel Burgess.  Two men snapped into action to remove the grisly sight as quickly as possible.

"We're almost done fittin' her out, Jack," announced Briggs.  "Can I be havin' a word with ye, private like?"

The two men stepped away for the core of activity.  "What's on your mind, Josiah?"

"I know what ye said, but it don't sit right with me, not one bit," said the quartermaster grimly.  "You and the lady, traipsin' through the jungle, just yerselves, and no hands to help stand watch?  It's a hell of a risk."

Jack gave his best reassuring smile.  "She's better with a blade than most of the men, and level headed in a fight.  Last night proved such out.  You and she are the only other souls that know about the chest, but she holds one of the keys and I need you here to keep order.  One mutiny is quite enough.  Besides, there's nothing but jungle out there.  What could possibly happen?"

"A chest what belongs to a lost race, the knowledge of which already drove one man crazy and I'm none to sure about ye either, a map what tells ye where to look but naught as to what ye'll find, and there's ye two, mischief and devilment in the makin'.  I see yer point.  What's to worry?"

"We'll be fine," laughed Jack.  "It's not like we'll be converting your quarters into a nursery on our return!"

"Like I said, mischief and devilment!" winked Briggs as he turned his attention to the boat crew.  "All right lads, ye've got her all fit and gussied, time to put her in!  Hands to the lines, and heave on three!"

Jack turned to find Honour standing by the doorway, keeping well out of the way of the crew as they went about their tasks.  Any commotion on deck made her uneasy, a lingering after effect of the ill fated encounter with Mendoza.  Though at times it felt like a lifetime ago, there were still nights she'd wake up in a full sweat with the din of ship's guns ringing in her ears and and the memory of her husband lying on the deck in his own blood...

She jumped, startled out of her thoughts by the touch of a gentle hand on her arm.  There before her was Jack, healthy and whole, his expression a mixture of happiness and concern.  "Easy there!  Are you all right, Honour?  You seemed a thousand miles away."

She blinked to get her bearings again, and returned his smile.  "Yes, I'm fine.  Just lost in thought."

"Well, aren't you a vision!  The hat's a nice touch.  You always did look good in feathers.  And what's this?"  He pulled her rapier a few inches out of its scabbard, then let it drop back.  "For once it's an appropriate blade!  I pity those trees already," he teased.

Honour cocked her head and smiled at Jack from under the brim of her hat.  "I have the Sun key with me as well.  I take it you remembered the Moon key for my chest?"

"Your chest?" he laughed.  "When did this happen, I wonder?"

"Community property," she replied, playfully brushing him aside.  "You do know the way to the beach, don't you?"

"Of course I do, my queen," said Jack.  "Your royal barge awaits!"  He jogged ahead of her and tossed a rope ladder over the side.  "I trust you can manage, or would you rather I go first and help you?"

Honour threw a leg over the rail and took the ladder, stopping long enough to stick her tongue out before climbing down.  Jack looked back at Briggs, who simply shook his head and laughed.