PRELUDE TO EL LOBO DEL MAR

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Briggs squinted uneasily into the Caribbean sun as he tried to collect his thoughts.  The ship was docked in St. Lawrence, and the crew were anxious to go ashore and start spending their money.  But before they could, they had to endure the requisite liberty speech.  Normally it would be Jack delivering the speech, but no one had seen him since El Lobo had nestled securely into her quay two hours before.  All eyes were on the quartermaster.  Exactly where Briggs didn't want them.  The men were anxious to get off the ship and were becoming vocal about the delay.  Finally, Briggs cleared his throat and hoped he could remember all the points.  Jack could rattle them off blind drunk, and often times did.
"All right, ye tarry jackals, listen up!  First off, has anyone seen the captain?"
The men muttered among themselves.  One crewman decided to offer up a theory.
"I'm bettin' 'e went ashore early as to get first crack at th' best girls!" he yelled.
"Ha, aye!" said another.  "'Cause 'e knows we'll be keepin' 'em busy enough!"
"All right, that's enough!" said Briggs.  "Then it's down to me."  He drew himself up and took a deep breath.  "We'll be in port three days, and three days only!"

The men began to grumble at this restriction on their time.
"Aw, quit yer bellyachin'!  Not a one of ye will have two shillin's to rub together after the second day.  So if ye ain't here for any reason when this ship sets stern to this here port, ye be out of luck.  We come back for no man, and any effects ye leave behind will be auctioned before the mast.  If ye land in the gaol house, ye best have money for bail or a soft-headed mate that does.  If ye managed to up and get yerself killed or press-ganged, well, it's been a pleasure sailin' with ye!"

The men chuckled, some a little more nervously than others.  All these things were a distinct possibility, and no man wanted to be left behind with only the shirt on his back.  Or dead.
"Any man wantin' to part company, see me after this and we'll get ye squared away.  Now remember, ye have three days!  Make the most of it, lads.  I'm sure the women will be happy to see ye."

A raucous cheer went up from the crew, and Briggs signalled for the gangway to be lowered.  The men swarmed off the ship and into the town with pockets, bags, hats, and anything else they could use bursting with swag.  They knew Briggs was right.  In two days or less, they'd all be penniless once again.  But they didn't care.  Why save money for tomorrow when there may not be one?

Briggs watched the men file off the ship, and grunted with satisfaction when he saw there were no stragglers.  It's not that he particularly cared if a man wanted to leave the ship.  That was a normal part of life at sea.  But for every man they lost, it meant recruiting work for the quartermaster.  He already had to find replacement for the men who died or became crippled when they took the Utrecht.  That there would be no additional burden was a welcome relief.

He pulled a rag from his pocket and mopped his brow.  It was going to be a steamy tropical day.  The kind of day that was better spent in a tavern with pleasurable company.  Briggs walked down the steps to the weather deck and began to make his way to his quarters.  A tangle of ropes that hadn't been properly stowed caught his eye.  He cursed under his breath and went to coil the ropes.  As he passed the hatch to the main hold, something else caught his attention.

"PSSSTT!!"
"Eh?  What?" said Briggs, looking for the source of the sound.
"PSSST!  Briggs!  Down here!"  The loud rasp was from none other than Jack.
"Jack!  I looked all over hell and gone for ye!  What are ye doin' down there?"
"SHHHHH!!" replied Jack.  "Keep your voice down!  Are all the men gone?"
"Aye, except for the watch on the quarterdeck."
"Good!  Then get down here, just as fast as you can go!"
"What for?  What's got ye so excited?"
Jack help up his hand.  It was full of silver and gold coins.  "This!"
Briggs' eyes bugged.  "Sweet blessed mother...  on my way!"

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Briggs scampered down the ladder like a powder monkey.  He stumbled over the ballast stones in his haste to see what his captain had discovered.  The quartermaster's mouth fell open at what he saw.  Jack had pried the side off one of the printing press crates.  Inside were smaller crates, stacked three high and two across.  Each crate was roughly two feet high and slightly more that than deep.  One of the crates was resting on a smaller crate of coffee.  It was about three feet long.  Its lid was cast off to the side.  Briggs stared at the contents.  Dozens of white cloth bags were neatly stacked within, each labelled with accounting marks.  Jack had split open one of the bags, revealing the silver and gold coins it contained.
"Yeah, that's about the way I looked when I opened the crate," said Jack.
"But.... but how did you know?" Briggs stammered.
"That's just it!  I didn't.  Curiosity got the better of me."  He leaned against a support beam.  "I decided to take a look before turning the crew loose on the poor citizenry, in case I wanted to keep a few of them aboard to help move these things.  When I cracked the big crate open, I was puzzled about what kind of printing press could be broken down into smaller piece.  It's just not possible.  Then I found these lovely, lovely coins."
Briggs picked up some of the coins and admired them in the light.  "Guilders," he said, just above a whisper.  "How many crates, do ye reckon?  Is this the only one?"
Jack shook his head and picked up a pry bar.  "Let's find out, shall we?"

Together, Jack and Briggs partially pried open the three remaining large crates.  Packed inside each one were six identical smaller crates, just like they had found in the first one.  The two men looked at one another, and together they burst out laughing.
"Well, souse me for a gurnet!" swore Briggs between bouts of joyous laughter.  "It was right here under our noses the whole stinkin' time!  Those Dutch bastards told us true!  And here ye wanted to scuttle the lot!"
"Aye, my friend!  Thanks for once again saving me from myself."  Jack stroked the side of one of the crates.  "It's all here.  Everything we'd heard, and more."
"How many chests does that make it?  Twenty-four?  Hell, one would suffice for a simple man."
Jack nodded.  "Twenty-four.  Twenty-four chests of gold and silver, right in our hands!"
"The men will think they're gettin' all their birthdays and Christmases all at once when they hear about this."

"No!" said Jack sharply.
Briggs gave him a puzzled look.  "Eh?  What do ye mean, no?  What of the articles?"
"Damn the articles.  They got their shares and more, including ours.  No, Josiah.  This is ours.  The men think this is nothing but a lot of worthless machinery.  Let them keep on thinking that."
A deeply troubled look came over Briggs' face.  "I don't rightly know..."
"Oh, come on, Josiah!  Don't go and develop a sense of fair play on me!  We're pirates, not ministers.  We don't run a charity.  Look, the men are happy.  They're richer than they've ever been before.  And now, so are we.  Balance in the universe has been restored."
"All right, all right!  Not a word to the men.  I swear Jack, ye could talk a parson's wife out of her best pearls."
"Don't think I haven't!  The dress, too.  It was a good day."  He fetched a hammer and nails from a small toolbox hanging from the bulkhead.  "Now, let's fill our pockets so we can nail these shut again.  And remember, not a word to a soul.  Not even Duckie yet."
"Not even to me own blessed Mum," swore Briggs as he sought to fill anything in his clothing that could serve as a pocket.  "And don't you let some tavern wench get ye to yappin, neither!"
"Funny man," said Jack.  " Here, hold this nail steady, would you?"

A dishevelled man begging on the docks near El Lobo looked round at the ship in confusion when he heard a howl of pain an cursing emanate from deep within her.

"Ye did that on purpose!" yelped Briggs.
"Did not!  It slipped."
"Slipped, me arse."
"Oh, enough with the frowny face.  Come on, let's get his squared away."

Briggs gingerly held the nail in place and watched the hammer intently.  Eventually he relaxed by the time they got to the last crate.
"Well, I don't know about you, Josiah, but I feel like celebrating!" said Jack as he tossed the hammer somewhere in the vicinity of the toolbox it came from.
"I know!" said Briggs.  "Let's go to the Dog and Doublet.  I do fancy that place."
"You fancy that redhead who slips you extra drinks and the occasional peep down her bodice.  No, I had a different place in mind."
"Where's that?"
"The Varlet and Vixen," said Jack with a gleam in his eye.  "They have gaming at cards, and I'm feeling particularly lucky today!"

[Welsh Wench]

 
 
Honour walked down the stairs from her room, her eyes scanning the crowd.
'Wall to wall pirates. It's going to be a late night, ' she thought.
As she reached the tavern main room, Kate sidled up to her and crossed her arms.
"Two ships ported today. That is why we are so busy."
"Which ones?"
"The Hades and another ship that I didn't get to find out. Hey, Malcolm! What was the name of that ship that ported?"
From the back the voice yelled out, "I can't remember. But something Spanish."
Kate turned to Honour and said, "Something Spanish."
Honour laughed, "Yes, I caught that. Damn. The Hades? That is a rough crowd."
"Don't I know it. But grin and bear it. The nicer you are, the more they spend. And the more they spend, the more they drink. "
Honour finished, "The more they drink, the sloppier they get. I love cleaning up the floor after."
Kate laughed. "It can be profitable to be a charwoman."
Honour raised her eyebrow. "Charwoman? Bite your tongue, Kate. Think of it more as a dividend. A bonus. A----"
"Fringe benefit?" Kate added.
Honour grimaced. "I wouldn't know. I haven't been laid since Corwin."
Kate gave her hand a squeeze. "You'll get over that, honey. You are just a bit gun-shy."
She sighed. "I get lonely, Kate. Really lonely. Sometimes I just want to...."
Her thought trailed off into the nether. And James Blake came unbidden to her mind.
Kate frowned. "Remember that vow you made? No slap and tickle till you have a ring on your finger?"
Honour's eyes skimmed the crowd. "You're right. But it doesn't make the nights any warmer."
"And you are dealing cards tonight?"
She sighed. "Yes. Amos thinks this crowd is ready to part with their money. And the more they drink, the more they gamble."
Kate added, "And the more they lose."
Honour shrugged, "I run a fair table. If they lose, they don't have the savvy."
She ran her fingers through her hair.
"Alright. Let's have a go at it."
She adjusted her bodice, arranging her assets just so.
She sighed. 'It's going to be a long night....'

Honour walked over to the table and flashed a smile.
"Gentlemen? And I use the term ever so loosely..."
Honour leaned forward ever so slightly to afford them a look and a promise of what lay beneath the silk gown. 
"Now who is ready to play Bone-Ace?"
The men clamoured and dug deep in their pockets, throwing their ante on a pile in the center of the table. Honour's slender fingers gently stroked the deck of cards, The sensuous gesture was not lost on these men.  She looked each one in the eyes, sizing up what she may have to deal with. Then she smiled.
"Shall we begin?"
Her fingers flew as she shuffled the cards and dealt them out.
"And we all know the rules of the game?"
One pirate grinned, "Ye be givin' th' winner a bit extra? Ye know...as a reward?"
The men guffawed at that.
Honour mentally rolled her eyes but she smiled, "Well, now, there is always that possibility. Do any of you captain a ship?"
The tall pirate with a cavalier hat pulled rakishly down leered, "I be a captain, aye, little lady. O' me own vessel."
With that the men erupted into laughter.
Honour smiled, "Yes, I am sure you are. And you frequently polish the shipwheel, I presume?"
With that the pirates filled the tavern with their bawdy laughter.
She gave them a dimpled look and said, "Now then, shall we play a game and see what transpires later, gentlemen? Winner takes all."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

The sun was setting over the hills, setting the sky ablaze with reds and oranges.  The first flickers of candlelight could be seen in a few windows.
"You've been awfully quiet, Josiah," said Jack as the two men walked up the lane to the Varlet and Vixen.  "Thinking of ways to spend your share of the windfall?"
"Eh?  Oh, sorry, Jack.  Aye, it be one hell of a fortune we've got stowed away.  Half of one of them chests would make a man's life easy for a few years, don't you reckon?"
Jack looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear their conversation.  "No question," he replied.  "With that kind of wealth, I could seriously consider taking Harkness' advice.  You know, go out on top while I can still enjoy life, instead of wondering if this is finally the morning my neck gets stretched?"
"Speakin' of the Old Man, I wonder if he's still retired as it were?"
"I've wondered that myself.  It's been years since I've heard anything about him.  Almost like he disappeared entirely.  Wouldn't it be something to see him once more, and tell him about all this?"
"He'd be proud of ye, Jack.  Of that I've got no doubt.  But I can't say as I see ye livin' the life of landed gentry or a gentleman farmer.  The sea's in yer blood, mate.  She'll always be first in that heart of yours, and don't ye doubt it!"
"Rest easy, Josiah!  In all the years you've known me, how long has a woman ever kept my head turned?  Two days?  Three?"
"Five, but ye were too drunk to remember the first two days of it.  So was she for that matter.  So we'll call it three for sake of argument."
"Fair enough, my friend!" laughed Jack as he opened the tavern door.  "Here.  Quartermasters and philosophers first."

Jack and Briggs walked into the tavern.  It took their eyes a few moments to adjust to the lighting provided by oil lamps and candles. The crowd this evening was a raucous one, filling the air with conversation and laughter. The Varlet and Vixen was cut above the rest of the dock taverns, but the crowd made it feel like any other ale house in St Lawrence.
In other words, Briggs and Jack felt right at home.

The little wench with the auburn hair came up to their table.
"What will it be, gents?"
"Irish whiskey, lass. We are celebrating our arrival in your fair port."
Kate laughed, "Oooh, fancy words! Most would say, 'Rum, wench!' but thanks for the respect! I'll get it for you now. You've set me in such a good mood, I won't even spit in it," she said with a wink.

As she walked off, Briggs' eyes followed her. "Not quite a redhead... but I'm willin' to overlook that."
Jack laughed, "She is a looker. You two would make a dandy couple!"
Briggs' face turned red which made Jack laugh all the more.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the gaming table in the back of the tavern.
"YOU'RE CHEATING!!"
The words reverberated around the room and a drunken voice uttered them.
Honour's face burned red with anger, "I am not!  You just happen to be a poor player, Donovan, and a worse loser! And I can think of a few other things that you are terrible at! Beginning and ending in the bedroom."

Jack and Briggs turned to see a loud-mouthed sot squared off against a strikingly lovely young woman. She refused to back down even though he was head-and-shoulders taller.

Suddenly, the pirate hauled back and slapped her across the face. She put her hand up to her cheek in shock. Jack put down his cup, and stood to draw his pistol and intervene on her behalf. Josiah put a steadying hand on Jack's arm.
"Careful now, mate. Are ye sure ye want to be steppin' in to this squall?"
Before he could respond, Honour had recovered rapidly. She withdrew a  ruby-inlaid dagger from where it had been nestled.
Quickly she pointed it at the lout and said, "You can either go with your face sliced horizontally or vertically. But I guarantee your nose will suffer."
Their faces were a few inches apart.
"B*tch!" he spat.
Still looking into his eyes, she threw the dagger down.
And nailed his foot in his leather boot. He let out a scream of pain. Jared was there in an instant. Honour said with disdain, "Take this detritus out of here and make sure he never comes back."
The patrons began cheering as he was escorted out of the tavern. Face first.
She turned to the pirates and said a bit too brightly, "Gentlemen? A fifteen minute recess. Next round on the house to allay the inconvenience of delaying your game."
The pirates ony heard 'next round on the house.'
She willed herself to keep from tearing up due to the blow Donovan struck. Memories of Jonas Corwin and that brutal night she spent with him came flooding back to her.

She walked over to the bar. Jack's eyes were locked on the captivating spitfire. He mentally took an inventory as was his custom when a woman of interest walked by. He could assess a woman's attributes and willingness to share them in a matter of a few minutes.
She was a petite woman.  Jack guessed her age at no more than twenty.  Though she toiled as a common tavern girl, there was nothing at all common about her.  She had an almost regal bearing that spoke more of a woman of privileged upbringing than a commoner, her small stature doing nothing to repress her commanding presence and lion's heart.  She wore her mane of long blond hair free, save for a small portion she kept tied back from her lovely face with a black velvet band.  Even her clothing set her apart from the other serving girls.  The long, puffy sleeves of her gauzy white blouse gave her dress an almost gown-like quality.  Despite the impracticality of such an expensive garment in her line of work, it suited her perfectly.  Coal black stays accentuated her womanly charms and slender waist.  A matching black skirt, with a shorter green overskirt tucked into it and draped just so completed the picture.  Jack quickly realized that her measured gait, that some might dismiss as a subdued strut, was due in large part to the leather boots she wore.  No padding about in a pauper's cloth shoes for this jewel of a woman.  His eyes surveyed her stunningly exquisite form, feasting on every delightful curve and line.   Everything about her demanded attention, and she had Jack's fully.  Men's heads turned as she walked by, their conversations trailing off into the aether until the voice of reason whispered to them that there was no point in trying to draw her attentions.  This woman was out of reach for the average man.  She had her standards, and they would not bend.  She was unlike any woman Jack had encountered, and he knew at that moment he had to have her.

Pouring herself an ale, she sat down and put the cool tankard to her cheek to keep the bruising down. Her hand was shaking. The tavern keep looked concerned at her. "You alright, Honour, sweetheart?"

"I will be."

"Amos--your sword, please."
The barkeep drew his sword and she took the blade to look at her face in the reflection of steel.
'Wonderful', she thought. 'It will be a honey of a bruise.'
"Amos? Could you please let Kate finish up dealing tonight?"
He nodded solemnly.
"You just sit there and calm down, darlin'."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Oh hell and tarnation.  I know that look," muttered Briggs.
"Please, Josiah.  I'm just... admiring."
"My arse.  Sizin' her up is more like it."
Jack shot him a pained expression.  "You make me sound so uncouth."
"Oi, if the shoe fits..."
"Like you weren't with the serving girl?"
"That's different."
"How so?!"
"It was me doin' it," smiled Briggs.
Jack laughed and set his mug down on the table.  "I think it's time I introduce myself to the young lady.  You know, to make sure she's all right after that dust-up."
"I dunno, Jack.  I think she be more than a handful, even for you!"
"Good thing I've got two hands, then."  Jack gave his friend a wink as he started to walk her way.  "Wish me luck!"
"Luck, nothin'!  I'll hate auctionin' yer effects before the mast.  But it'll be one hell of a wake!"

Honour heard soft laughter behind her. She turned and there he stood.
Captain Jack Wolfe.

His way of dressing wasn't pretentious. Far from it. But even with his eclectic choice of clothes, he cut a dashing figure. Over his white silk shirt, he wore a waistcoat of green brocade. Muted red linen breeches were tucked neatly into his well-worn brown leather boots. A wide belt served as a makeshift holster for an ornate Spanish pistol. Her eyes lingered on the elaborate weapon. It was the sort carried by noblemen or officers, and she couldn't help but wonder how he'd come by it. A cutlass peeking out from his dark blue frock coat completed the package. .

His hair was brown, thick and unruly, tied back with a burgundy scarf. He had arresting eyes. Eyes that peered into your soul and could see straight through to your heart, as if all your secrets were laid bare before him. They were light brown with flecks of green in them. As if Poseidon himself had bestowed them upon him.  They looked like the kind of eyes that could change as the sea. From a pool of tranquility to a tempest in the wind of a mood.

His beard was neatly clipped and could barely contain the sardonic smile that graced his lips. A big plus was that he had white teeth. Not that they were white. But that he had them. And they were his own.
He wasn't a tall man, neither was he short. Average.
And that was about all that was average about him.
Jack Wolfe was no ordinary tar.
He was a captain.
A pirate captain.

From his very aura, you knew he was someone that commanded attention. Men sat up a little straighter in his presence. Women's breath came a little shallower. She wondered what he could do to your breath in a one-on-one situation. She shook her head out of her reverie, his voice intruding into her daydream.

She cooly said,  "Think it was funny?"
"Not at all. I was just admiring your....spunk."
She closed her eyes against the pain and winced a bit.
"Let me see that," he said.
She gingerly took the tankard away from her face and he touched it.
"Aye! That renegade struck you fiercely, for sure!"
She said quietly, "Occupational hazard."
"You work here?"
"I don't exactly hang around here for my health."
"That ale won't help much with the pain."
He signaled to Amos.
"Whiskey. And keep it coming."
"I'm not sure of this..."
"Trust me."
"Your name, please. I don't drink with strangers."
"Captain Jack Wolfe of El Lobo del Mar.  Ported this morning."
"Ah, the Spanish ship. But for someone Spanish you look awfully English to me."
She extended her hand and replied with the alias she took when she landed in Barbados, "Honour Bright. Tavern wench at your service."
He took her hand, kissed it and said, "Miss Bright, I do hope to see much more of you while I am in port..." 

[Welsh Wench]

He looked into her eyes, and marveled at their depth.  Brilliant blue, like the sky after the passing of a summer storm, but tinged with sadness.  Her face was delicate and defined, with high cheekbones and a softly radiant smile that he somehow felt the world did not witness nearly often enough.  A glint of light drew his attention downward, where he spied the hilt of the ruby inlaid dagger she'd deftly used to defend herself earlier nestled securely in her ample cleavage.  She caught his eyes lingering, and tipped his head back up by gently taking hold of his goatee.

"I am flattered, Captain Wolfe.  But I do prefer that a gentleman looks at my eyes when we talk," she said with a bemused smile.  He looked at her, and did something she never expected. 
He blushed.


Honour gazed at Jack but there was pain in her eyes. The brute had struck her harder than she had thought.
She asked the handsome pirate, "Are you sure the whiskey will help better than the ale?"
He smiled disarmingly at her and said, "As sure as I am standing here, love."

Amos set two glasses of Irish whiskey in front of them. Jack motioned to Amos, "And keep the bottle here. Oh, hell! Make it two!" he winked.
Amos scowled, "You just get any thoughts and designs out of your head, scallawag! That little lass is like a daughter to me."
Jack raised his eyebrow. "A daughter, you say? Then why do you let her deal cards for the miscreants of that other ship? If she were my daughter--which she most certainly isn't--I would take a little more care to protect her than to let her get slapped by a brute like the one you pitched out of here."
Honour listened to the exchange. "Can the lass say something here? Amos does watch over me. It was a business proposition, fair and square."
Amos glared at Jack. "I've seen your kind in here before! And I'm keeping my eye on you, sir."
Honour sighed. "Excuse me, please, Captain Wolfe."

She took Amos aside and put her hands on her hips. "And what seems to be the problem, Amos? You never raised a fuss when I had a drink with anyone before."
He continued to polish the glass and said, "I don't like the way he is looking at you, Honour. Like you are fresh meat in a butcher shop."
She tossed her head and laughed, "He's handsome and charming."
Amos put his hands on the tavern counter and leaned towards Honour. "And that is what worries me, darlin'! It is like catnip to a cat, Miss Puss-in-Boots."

He ticked his fingers off.
"Handsome. Charming. A captain. Only one thing missing is, 'Is he rich? Can he show Miss Bright a good time?' I know you, Missy. Three out of four and you wil be bidding me nighty-night with your hand on his arm, tossing your hair as you walk out that door."

She laughed. "Please don't worry, Amos. Have you ever known me not to hold my whiskey?"
He frowned, "Once or twice. The last time you almost got killed."
"Well, I am older and wiser now."
"Ha! Older by about two months."
She laid her hand on Amos' arm and said, "Please don't worry. I know better now. It's not like I am running off to marry him.  He looks to be good conversation."
As she walked away, Amos muttered, 'Right. Good conversation. And then you be scrambling on the floor looking for your pantalets....'

She turned her attention back to Jack.
"So..you just made port?"
"Just this morning. I need to do a little..unloading."
"Really! And what could that be?"
She cupped her chin in her hand and gazed up at him from under long lashes.

Before he could answer, Jack felt a hand on his shoulder.  He looked round to find Briggs smirking at him.
"Can I help you, Josiah?" he asked, quickly cutting his eyes over to Honour, then back again.
"A moment of yer time, Captain?" asked Briggs.  He gave Honour a warm smile.  "Ship's business, ma'am."
Honour could tell from the gleam in the quartermaster's eye he was up to something.  "By all means," she said with a nod.  "But not too long.  I might get lonely."
Jack took her hand and kissed it, keeping his eyes locked with hers the entire time.  "I promise, I'll only be a moment."  Then he shot Briggs an impatient look, and the two men walked a short distance away from where Honour stood.

"Ship's business my arse!" Jack fumed.
Briggs' mischievous smile only got bigger.  "Are ye sure  you're feelin' all right, Jack?  Ye ain't actin' at all like yer normal self."
"What are you talking about?"
"In case ye didn't notice, that young lady don't look one bit Spanish."
Jack burst out laughing.  "Now, who was it had his head turned just this evening by a woman who isn't a redhead?"
"Not true!" protested Briggs.  "Dependin' on the light, I could see some red."
"Bollocks, and you know it!  Fine, so this one's not Spanish.  Nothing wrong with a little variety, yeah?"
"I think ye be in a generous mood tonight, too.  Yer gonna have to teach this youngster the ropes from the look of things.  Unless ye plan on playin' nanny."
"She's not that young, Josiah."
"I dunno.  Ye usually throw the little ones back.  What is it ye say about them?  Too 'clingy'?"
"I think I can handle the situation," said Jack.  "She works in a tavern, so she knows how all this works.  It's all just a bit of fun and company, then I move along.  No harm, no foul."
Briggs chuckled.  "Well, don't worry.  I know better than to try and talk sense with ye when a woman's involved.  I'm goin' back to the ship for a bit of shut eye.  Just don't expect me to leave a light burnin' for ye!"
The quartermaster turned and sauntered off, shaking his head and laughing to himself.

[Welsh Wench]

Jack couldn't help but laugh himself as he walked back to where Honour waited patiently.
"Is everything all right?" she asked.
"Just fine, love.  Couldn't be better, in fact, now that I'm in your company once more."
Honour's cheeks flushed pink.  "You flatter me, Captain."
"I meant every word of it." 
"What did you say the name of your ship was again?" she said, half-heartedly trying to change the subject to safer ground.
"El Lobo del Mar."

She put her finger to her lips and with a quick intake of breath, said, "El Lobo del Mar? Why, she is a legend in these waters! None is said to outrun her!"
Jack beamed with pride. "Aye, that would be my ship, love."
Her eyes grew wide.
"Captain 'Mad' Jack Wolfe!' I have heard of you!"
"You have?"
"Why, yes. It is said you never leave a ship unscathed."
He picked up his whiskey glass.
She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and added, "Or a woman unsatisfied."
Jack paused in mid-drink.
"Yes, well, there is that...."

She took a deep drink of the whiskey, reveling in the warmth going down. She was beginning to forget about the bruise on her cheek.
"My, my! " she said. "I hear bits and pieces of tavern gossip that echoes through this port. A Dutch merchant ship was overtaken a few days ago by--dare I say?--pirates. An agent for the VOC was at the magistrate's office filing a report on the burning of a vessel, the Stad Utrecht. Seems the crew were set adrift in a skiff and were rescued three days later by Portuguese fishermen.
Jack gave her a wide grin and said, "I wouldn't know a thing. You might say I was an almost completely innocent bystander."

Honour laughed and said, "That's good to hear! I wonder what booty the vessel was carrying?"
Jack leaned forward and poured another whiskey for Honour and himself. "Oh, I imagine the usual. Calico. Spices. Coffee. Wine. And twenty-four chests of gold and silver guilders."
"Tw-tw-twenty-four chests of guilders?"
Honour was astonished. Jack lit a pipe and took a deep draw on it.
"Now, did I say THAT?" he grinned.
She laughed and said, "I'm sorry. No, I didn't hear that at all! My, it is getting awfully warm in here."
Jack poured another whiskey. "I daresay you are beginning to feel better already."
She raised an eyebrow and said, "Indeed. I feel just fine. In more ways than one."
She leaned closer to him and ran her finger up and down his arm and whispered in a husky voice, "And I daresay I am going to feel alot better very soon. VERY soon."

Jack began to melt into her irresistible allure. The heat of her breath on his ear as she spoke the words 'VERY soon' made more than the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
But he had to be sure if her interest was in him or just what she could gain by a roll in the proverbial sack with him.  He looked her squarely in the eyes.
"What be your aim in all of this, darling? I'm not some young seaman, ready to believe the enchanting words of a beautiful woman with honey on her tongue and gold in her eyes. Is it me or is it the prize I carried in?"
Honour stood up and leaned over the table.
"I suppose I could ask you the same thing. Is it me you are interested in or just my body for a night of pleasure? You know what? You are a bastard, Jack Wolfe. I may work tables in a tavern but I am not a cheap doxy here for you to have a night of fun. . If that is what you want, there are plenty of other wenches here with low standards."
She turned to leave and Jack grabbed her by the arm. Amusment glittered in his eyes.
"Hold on there, Miss Bright. I appreciate your honesty. And I meant no harm by it.
She turned to leave and Jack grabbed her by the arm. Amusment glittered in his eyes.
"Hold on there, Miss Bright. I appreciate your honesty. And I meant no harm by it. I've been a cynic too long when it comes to matters of the...heart. So before you get your pantalets in a twist, sit down and let's have some meaningful conversation."
She sat down. Jack gave her a grin and said, "So how about another whiskey and then I take your clothes off?"
She stood up her face, flaming.
"How dare you..."
His face dropped in mock disappointment. "You don't like the whiskey?"
She burst out laughing. "You are still a bastard, Jack Wolfe. A dangerous, magnificent bastard but I like you."
He poured another glass and pushed it in her direction. "No need to drink and run then. Stay awhile and I promise to be witty and charming and mind my manners. Until you tell me otherwise. Then we can get naked together!"
She shook her head, laughing. "You are the kind of man a woman can't stay mad at."
"Does that mean yes to the naked?"
She shook her head. "It means yes to the whiskey."
"And then the clothes?"
She traced her finger around the rim of her glass and looked up at him with a twinkle in her eyes. "We shall see what transpires."
He took a drink of his whiskey and looked at her over the rim of his glass.
"Ah, you give me hope, Miss Bright!"
"And what if hope is all I give you?"
Jack leaned forward. "Oh before the night is over, you may just find out if those tavern stories really are true."
The back of his hand stroked her unbruised cheek. His finger ran down to the neckline of her chemise and ran across the edge of it.
She felt her breath stop and she had to will herself to breathe again.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Jack Wolfe. I am weaponed."
He reached in and took out her bodice dagger. She gasped at how fast he was able to retrieve it, and even more amazed that his fingers skimmed over her skin.
He studied it in the candlelight of the tavern table. Running his finger over the blade, he said, "Nice. You keep it sharp. Most women wouldn't even know what to do with it."
He turned it over in his hand. "Mother of pearl handle. Ruby in the hilt. Expensive. How did you come by it?"
Her face coloured. "It was a gift."
He deftly returned it to its nestled spot. But this time it seems he took his time.
"More whiskey, darling?"

She held out her glass and smiled. "I certainly hope you aren't planning on getting me drunk, Captain. Because it won't work."
"What won't work?"
"Oh, you figured a little liquid encouragement and you found a place to port for the night."
"Oh, you discovered my plan then."
She leaned forward, the whiskey starting to take its toll.
"I said you were a bastard and I meant it."
"I have no doubt."
She drew closer to him. "Gentlemen hold no fascination for me. Bastards, on the other hand...."
He could feel the heat rising off her and said, "Then prepare to be spellbound...."
Jack was beginning to feel drawn into her web and at that point he wondered.
Was he the hunter?
Or the game?

[Welsh Wench]

"You polish that tankard anymore and you will have nothing but a handle left."
Kate ambled over to where Amos was polishing and scowling.
She leaned against the counter and tucked her small towel into her waistband.
"There! There is the problem!"
He nodded towards the table where Honour sat with a handsome pirate.
"What, Honour and that honey of a pirate?"
Amos glared at Kate.
"Yes, Honour and Captain Charming over there. They've been at it for the last three hours."
"At....what?"
He continued to polish and slammed the tankard down.
"Whatever. I don't know. All I know is that he is up to no good."
"You can tell from over here?"
"I know his type. All flash. He's wining and dining her."
"But they aren't eating."
"Alright then, he's wining."
"It's whiskey."
Amos put his hands on the counter and leaned towards Kate.
"Are we getting into semantics now? She's about to fall back into her usual habits."
"And how can you tell?"
"Watch."
"Watch what?"
"Look at her. First she leans forward.....then the little tilt with the shoulder....followed by her taking a strand of her hair and twirling it around her finger...now she gives him that smile...and lowers her eyes....and repeat."

Kate was in awe.
"How do you know what she is going to do?"
Amos threw his dishrag down.
"Because young Missy over there has been following the same pattern ever since she has been here. Only the person sitting across from her changes."
"You need to get yourself a hobby, Amos!"
He folded his arms across his chest.
"And you are no better, Miss Kate! I saw you putting a little more swing in your backyard when that friend of his was here."
She gave him a wide-eyed look.
"What friend?"
"That tall pirate with the shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. Rugged-looking. Big shoulders. I saw you."
"And what did I happen to do?"
"Lean a little closer when you put his drink down. And I can smell the rosewater that you spritzed on not more than five minutes after they arrived!"
"It was a coincidence, Amos. I happened to brush up against that rose bush outside."
Amos gave a derisive laugh. "And if I believe that one, you have a nice waterfront lot to sell me over on Queen Street!"
"There IS no waterfront....oh. I see. Alright, so he took down my name and said he would be in tomorrow and maybe we could have dinner. Is it my fault he liked my....backyard?"

Amos shook his head. "Like herding cats you girls are. Especially you and Honour. Damn, if you weren't so attractive and bringing in the money, I would toss the two of you out of here."
"You wouldn't, Amos. You love us."
"Damn right I do. That is why I keep you two on. Birds of a feather, you two are. And that is why you struck up such a fast friendship."
"Honour will be alright, Amos. She is just lonely and that captain seems to be keeping her entertained."
Amos glared. "Oh, yeah? Well, who is entertaining who, I wonder? Just look!"
Kate looked over.
"What am I looking at?"
"Miss Bright just happens to be running her foot casually up and down that pirate's leg. No good can come of that."
Kate looked over and laughed.
"You are imagining things."
"Am I? Now watch him. First he pours her a drink....then one for him...tops hers off. Now he leans back and look!...his arm casually rests on the back of her chair...his finger slowly running on her arm....then he gives her that charming smile of his...doesn't even have a gold tooth in his head...and that Spanish pistol...you know how she is a pushover for a big pistol...."

Kate sighed. "She will be alright, Amos. She will drink herself blind and he will leave since he figures it isn't going to get him anywhere. Then you or I can make sure she gets to bed."
Amos scowled. "Something not right here. This one is flash, I tell you. Lots of gold coins and that smile. Like a cat with a canary. Playing with it until he goes in for the kill....."
Kate picked her towel up and headed towards the customers but said over her shoulder, "You worry too much, Amos."
He frowned. "Maybe....maybe...but this time I doubt it!"

[Welsh Wench]

Honour stood up and said, "I can't believe the hour, Captain Wolfe. I really must call it a night. Much as I hate this night to end."
"You're not serious, are you?  I mean, the sun isn't up yet.  That's the true signal the night is over."  He stood and stepped close to her.  "But bedtime is always negotiable..."

She laughed and put her hands on his chest, giving him a soft push away. "The sun may not be up yet but you forget that I am a mere tavern wench and I have been on my feet since this morning."
Jack wrapped his hands around hers.  Honour was surprised how gentle yet insistent he could be.  "Fine.  I'll carry you.  The hour is late, by your own admission.  And I would be remiss in my duties as a gentleman-- all right, I heard that giggle--to let you go home unattended.  Where is your room?  I promise to deliver you safely."

She snaked her arm around his neck and pulled him closer to her, whispering in his ear.
"You may be a knight in shining armour, Captain, but I have been able to hold my whis---whiskey fairly well and...."
"Hey, Honour! WE NEED MORE RUM!"
She snapped at the pirates at the table across the room.
"Can't you see that I am doo-offty? Off duty. That is what I meant. Get someone else to do it for you."
Jack looked over at the table of tarry lads and arched an eyebrow.  "You lot are well done for.  Quiet, or shift.  There are other barmaids."  He gave them a wink.  "This one's busy!"
Jack turned to Honour.  "And I mean that in the most respectful way, I promise.  Just shutting the lads up."
Honour put a finger to his lips.  "How about you shut up, and concentrate on escorting me home? Because really, I am not so think as you drunk I am. But yes, the Hades just pulled in and the girls always check to make sure they have their knickers when they leave here. The boys have been known to get excep---exceptionally  firsky...FRISKY! I meant frisky."
"Well then, since I know the crew of the Hades and their exploits, allow me to offer my services in defence of your knickers, my dear!  I shall pay special attention to them, even if they should end up on the floor with my assistance.  Remember how you promised to get naked with me when we started drinking?"

She held up her finger and placed it softly to his lips. "Ah, that is where you are wrong, Captain. I never promised that. I said let's see who perspires...I mean what transpires...and I never promised to be your port. So you can just leave my pantalets out of this equation."
Jack pulled her close.  "Equations?  I was never very good at math.  One plus one equals us.  Nothing else much matters, yeah?"
"Nothing except the basic math. First you add the whiskey. Then you subtract my clothes. I'm  not even getting into the division...."
"Or the multiplication.  That we can toss out straight away.  But I'm all for subtracting your clothes, mine too, then adding me to you."  He shook his head. "What is with all the mathematics?  Music!  That's what we should be talking about. The beautiful music we could make together..."
She giggled, "I don't think any bawdy sea shanties fit me. And the only music I think you want to hear is the creak of bedsprings."

Jack traced his finger along her neckline, lingering near her cleavage.  "Shanties?  No. You're the type symphonies are written about.  But not operas.  God, I hate operas. Alot of fat Germans screaming bad love poems at one another."
She looked down at his finger and gently removed it.
"I am Welsh. And I prefer being the kind of woman nations go to war over."
"Funny, I own what some consider to be a warship.  Who would you have me conquer in your name, fair Helen?"
Honour leaned over him and whispered, "Surprise me with a few apples of gold, noble Paris."
She stood slightly away from him. "I bet you didn't know I knew that, did you?"

Jack grinned.  "I was hoping you did!  You're obviously a woman of bearing and grace.  What you're doing here... that's a mystery to me.  You're out of place.  Yet you fit in by commanding respect.  And you get it.  You've certainly gotten it from me."

She smiled and kissed him gently on the lips. "And now it is time I get back to my room. But yes, the way the Hades crew is all riled up, I really would appreciate it if you would see that I get safely to my room. It is just out the back door and up the stairs."
"Evasive to the end. I have to respect that.  Enigmatic beauty is universally irresistible."  He searched her eyes, but he was just as drunk as she was.  "All right, enough philosophical drivel.  Lead the way, my dear!  And I shall guard you from anyone and anything.  Excluding myself, of course."

She looked over and frowned. "I suppose I should say goodnight to Amos but he must be in the back...Kate?" she called out. "I'm leaving now. Remind Amos I have tomorrow off. I'll see him on Monday."
Kate gave her a wave.
"I really appre---appreciate this, Captain. We can go out the back way."

She opened the back door and into the hot sultry night.
And whatever else awaited.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Honour breathed the salt air as she opened the door. She gathered up her hair in one hand and fanned herself.
"I swear, the nights keep getting hotter and hotter. I expect this in August, not June."

Jack slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close.  Honour thrilled as his lips found that one special place on her neck that made her knees weak.
"It can get even hotter," he breathed.

She began to feel herself being drawn into a situation that she knew where it would lead. This was how it started with James Blake.
And all the others.
She found herself with a shortness of breath that wasn't due to tight corsets. She turned her face away and whispered, "No.."
"Wait... what?  No?  Did I do something wrong?  I thought..."
"You thought...what? That if you bought me a few drinks and paid attention to me, and flattered me,  that I would be yours for a night? That you would add another notch to your baldric?"
"All right, fine.  You saw through my very thin ploy.  To a point.  But I've never seen you as another notch in any of my clothing.  No, there's something very, very different about you. Something... inescapable.  I can't explain it, Honour Bright.  But I'll never be able to get you out of my mind."

She laughed derisively. "That is what they all say. 'I've never met a girl like you, Honour.' 'I could spend the rest of my life with you, Honour...' Well, Captain, the translation is always the same. And this time I won't fall for it."
"I never said I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, Honour," Jack said with a pained expression.  "Merely that I find you enchanting.  If you inferred more than that,  well, that's on you, love."

She felt her eyes well up with tears.
"Fine. Then go. JUST GO! I can find my own way to my room."
She started towards the stairs.
"Honour, wait!" he said.  "I didn't mean to upset you!  It's just...  I'm not some Johnny-come-lately.  Yeah, I could do the smooth talking bit, but that's a disservice to you.  It's trite and overdone, and that's not my style.  I prefer up-front insincerity."
She stood there, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I--I'm sorry. Just too much...too much whiskey, Too many customers.... too much... life."
Jack walked to her and finished wiping a tear from her eye.  "I promise, you'll be amazed at my staying power," he whispered with a disarming smile.
She shrugged and gave a little laugh. "You are intriguing, Captain."

With barely any hesitation, Jack kisses her.  Deeply, searching... It was a kiss that had no indication of ending any time soon.
She found herself responding and when she broke free from it, she shook her head. "No, Jack."
"No?  And why not?  We're both consenting adults.  The night is still young...  All right, maybe not young, but of a consenting age as well."  He quietly managed to manoeuvre her to where her back was against the stone wall.  "As I was saying...."  He kissed her once again, this time it was more insistent, more demanding.

She felt the cold stone against her back and she began to shiver. Not so much from the stones but from where Jack's hands were..... insistent and probing, and her heart began to race.  But she found her hands against his chest, pushing him away.  
"No...  wait," she breathed. She adjusted her chemise and her skirt.
"Take me up to your room, ' he whispered.  He pressed her even harder against the stones as his hands grew bolder.
"No, Jack..."
"Then come back to my ship...."
"NO!"
Jack lifted her chin to meet his eyes. "Damn it all! What will it take, woman?"
Her eyes met his.
"A wedding ring."

Jack stood there, not believing what he was hearing.
"A...a what? A wedding ring?"
She nodded. "I... I won't allow you to bed me until we are properly wed."
Jack looked her squarely in the eyes... and hiccuped.  "A wedding ring."
"Yes," she said flatly.  "Otherwise, you can forget about any stairway to heaven."
"Oh...  I do like stairways."  Jack took her by the hand and began marching down the alley toward the street.  He paused only to snatch the flowers out of old lady Poggit's window garden.
He dragged Honour down the street in a hurry.
"Where are we going?"
"To make a right proper married woman of  you."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Her feet tried to keep up as Jack hurried her down the street.
"I've never had anyone wanting to marry me in such a hurry."
"It's not the wedding part I'm in a hurry to get to," replied Jack.
She stopped suddenly. "You like wedding cake and I don't know any bakers."
He turned to look at her.  "Why... yes!  Cake!  I love cake," he said as he started walking again.  "Can't get enough of it.  We'll have to find a baker come morning!"
"But I can't get married in this skirt. It's not white. And I have no veil."
"And all I have is a big pistol. Come ON!"

She tried to smooth down her skirt.
He stopped and brushed the hair away from Honour's face, then touched her chin gently.  She looked up into his eyes.
"Honour, you look beautiful.  And this is just a ceremony, after all.  A formality.  Wouldn't you agree that what comes after the ceremony is most important?"
She nodded. "A house and a yard full of children and a dog..."
Jack swallowed hard.  "Yes, well, I wasn't thinking quite that far into the future, but you've got the flavour of it."
"You don't like dogs?"
"More of a cat person, but dogs are fine.  Can we keep walking?"

He grabbed her by the hand and yanked her down the street.
"You seem very determined, Cat-pain. Captain. That is what I meant."
"That I am.  I thought you'd be flattered."
Honour did her best to keep up.  "Flattered, and winded...You really like me then? It wasn't just the whiskey or..or.....wait a second."
She rearranged her flowers and looked down. "My boots. I don't have the right boots for a wedding."

He winced and took a deep breath before turning back to her.  "Yes, I really do fancy you, and it's not just whiskey talking.  Much.  Anyway, I'd marry you barefoot if I had to!"
Honour smiled at him.  "You're certainly easy to please."
"Darling, you have no idea how easy at this point."

She stopped and narrowed her eyes at him, putting her hands on her hips.
"You aren't doing this just so you can...you know---finish what you started in the alley.  Are you?"
"Well, of course..."
"WHAT??"
"I mean, of course NOT," he said quickly.  "But I wasn't the only one thinking about where this night might lead.  In fact, you're the one who insisted we get married before sharing a bed.  How do I know it's not you who are trying to take advantage of me?"
Her mouth dropped open and closed quickly. "I'll have you know, Captain, that I have had--I mean can have--any man--captain!--I want in this port. So don't be thinking you are the only James--gentleman!--around."
She tossed her head. "Any man would be proud to have me on his arm, I will have you know. Maybe this isn't such a good idea, Captain."
She bent forward to retie her boot lace, affording him a spectacular view of what he could lay claim to if he handled this just right.

"Honour, wait..."
She straightened up, only wobbling slightly as she locked him with the sternest gaze she could muster as he walked to her.
"You're right.  And I'm sorry."
"For accusing me of coercing you into marrying me, or for being a bastard?"
Jack smiled disarmingly.  "Both."
Her look faded from disapproval to one of mild distrust.  "I'm listening."
"You're right.  You're beautiful, and any man in his right mind would walk over broken glass to be with you and count himself lucky.  Yet here I stand, making a mess of thing."

"Go on," she said.
"I should be counting myself the most fortunate bloke on earth by having you even considering marrying me.  Now how stupid does that make me, getting you all upset?"
"Very."
"Enough helping from you, thanks."
He took a deep breath.  "So I'm sorry.  I do want to marry you, Honour Bright.  And not just because of that kiss in the alleyway.  That's the truth."  He paused and held his hands out to the side, and began to slowly back away.  "But I understand if you're having second thoughts..."
  She shook her head. "I'm not having second thoughts. I just want to be sure you want ME. And not just a night."
She stood close to him, so close he could smell the jasmine that she wore.
She ran her finger down his chest and whispered, "You had better make it worth my while."
"Oh, I shall," he whispered in reply, and brought his lips close to hers.  Honour was quick to block his kiss with her finger.
"Aaahhh, patience!  Have you forgot where we were going?"
"How silly of me," he smiled.  "No, I haven't forgotten."
He reached over and knocked on the heavy wooden door of one of the houses.
"What on earth are you doing?" she exclaimed.
"Magistrate's house.  Told you it wasn't far!"

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack knocked on the door. No answer.
"Do you suppose no one is home?" Honour whispered.
"I could always break in and find out," said Jack with a mischievous smile.
She put her arm on his frock coat.
"What, and have me spend my weeding--wedding--night alone?"
Brushing a tendril of blond hair back from her face, he replied, "Not a chance, love.  Maybe he's a heavy sleeper, yeah?  Let's try again..."

Jack knocked on the heavy wooden door, much harder this time.  Honour cringed at the loud sound.
"Shhh! You will wake up the entire port! Maybe this is a sign...maybe we aren't supposed to get married."
She stood close to Jack, her jasmine perfume filling the night air with every movement of her.
"We're getting married," he said with determination, "if I have to get myself ordained."
Honour began to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of an upstairs window opening.
"Oi!" came an angry man's voice.  "Go away!  It's the middle of the night!"
Honour grabbed Jack's coat and said softly, 'We had better go. There is always tomorrow and you can pick me up at the tavern....."
"And take the chance you'll sober up and reconsider?  Not on your life, darling."  He looked up at the man in the window.  "You're the magistrate, right?  We want to get married!"
"It'll wait!"
Jack pulled a small purse of coins from his pocket and jingled it loudly.  Honour's eyes grew wide at the sound of what must have been a lot of money.
"No, I don't think it will.  At least, this money won't."
"You--you're going to pay him off? I mean, isn't' that kind of like a dow--dow--you know, where the father pays the man to take his daughter off his hands? Is that my dow--dow---price?"

"A dowry?  Heavens, no!  This is a straight-up bribe, love.  Besides, I'm the one who'd get paid the dowry.  I think."  He looked back up at the man.  "What'll it be?  A couple shillings in the morning, or an awful lot more tonight?"
The magistrate gritted his teeth.  "I'll be right down," he growled before disappearing from the window.
"He's probably coming down to excommunicate me. He's mad. Maybe we should see him in the morning. What do you think? I mean, I am not in the mood to get scolded."

She started to slowly back away from the door.
"Don't worry, dear.  He can't excommunicate you.  He's just another civil servant."  He turned back to the door, waiting for the magistrate to open it.  "Of course, he could punch me right in the face.  I'd rather be excommunicated, then."
"He's not allowed to hit you. And if that is the case, I can tell his wife about his gambling at the tavern."
She giggled. "Did I say that out loud?"
Jack grinned at her in surprise.  "Oh, now I know I love you!  We were meant for each other.  I knew it!"
Honour giggled again, but her smile faded quickly.  "What do you mean, 'now' you know?  You didn't....?"

The door's deadbolt lock banged loudly as it was unlocked, and the door swung open.  There stood the magistrate in his nightshirt and a robe.  He had a lamp in his hand, and a scowl on his face.

Honour stood there with her most somber look on her face, trying to stay upright as she leaned on Jack.
"He looks fero--fero--fierce."
Jack slipped his arm around Honour's waist to steady her.  Giving his most charming grin, he held the coin purse out for the magistrate.  The magistrate took it and felt its weight, then slipped it into a pocket in his robe.
"Right!" the man said.  "I'll be having your names."
"That much money, you could give us a smile," said Jack.  Honour tried hard not to giggle.
"The money buys you the ceremony and my not calling the constable.  Now, your names."
'Honour Bright."
The magistrate looked over his glasses at her.  "You're joking," he said flatly.
"I am not!" she said indignantly.
"What kind of name is that?" he asked Jack.
"Um, Welsh?" shrugged Jack.
The magistrate sighed.  "Fine, fine.  You can be Honour Bright.  I don't want to know how many consonants."  He looked back to Jack.  "And yours better not be 'Unbroken Bond'."
"John Michael Wolfe, your magisterialness.  CAPTAIN John Michael Wolfe."
"Oh good.  Another captain.  I should have guessed.  All right then, is there anyone here with objections to this man and woman being joined in holy matrimony?  Anyone?  Please?  Anyone at all?"
 
The magistrate looked around, hoping someone-anyone--would come out of the shadows with a reason to let him get back into his warm bed.
He sighed.
"Yes, well...be that as it may...."

His jaw clenched, he opened a copy of the Book of Common Prayer and began to read.  "I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, that ye confess it.  For ye be well assured... Oh, never mind.  You'll be lucky to remember this."
Honour hiccupped loudly as if to underscore his point.

He looked over his glasses at them.
"Yes, well, we can dispense with all the formality."
"Miss Bright, do you?"
She nodded.
"You sure about that?"
"I am."
He turned to Jack.
"I'd ask you the same question but the answer is pretty obvious you want her. Quickly."
"Let me tell you, mate..." started Jack.
"How 'bout you don't?  Now, the ring please.   You do have a ring to make this good and proper, right?"

Jack searched his frock frantically. Finally, he produced a gold trinket and offered it to her.
"What manner of wedding piece is this?"
She regarded the ungainly trinket of gold. It was an ugly thing; a disc of gold with arms reaching out.
Jack met her eyes. "Darling, I swear I'll get you an honest ring."
"You'd better," she warned.
"Anything you want.  As you were saying, sir..."
"By the power vested in me....

"Emeralds."
"What?"
The magistrate rolled his eyes and began tapping his foot.
"I want emeralds in my wedding ring."
"Absolutely.  Your Honor..."
"At least three," she added mischievously.
Yes, dear!  Oh, looks at that.  He's getting upset with us, darling."
"May I finish, please?  I'd like to get back to bed," said the magistrate.
Jack turned to the magistrate. "I feel your pain, Sir."

"I pronounce you man and wife." 
He retrieved a sheet of paper from a small desk just inside the door, scribbled a few words on it, and handed it to Jack. 
"Now, kiss the bride and go away!" the man said, and he slammed the door.

The magistrate opened the door again and called out, "Mrs. Wolfe--try not to enjoy it too much. After all it IS Sunday morning."

[Welsh Wench]

Honour fumbled for the key she kept hidden above the doorjamb. Jack took it out of her hand and put it in the keyhole. Then he drew his foot back and practically kicked the door open. He swept her up in his arms and carried her into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot.

Honour stood there with the moonlight streaming through the window. Jack drew her to him, winding her hair in his hand, his face only an inch from hers.
"And now you got what you wanted. A wedding band. Now it is my turn to get what I want."
He gave her skirt a quick tug and it fell to the floor.
Her breath caught in her throat as Jack moved his hand down her cheek and slowly down to her bodice lacings, his fingers finding their way under the lacings.
He tugged.
Nothing.

"Th-th-they seem to be knotted."
"It's a good thing I'm here.  I'm quite good with knots."  He deftly reached into his boot and produced a slender bone-handled dagger, its blade glinted in the dim light.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, 'No...no..."and backed against the wall.
"No, wait..."  Jack didn't expect her fearful response.  He looked at the knife in his hand and silently cursed himself.  How could she know he meant no harm? 
"Here," he said gently, and took her hand in his.  Honour watched as he tenderly wrapped her fingers around the hilt. His eyes never left hers.

Jack covered her hand with his and gently placed the dagger under the bottom lacing. With a slow flick of the tip, the lacing gave way as if it were butter and one by one the lacings slowly cut away .
"I may not be good at lacing but I know the best way to un--"
The trepidation Honour had felt quickly turned to a building excitement as each lace yielded to the edge of the blade.

Each knot gave way and the garment fell away. Honour stood there in her chemise, shivering.
He took the marriage license out of his pocket and whispered in her ear, "The sword is mightier than the pen, it would seem."
He tossed the paper on the dresser.

Jack drew her to him and traced his finger along the edge of the chemise, his finger catching the edge. A whisper of softness and a promise to what lay underneath it.
"And now let's see if what I find is worthy of a gold band."
Her eyes were cast downward as he gently tugged the chemise down from her shoulders.

She put her arms around his neck and drew him close to her.
"Make love to me. Even if you tell me lies, I'll pretend to believe them and we can face the dawn and sort it out. But for tonight I will believe anything you tell me. Just love me. Love me strong and love me all night long. Just for tonight."

Jack stood back from her. The chemise drifted towards the floor, landing in a puddle of silk at her feet.  He gazed at her curves. A smile slowly spread across his face as he whispered to himself, 'Well, damn. This is going to be a great night.....'

[Welsh Wench]

The skies delivered a clap of thunder, waking Honour up. She lifted her head from her pillow to see sheets of rain hitting the windowpane. Honour groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. She couldn't understand why she felt so wonderful despite the pounding of her head from the hangover she had.

She rolled over in her bed and absent-mindedly stretched out. She felt....skin? A body? She opened one eye and....whaaat?

Snoring softly on the pillow beside her was a man. At least she was pretty sure it was a man. Wildly tousled brown hair obscured the person's face. She lifted the covers to make sure. Oh, yes, definitely a man...Then she looked down at the floor and saw a trail of clothes that led to the door.  Next to her side of the bed was a puddle of silk. She kept looking from under the sheet...to the body next to her...to the discarded silk....back under the sheet and to the body again.

Honour tried to move as far as she could to the edge of the bed. She quietly leaned on her elbow, keeping the sheet up around her chin. Her head pounded from the whiskey and she rubbed her temples. The body rolled over and she looked upon the sleeping face.
It was the pirate from the tavern the night before.

Bits and pieces of the night before started to reconnect in her mind. She threw the covers back over her head. 'Gotta think...gotta think....Alright, so now do I say, 'Thank you very much, that is the nicest thing that anyone has ever done to me.  It was great and very nice to have met you and if you are ever in port again...' I mean, it's not like I have never had company in my bed.'

She looked under the bed.
'Well, at least he has great boots too."
Honour tried to slip out of the bed as quietly as she could. But before she could escape, his arm was around her, preventing her from leaving. A little squeak escaped her but she quickly realized he was very much asleep. The more Honour tried to slip from the man's grasp, the tighter he held on.
Finally she quit struggling and lay looking up at the ceiling once more. She touched her silver necklace. 'I don't think I had better ask you for help on this one, Mother. You would probably say, 'Rhiannon, you got yourself into this one, better get out of this one yourself.'

She looked over at her bedmate who was still out cold. A determined look came over her face. Gently, she lifted the edge up on his pillow to partially cover his face, just enough to hopefully get him to move. And move he did. Out of reflex, he took his arm from around Honour to move the obstruction out of the way. She popped free from his grasp and landed on the floor with an unceremonious thump.

She scrambled to grab the sheet ever so carefully and wrap it around her. Sitting carefully in the chair, she stared at the handsome pirate. "Oh, please please let him be a captain...'
She looked over at the pile of clothes on the floor that belonged to him.  Hers were strewn in a trail that not surprisingly led right to the bed.  She could see his frock coat, and sword, and what looked to be the butt of an ornate Spanish pistol.
"Whew!" she breathed.  "I think he's a captain, all right.  A girl has to keep her standards."

She picked up her bodice and saw the lacings cut in little pieces. "I know there has to be a logical explanation....I just wish I knew what it was.'

Beside his breeches, she spied a bone-handled dagger.  A smile slowly tugged at the corners of her mouth.  'Oh yeah, that's why....I can't remember when the pants came off...'

She traced her trail of clothes again, starting at the door and working toward the bed.  Her mouth dropped open a little as she realized there was a good three feet between her chemise and her boots that were right beside the bed.
'I must have fallen face first in bed then...but something tells me I didn't exactly fall.  Carried?  Carried works...But how did my boots get off? And why last? A bodice is one thing, but if he so much as shortened a bootlace...'  
Honour quickly inspected her boots to find the laces were indeed as she'd left them.
She looked at them. 'Oh crap. I broke a heel....Maybe I can guilt him into buying a new pair?  It's worked before,' she mused. 'I wonder how his credit is...'

She crawled around the floor, looking for her pantelets.
'They have to be here somewhere...OW!'
Her knee landed on a button.
'These aren't mine...'
Honour found a silk shirt and held it up. Buttons were torn from it and it was ripped halfway up the back.
'Oh, Muir, what have you done?' Then she realized Muir was over at the tavern sleeping under the table to keep Amos company.

She picked up her chemise. The drawstring was missing.  Her face turned crimson at the thought of Malcolm knocking at her door to see if she was alright.
"I heard noises. Are you alright? You aren't getting killed, are you?"
"No, Malcolm. It must have been in the alley."
She was wrapped in a sheet and her hair was tousled and her lipcolour smeared.

Honour bit her lip and wondered if you could actually die from it. The rush of blood out of your head...how can such a man have such stamina? And know all the right buttons to push?
And push them so perfectly.
She couldn't even remember his name.

As she passed the dresser, a piece of paper caught her eye.
She picked it up.
A marriage license.
Two names were on it.

John Michael Wolfe
Honour Bright

MARRIED?

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Honour stared in disbelief at the marriage certificate in her hand. At the bottom were their signatures, along with the wax seal of the magistrate making their union official.
'Add writing to the list of his talents,' she thought.
Memories of the previous night's activities came into focus for her. The whiskey, the dancing, the wedding, the...
"What have you gotten yourself into this time?" she asked herself aloud.

At her words, Jack stirred from his sleep. He reached for her side of the bed, but she wasn't there. The bed was still warm, though.
'She'll be back,' he thought. 'They always come back.'
A steady throbbing in his skull told him he was in for one serious hangover, so he didn't bother opening his eyes. Next he reached for the sheet, which Honour was using as a makeshift dressing gown.
"What the...?" he grumbled as he sat up.
He opened his eyes to find a glowing yet perturbed young woman before him. She held a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. He smiled, and tried to jog his memory as to her name.
"Good morning, my lovely!" he offered. "Don't tell me... Your name's Helen....no, Hannah...umm....Betsy?"

Her face reflected astonishment.
"You don't remember, do you? Read it! It's all there in official print!" she retorted as she threw the crumpled document in his face.
"It would be SO nice if you remembered the name of your wife. And I don't mean 'Mrs. Wolfe'." 

He unfolded the document she'd so graciously presented him. "Blah, blah, blah, 'Holy Matrimony' , blah, blah, 'John Michael Wolfe and Honour Bright'..."
Jack looked at her suspiciously. "What kind of bloody name is 'Honour Bright'?"
She balled up the sheet and threw it at him.
"It's my name!"

Jack pulled the sheet from about his head and chuckled.  "I do like this arrangement much better," he said with a sly smile.  Honour blushed as she tried half-heartedly to cover herself.
"The name!  Ah, well, that makes all the difference in the world, love!" Jack continued.  "Why don't you bring your lovely self back into bed, and we can discuss things further, yeah?  'Honour Bright' suits you.  Honour Bright Wolfe, even more so.  Now, what's it to be, darling wife?  You, standing there unappreciated?  Or here in this nice, warm bed, fully and repeatedly appreciated by me?"

Honour thought for a moment, and all things being equal, Jack Wolfe wasn't that disgusting. In fact, he had a certain allure.  She got back into bed, and Jack threw the sheet back over them like a matador's cape.
She whispered, "You certainly don't give a woman a chance to think, do you, Jack?"
He laughed, "Faint heart never won fair lady, yeah?"
She looked at him warily, "Where do you get the 'lady' idea, pirate?"
He chuckled, "Woman, I have been wise to the ways and means of both doxies and damsels. And you, my dear, are no mere tavern wench."
She turned away and murmured, "You are mistaken."
He put his finger under her chin and turned her head so she couldn't tear her eyes away from him.
"I think not. You have all your teeth. They are white. You don't jump on your food and drink like you shall never see another morsel or another tankard again. Your dialect, Welsh though it may be, belies an educated gentry. You stood up for yourself against that brute yet not in a slatternly way. But as one with smarts and wits."
She jerked his hand away and said, "I said you are mistaken. My mother was a housemaid and my father was a stable hand. I am the result of too much ale and moonlight. Father was long gone by the time of my birth. Mother died when I was a child. I was raised in an orphanage.  End of story."

Jack regarded her thoughtfully.  Something didn't ring true about her story, but he had nothing more to go on but a hunch.
"Aye. If you say so, my wife. Wife! Ye gads! I now have one."
"You never had one before?"
He laughed. "Never got caught before. love. You?"
She looked away and pulled the sheet around her. "No."

Jack stood up and reached for his clothes. He pulled the shirt over his head.
Ripped. Damn!
As he put his boots on, he looked over at the woman who was now his dearly beloved. Her arms stretched over her head, the sheets swirling around her. Her hair laid in a tangle around her shoulders and her eyes reflected some sort of dreamy afterglow.

He gave her a grin and she put her hand up.
"Oh, no, you don't!" she protested.
"Suit yourself.  It would have been magic."
He laughed and took her in his arms, giving her a passionate kiss. Then he left the bed, headed towards the door.
She said indignantly, "And where do you think you are going?"
"Back to my ship."
She took the marriage license and threw it in his face again.
"Guess again. You think you can just...just....just....and then LEAVE?"
Jack shrugged. "Never been an issue before."
She said darkly, "You've never come up against Honour Bright."
He retorted, "And you have never tangled with Captain Jack Wolfe!"
Jack suddenly burst out laughing.
"Aye, and I do think I have taken on a tigress!"
She raised her eyebrow as she tucked the sheet up to her chin.
"Tigress?"
He kicked his boots off and with a twinkle in his eye, he said, "What's this old world coming to, Honour?"
"What do you mean?"
He drew the sheet back. "It's not right. The hunter got captured by the game."