PRELUDE TO EL LOBO DEL MAR

[Welsh Wench]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Smoke, flame, and metal erupted from El Lobo's guns. Cannonballs smashed into Mercedes' starboard side even as her crew struggled to get their guns into place. Shards of wood and debris sprayed throughout the gun deck with hellish force. A few guns were even blasted fully from their carriages, transforming them into tumbling engines of destruction within the cramped confines of the gun deck. One of the barrels slammed into the foremast hard enough to dislodge it from its footings. Men hauled frantically on the rigging lines as they fought to disengage their ship from the pirate's before another broadside could be unleashed. A couple of the Spaniard's guns made a feeble response, their shot landing in the water wide of their target as the Mercedes wheeled away hard to port. The wounded ship continued on, smoke roiling from her starboard side as the crew struggled to set their stern to El Lobo and escape Jack Wolfe's deadly reach.

"Guns at the ready!" Jack called. "Make pursuit, Mister Briggs! Diego started this, and I'm of a mind to finish it."
"Herd him ahead of us, and pick 'em apart by hit and run?" asked Briggs.
"Seems a lovely day for it, don't you think, Josiah?" Jack stared at the retreating Spanish ship, and his jaw tightened. "Mendoza thought he could best me with a crew of cowhearted regulars, eh? I hope they're saying their prayers, because this day is about to get a whole lot worse for them. Diego needs to imagine the worst that could possibly happen, then add a locker full of bad to it."
Briggs gave Jack a measured look. "We'll be not givin' them quarter, then?"
"Put it this way, Josiah: if there's anyone left after we finish Mendoza and his pretty ship, they can swim along side us to Barbados. That's all the quarter they can hope from me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack finished setting El Lobo on a parallel course with her sister. "Would you rather this had been a protracted artillery fight, Josiah? I wish you'd told me sooner, so I could have let them catch us."
"I'm likin' this just fine," laughed Briggs.
"In the spirit of sportsmanship, we should run up our colours, don't you think? Just in case Diego is unclear about our intent," Jack mused.
"You'll be wantin' the red one?"
"Aye. It suits my mood."
Briggs went to a deck locker and pulled from it a blood red flag, the signal that no quarter would be given and none expected, and hauled it up to the top of the mizzen mast.
Jack watched the flag whip in the breeze. "No, that won't do. Not enough."
Briggs shrugged, and untied the line to haul the flag back down.
"No, leave it up there, Josiah. I want to add to it."
"Aye? And what be that?"
"You know that discarded figurehead we have in the hold?"
"Aye! The one Mendoza had made of his lady?"
"That would be the one," Jack smiled.
"Oh, you've got not but mischief in your head," Briggs grinned.
"See that it's brought on deck, Master Briggs. And trice it up to the foremast. Should the men take a liking with what paint's available, tart her up as they please. Good and bold."
"Lookin' to piss Mendoza off to a fare ye well?" Briggs asked.
"I'd call it a tribute to her reputation, but we don't have enough paint for that, do we?" Jack laughed. "Helm!! Takes us outside of her guns and hold us parallel. Half sail once we're there."
"Half sail, aye!!" cried the helmsman.
Briggs stopped at the steps leading down from the quarterdeck. "Half sail?"
Jack winked at his friend. "I want Diego to get a nice, long look at our portrait of his dear departed wife. The angrier he is, the bigger the mistakes he'll make!"

"Gunners, at the ready" Jack called out. "The Mercedes will, if I'm right, make a run at us before too long. I want her blown to hell this time. And 100 extra pieces to the crew what hits her magazine!" The crew cheered, and a feral smile played across his face as he looked Mendoza's vessel. "Be of good cheer, Diego. You're about to square an old debt."

"What is that damned pirate doing?" asked Mendoza. "He's been matching our speed and staying just out of range for nearly an hour now."
Mendoza peered through the perspective glass to try and see what was happening aboard his former ship, and more to the point, try to catch a glimpse of Jack Wolfe. He got his wish when he trained the glass on El Lobo's quarterdeck. He was finally close enough to see the face of the man he'd sworn vengeance on. But why was Wolfe point up at the foremast? He lifted the glass in the direction the pirate was pointing. The Spaniard began to quake with rage when he saw. It was the ship's original figurehead of his wife, painted up like a two-bit trollop.

His blood boiled at the sight of his beloved wife's likeness so disrespectfully defaced. "Vega!" he roared. "You'll attack now!"
"No, Señor!" Vega protested. "It's another trap, it has to be! They're goading you into this. Do not be tricked again!"
Mendoza pulled his pistol and pointed it at Vega's head. "Attack him now, damn you! This shot is meant for Wolfe, but I swear to God I'll use it on you first if it means his destruction!"
Vega closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. "Full sail, now!" he ordered. "Guitano, close in on the pirate. Keep our profile small to their guns as long as you can. Lieutenant Santos!"
"Yes, captain?" a fresh-faced young officer replied.
"Have Ramirez's guns crews concentrate fire on their masts and rudder," said Vega quietly. "Carry the order personally. We'll see if he still taunts us once we show our teeth."
Mendoza's orders had been explicit: destroy El Lobo and her master at all costs. But Vega was willing to gamble on the Colonel's generosity should he manage to bring Wolfe aboard Mercedes in chains.

Santos hurried to the master gunner with the revised orders. He used what passed for military formality to avoid the gaze of the Colonel. Normally, Santos avoided the gun decks entirely, but the deafening roar there was far preferable to another of Mendoza's tirades.

Ramirez's report came even quicker than Vega had hoped. "The word is given, Captain!"
"Excellent, excellent!" Vega answered. "Marksmen, get aloft!! Guitano, wait for my order before turning for the broadside."

"Well, slap me twice and hand me to me momma," laughed Briggs. "He's taken the bait!"
Jack grinned at the sight of the Spanish ship as it turned to charge, like some angry bull. "You're making this all too easy, Diego," he laughed. He turned to face the weather deck and began shouting more orders. "Full sail! Port-side gunners, stand ready to make your target when they turn!"
"Jack, what the hell is he doin' now?" said Briggs, pointing at the Spaniard. "They're turnin' too soon! Their guns won't be near as effective that far away."
"A feint? No matter. They're committed now. Helm, get us closer!"

Master Gunner Ramirez watched his prey carefully, timing the swells to better his gunners' accuracy. He caught the rhythm of the enemy ship on the water, and smiled. "And... now! FIRE ALL!!" With that, Mercedes threw the full fury of her double-charged guns at El Lobo del Mar in the form of ball, chain, and bar.

Jack turned from the gunwale to speak his orders. "Port guns, hold until we close, just a few seconds more!"
A thunderous roar erupted behind him. He whirled back to see smoke and muzzle flashes burst from Mercedes' gun decks. Whirling chains tore at El Lobo's masts, gouging and hacking at her rigging and sails. The heavier bar shot did double duty against both ship and crew. He felt the familiar thud under his feet of balls striking the hull near the stern as the Spaniard tried to shoot away his rudder. But the sound of glass and wood shattering at the stern from and errant shot made his heart lodge fast in his throat.

His quarters, where Honour was hiding, had been hit!

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

The Spanish cannonball had caught the port-side aft of the ship, at the level of the great cabin. The hurtling piece of metal smashed through the coloured glass windows, caromed off the overhead directly above Honour, and exited the through the starboard windows. Honour ducked down beside the heavy bed and threw her arms over her head, which shielded her from the worst of flying shards of wood and glass the cannonball had scattered in it's wake. She stayed there for a while, huddled and trembling, her breathing ragged as her body quaked. She found herself waiting for the wave of unholy thunder and destruction, certain that it would take her with it this time. Jack promised her she would be safe in the cabin. He promised! Why, why did he have to take on that other ship? Rhys would never have gone on some mission of vengeance, certainly not with her aboard. She just knew he wouldn't have. But Jack isn't Rhys. And Rhys is dead. Was she to die this day, too?

Honour cautiously looked up from where she crouched. The cabin was littered with glass shards and splintered wood. She gulped hard when she saw the gouge left in the overhead timbers. If that ball had come in at a lower angle, she reasoned, she would most certainly have been killed by it. Her stomach tightened into a knot as the relief of being alive faded and mortal fear took over. Jack was wrong. The cabin wasn't safe. Though she could still hear the cannons firing and men shouting, she had to go somewhere. Anywhere but the cabin, which felt increasingly like a death trap. But where?

As she began to stand up, and scuffling sound from under the bed caught her attention. Honour lifted the bed skirt and looked underneath. Muir had wedged himself as far underneath the bed as he possibly could. When he saw her face, he whimpered and started to crawl out of his hiding place.
"No, Muir," she said as soothingly as her shattered nerves would allow. "Stay here, where you'll be safe."
Her words were as much a prayer as they were an instruction. The wolf-dog's ears fell a bit, and he laid down with a heavy sigh. Her eyes welled with tears as she left the bed. She hastily wiped the tears from her eyes, when she noticed the armoire and remembered Puddin'. The door was ajar, most likely knocked open from the heavy jarring the ship had taken. When she peeked inside, Puddin' lifted his head and made a noise that clearly conveyed his annoyance at having his nap interrupted. The absurdity of it all nearly made her laugh. How many battles had this rough-and-tumble cat seen?

Satisfied that the animals were all right, Honour decided it was time to keep moving. She bit her lip hard, mustered her courage, and slipped out of the great cabin.

As she emerged from the companionway, she saw her husband's ship transformed from a well-kept sailing vessel into a killing field. The shouts of the men were awful and terrifying.

"Help me! Oh God, please, someone help me!"
Honour turned and froze in horror. A man was sprawled on the deck, his left leg twisted in a sickeningly unnatural way. His pant leg was soaked with blood. When he noticed her looking at him, he reached out to her and tried to drag himself along the deck.
"Please, mum, help me! I'm hurt bad!" he begged.
Two men rushed up and took hold of the wounded sailor.
"This ain't no place for the likes o' you!" shouted one of them at her. "Get below, before you end up like 'im or worse!"
The wounded man screamed in agony as the two sailors bodily dragged him off to the ship's forecastle, out of the line of fire. Honour watched, mesmerised, until a cannon blast from directly beneath her feet jarred her back to the awful reality that was raging around her. Frightened, desperate, Honour took refuge underneath the canvas of one of the longboats. But despite her fear, she couldn't help but peek out and watch the maelstrom.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Shore up our larboard defences, you sorry mongrels!!" Jack shouted to his men. "Bring us about! I want another go at him with a full broadside! Load half with chain, grape, case shot, whatever will clear their decks! Marksmen, get your worthless arses aloft, double time! Damn me if we'll be taken!!" he howled.

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

Jack ground his teeth as he watched his crew respond slower than he'd like. But then, no human could ever match his expectations in battle.
"Damn it all, Jack! And you, too! They're doin' all they can!" Briggs countered.
"Then carry them all to hell! I want action! And I want it NOW!! I want Mendoza sent back to the devil that conceived him!"
Briggs looked hard at his friend. "If this don't work, Jack, you're consignin' us all to Davy Jones' locker."
"We all have to die someday, Josiah. This one is as good as any. The order is given!"
Briggs looked his captain hard in the eyes. "You heard the captain, ye dogs!" he exhorted. "Prepare to fire!"

Jack looked out over the weather deck as his crew brought El Lobo's guns guns to bear on the Mercedes. Firing in unison, they unleashed a devastating broadside against the Spanish ship. Honour flinched at the din, instinctively curling up in a ball in the bottom of the longboat.

Together, Briggs and Jack looked with satisfaction at their handiwork. Their previous efforts had crippled the Mercedes, dropping her foremast and dismounting the majority of her guns. This last volley left her broken hulk.

Captain Mauricio Vega watched his dreams of glory fade before his own dimming eyes as Guitano cradled him in his arms.
"I... I nearly had him," Vega coughed. "I nearly..."
Guitano closed his captains eyes. "Very nearly, my old friend. Your family will know you served with honour," he whispered.

El Lobo delivered a final death stroke against her enemy. Colonel Diego Mendoza tried to mount the steps to the quarterdeck, only to be thrown onto the weather deck by the impact of the pirate's weapons. The tumbling barrel of a dismounted gun found his legs, crushing them. Mendoza cried out in agony, but found it in himself to shout one more order.
"Musketeers!" he yelled. "Fire!! Fire on them! Kill all you can, damn you!!"

Jack watched as his guns tore into the Mercedes.
"Yes!!" he exulted, waving his hat in the air. "Look at her burn! Victory is ours, lads!!"
The men began to shout in celebration.

Honour could no longer contain her curiosity. Feeling it must be safe now that the firing had stopped, she lifted the canvas to get a look at what the men were cheering about.

Jack caught an odd motion out of the corner of his eye. He turned and focused, and was astonished to see Honour's face peering out from under the longboat's canvas.

"Honour! No! What are you doing up here?!" he cried. She started to reply, to explain her reason for being up on deck.

But she could only stare in horror as Jack was spun to the deck by a bullet from a Spanish sniper's musket.

"JACK!! NO!!" she screamed.

Could it be?

Had she just watched her husband die?

[Welsh Wench]

"JACK! OH MY GOD! JACK!"
She rushed out from under the canvas and felt a ball whiz past her ear. Jacob Davis yelled, "GOT HIM!"
Honour looked up in time just to see a Spaniard fall from the rigging of the Mercedes into the sea.
She threw herself down on the deck next to Jack and cradled him in her arms.
"BRIGGS! WE NEED THE DOCTOR HERE!"
Briggs rushed over to see the blood on Honour's dress and on her hands. He ripped Jack's shirt open and saw where he had been shot.
"Honour, he's been hit in the shoulder. Get him outta here and down to your quarters, NOW! The Mercedes is out for blood and Mendoza wants the Captain dead! Those damned snipers will take us all out if we're not careful!"

The blood drained from Honour's face. "But he needs the doctor. I don't care what he's doing. I need him here!"
Jack came to and groaned. Honour patted his face. "Jack? Oh, Jack, my darling. You've been hit!"
Jack managed to say, "Briggs, the ship is yours. Do whatever you have to do and get us the hell out of here. Have Duckie take care of the men."
Honour looked over her shoulder and said, "You'll do no such thing! YOU GET THE DOCTOR AND YOU GET HIM NOW!"
She was on the verge of hysteria.
Jack whispered, "Get me below to our cabin, Honour. If I'm to die, I'd rather it be there."

Briggs and Honour helped Jack stand. He collapsed against the mizzen mast.
"Briggs, put that heaving hulk of Spanish manure to our rudder and get us away as fast as you can. Clap on as much canvas as you the masts will allow," he said as his knees buckled.

To Honour he gasped, "What the HELL were you thinking of, girl? You could have been killed or worse had they boarded us. I told you to stay in the cabin and not to come out until I called for you."
She started to cry again.
"Jack, a cannonball ripped through the cabin. Muir is under the bed, and Puddin' is in the armoire. I panicked. I had to get out of there. I was afraid I'd be trapped or blown up."

"BRIGGS! OVER HERE! I NEED YOUR HELP!" a man yelled in a distinct Londoner accent.
Briggs draped Jack's arm around Honour shoulder and said, "You need to get him down to the great cabin. Make him comfortable, and I'll send the doc as soon as I can."
"But there's glass everywhere!"
Another Spanish bullet whizzed by her head.
"NOW!" he yelled. "Sweep the damned glass off... I'M ON MY WAY, DUCKIE!"

Jack leaned on Honour and said, "Please, just get me down to the cabin, and we will sort things out from there."
Honour supported Jack's body with her own as best she could with her small frame. He clutched his shoulder with a torn rag which was rapidly turning red with blood.
She turned and saw the guns from the Mercedes belch out black smoke and hellish fire. Most of the shots fell wide, but the ones that hit burned images into her mind that she would not soon forget.

Half-dragging her husband, she slowly led them back to the great cabin. Jack's complexion was turning ashen and he looked about to pass out from the pain.
Bumping the door open with her hip, she was able to get set him on the chair while she shook out the coverlet with shaking hands. He grabbed another shirt and held it to his shoulder. It rapidly turned red and sticky with blood pumping out.
Honour guided him onto the bed. He moaned, sweat running in rivulets down his face.
Slowly removing the cloth, she gasped. The blood continued to flow out.
Jack grasped her hand and said rasply, "You need to dig the bullet out."
She paled. "Me? Jack, I know nothing about pistol wounds!"
He was taking shallow breaths. "It's the only way. I'll talk you through it."
"Why can't I run to the deck and get Dr. Gander?"
Jack shook his head. "The wounded men come first. That is the code I live by. If you don't do this, you very well could be a widow by nightfall."
Tears filled her eyes and she fought back the rising tide of panic.
"But I'm afraid, Jack. What if I make it worse?"
"The only way you can make it worse is hitting an artery. So don't do that."
"But I can't. I have no medical training and...."
He grasped her wrist and yanked her close to him. Her face was inches from hers. There was a look of determination and fire in his eyes she had never seen before and it frightened her.
"I made you a promise. I promised you babies. I can't do anything about it when I am dead. Disregarding the tavern stories you may have heard about me, although death is the only thing that could stop me. I don't go back on my promises. Now listen and listen good."
She nodded, fear in her heart. "Aye. I'll do it."

[Welsh Wench]

He laid back against the pillows and said, "The shirt needs to come off."
With trembling hands, she took her sgian dubh and began to slice through the silk. It laid in tatters.
Jack said quietly, "In the cabinet there, get two bottles of whiskey."
"Two?"
"Aye. You have to anaesthetise and sterilise."
She retrieved them and took the cork out.
"Now fill a tankard up and help me drink it."
She lifted his head up and helped him get it down. He coughed and groaned.
"Honour, I'm going to need more periodically through this whole thing. So keep the bottle here. Now in the top drawer over there, you will find a small knife in a brown leather scabbard."

She looked and there it was.
"Good. Pour the whiskey over the knife to sterilise it."
With trembling hands, she held the knife over a basin and poured it over the blade.
"Now what, Jack?"
Jack had been holding some cloth over the wound, compressing it. "It needs cleaned and then you have to dig for the bullet."
Honour looked at Jack with horror-filled eyes. "I--I can't do this. I can't, Jack! I'll hurt you!"
He yelled, "You think I'm not already hurt? This is the only way. Now give me another swig of whiskey."

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

"This is going to be the hard part for me, " Jack said. He closed his eyes and said, "You need to take the sterilized knife blade and insert it in the wound."
Honour put her hand to her mouth and whispered, "There has to be another way..."
Jack shook his head and said hoarsely, "There isn't. Good God, girl! You are the wife of a pirate. Have you not learned ANYTHING?"
Tears fllled her eyes. Jack had never spoken so harshly to her before.
"You need to work quickly. If I pass out from pain or too much spirits, I can't direct you. Are you ready?"
She nodded.
"Good. Now carefully insert it....AAAAHHH!"
Honour felt a tear trail down her cheek. "I'm so sorry----"
"Not up for discussion right now," he could barely get out as he hissed through this teeth. "You.. need... to... to find the bullet. You will feel metal on metal. Gently slip the tip of the blade beside the ball and use the tip to slowly roll the ball back up through the wound tract and then... then..."
"Jack? JACK!!"
He couldn't hear her. He was unconscious.

After what felt like an eternity of probing, Honour felt a distinct scrape. Sweat was running down her back and she couldn't even brush her hair out of her eyes. If she lost the ball, she would have to start all over again. Mercifully, Jack was in oblivion.
The ball slowly rolled like a cannonball on an uneven deck. Because the wound entrance was ragged, the ball wouldn't pop out.
'Oh, please, God,' she prayed. Jack was still unconscious. She could barely see the ball.
There was only one thing left to do.
She had to remove the ball with her fingers.

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

Honour took cloths and wiped his face down. He opened his eyes and groaned.
"Am I... dead?"
She felt the tears trailing down her cheek as she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
"No, my love, you are quite alive. But Jack, the blood is starting up again."
He took a shallow breath and said, "In the washstand below in the cupboard, you will find cotton. You need to pack the wound."
"Shouldn't I get Dr. Gander to take a look?"
"NO! The men come first. How many times do I have to repeat this?"

She poured a generous amount of whiskey and held his head up so he could drink it.
He laid back against the pillow and said, "You need to insert the cotton in the wound as far as you can. I-it's called packing the wound."
She bit her lip and inserted it in with the blade and then continued until Jack said, "Enough. That should do the trick." He had passed out again.

It was then that she noticed the bombardment had stopped and she could hear the ship as it cut rapidly through the sea. She looked out the hole that used to be the windows and could see the full moon shining on the waters. The acrid smell of spent gunpowder still filled the air.
Honour washed his face and covered him up with a blanket. He was still ashen but his breathing had become slow and steady.

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

Briggs, moved with pity for the young lass, took her in his arms and gently rocked her and awkwardly stroked her hair.
She sobbed as if her heart would break.

"Time and unforeseen circumstance, no more than that. Ye saved the Captain, Missus, and fer that the crew of El Lobo thanks ye."

[Welsh Wench]

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

Honour curled up in the chair, wrapped in a blanket. Her sleep was disturbed by a soft knock and then the gentle rattle of the latch being opened. She turned in the chair, facing the wall.
"Mr. Briggs, really. No need to keep checking on Jack. I'm here and if you try to bring in any more food for me or rum for Jack, I shall barricade the door and be quiet and then you can just imagine we died in here. So in answer to your unspoken questions, 'No, Jack is not dead. Yes, he is sleeping. No, he can't have any more spirits. No, I don't want any food. And yes, you can let the cat back in here.' "
"Let me see if I got all that," came a genteel voice. "Not dead, no more spirits, no food, and cats are welcome. Did I miss anything?"
She bolted upright and stared at the stranger.
"I'm sorry for startling you," the stranger said in a cultured voice out of character with a pirate ship. "I'm the ship's surgeon, Doctor Gander. But you can call me Drake."

Honour jumped up and threw the blanket down.
"It's about time you got here. He could have died, you know!' Her voice took on a hysterical edge.

The doctor smiled to himself a little. "Yes, I suppose he could, but you already told me he hasn't. So I'll take hope from that."
He walked past Honour and sat on the bed next to Jack.
"His colour is good, and his breathing even. I've seen him in worse shape. And I do believe I missed your name?"
"Honour Br....Wolfe. Honour Wolfe." She shook her head and said mostly to herself, "I still have a hard time getting used to my name."
"Most married women do."
Honour looked out the port window. How could he possibly know that it was the Honour part and not Wolfe?
She pulled her chair closer and sat down. "I'm sorry. My lack of manners is showing."
"Quite alright. It has been a stressful day for all."
He leaned close to Jack and examined the wound and dressing.
"I wish we could have met under better circumstances, Honour," he said in his even, refined manner. "But your husband seems to have made that quite impossible. Now then, Master Briggs told me you're the one who treat him? I'm impressed. If you don't mind, where is the bullet?"

She went to the dresser and pulled out a linen handkerchief.
"Here it is. I thought maybe Jack would want to see it. It's bigger than I thought it would be."
She unwrapped the linen and showed it to the doctor.
His brow furrowed. "Those Spanish devils. They're entirely too good at the craft of maiming and killing, and fashioning the instruments thereof. Thank you, that confirmed my suspicion."
He gently eased the dressing free from the wound. Honour covered her mouth as blood seeped from the hole in her husband's shoulder.

"You may not want to see this, Honour," he said quietly. Deftly, he opened a small satchel and pulled from it some cotton wadding, which he saturated with a thick, pungent ointment.
"A healing remedy I learnt from the local tribes of Cumana." He fed slowly it into the wound. "It acts as a coagulant and it speeds the healing process by days, if you can believe that. There. That should do him for an hour or so."
Honour peered over his shoulder. "that is making my eyes water! Won't that sting him?"
The surgeon leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Except for his grey complexion, I've seen him prone and passed out before. But it's usually from one of his tom-catting wild times in ports from Havana to Hispanola."
He suddenly remembered that Jack was now married and supposedly taken a whim of fidelity oath.
"But that's a story for another time," he quickly added. "Tavern yarns, you can never believe them."
"Oh, I've heard a few," said Honour. With a blush on her face, she murmured, "And probably contributed to a few of them."
"Yes, well... The fresh dressing will be fine for an hour or so, and we'll change it out every four hours after that."
The surgeon scowled and tapped his foot on the deck.
"What aren't you telling me?" Honour asked.
"What? Oh, no, no. It's nothing like that. He'll be fine. He's always fine, no matter the circumstances."
"Forgive me for prying, but you seem... angry?"
"Angry? Well. Yes. I am angry. Quite frankly, I'm angry with Jack. This isn't the first time he's gotten us into some insane battle, but is it him who's left to pick up the pieces?" Drake took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have vented that way."
Honour could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, a combination of fatigue, adrenalin and the lack of food.
She could barely nod her head as she whispered, "I'm so sorry."
She felt light-headed and sat down quickly.
Drake gently took her by the back of her head and pushed her head down towards her knees.
"You look about to faint. When was the last time you had something to eat or drink?"
She shrugged which was hard to do in that position.
"I---I guess I really don't remember. It was some time yesterday. I haven't been very hungry. Nothing really appeals to my appetite."
"You, young lady, are going to eat something."
She shook her head. "I don't feel like it."
He raised her to a sitting position.
"A person can be wounded in more ways than the physical. You've endured and survived things today that no lady should ever have to. Aside from refusing food, how are you?"
"I am exhausted," she admitted reluctantly.
"As well you should be! I'll leave you something to help you sleep once I'm done here."

"I almost got him killed." she whispered.
"How do you figure that?"
"He told me to stay here. I couldn't, and when he saw me up on deck, he turned away from the Spanish ship. That's when he was shot. If it weren't for me, he'd have seen the musketeer and avoided the fire."
Duckie stepped closer and took her hands in his. "Honour, listen to me. It's obvious by gaping hole in the corner that you weren't safe here. And you say that Jack turned away from the ship when he saw you?"
"Yes. It all happened so fast..."
"Honour, if he hadn't turned when he did, that ball could easily have buried itself in his chest or his head. Thank God you were there when you were. Looks like you saved your husband's life twice today." He reached into the box and retrieved a small vial of laudanum. "This is to help you sleep. No more than two drops under your tongue. Now dry those tears and try to get some rest. We'll talk more later."
As he picked up his satchel to leave, Honour's curiosity got the better of her. "Doctor, exactly why to they call you 'Duckie'? It doesn't quite make sense, especially given your last name."

Duckie smiled. "This is a pirate ship, Honour. Not a lot of what goes on makes any particular sense. Some things take hold, and some go by the boards, and no one really knows for certain. Now, get some rest. I'll have some food sent down for you. You don't have to eat it, mind you. But staring at a full plate seems a bit silly, don't you think?"
She nodded. "I'll do my best"
Duckie paused with his hand on the doorknob.
"As far as 'Duckie', that will be a story for another time."
He winked as he left the cabin.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was to the memory of Rhys Morgan.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

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

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

But not before he heard the sound of a nice piece of porcelain thrown against the door.
Ah, too bad. It was from the Ming dynasty....

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

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

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

"My Dearest Cade,

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

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

When You have made ready your Ship and Crewe, you must Join us for a while in Bridgtowne as soon as possible. There are Certain legal Instruments requiring your Attentions, for the Purpose of  Substantially reducing my Stake in the Castara Co. to no more than 15%, with the Balance and Full Control of said company to be transferred to Yourself, effective Immediately.

We expect to Receive you within the next two Weeks.

Fair Winds and Following Seas, Capt. Jennings.

Capt. J. Wolfe
Mrs. H. Wolfe"

Cade stared at the letter in disbelief. Jack Wolfe, the man who, he was certain, never had a waking thought that wasn't part of a scheme to relieve someone else of their wealth, was walking away from a successful life of piracy? For a woman?

'Women serve a great many delightful purposes,' he remembered his mentor saying on many occasions. 'The least of which is their maddening talent for relieving you of your money, no matter how delightful the distraction.' But Cade could understand how this time, things were different. He tried to ignore the pang of envy he felt at Jack's having found that one woman who could change his mind. Luck would have it that's she'd be the one Cade couldn't stop thinking of.

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

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

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

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

So she seemed to know where Cade was headed and why. "Been going through my quarters, have you?" he demanded, slapping the papers in his hand.
Bonita looked up at him with hardened eyes. "Dere be nothing aboard Cade Jenning's ship day Bonita need or want. Dis island, she have eyes and ears, and she tell Bonita everyt'ing Bonita need to know."
"Then you know of Jack's decision to give up the sea for Honour?"
"Dat little piece of paper tell you such a t'ing?"
"In his own hand."
She gave a derisive snort. "Jack Wolfe is a pirate by choice, and by him nature. Him little wife, she turn him head and maybe, maybe even him heart. But him soul... dat always belong to de sea."
Cade's face clouded over for a moment.
"Ahhhhhh, dere it is!" she chortled. "De golden-haired one, she turn a head other t'an Jack's, just as I t'ought"

"Nonsense!" he protested. "She's my best friend's wife, after all. I'm concerned for both of them."
"De heart, it be treacherous. It want what it want," she said, her damnable knowing smile never fading.
Cade felt like she was reaching right into his mind, groping in all the dark corners. "In his letter," he said, hoping to change the subject, "Jack said he expects me to meet him in two weeks. But as he was leaving-"
"He were frightened, an' told you Cade hurry so as to meet him in two days, no?"
"Did you have a hand in his state of mind?" Cade shot back.
Bonita took a deep breath before speaking. "Every time Jack embark on a new journey, him ask Bonita to read for him," she answered, her demeanour becoming evasive. "It were our way of t'ings."
"Tell me, then. I've never seen him in such a state. What did you tell him? What did you see?"
She turned to face him, and fixed him with her dark eyes. "People t'ink dat Fate be somet'ing dey can run from. Dey are mistaken. No matter how hard dey run, dey are running toward dey fate, defenceless as a newborn babe."
Cade swallowed hard. "You mean, he's thrown himself and Honour straight into..."
"It have already happened. If Cade care for dem, as him say, den him are needed. Go. Now."

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

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

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

El Lobo may have carried the day, but she had been battered and bloodied in doing so. The weather deck fared scarcely better than Jack's own cabin. A large section of the port side gunwale had been patched with a network of lumber and rope. The two guns that should have been there were missing. A quick scan of the masts showed that they were carrying scarcely half the canvas they should be.

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

"As serious as his wound is, I was sure it would take him another day at least before he'd wander up here," a voice came from behind him on the quarterdeck. "Master Briggs, here's your money. I should have known better than to wager against his stubbornness."
Jack turned to see Dr. Gander drop some coins into Briggs waiting hand.
"Ain't nary more bullheaded, Doc. Just like I said. Good to see ye up and about, Jack."
"I'm sure you mean that from the bottom of your purse, Mister Briggs," Jack replied sarcastically. "What be the state of my ship?"
"We handed that black-hearted bastard a right proper pastin', we did..." Briggs began.
"I was there for most of it, remember? And I'd assumed the rest went relatively well, given that none of us is in chains. Get to it, Josiah."
Briggs drew a heavy breath. "Right, then. We took our own share of shellin', that much is true. The carpenter's got the hull patched well enough. But I'm keepin' two men on the pumps just to be sure. All masts save the mizzen took heavy damage. I can't see us addin' any more sail without losin' the main or the fore. God help us if we have to make a run for it."
"Could we make a fight of it if we had to?" asked Jack raggedly. Pain and fatigue were taking their toll on him. By this time, he was only half-listening to his comrade.
"Aye, if we convince 'em to sit still and throw flowers at us, we might have a chance. We lost seven guns total. I'll have the lads remount one on the gun deck. That's the best we can do until we make port for proper repairs."
"I'll take it," answered Jack. "Any more news for me, good or bad?"
Duckie gave Briggs a warning look.
"None ye'd care to hear, no," he half-lied.
"I'll take your word for it. If the carpenter has any spare planks, please have him report to my quarters. We seem to have acquired a draft."

Jack was getting weaker by the second, but he was bound and determined to know the state of his vessel and crew. "What about casualties, Doctor?"

"Nine dead and seventeen wounded, Jack. One of the more grievously injured men refuses to accept medical treatment or advice. I'm concerned that he'll quickly become a liability and danger to his shipmates.
"Unacceptable," Jack winced. "Chain him to one of the surgery beds if you have to, on my orders. What is the man's name?"
"Captain John Michael Wolf," Duckie responded, not missing a beat.
Jack looked at him in surprise. "All right, doctor. You've had your fun at my expense."
"Oh, I assure you, Jack, the past two days could hardly be considered entertaining by anyone aboard," Duckie replied with no small amount of sarcasm in his voice. "I, for one, take no joy watching you bleed through your bandages." The doctor hooked him by the arm. "Back to bed with you. Your wife did too fine a job saving your life for you to go mucking about and ruin her handiwork."
"The Lobo will be fine, Jack," Briggs reassured him. "Another couple of days or so, and we'll be safely in port."
Jack tried to make his eyes focus on the Quartermaster, to no avail. "Two days. I'll hold you to it. Best speed, Josiah."
"Aye, Jack, best speed." He gave Duckie a worried look.
The doctor nodded reassuringly, but his expression belied his exasperation with his roaming patient.
"Now, come along, Jack. Time to get you back into your nice comfy bed where you belong. And I need to refresh your dressing."
"Is... is there a free bed in the surgery?" Jack asked hesitantly.
"What's the matter with your bed? It's better than anything I can provide."
Jack paused a moment. "It's ... complicated."
"Complicated? How complicated?"
"Very complicated."

"Oh, dear," Duckie sighed. "You have been a busy boy. All right then, to the surgery with you. But you will stay out of my cognac!"

[Welsh Wench]

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

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

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

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

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

Duckie paused, although he had a suspicion.
"Honour, why do you ask?"
She lifted her head up to look into Duckie's tired eyes and whispered, "I am the woman to blame."
Duckie hesitated and then quietly said, "I see."
Honour looked at him with pain in her eyes. "I had to tell someone. What if I died and no one knew who I really was?"
"Shouldn't it be Jack you should be telling this to?"
She shook her head vehemently. "I can't. How do you think he would feel if he found out his friend died because of his own wife?"
"He would understand." Duckie asked, "How did you meet Rhys?"
"I would go up to the bluffs and write poetry. One afternoon, Rhys was up there sketching," she smiled at the memory. "It seems I am drawn to educated pirates. A pirate that sketches and paints doesn't depict a very fearsome pirate, does he?"

She continued. "I was only seventeen. I was too young to be stuck playing Lady of the Manor. Madoc--my husband, Lord Madoc Castlemaine--was supposed to be sitting on the House of Lords in London. Rhys and I were about run away. I was packing and he had a carriage waiting. But Madoc's absence was a ruse. He had his spies. Madoc never was in London. He was nearby. Waiting like a spider. He ran Rhys through and then charged for me. I barely got out of the way and threw my bodice dagger. My aim was true. It was self-defense, Duckie--I swear it. I held Rhys as his life-force ebbed away. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I emptied the safe and then fled from Beaumaris. I took a ship to St Lawrence and assumed an alias."
"Honour Bright. Unusual name."

She laughed bitterly, "Isn't it, though? I think it was a private joke to myself. Honour Bright. A reminder to be true to myself. As 'honour bright' is a sworn oath of fidelity."
She felt her eyes beginning to tear up.
"Duckie, am I being unfaithful to Rhys' memory?"
"How so, Honour?"
"I loved Rhys Morgan with all my heart. I swore there would never be anyone else I would feel that way about. "
She took a deep breath. "\But something went terribly wrong when I married Jack Wolfe. Something that wasn't supposed to ever happen."
"What is that, my dear?"
"I fell in love with him."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

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

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

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

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

[Welsh Wench]

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

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

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

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

He went outside, trying to catch his breath. His head was swimming. 'They left four days ahead of me. FOUR DAYS!'
All of a sudden, Bonita's words came back to him.
"It have already happened. If you care for dem, as you say, den you are needed. Go. Now."

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

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

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

For the next four days, the ship limped along. Briggs did a magnificent job of keeping her from falling to pieces. The course was slow and steady. Fate looked out for them as they passed no marauders to prey on a vessel so damaged.
Jack was kept in the infirmary. Honour only briefly saw him as Duckie didn't want any undue stress on Jack. Or on Honour. He felt there was a strain between the two but nothing he could put his finger on. They were polite with one another. But...something was wrong.
Something was missing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The cry 'Land ho!' went out while Honour sat at Jack's bedside. Duckie had let her stay about five minutes with Jack. When the cry went out, she rushed over to the porthole and looked out.
"Jack, I see land! Oh, I see land!"
The joy in her face was unmitigated. But Jack's eyes reflected something...something Honour couldn't quite discern. A....reluctance?
He sat up when Duckie came in the room.
"Jack, what are you doing?"
He said, "I have a ship to dock."
"Briggs has it well in hand. Give the man his due."
Honour turned to Jack, excitement on her face.
"Once we dock, we can go to Monsieur Picou's plantation and I know you will love it and then we can get a bank draft and--"
"Good God, girl! Don't I have enough on my mind with the ship being a floating disaster? I need to see a shipwright as soon as we dock. I don't have time to worry about a plantation so I can fill it with whiny babies."
Honour looked like someone had thrown cold water on her as her shoulders sagged.
Duckie hurriedly said, "Jack, I'll stop the morphine now. You've been sedated long enough. Honour, would you please tell Briggs I need to see him as soon as he can?"
She nodded without a word and walked dejectedly out of the room.

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

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

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

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