PRELUDE TO EL LOBO DEL MAR

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

As Jack and Honour sparred below decks, life aboard ship went on as usual. The men busied themselves with their duties, unconcerned about what their eccentric captain might be up to.

Every man, save one.

Samuel Burgess was at his station on the forward deck, but his attention was focussed on the quarterdeck and the actions of the men who occupied it. His face was fixed in a judgemental scowl as he watched Jack and Briggs leave the ship's holy ground and go below. He put down one of the crates he had been moving and slowly walked over to a young man who was sitting on a barrel by the gunwale, measuring out lengths of rope.

"Six months aboard this stinkin' ship and how many times have we chased down any prey. Eli?" asked Burgess. "Three, maybe four times? And then it was more to appease the crew than honest piracy. I'm not a dog to be let out for a run every now and again. Wolfe, he's got his head twisted round by that woman so, he's forgotten what it means to be a pirate! I'll bet twenty-five shillings her being aboard is why he broke chase with that freighter. To protect his little dove. Well, I've had enough of this rubbish. Wolfe needs to learn what happens to captains who quit actin' like a proper captain."

Eli held his silence, busying himself with repairing a hemp cable with a marlinspike and the rope he had just cut. He understood what Burgess getting at, but he wanted no part in it if he could avoid the matter. The last thing Eli Meredith wanted next to his name was the title "mutineer".

"You ain't talkin' much," said Burgess.
"Ain't got much to say. You're talking enough for us both. I need to concentrate."
"What, you don't mind bein' a pirate aboard a pirate ship what don't do any piratin'?"
"I suppose so. The work is fair and the pay is good. I've got no quarrel with the captain or Master Briggs."
Burgess eyed the younger man with contempt. "No quarrels, eh? What if I was to hang you along with Wolfe and Briggs when I take this ship? Would you be content with that, too?"
Eli swallowed hard and slowly shook his head.
"Didn't think so. Just remember that when the time comes. You're either with me or you're with them, and those not with me in the end will swing, I swear to god they will."

Burgess went back to rearranging crates while Eli sat there, unable to concentrate on his work thanks to the sound of his heart beating in his ears.

Finally, Eli cleared his throat. "And, ah, just when were you thinking of... teaching the captain this lesson you're talking about?" He couldn't bring himself to say the word "mutiny". It felt like he was trapped in a bad dream, one he knew would get worse. Asking  when it would finally happen seemed like a safe precaution.
Burgess stopped and smiled at him. "Aye, I knew you'd come round to my way of thinking!"
"Well, actually---"
"Tonight. We move tonight. I'll let you know exactly when. Just be ready."
Eli's jaw worked wordlessly for a moment. "Um, all right. Just how many of... us will there be?" He was praying there would be a large number of men involved so he could discreetly fade into the background when all hell broke loose.
"Nah, mate. That's for me to know, just in case you turn yellow and spill your guts. Then the only one they could nick is me, and the other can settle the score. You just be ready, understand?" Burgess gave him a wink as he shouldered another crate and walked away.

Eli nodded. His stomach felt like it had turned to stone, and he silently cursed the day he stepped from dry land into this watery nightmare.

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

Jack and Honour spent the rest of the day in their respective cabins, neither one willing to take one conciliatory step out their door. Briggs checked in on them from time to time, offering each of them food and friendly conversation. Both refused the conversation, but Honour eventually agreed to a small evening meal. Jack was too busy brooding to even think of eating. Finally, Josiah tired of trying to play the intermediary and retired to his own quarters for the night. He silently resolved that if the quarrelling couple weren't making any progress by midday, he would force them into the same room and lock them in, and let nature take its course. Either they would kill one another, or they would spend the rest of the voyage in bed together. At this point, the beleaguered quartermaster didn't favour an outcome.

Jack looked up from the book he had been reading and noticed that night had fallen. He rubbed his eyes and tossed the book onto the large table, where it landed amid a tangle of charts and mapping instruments. He poured himself a cup of rum and walked to the window. The stars glistened overhead, and he could make out the wispy glow of the Milky Way. Whatever time it was, he knew it was late into the night.

"Why?" he asked himself aloud. "Why do I do such ridiculous things when I'm around her? I can outwit pirate hunters and naval blockades without once losing my head, but not with her. Not with Honour Bright. It seems like from the moment I met her, I've never been able to control myself."
He took another sip of rum and stared out at the sea.
"Why you? Why in the name of sanity did I have to fall in love with you?"
Just then, he heard an odd sound at his door. He turned, and saw its handle moving tentatively.
A broad grin broke out on Jack's face.
"Honour!" he whispered hopefully. Immediately, he knocked back the rest of the rum and stashed the cup in his desk. He raced to the bed and started tossing clothes and books onto the floor out of sight.
"Just a moment!" he called. He straightened his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair, then began rummaging under the bed for one of the bottles of merlot wine he kept hidden there for just such an occasion. If Honour wanted to talk, he wanted to make sure the conversation had a happy ending.

But as his hand closed on the neck of the bottle, he heard the cabin door slam open. He turned to see two of his crewmen, one brandishing a knife and the other a pistol, both with a murderous look in their eyes.
"Look at that, Dougie," one chuckled. "We's gonna be the heroes of this here mutiny!"

Jack's breath caught in his throat. Mutiny. The one word that made any sea captain's blood run cold. How many were against him? Was this just the start? Oh god, had they already gotten to Honour?
He stared at the the two mutineers, and found he could only think of one word to say through clenched teeth.

"Bollocks."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Now, stand up nice and slow, Wolfe," said the crewman with the pistol. "Sam'll give you plenty of time for prayin' on your knees when all this is over."

Jack hung his head in defeat. He could hear the men take a step into the room. Silently, he counted to three, then suddenly he lifted his head and hurled the wine bottle at the man with the gun. The bottle caught the man squarely in the forehead. Jack rolled to the side as the man staggered and fired blindly before falling to his knees.

His compatriot with the knife charged with his blade held high, ready to strike.
Jack stayed low and managed to dodge his attacker's wild slash. He grabbed hold of the mutineer's belt and pushed hard, causing the man to lose his balance. Momentum did the rest, and the man's head collided with the edge of the heavy oak table, knocking him unconscious.

Swiftly, Jack swept up the gun the first man had dropped, and used is as a club to incapacitate him as well.
"That's two," he said to himself as he retrieved a length of rope and began to tie the men up. "Can't have you lot getting back into the party too soon. A shame you didn't brag how many others are with you."

He picked up the knife his attacker had dropped and slipped it into his belt. Then he went to the trunk by his desk. He opened it and retrieved two pistols. One was ornate, with an ivory finial and gold inlay. A souvenir from one of his encounters with Mendoza. The other was plain, with a heavy hexagonal barrel. All business, no embellishments that didn't belong. Much like the man who originally owned it: Jack's father.
He checked to make sure both guns were loaded. After he primed them both, he tucked them into his belt at his back. Then he paused to collect his thoughts.
"Dad, just in case you're looking in on this, I could use your help. A well-timed warning, hell, even a calm heart and steady hand would be appreciated. It's just that... I don't want to die like this. I don't want her to die like this, either." He sighed as he slipped on his baldric. "Like you always said, standing around talking about a thing doesn't get it settled."

Jack cautiously went to the door and looked down the companionway. Faint light spilled into the space where Honour's door would be. Just then he heard scuffling, and muffled sound of her cry. He moved quickly and quietly until he was right outside her cabin. As he drew his knife, a man began backing out of the doorway, dragging a kicking and twisting Honour with him. But the man stopped in his tracks when he felt the blade of Jack's knife at his throat.
"You're making a really bad decision, mate," he said menacingly in the mutineer's ear. "She'll never forgive me for staining her dressing gown with your blood."
Honour managed to get her mouth free from the man's hand. "Jack, he's got a gun in my back!"
"Aye, she's right. So cut me throat if ye please. I'll take her with me, and we'll soak that gown in blood together."
After a moment, Jack slowly took the blade from the mutineer's neck. "All right, mate. We'll have it your way."
"What?!" Honour said incredulously.
"Now you're thinkin' straight," agreed the man.
"In fact, what to I care about her?" laughed Jack. "She's just another doxy to me. Here, mate, have some fun with her on me."

Jack shoved Honour free from her captor. She stumbled forward and caught herself at the foot of the bed. She turned to look back, her eyes full of confusion and anger.
Taken by surprise, the mutineer turned toward Jack, the pistol still pointed at Honour. But the man's expression swiftly became one of disbelief.
Honour look down to see her husband's hand holding the handle of a knife, the blade buried deep in the treacherous man's chest.
"Sorry, changed my mind," Jack said to the dying man. "Husband's prerogative."
Jack took the pistol from the man's hand and held it out for Honour to take as the man slumped to the deck.

"'Doxy'? You called me a doxy?!"
"I was improvising!"
"Are you sure it wasn't commentary?"
"Oh, so now you're a critic."
"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. "Has the crew gone mad?"
"Yeah, something like that. It's called mutiny. Here, take this and stop asking questions." He knelt down to search the dead man for any other weapons that could be useful.
Honour sat down on the deck, facing Jack and the open doorway. "Where the hell were you, anyway? You were supposed to protect me!"
He motioned angrily at the dead body in front of them. "What do you call this? Afternoon tea? Now shut up and let me---"

Jack fell silent as Honour raised the pistol, and he found himself looking right down its barrel.
"Honour, I know you're upset, but please..."
His eyes went wide as he saw her finger squeeze the trigger.

And they slammed shut as he heard the pistol fire.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

The air in Jack's lungs began to burn at this throat. He realised that he had quit breathing. But that was all that burned. The familiar searing sensation of metal piercing his flesh was not there.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Honour was still holding the pistol. Despite her death grip on it, the trembling of her body kept the muzzle bobbing wildly. He turned to see the crumpled body of a man in the companionway. A cutlass lay beside him.

Honour had saved Jack's life.

He turned back to her, and gently took the pistol from her hands.
"There you are, love. That's it. It's all over. You did it! You saved me! Thank you!"
Finally, Honour was able to tear her eyes from the dead man. "Jack, he... he had a sword. He was going to kill you..."
"I know. I know, darling. And you stopped him."
Tears began to well in her eyes. "Why are they doing this? Why now?"
"I wish I knew. Not enough plunder, one weevil too many in the hardtack, who knows? But right now, I have to find Briggs and make sure he is all right. If he hasn't been harmed, then it's likely the ship is still mine. Either way, I need him to help put this mutiny down."
"You don't even know how many are involved, do you?"
Jack feigned a reassuring smile. "Thanks to you, four fewer than when they started. But Honour, I need you to promise me you will stay here. No heroics. You have to stay put."
"All right."
"Now, I mean it! No arguments! This is too serious..."
"Jack, I agreed with you. I'll stay right here, I promise."
He looked at her blankly. "So you did. Are you not feeling well?"
"Well enough for someone who just shot a man stone dead. Go put an end to this stupid mutiny, would you?"

He pulled the Spanish pistol from his belt and handed it to her. "Here, take this for your protection."
Honour shook her head. "I've had enough of pistols for one night."
"And I hope you don't have to use it. But just in case, I need you to take this. Keep it close. And when I leave the room, I want you to lock the door behind me. Don't open it for anyone but me or Josiah."

Jack kissed her, then dragged the stabbed man out into the companionway. Honour closed the door and threw the deadbolt lock as he instructed. She paused and said a brief prayer for his safety, then looked down at the ornate Spanish pistol in her hands. Ordinarily, she would have given in to her curiosity and gone scouting around the ship to see what was going on. But things were different now. She had more to consider than just her life this time.

On the other side of the door, Jack found himself pausing in prayer as well. While he asked for the strength of will to end this mutiny and save his ship, his most fervent desire was for Honour to stay safe in all this madness. Once again, he had managed to put her in harm's way. He knew that he had to make this right, or die trying. Quietly he began to move through the companionway toward Briggs' quarters.

Two men prowled the dark, empty weather deck. Normally there would be men stationed on watch, but this was no ordinary night. The bulk of the crew wanted no part in the mutiny, but chose instead to stay out of the way and see how events played out. If Jack prevailed, their hands were clean. If Burgess won, he could not easily retaliate against anyone for being loyal to the former captain. The sails had been trimmed and the wheel lashed in place, leaving these two mutineers to themselves.

"Ow!! Damn you, careful with that cutlass!" Ed Frail yelped at his compatriot, Allan Korman. "If you had half a brain, you'd carry a pistol like me. Now, keep back off me!"
"Careful you don't overwork that half brain of yours and shoot yourself in the foot," jeered Korman. "Besides, we're supposed to be capturing Briggs in his cabin, not skulking around up here."
"That's exactly why we're up here, where Briggs would never think to expect us! This way he has to come to us. See? I'm smarter than him, and you too for that matter."
"Yeah, you're a right wizard. Brilliant plan, making sure Briggs' sleeps through the mutiny by our knocking about on the other end of the ship so as not to disturb his slumber. Colour me dazzled."
"It is a plan, and a good one! Why do you think Burgess put me in charge and not you? But you'll spoil it all by running your yap. Now shut it and keep a sharp eye out for Briggs or anyone else not part of our company. Five shillings says I spot Briggs first."
Confident he had put Korman in his place, Frail turned and walked authoritatively into a stack of heavy crates.

Jack Wolfe watched the two men from the shadows. 'Good,' he thought to himself. 'They haven't gotten to Briggs yet. Things are looking up.'

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack remained cloaked in the shadows, unmoving as he watched the mutineers. The problem with this situation was the mutineers were not moving, either. They appeared to be quite comfortable bravely staying in the middle of the forward deck, well away from any close-quarter situations that might actually involve their using the weapons they brandished.
Jack could feel his patience waning by the moment. But he could not risk being seen at this distance and possibly on the receiving end of a wild shot. Somehow, he had to get to the other side of the deck where the door to Briggs' cabin was.
"Come on, you maggots! Leave, fall asleep, do something!" he muttered.

The rocking of the ship grew steadily pronounced as it moved through the water. He could see low clouds moving in under the moonlight. If the weather turned now, it could be a long night for everyone. As he contemplated making a dash for the door anyway, a loud noise came from just inside the forecastle. It was most likely crates that had not been stowed correctly, but it gave the two mutineers something to do rather than stare at one another.

"Go on," Frail ordered. "I'll be right behind you."
"You've got the gun, why don't you go first?"
"Because I'm in charge, remember? And those what lead do it from behind the ranks."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's how it gets done in your family..." chuckled Korman.
"Just shut your mouth and open the door, eh?"
"Right-o, Fearless One."

While their backs were turned, Jack silently darted across the deck and hid behind the steps leading to the quarterdeck. The door leading to where Briggs' cabin was stood only a couple of feet away, if those two would give him time to duck in and quietly close the door behind him.

Korman opened the door cautiously and peered inside. Frail stayed put, sticking to his strategy of leadership out of the line of fire.
"So? What do you see?" he asked in a loud, nervous whisper.
Korman sighed. "A busted crate of linen. I don't think it will put up much of a fight unless you want a go at it. My money's on the fabric."
"You're a funny man. Now quit mucking about and secure that door."
"Blimey! You're so quick with the orders!" complained Korman.
"What are you gonna do about it, then?"

Jack gritted his teeth as the two men bickered. Damn it! Why couldn't they have a longer attention span? But as they stood nose to nose squabbling, an idea for another sort of distraction came to Jack's mind. He smiled as he watched them argue, and pulled a large coin from his pocket. When he was certain they weren't looking his way, he pitched the coin up onto the quarterdeck.

The coin landed with a loud clatter, and the two mutineers' heads snapped around to look towards the source.
"Damn it!" growled Frail. "That wasn't a crate this time. I'll bet it's Briggs!"
"How do you know? Briggs wouldn't be up there hiding just to count his pocket money!"
"Him and Wolfe are rich! So of course they've got money on them all the time. Just goes to reason."
"Fine, I'll go up there and see, just to prove you wrong," grumbled Korman.
"Oh, no you won't! Not and steal my glory!"

Frail ran up the steps to the quarterdeck, with Korman close behind. But when they got to the deck, there was no one there.
Just a coin glinting in the moonlight.
"Ha!" laughed Korman. "I told you he wasn't up here."
Disgusted, Frail went and picked up the coin. "Well, I've got a shiny coin for my pocket at any rate..."

"And I'll be having it back, thanks. I seem to have dropped it," came a voice from behind them.

The mutineers turned and found Jack standing at the only way on or off the quarterdeck, with his sword drawn and ready.

"Think this over carefully, gents," he said deliberately. "You can die by my blade tonight, or hang from the yard tomorrow. I really don't care which."

Both Frail and Korman stood there, frozen. All their false bravado from earlier evaporated in the night air.

"At least fight men for once!" shouted Jack.
He swung his sword at Korman, who barely managed to deflect the blow.
"Shoot him!" yelped Korman.
"Get out of the way and I will!"
But Jack made sure keep Korman between himself and Frail, fouling any chance at a shot. As the men moved around the quarterdeck, the two mutineers became increasingly panicked.
"Do it, damn you!" yelled Korman.
"Move, now!" answered Frail.

Korman started to duck to Jack's left, but he was not able to escape the edge of Jack's sword. As the blade slashed across his chest, the man stumbled backward, dazed and in pain, just as his compatriot fired the bullet intended for the captain they had chosen to betray.

Frail fell to the deck with his dead crewmate on top of him. As he struggled to free himself, he felt the cold edge of a sword on his neck.
"Easy now. Get up nice and slow," said Jack. "You've spent your shot and you have nowhere to run."
Frail shoved Korman's lifeless body off of him, and the man slowly got to his feet. He turned to face Jack.
"I've seen men hang, Wolfe. I've seen what a horrible dance they do."
"So have I. Now your turn is coming. I hope you memorised the steps."
Frail shook his head. "I'll die on my own terms, not yours."
"My sword or my rope, it's still my terms, lad. You've got nothing to say in the matter."
"Oh, don't I, though?" With that, Frail turned and jumped overboard into the dark, chill waters below.

Jack shook his head and placed his sword back in its scabbard, then proceeded to heave Korman's body over the side.
"Don't forget your friend!" he called to Frail. "I'd hate for you to die all alone."

"Just what the hell is goin' on?!"
Jack turned to find Briggs jogging up the steps. He was barefoot, and was still stuffing a pistol into his belt.
"Glad you could join me, Josiah. Lovely night, isn't it?"
"Stow the joshin', eh? I hope this ain't what I think it is."
"A mutiny? Afraid so."
"Who's the devil behind it?"
"I keep hearing the name Burgess. Ring any bells?"
"Sam Burgess? Aye, he's a bit of a malcontent and on the lazy side. But I never figured him for leadin' a mutiny. Have ye a guess as to how many in his company?"
"Well, I've taken care of five, and Honour killed a sixth..."
"Savin' all the fun for yourself?"
"You were getting your beauty rest. I know how cross you can be without a solid forty winks."
"All heart, you are. So it's Burgess left for sure. And there's usually a skinny bloke hangin' about with him. I'll wager he's in on the scheme as well. So at least two..."

At that moment, a blood-curdling scream came from below deck. A scream that was quickly muffled.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Honour paced about the small cabin, the Spanish pistol clutched tightly in her hand. It seemed like an eternity since the sound of what might have been a distant gunshot reached her ears. All she could do was worry, pace, and pray that her husband was still alive and safe.
"Don't worry yourself so," she said aloud. "Jack knows this ship better than anyone, and he knows what he's doing. How I wish this was all over..."
She heard the sound of boots outside her door. Her heart began to pound when the handle began to turn.
"Jack, is that you?"
"Yes!" came the muffled whisper. "Keep your voice down and open the door before someone sees me!"
Quickly, she laid her pistol on the bed and rushed to the door. Her hands trembled as she unlocked the heavy deadbolt.
"Thank goodness you're all right!" she said as she opened the door. But her breath caught in her throat as she found herself looking into the hardened face of Sam Burgess.
"Aye, darlin' lass," he leered. "I'd say I'm doing better than all right now."

"You? You're behind this!"
Honour's voice came in a whisper as she tried to calm the rising sense of panic that engulfed her.
He reached out to grab her by the hair.
"Damn right. I'm the brains behind this and if the crew under new management, shall we say, have done what they were supposed to do, I am now the captain of El Lobo del Mar."
Honour shook her head and said, "No. You'll never take Jack Wolfe. You can't. He's MAD Jack Wolfe. He's too crazy to be killed. He--he'd never allow that to happen."
Burgess thrust his face next to hers. "Aye, but do you hear him anywhere? You think he'd allow me to get near this sanctuary if he were still alive?"
"He's occupied elsewhere. You will never take this ship. NEVER, you hear me?"
Burgess sneered, "And you know what that means? As I am the captain, you now be the captain's wench. And you'll do as I say!"
His dirty hand trailed down her cheek. She shuddered as his hand wandered southwards and across her chest.
He smirked, "Just checking for weapons. Although I see you have no place to put them."
His hand glided over her hip as a leer crossed his face. As he skimmed down her leg, she took her booted foot and ground it into his instep. Burgess yelped in pain.
He struck her across the face and barked to the young man in the hallway, "Eli! Guard the door! It's about time this doxy learned who was in charge here!"
Eli looked in fright from Burgess to Honour. "NOW or I wet my dagger with your innards, whelp!"
Eli ran out of the room.

Burgess grabbed her again by her hair and pulled her close to him, his mouth on hers. She fought the instinct to get sick. She extended her hand, her nails raking down his face, five long scratches on his left cheek.
He let go and put his hand up to his face. She aimed for his eyes but he caught her hands and pushed her onto the bed.
"That's going to cost you, trollop!"
He grabbed her roughly and as his hand clamped over her mouth, she bit down hard. He screamed and she grabbed the candle holder with a puddle of hot wax swirling around the wick. She flung it into his face.
He yelled again and Honour used that to her advantage as she leaped off the bed and made a break for the door.
She flung it open and as she vaulted her body through the door frame, Burgess grabbed her by the hair and threw her backwards.
She let out a scream.

Meredith ran as if all the hounds from hell were after him. He saw Jack and Briggs rushing up the deck.
Gasping, he shouted, "Quick! In her cabin!"
Jack and Briggs pushed him aside and ran as if someone's life depended on it.
Because it did.
Honour's life.
And that meant Jack's life, too.

When Jack pushed Eli, the young man stumbled, lost balance, and his face hit the mast. He crumpled to the deck, trying to staunch the blood flowing from his broken nose.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack and Briggs boot heels pounded on the deck planks as they ran down the companionway. They arrived at the door to Honour's cabin to find Burgess holding a long knife to her throat. His other hand was twisted tightly in her hair, holding her immobile.
The urge to kill displayed clearly on Jack's face, he levelled his gun at Burgess' head and cocked it. But a sudden, terrified gasp from Honour made him freeze.

"I wouldn't try it, Wolfe," Burgess said smugly. "So help me, I'll make her bleed before the bullet hits home."
"He means it, Jack. Please, be careful," added Honour. Her voice was clear and strong, but understandably quavered with fear.
"What do you want, Burgess?" Jack asked flatly.
The oily man kept his smug expression, but his eyes were transfixed on the muzzle of Jack's pistol. "Lower your weapon, then we talk."
"Drop your knife, and I'll fetch tea. We'll have a nice pleasant chat then."
"You know I can't do that."
"Then we move on to terms."
"Of your surrender?"
"Yours, you cheeky bastard. This is your only chance to leave this room alive."
Burgess shook his head. "No, that's where you just don't get it. You're the ones in danger, not me."
"What, from your band of mutineers?"
"They're everywhere, Wolfe. All over your ship. You never know when they will come round the corner and cut you down whilst you dally with me."
"How many, then?" asked Briggs.
Burgess' eyes shifted to Briggs, then back to the pistol muzzle. He licked his lips nervously. "Enough to take this ship."
"Let's do a count then, eh? There's you and the skinny lad what's scared out of his mind, that's two." He loudly tapped his ring against the lockplate of the pistol in his belt as he kept tally, making a pronounced metallic tap tap. "And how many did ye put overboard as I joined up with ye, Jack?"
"Two," replied Jack.
Tap tap.
A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes stayed locked on Burgess'. "That makes four. Then there's the two tied up in my cabin..."
"Six," said Briggs.
Tap tap!
"... And the two Honour and I killed. Eight total."
Tap tap!
"Forty men aboard," said Briggs. "Ye'd think that if there were any other mutineers prowlin' about, one or two would've turned up by now. Ain't like we're hidin'. I'm thinkin' there ain't no more."
Jack nodded. "Or if there are, they're waiting to see how this little drama plays out before they throw in."

Sweat beaded on Burgess' brow and upper lip. His eyes jumped furtively again to Jack's and Briggs, then back to the pistol.
"Are you willing to take that gamble?" he said. The smugness had left his voice, replaced by a note of panic.
"Pretty much, yeah," answered Jack. "It's over. You've lost. Now, get the knife away from her, Burgess. I'm willing to offer marooning instead of the rope."
"Not until you put that pistol away," demanded Burgess. "How do I know you won't shoot me anyway if I do as you ask?"
"Because I already shot ye," replied Briggs, and flame erupted from the muzzle of his pistol. The last two taps had not been taps at all; they were the sound of a pistol lock being cocked.

The round hit the mutineer in the shoulder, and the knife flew from his hand to clatter on the deck. Honour broke away from the stricken man and ran to the safety of Jack's arms. Briggs was on him instantly, and suddenly he could feel the steel of his own knife against his neck.
"Quit yer squirmin', it ain't that bad," the quartermaster growled. "Shall I take him topside and finish the deed, Jack?"

Jack couldn't tear his eyes from Honour's. "No, my friend. We keep to ship's articles with these two. They put their marks to paper, and I intent to honour their pledge."

Briggs struggled to contain himself, but obeyed his friend and Captain. "Aye, sir. I know a length of rope that will suit our purpose nicely." Josiah took a half step back, but did not drop his blade. A small patch of crimson on the mutineer's chest showed just how close Briggs was to running him through.

Jack stroked Honour's hair. "Are you all right, darling? Are you hurt?"
Honour raised her hand to her cheek. A darkened splotch was forming across it where Burgess had struck her.
"I--I think I'm alright."
In the companionway they heard sobbing. It was Meredith, curled up and crying because he knew what fate awaited mutineers.

Honour broke herself reluctantly from Jack's embrace and knelt down next to the boy from Devonshire. She asked softly, "What is your name?"
He turned his head and almost inaudibly replied, "Eli Meredith, ma'am."  Almost as if she were speaking to a young child, she asked, "Eli, did you honestly think you could best Jack Wolfe?"
He covered his eyes with his forearm and shook his head. "I had no choice. Burgess threatened to throw me overboard if I didn't cast my lot in with his."
Jack said grimly, "You are a mutineer and you know what happens to them that do not meet their end at sword or pistol."
He nodded. "Aye. I do."
She couldn't help herself. Softly she said, "Jack--he's just a kid."

Briggs asked him, "How many of you were there?"
Eli shuddered, "I don't know."
Briggs said, "I'll take Davis and McGlynn to make sure we got them all. I'll be needing your cutlass and that Spanish pistol there."
Honour sat on the floor next to Eli. " I'll watch over him but please, Jack, get him out of here." She nodded towards Burgess.
"Are you out of your mind? I'm not leaving you here alone."
She said, "I would feel alot better if you imprisoned him. I will be fine. Please let me handle this one," she said in a low voice. "Really. It will be alright."
"Alright but keep this dirk close by."
He pointed his pistol at Burgess and said, "Let's go."

[Welsh Wench]

Honour sat on the edge of the bed and scooted a chair out with her booted foot.
"Eli, have a seat. Let's parley."
Eli sat down, blood splattering the front of his shirt. He looked down and couldn't meet Honour's gaze.
"Look at me, Eli."
He raised his head. Tears welled in his eyes again.
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
'Almost two years younger than me', she thought. She took a cloth and dipped it in a basin of water and washed his face. "I don't want you to squirm. Take this like a man."

She took his nose and moved it a bit to straighten it out. He looked at her with gratitude.
"I guess I can have a straight nose when I swing."
She sat down in front of him. "Not necessarily. I heard you yell for Briggs and Jack Wolfe. If they hadn't found me when they did, heaven knows what would have happened. And for that I thank you."
Eli looked down and started to cry again. Almost inaudibly, he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Miss Bright."
She looked away, unable to meet the misery in his face. She said quietly, "It's Mrs. Wolfe."
He looked at her incredulously. She explained, "No one except Briggs and a a few others know but I married Jack under strange circumstances eighteen months ago. We've been...separated."
"You? And..and the captain?"

She nodded and laughed self-consciously. "Two souls that never should have been bound up with each other. But that is besides the point."
He wiped his eyes with his hands. She went to the armoire and gave him a shirt.
"Here. Jack may kill me for showing mercy to a mutineer. Eli, I can't promise anything. I really can't. I've seen Jack Wolfe in murderous rages before. And usually when I have, I've been the reason. He's not called 'Mad Jack' for nothing. But I am going to do my best to see you are spared. I am going to plead your case. I think setting you off in the next port and having you book passage back to Devonshire would be best for all concerned. Jack would never trust you and I don't think you are cut out for this life. I'll make sure you have enough coin and get a safe passage back to England."
He gave her a gratified smile. "Ye are an angel, Miss Bright."
She reached under the bed and withdrew a bottle of rum.
"I'll help you if you help me."
"How, Miss---Mrs. Wolfe?"
"Don't tell Jack I have this bottle!"


Jack knocked softly at Honour's cabin door. "I'm here for the boy, Honour. Please open up."
Honour rose up and opened the door.
Jack stepped into the room. Honour stood there in his shirt, her hair in a braid but coming down in tendrils around her face. She had on boots and the dirk in the shaft of the boot. Jack's shirt kept slipping off her shoulder. Self-consciously she hoisted it up. A dark bruise was on her left cheek.
"On your feet, Meredith."
Eli couldn't meet Jack's eyes. He kept his head down.
"Jack? May I speak to you in private?"
He nodded. He called up to the quarterdeck. "Briggs, I need you to watch the prisoner."
From above came, "All is clear here, Jack. We got them all. I'll be right down."

Jack led the way down to his cabin. He sat down in his chair and pushed the charts and maps aside. Reaching under the desk, he pulled a bottle of whiskey out.
"Can you use a drink, Honour?"
She said, "I've never needed one more than I do now, Jack."
He handed her a tankard and filled it generously. Jack looked tired and worn out after the evening's attempted mutiny.
"Sit down, Honour."
She sat down. "Jack, what do you intend to do with Eli Meredith? The poor boy is scared to death."
"I know, but he was a mutineer."
"He was coerced into it."
I had a feeling that was the way it was. I think I need to shackle him to the foremast until I decide what to do with him."
"Might I make a suggestion?"
"I'll listen to whatever you have to say. You proved your mettle when you shot Barton."
"He was about to kill you." She smiled slightly, "I wanted that privilege for myself."
He tried not to laugh. "Well, you scared me to death, I must admit. So what is your suggestion?"
"I think all of us could use a decent night's sleep. Could you shackle him to a bed in Briggs' room? That way Briggs can get some rest, Eli Meredith won't be out in the elements and I won't be worrying about if he's getting wet or if he's uncomfortable."
"You have a soft spot for him?"
"I see one frightened young man caught in a situation he didn't know what to do. When we get to a port, I say give him coin and let him book a passage back to England. I daresay Eli Meredith will never set foot off solid ground again."

Jack nodded. "You are as smart as you are beautiful, Mrs. Wolfe."
She coloured at that. If it was the compliment or the name change, she didn't know.
Honour stood up and headed towards the door.
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you realize this is the first time we have spoken civilly to each other?"
Her hand was on the doorknob as she said over her shoulder, "Let's not get too used to it."

Jack placed his hand over hers. "Honour, please, do not be so quick to leave."
Honour searched his eyes, and released the doorknob.
"You're forgetting your whiskey," Jack smiled. He topped it off and handed Honour her glass. "To be honest, I rather enjoy quiet conversation with you."
Honour blushed as she sipped her whiskey. "Jack, since when did you become a romantic? Even if I were inclined to believe you, and I don't, I'd always be the third woman in your life after the sea and your ship."

The whiskey combined with fatigue hit Jack harder than he'd expected. He could see the weariness in Honour's eyes, as well.
"Perhaps it's best if we both turn in, love. We've a busy day ahead of us tomorrow. There's a bit of nastiness to take care of at sunrise. You might want to stay below until I send someone for you. But before you go, let us have a final toast, darling. To our prosperity."

They clinked glasses, and drank deeply. Honour smiled as the whiskey began to warm her bones. "Very well. I'll wait for your word. Good night, Jack."
"Pleasant dream, Honour. Until tomorrow."

[Welsh Wench]

The mutiny had taken everything out of Jack. He had sat on the edge of his bed while the days events whirled like a cyclone in his mind.
He took another deep drink from the bottle of whiskey, and the numbness he'd been looking for began to wash over him. He could finally relax. His wife and his ship were safe. His wife. How easy it had become to think of Honour as such, and not some necessary aggravation to endure and then abandon. As he relished the feel of more whiskey in his throat, he remembered when he first saw her that fateful day in Barbados. Wise beyond her years, and an untamable spitfire. Time had made her wiser, he thought, but her recklessness had become fiery determination and independence. He couldn't help but admire her, but at the same time, there was something more than that at play. He had finished off the last of the whiskey, and tried to carefully put the bottle down one of the two sea chests beside the bed. To his wonder, the bottle became two, and both of them past through one of the chests and bounced in perfect unison on the decking. He pulled at his clothes and nearly got hopelessly tangled in his shirt, but managed to free himself. The bed threatened to duplicate itself before his eyes as the bottle had, so he fell onto it before it could finish. In moments, he was sound asleep.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Full of rum and the whiskey that Jack had generously filled a tankard with, Honour was feeling her way back to her cabin by holding onto the wall.
'Last time I ever party with two different kinds of spirits, ' she muttered to herself.
She knocked on her own cabin door and Briggs let her in.
"Briggs, how did THAT happen?"
"Sorry, Honour. He laid down and next thing I knew, he was snoring."

Honour looked over at the sleeping form of Eli Meredith. He was curled up in her bed on top of her coverlet.
She gently brushed the hair off his face and covered him with an extra quilt.
'Such a young kid,' she thought. Poor Eli was blackmailed into mutiny. He hadn't a clue on what he had been in for.
She turned to Briggs. "You're exhausted too, Briggs. I'll tell you what--I don't have the heart to wake Eli up so why not let him sleep here. We can lock the door from the inside and he can't get out. Besides, if he escaped, where is he going to go? I think Jack has his scared to death and he wouldn't dare try to spring Burgess. Not that he would anyways."
"You think that wise?"
"I'll take full responsibility for him, Briggs. You go back to your quarters. I would suggest you 'steal' a bottle of rum from Jack's secret cache--which is not so secret--and numb yourself into oblivion."
Briggs laughed lightly, "Like ye did, Miss Bright?"
She drew herself up and said, "He's in no better shape than I am, Briggs."
"Aye. Jack no doubt pounded the bottle pretty heavily himself. But if Eli is sleeping here, then where do you intend to sleep?"
She turned to hide her blush.
"I'll find a place."

Briggs took his leave. Honour looked at the sleeping lad. She tucked the blanket around him. She blew out the candle and locked the door.
Walking quietly down the companionway, she took her chances.
'What are you doing, Honour? Are you out of your mind?' she thought. But it was either that or sleep on the floor. And it was cold.

In his inebriated state, he left the door unlocked. She quietly slipped into the room.
The candle was almost burned down to the wick. She blew it out and kicked the whiskey bottle out of her way.
Crossing the room, she paused.
The moonlight cast its beams through the porthole, affording her just enough light to make out the sleeping form of her husband.
'Funny', she thought. 'I never really thought of him as my husband. We were a whirlwind waiting to die out.'

Jack was sprawled all over the bed. She drew her chemise tighter around her, standing there trying to decide if it was worth it. The dampness from the floor was beginning to seep through to her bare feet.
She carefully drew the quilt back. 'Seems to be a very small space. If I can just lie quietly...I don't need to sleep. Just get some rest...'

She slipped very quietly into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. All of a sudden, Jack rolled over and his arm fell across her body. She tried to slide down but she was pinned. She tried to lift his arm gently up but he seemed to grip a little tighter.
She sighed.
'Oh, well.....may as well make the best of a bad situation. At least he is warm.'
She snuggled closer.
'After all, he's bound to roll over again...'
It was her last thought before her eyes closed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Honour woke up with a start. It was still dark but instinctively she knew dawn was breaking. She looked over to the sleeping face of her husband.
He looked worn out. Whether from the past night's mutiny or the hell she had put him through in the last eighteen months, it was hard to tell. She gently touched his hair. So like their daughter's. And the determined tilt of her chin. A wave of guilt washed over her. Was she wrong to deny him the knowledge of his child?
Possibly. If the worst had happened and she had died that night, would he go searching for his child? Would he rip Zara away from the only family she had known? To be raised by him aboard a pirate ship?

No, best to keep the knowledge to herself. Megan had always  said, 'I have never regretted keeping my mouth shut but have plenty of regrets from opening it.'
'The time isn't right,' she reasoned. 'I'll know. When the time is right, I'll know.'

Gently she lifted up Jack's arm from around her waist and quietly slipped out of bed. Jack frowned in his sleep. She walked over, kissed her fingertips and gently touched his face.
'Thank you, Jack. For the gift you never knew you gave me.'

As she took the key out of her pocket, she unlocked her cabin door. She was momentarily in a panic as there was no sign of Eli Meredith.
A note was pinned to the pillow.

                                              The kid is with me.
                                                 ~~Josiah Briggs

'Thank you, Briggs,' she said to herself. 'I owe you one.'

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

The watch bell rung eight strokes, marking the start of the morning watch. Jack stirred from his sleep, knowing that his presence would soon be required on the deck to dole out justice. He threw the sheets over his head.
'Ten more minutes....that's all I ask...just ten more minutes....'
But then he caught a whiff of the sheets. It was the scent of jasmine and that something extra. That imperceptible scent of a woman. Something that Jack was well in tune with.  He should, he had his share of them.
His father's voice echoed in his mind.  'Jackie, boy, if you can't remember if a woman laid in your bed, then maybe it's time to lay off the spirits.'
He shook off the voice. 'Shut it, Da, I had a rough night.'
 
Was it a wishful memory? Or something he dreamed? Or maybe....
Still......he would remember, wouldn't he? A question to ask her at another time.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, his head aching from too much drink and the previous night's ordeal. Finally he rose and went to the basin to splash some water on his face. He paused as he looked into the mirror. The reflection he saw was haggard, tired, overburdened.
"God, I hate this," Jack muttered as he pulled on a fresh shift of clothes. Official ship's business demanded he don the standard captain's regalia, complete with coat and hat. He shouldered his baldric, and shoved a pistol into his belt. The weapon was not loaded. It didn't have to be. A good length of rope would be all that is needed to put an end to the life of a mutineer.

Jack left his cabin, the strike of his boot heels resonating through the companionway with every resolute stride. He paused at Honour's door with the intention of asking her to stay below deck until the hanging was over.
'Let her sleep,' he decided instead. 'Let her wake up to a world that no longer has that animal in it.'
He walked on from her door and into the light of the morning sun.

The crew were assembled on deck for the spectacle. A few men whispered among themselves as they placed wagers as to how long the condemned man would last once hauled into the air. Burgess stood beneath the foreyard, his ankles bound by shackles and his hands tied behind his back. Josiah Briggs stood beside him, the noose in one hand and a hood in the other. The island Jack had looked for all these years was the only bit of land visible in the vast ocean around them.
Jack slowly walked to where Burgess stood. He regarded the man coldly, struggling to keep his emotions out of the proceedings. Attempting mutiny and threatening Jack's life, as well as Briggs', was quite enough. But Burgess had dared to lay his filthy hands on Honour. Jack would have preferred to take care of Burgess personally, but the ship's articles were clear as to how this matter should be settled.

"Samuel Burgess, you are guilty of attempted mutiny," intoned Jack for all the crew to hear, "with the intent of murdering this ship's officers and their family. According to ship's articles, which we all signed and agreed to be bound by, there is only one resolution. You will hang by the neck until you are dead."
"I have something to say first," countered Burgess.
"This is not a court of admiralty, Burgess. You don't get last words here. You get a last breath. Spend it well. Mister Briggs, proceed."
Burgess opened his mouth to protest, but Briggs swiftly put the hood over the man's head, making sure that enough fabric caught in his mouth to act as a gag. The noose soon followed, and Briggs snugged it around Burgess' neck. With a nod from Jack, three men took hold of the end of the rope and carefully pulled the slack from it.
Jack took a deep breath, and turned his back to the condemned man. "Haul away," he said flatly.

Swiftly, Burgess was pulled into the air to hang some twenty feet above the deck. The three men held on to the rope as Burgess kicked and struggled his last.
"Tie that line off," ordered Jack. They secured the rope to keep Burgess' body aloft until they could be sure he was indeed dead.
Jack looked around at his crew. "Show's over, gentlemen. Dismissed." He glanced back up at the hung man, then began to walk toward the companionway.
"That's it?" asked Briggs. "Normally ye say a few words of warnin' to the men, and make an example of whoever got strung up."
"They get it. Josiah, I want Burgess cut down and buried as soon as possible. Can you do that for me?"
"Aye, that I can do. But what's the rush?"
"I don't want Honour to see this. She's been through enough. And once he's gone, take us in to the island as close as we can get. We've got a mystery to finally solve."

[Welsh Wench]

He looked out to the shoreline of the island in the distance and smiled.
"Oi! Drop anchor here! Ready the longboat! I'll bring up the chest to be loaded. Master Briggs, you have command. I have business with my wife."
"Monkey business, no doubt," Briggs smirked.
Jack gave him a sour look. "No, this falls under 'mind your own business, smart arse. But if you are hell-bent on knowing, I am going to invite her to breakfast."

He knocked softly on the door.
"Honour? May I see you for a minute?"
She cautiously opened the door halfway.
"One minute or do I need to flip over an hour glass?" She stood there dressed casually in a simple blouse, skirt and waist cincher. Her feet were bare and her hair was in a braid over her shoulder.
"We're almost arriving at our destination, love. But before we go to our business end of this, I'd like to invite you in my quarters for breakfast."
She looked at him warily. "I'm not sure...."
She remembered the turn of events dinner the night before had taken and wasn't sure she was ready for another repeat of last night's performance.
"Not sure? About breakfast or being in my cabin?" he smiled.
She tossed the braid to her back.
"I'm not afraid of having a light spot of food with you, Captain Wolfe. I'll be there in a few minutes."
He rubbed his hand idly on the door post. "I look forward to it."

She closed the door. As he walked down the companionway, she opened the door and said, "I like my eggs scrambled, my bacon crisp and my coffee hot."
As he continued walking he said,"Right. Scrambled, crisp and hot. Just like your men."
The door opened with, "Shut it, Jack. I had a rough night!"  and Jack laughed. "Same old Honour."

She huffed to herself, "Same old Jack." But she found herself smiling.
She walked over to the bookcase and removed the book of Japanese prints, removing the key from its hiding place. She turned it over a few times. It was spindly and of dark gold. She held it up to the light and examined it. 'Still ugly,' she thought. But it just might be the key to answer alot of loose ends in her life. 

As Jack approached the great cabin, he noticed that the door was ajar. He silently cursed himself for not locking it before going topside. He drew the dagger from his belt, took a deep breath, and shoved the door open to confront the intruder.
There was his opponent, sitting leisurely in the middle of the room... taking a sunbath. The ship's cat, Puddin', looked at the ship's master for a moment, and yawned. Jack laughed, enjoying the momentary respite from the previous night's burdens.
He fetched the golden chest from its resting place and set it on the table. While it wasn't too heavy to lift and move, carrying it through the jungle unaided was out of the question. He retrieved Lafourche's journal from the writing desk, then rummaged around in his sea chest until he found a tarry cloth pouch. Inside it was the Moon key.
When Jack turned back to the table, he found that Little Puddin' had abandoned his ray of sunlight for a perch on the ornate chest. The sleek gray cat pawed playfully at the pouch, his jade eyes glittering at the prospect of a new toy. Jack smiled and stroked Little Puddin's neck,
"Well, we did it, Puddin'. We found her. Now if we play our cards right, she just might stick around." He gently lifted the cat off the chest and put it on the floor next to his bed, covering it with a blanket.

He heard a knock on his door and opening it, he found Honour standing there, a bit shyly.
"Am I too early?"

"Not at all, darling," said Jack happily. "I was just going over exploration strategy with my top advisor."
"The cat is your top exploration advisor? Next you'll be telling me Henry Morgan's navigator was a parrot."
"Actually, it was a monkey with a fascination for magnets. Are you going to stand there all day? Come in and sit. We don't bite."
"I've heard that one before," replied Honour as she stepped into the cabin. Puddin' greeted her at the edge of the table and purred loudly as she scratched his neck.
"You're safe for now. You know how I hate cold eggs. Though I'd be careful of that brute. He might viciously shed on you."

They both chuckled as they became a bit more at ease around one another. Jack watched as she rubbed the cat, paying close attention to the thoughtful, faraway smile she had. He wanted to ask her if he put that smile on her face but he dared not spoil the moment. This was the most relaxed they had been around each other since the voyage began. That is, unless they had been even more comfortable together the night before...

"I want to thank you, Jack."
"Whatever for, love?"
She turned and gave him a puzzled look. "For saving my life. Twice. That must be some sort of record."
"Well, thank you for saving mine. Again." He paused, a wistful smile playing at his lips. "Seems that no matter what, we're always there for one another."
"I never stopped to think about it, but I suppose you're right."
"Um, speaking of being there for one another... how was last night?"
Honour's face clouded over. "A living hell, remember? Don't tell me you enjoyed a moment of it."
"No! Oh, no, of course not. Not one moment." Befuddled, he paused and scratched his head. "A 'living hell', eh? I've never had it called that before..."
"Just how many mutinies have you put down, for heaven's sake? Was that sport for you, like David being hunted by Saul?"
"Oh, the mutiny!"
"Yes, the mutiny. What did you think I was talking about?"
"Well, actually... I.... oh, blimey..." he finally sighed in frustration.
"Eloquently put."
"Afterwards," he blurted. "Later, after the mutiny was over. You... you came back here after we talked."
"And?"
"What do you mean, and? And you got in bed with me, that's the 'and' I'm talking about."

Honour stifled a laugh. "Oh, that 'and'! What of it?"
He stared at her, lost for words. "It had been a while, you know... since we'd shared a bed together. That sort of thing."
"Oh, did I snore?"
"No, you didn't snore."
"Did you want to know if you snored?"
"Not really---"
"Because you did, just a little. I think it was the rum."
"Honour, I.... Oh, bollocks. Never mind."
"Wait, you wanted to know about... the other thing?"
Jack perked up a little. "I was driving at that, yes..."
She smirked and shook her head. "You quash a mutiny and save the lives of your wife and first mate, and you're still worried about that? My, someone's ego has gotten fragile!  What are you looking for, Jack? Affirmation that the earth moved? I saw shooting stars?"
"Well....."
Honour buttered a biscuit casually.
"Maybe I would have."
"What do you mean, MAYBE? I've never once not put a smile on your face."
She reached for the marmalade and spooned it on the biscuit.
"Well, you can't get a coconut every time, Jack. Maybe if you didn't....."
"What? Maybe if I didn't WHAT?"
"Never mind."
"Never mind WHAT?"
"It's not important."
"Like hell it isn't."
"I guess you were extremely tired and when men get tired....oh, forget it."
"Forget WHAT?"
She popped a piece of biscuit in her mouth.
"Well, maybe you don't find me attractive anymore. But on the other hand, Jack, I seem to recall all you need is a place. It really doesn't matter. Really, it doesn't."
She looked at him and casually asked, "Have you made Bonita mad lately?"
"Bonita? What does Bonita have to do with any of...oh, no! No, no, no! Impossible!"

Honour raised an eyebrow. "It happens to the best of men, Jack. Even those in such good shape as you. I mean, age catches up with them and before they know it..."
He ran his fingers through his hair and looked stricken.
"....they fall asleep."

[Welsh Wench]

"What?" He wadded up his napkin and threw it at Honour's face and it landed on her head. She giggled, "You were asleep. Eli Meredith stayed in my room. Briggs was guarding him while you and I were putting the hurts to that whiskey bottle. When I got back, Eli had fallen asleep on my bed. I didn't have the heart to wake him so I let him stay there. I locked the door from the outside and told Josiah to get some well-deserved sleep. I...I guessed you would be passed out and...."
"You could have woken me up."

Honour shrugged, "You needed your sleep more than you needed....you know."

An awkward silence.
Honour asked, "Is the problem...Burgess...is he gone?"
Jack sighed, "You won't be seeing him."
She leaned forward, "What of Eli's fate, Jack?"
"Before the...removal....I had a talk with him. You were right. He was forced into the mutiny. He's a scared kid. I think it would be best for him to book passage back to England. I'll supply the fare and some coins. He got this far, he can get himself back."
She looked thoughtful. "He was always so polite. Once I dropped my shawl and he hurried over and picked it up for me."
"Maybe he worshiped you from afar."
"No, he's a gentleman. Whoever his parents are, they taught him manners."

Jack pushed away from the table. "The island is in sight. I suppose I should see to the supplies and the longboat. In an hour, shall we say?"
"An hour will be fine."
He gently touched the tip of her nose with his finger.
"See you then."

She shut the door. Her heart was divided. While a part of her longed for the freedom and adventure Jack Wolfe could provide, she knew her heart was in Wales.
To a little girl with her mother's eyes and her father's dark curls.
A little bundle named Zara Wolfe.

Honour opened up the top chest drawer and pulled out a black velvet pouch. Reaching in, she pulled the small white box out and opened it.
Inside was a lock of chestnut brown hair tied with a pink ribbon. She tenderly stroked the curls.
And burst into tears.

This was a crossroad she was dreading, one she hoped she would never have to cross. She knew she would have to decide if she would let Jack Wolfe back into her life or if she was strong enough to cut the ties forever. She knew she could never give Zara up and she didn't know if Jack could accept the fact that he was a father.
'By the end of the week, ' she thought. 'By the end of the week I will make my decision.'
Zara was starting to crawl when she sailed off.  'So much lost time, little one. Mama will make up for it when I come home and we will never be parted again. Even if it means....even if it means giving up the one man I truly love with all my heart.'

"Honour? The longboat is almost ready. Twenty minutes tops."
Honour snapped out of her reverie. She hastily wiped the tears from her face and through the door, her muffled reply was heard.
"I'll be on deck in ten minutes, Jack."
"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, attaching it to her belt. She ran her finger lightly over the blade of her rapier, making sure it was sharp.
'You never know how many vicious palmettos you may run into.'
Palmettos being her euphemism for anything else sinister they may run into.
As she put her cavalier hat on her head, she thought, 'One last adventure, Jack Wolfe. One last adventure before I go back to being someone's mama. You'd better make this a memory to keep me warm on cold nights.'

She squared her shoulders, held her head high and climbed the steps onto a new adventure.

[Welsh Wench]

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.

"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 it. You and Honour 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 too 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 the ship's guns ringing in her ears 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.
"Yep, I see your point. Mischief and devilment, indeed!"

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack steadily rowed the longboat through the gentle swells toward their destination. With every successive pull, his ship became a little smaller from his perspective. He shifted his view to Honour, who was quietly gazing at the mysterious island that lay before them. But then her eyes shifted to the horizon, and a hint of sadness seemed to come over her.

"That's a pensive look if I've ever seen one," said Jack.
"What? Oh, I'm sorry," replied Honour. "Were you saying something?"
"No. Just curious."
"What about?"
"What you were thinking about," he said with a smile.
She looked at him for a moment, then back to whatever faraway spot on the horizon she had been looking toward. "Just... missing someone," she said softly. "That's all."

Jack decided not to press the matter. He was afraid he knew who that someone was, and he did not want to hear that name spoken if he was right. Besides, he was on the verge of a major conquest. If this forgotten island truly was the one in Lafourche's journal, the treasure of inestimable value would be his.
Then, why didn't it feel that way?
He began thinking back to all the people who had doubted him, doubted his sanity in pursuing this quest, that tried to talk him out of trying at all. Harkness, Jennings, Lafourche's daughter, even Bonita. As a matter of fact, Bonita offered the most opposition to his resuming the search. He thought back to that day he left Castara...

Jack had told Bonita time and again over the years about his desire to obtain Armand LaFourche's journal and, ultimately, the treasures of the Ancients.  She had shown 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, 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 had hoped. The first thing she noticed what that all his belonging had been packed up, as if he did not intend to return. That was a concern for later, she decided. 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. Her hand fell upon an article of clothing, too soft, too feminine to be one of his. She held it up, and knew at once who it belonged to.

Honour. The wife of the man she was not ready to let go of.

An odd dizziness came over Bonita, the same mild spinning sensation that always overtook her when "the Sight" began its work. She slowed her breathing and let the images come. But her breath stopped for a moment when Honour's face appeared in her mind. She was close, perhaps as close as Barbados or one of the other nearby islands. If Jack were to go looking for her again, it was almost certain he would find her. But there was someone else, someone attached to Honour yet very far away...

Bonita shoved the chemise back into the trunk she had found it in and spat on the floor, then resumed her hunt for the book. 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 des Conclusions concernant la Civilisation Perdue 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!

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Who said you could go through my things?"
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 him not tell Bonita him found Armand LaFourche and de book?"
"It wasn't any of your business."
"How this not be any of Bonita's business?" she said testily. "All dese years Bonita work to bring de great Jack Wolfe closer to dis book and it secrets!"
"Nice try. You're forgetting that I am the one who tracked Lafourche down and negotiated for the journal. You were too busy pouting and being a general pain in the arse over my ill-fated marriage. Now, hand the book over."
She casually fanned herself with the journal, her smile returning as she tried to charm him.  "What if Bonita tell him she knows t'ings. T'ings dat can help him find de Ancients.  Bonita can help him find dey island.  And him precious Honour."

Jack stepped forward and snatched the book from her hand, drawing an angry look from the dark woman. 
"You steal into my room, dig through my belongings 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 change your mind?"
"Because dat golden haired child hold de t'ing him need, no?  Bonita knew her would break Jack Wolfe's heart," she hissed.  "Did him listen to reason?  No!  Him were too much in love."
"You were only half right. You missed the swindling bit."
"Do him want to know, or do him want to quibble?"
"Just like that, you'll tell me? Fine. Where is she?"
"Only if him promise to take Bonita wit' him."
"Blimey. And they call me mad! You, my dear, are cracked. Barmy in the head. Full stop loony. No way am I taking you with me."
Bonita scowled at him. "And what him do again, eh? Barbados, den Martinique, Antigua, Petit Goave, Tortuga, all de way round de Caribbean and de colonies of de Dutch and Spanish, again and again like some dog chasing him tail? No wonder dey all laugh behind him back at Jack Wolfe, de great fool! Him not a pirate any more. Him a lovesick cuckold."

It took Jack a few deep breaths to calm himself after Bonita's insults. She wanted him angry, but he was not about to give her the satisfaction of losing his cool.
"You're wasting your time trying to wound my pride, Bonita," he said quietly. "I don't have any left. If you'll excuse me, I have a few things here to tidy up before I leave for Barbados and chase my tail again."
"No!" she blurted. "No, him need to go to Aruba dis time. Dat where de golden-haired girl be. Bonita has seen dis, so clearly. Go dere, and him will find him bride."
"I don't believe you."
"Believe it! Bonita only want to help Jack, to see him happy again."
Jack laughed bitterly. "You want to see me happy? Bollocks! I don't know what your game is, but I'm bloody sick and tired of playing it."
"Jack, listen to Bonita!"
"Get out! Get out of my sight, woman! I will be leaving very soon, and I don't want to see your face again before that happens. Now, for God's sake, GO!"

Bonita glared angrily at him for a moment, then thought better of arguing further and left the room quickly.  Upon reaching her quarters, she flung the door open and stormed inside. 
"Damn that Jack Wolfe, and damn the woman him love!" she swore. In her rage, she kicked a wooden stool.  The stool slammed into the wall just beneath a set of shelves, dislodging them and knocking their contents 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's tumbling was enough to loosen the twine around them.

When the container finally came to rest under Bonita's bed, the dolls were nearly face to face.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Jack?"
He looked up to see Honour looking at him.
"Yes, Honour?"
"No-nothing. It's a nice day for a boat ride."
He smiled back and said, "Yes, it is."
Honour's face broke out in a wistful smile.
Jack looked away and continued to row.

Within fifteen minutes they landed on the shore. He pushed the longboat  and turned to her.
"We're here. Ready for an adventure?"
She gave him a warm smile and said, "As ready as I will ever be!"
"Then let's do it!"
"WHAT?"
"Let's get this loaded and our provisions together."
"Oh! That!" Her face blushed.
Jack turned his back to her and smiled broadly.
'Yes, this is certainly going to be interesting.....' he thought. 'Interesting indeed!'

The pair left their boat tied to a tree by a length of heavy rope and carried their provisions and precious cargo up near the tree line.  Honour was surprised to find the chest remarkably light for its size and apparent construction.  What surprised her even more was that instead of thinking she might have been dragged off on a wild goose chase, she was worried that Jack might have been duped.
"Jack, I thought you said this chest was made of solid gold," she said tentatively.  "It seems rather... light."
"I had the same reaction, love," he chuckled.  "But then I realised there was little reason for anyone to build a fake of such an obscure relic.  LaFourche never published his research on it, so few know what it's supposed to look like in the first place." 

He tipped the chest up to show her the underside.  A small portion of the gold had been chipped away to reveal what appeared to be dark wood.  "It's made of a dense wood, acacia or something like it.  Then they heavily gilt the whole thing, thick enough for them to make all these intricate engravings."
"Like the Ark of the Covenant in the Bible!  If it's made of wood, why didn't you simply cut it open instead of going to all this bother?  Don't tell me it didn't cross your mind."
"I gave it serious thought, believe me.  The last thing I want to be doing is stomping through the jungle, even with you as my company," he said with a wink. 
Honour smiled, finding herself once again drawn in by his flirtatious charm. 
"But LaFourche was very emphatic in his notes that the Ancients were mechanical geniuses," he continued "The same mechanism that locks the chest also serves as a booby trap to destroy the contents unless it is unlocked in the prescribed manner. Fortunately no one made the attempt before I acquired it.  What's more, the keys can't be put into the lock unless it's on the correct altar."

"So we really do have to carry it to a specific location to unlock it, then? I thought this was some elaborate ruse to keep the treasure hidden from the crew," Honour said with a note of worry in her voice.
"No such luck, darling.  But cheer up!  It's not a very big island, and I have the only map.  All we have to do is find a clearing to get our bearings, and we can start on our way."
"Let me see the map."
"What for?  Don't you trust me?"
She cocked her hip and held out her hand.  An arched eyebrow gave him his answer.

Jack smiled uneasily as he pulled the map from his haversack and handed it to Honour.  She carefully unfolded it and began to read.  It described a circuitous route through the jungle that terminated at an irregular square marking. 
"I was expecting an X to mark the spot.  Isn't that the accepted way of marking treasure on maps?" she smirked.
"Nah, those maps are for the tourists," he said, returning her smirk.  Fortunately she had failed to notice the lack of detail one would expect from a land map.  "Besides, we've already got the treasure in hand.  We're looking for the place to open it.  No sense marking the place with an X unless they left more treasure there.  Ooh, there's a thought!"
"Jack Wolfe, stop that!  You're making fun of me!" she pouted.
"Only a little," he smiled gently.  "Come on, let's get our things organised."

In spite of the chest's relatively small size, it had a set of four rings affixed to it, two on either of the long sides, no doubt so it could be carried in a ceremonial procession.  Jack slid two long wooden poles through the rings, to which he tied on a set of leather straps to fit around the chest and keep the poles from slipping free.  He then added a plank of wood, longer and wider than the chest itself with ropes attached to one end to the configuration, and slid the plank underneath the chest.  A wide belt with leather straps would serve as a harness for the improvised sledge.

"No sense for the two of us trying to carry this thing through the brush like a couple of Ancient priests," he said.  "This will allow me to pull it along and leave me free to clear a path.  You've said yourself I'm strong as a mule."
"No. I said you were mule-headed."
"That's not very nice! You know I'm sensitive about the size of my ears."
"You'll survive," she said with a laugh. "Now harness up. You've got hauling to do."