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The Sacking of Port Royal
by TortugaBlack

CHAPTER 18: The Spot and Troubled Waters

Standing at the Pearl’s rail Jack Sparrow watched the Rona disappear in the darkness; the Sea Jackal followed in her wake, the surviving crew of both the Spot and the Jackal imprisoned in her brig. Hayes had said the cowardly Diego Reyes had not survived, but several of his crew had. Per their agreement Reyes’ crew would be set ashore prior to the Rona’s departure for home waters while the fate of Pease, his ship and crew would remain in the hands of Bully Hayes.

While in the sheltered protection of Beggar’s Cove and before the Rona’s departure, both captains had supervised the transfer of plunder and usable cargo from the captured ships to the Rona and the Pearl. Their crews worked together under the soft glow of numerous lanterns strung above the decks to light their way from ships to holds. The take had been good and varied. Those items from the South Seas had been stored in the Pearl’s deep holds and the items more common to the Caribbean had found their way into the Rona’s, both captains knowing that a higher price could be gotten for the unknown and exotic in their home ports. Once the spoils had been equally and fairly divided, the two captains had shared a drink and a few moments apart from their crews.

Hefting a small leather pouch heavy with coin, Jack Sparrow lifted it to his ear and set it a jingle recalling with sly pleasure the conspiratorial look Will had exchanged with him when back aboard the Pearl, the governor’s daughter had swarmed to the lad, gathered him under her womanly wing and hustled him below where they had remained during the course of the exchange. Sparrow’s grin broadened. The boy had the makings of one bloody good pirate.

He sobered. The details of the fight between the lad and Ben Pease had spread like wildfire among the Pearl’s crew and from them to those aboard the Rona. With his bravery, skill with a blade, and pirate heritage, Will Turner had earned the respect of both crews. Hayes had said as much by giving the purse Sparrow held to the Pearl’s swordsman along with an offer of a berth aboard any ship he captained. It was worthy and well earned praise. Already Sparrow had witnessed the change in his own crew. Before the capture of the Jackal, the crew of the Pearl had tolerated the blacksmith only out of respect for their captain. After the tale of the duel had made its rounds and even before reaching the cove, Will Turner had become a fully accepted member of the crew. They would now stand at his side or cover his back in any danger. Sparrow nodded his head in silent approval then sighed. And what would the lovely Elizabeth Swann make of that? He grimaced. Surely it would be laid, where he admitted it likely belonged, on the shoulders of Jack Sparrow, captain of the Black Pearl.

Watching the last of his crew return from the captured brig, Sparrow caught his First’s attention and beckoned the bewhiskered pirate to join him. “Mister Gibbs, have the plunder and goods been properly stowed?”

Aye, Cap’n. The crew be stowin’ the last now. A good night’s haul.” Gibbs nodded toward the Spot, tethered by grappling irons against the side of the Pearl. Boarding ramps still stretched between the two ships. “Nice ship, the Spot, ” he spoke admiringly.

Sparrow cast an approving glance over the sleek outlines of the ship, his eyes hooded with anticipated pleasure. “Aye, she’s a worthy capture.”

Both men fell silent as crewmembers parted at the hatch to give room to the young couple coming up from below. Several offered hands to the blacksmith or gave him a friendly slap on the back while others merely tipped a head in respectful greeting before disappearing below deck. None, Sparrow noted with interest, ignored or attempted to avoid the son of Bootstrap Bill. Elizabeth Swann stood at Turner’s side, her beautiful brow furrowed unhappily.

“The lad’s got the makings, Cap’n,” Gibbs chuckled easily. “And I don’t think his lass much likes it.”

Stepping aside to clear the way below deck, the young couple strode toward them; Sparrow shoved the leather pouch quickly out of sight into his greatcoat. Shirt and jerkin still darkly stained with his own blood and Pease’s, Will Turner strode toward them with his uninjured arm lovingly and possessively around Elizabeth’s waist. Both shared the smile of lovers. Behind them, unnoticed before, walked the Pearl’s quartermaster. Sparrow’s eyes narrowed at the look on her dusky features, one he had seen too many times in the past not to be wary. Something was not sitting well with Ana Maria and that usually spelled trouble for one Jack Sparrow.

“Mister Gibbs, see that the wounded have been cared for and a tankard of rum given each if they want it.” Sparrow held up a finger in emphasis. “But only one, mate. More can wait until we’ve made port in Tortuga.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” Gibbs nodded to Will, touched a finger to his forehead, “Miss Elizabeth,” and hurried past.

“Your wounds, Mister Turner, have they been seen to?” In the soft glow of lantern light, Sparrow was relieved to see the lad looked none the worse from the fight.

“Yes…” Will looked toward his lovely companion, then out of her sight winked at the older man. “Elizabeth is a fine nurse.”

“Oh, good!” Sparrow replied with teasing joviality. “At last we’ve found something the fair Miss Swann excels at…” pointedly ignoring the disapproving look Elizabeth flung him, “…besides setting fires and burning good rum.” He flashed her a wide toothy grin.

“Jack Sparrow, do you realize how close you came to getting him killed?” the governor’s daughter replied angrily, ignoring the teasing jab at something neither of them were likely to forget or forgive soon. “That wound under his right arm–”

“Ana Maria,” Sparrow interrupted. “Have you had a chance to look over the Spot since she’s been cleared?”

“Aye.” His quartermaster’s answer was fraught with obvious distaste at the question. “I have added much to my inventory.”

Sparrow looked fixedly at the ship that rode at the Pearl’s side. Her clean graceful lines visible even in the limited amount of light. “The ship, woman, the ship!”

Exchanging puzzled glances and uncomfortable with their presence in what was erupting into a very personal conflict, Will and Elizabeth eased behind Sparrow and silently studied the commandeered ship with renewed curiosity.

Ana Maria glanced at the brig, then quickly away to glower at Sparrow. “What of her?” Both pirates seemed oblivious to the young couple standing near.

Disappointed and puzzled by her lack of interest, Sparrow pressed. “Is the Spot not a fine ship, luv?”

“Aye!” Ana Maria snapped in rising temper. Her attention remained centered on the pirate captain while purposely ignoring the object of the conversation.

As if sensing a possible eruption between the two, Will Turner tightened his hold on Elizabeth and took a couple of steps away, pulling her with him.

“And do I not owe you a ship?”

This time Ana Maria shot a quick glance in the direction of the Spot before locking a look of undeniable suspicion on Sparrow. “Aye…”

Sparrow spread his arms wide in a selfless gesture of generosity. “The Spot – she’s yours.”

He never saw the blow coming, but the small fist took him hard on the jaw, driving his head brutally to one side with a loud crack. He staggered a step back, more from the surprise of the attack, than the force. His gaze fell on the not too surprised look on Will Turner’s face. He grimaced, in shocked surprise. “I didn’t deserve that!” He turned back to Ana Maria. “Did you not understand me, woman?”

Ana Maria stepped forward, her eyes snapping with anger and hurt. “She’s a slaver!”

“Was! Was a slaver!” Sparrow defended. Again his head rocked back from another hard blow to his jaw. This time he stood his ground, but again looked in puzzlement at the even less surprised blacksmith. “I don’t think I deserved that.” However, a quick glance at Elizabeth told him there was something he was missing in the verbal, if not the very physical, exchange between him and his quartermaster. He looked back at the tightly pursed lips and wary expression of the woman he loved. “She’ll clean up!” he pleaded anxiously.

Almost before the words had left his mouth, he was struck again. Once more Jack Sparrow shared a look with Will Turner. This time he was met with a look of pity in the younger man’s expression. “I may have deserved that,” Sparrow muttered uncertainly. Raising his hands in surrender, he cautiously faced his angry quartermaster and readied himself for further abuse.

“You would give me a ship what’s been a slaver!” Ana Maria continued to rage. “Her decks are stained with the blood of innocents. But for…the gods…she could be stained with – with–” She halted, suddenly conscious of the young couple standing behind the pirate captain.

Sparrow straightened, sighed and bravely met her seething anger. “She’s yours…” He held up a hand to ward against the balled fist he could see forming in the hand held rigidly at her side. “…To do with as you wish, ” he hurriedly finished with a hesitant pleading smile. “But come, lass, make up your mind. It grows late and we must get past Port Royal before we can sail for home.”

“Scuttle her.”

“What!” Sparrow glanced dismayed at the ship in question, then at the young couple watching with the furrowed brows of what he took to be disapproval. “But she’s…” He turned back in time to catch the small fist before the next blow could be delivered. He held the balled fist firmly, but gently while he studied her; the dark eyes that reflected her soul, the dusky complexion that the Caribbean sun loved, the hardness of her that was a shield for the passion and caring that lay at the heart of her; he raised the white flag. “…I was going to say…yours, luv.” He lifted the small fist to his lips and brushed the knuckles with a gentle kiss. “If that is your wish, she’ll go to Davy Jones.” He released the fist and raised a finger to lightly trace the rigid jaw line and felt the slight quiver under his hand.

“And you will still owe me a boat, ” Ana Maria insisted; the anger faded, leaving only hurt and disappointment in her voice.

Giving in, Sparrow sighed. “Aye. I will still owe you a boat.” Dropping his hand to his side, the pirate captain called out to his first mate, who came running. “Mister Gibbs, I would like you to take as few men as needed and take the Spot’s helm. Once we’re clear of Port Royal and in deep water, she’s to be scuttled.”

Gibbs, caught off guard, gaped first at his captain then at Ana Maria.

“Mister Gibbs! You have your orders. Weigh anchor and hoist the sails!”

“Aye, Cap’n!” Gibbs became brisk. Shaking his head over the decided fate of the Spot, Gibbs touched fingers to his forehead and strode quickly away, shouting orders as he moved aft. As their names were called, crewmen sorted themselves into two groups and hurriedly readied both ships to sail.

Weary of the battle and eager to put the discord to rest, Sparrow turned his gaze back to his young quartermaster, his eyes seeking hers in silent apology. “Have we reached an accord, luv?”

“Aye, Captain.” The shoulders under the linen shirt straightened and the head with its floppy hat lifted. “We have.”

An unspoken understanding passed between the two, silent and not to be shared. It was Sparrow who broke the fragile bond. “Helmsman, to your station and set our course for Lime Cay. We have passengers to off load before we can head for home waters.”

With Gibbs and a skeleton crew aboard the Spot, the boarding ramps quickly stowed and the grappling irons pulled from her railings, the brig slowly drifted away from the Pearl. Moments later, her anchor raised and her sails unfurled, the Spot reached for the early morning wind.

From the fore rail of the quarterdeck, Jack Sparrow watched with satisfaction as both ships were swiftly and expertly gotten underway. Beside him, Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann stood in silence, enjoying each other’s company and the gentle breezes that heralded the coming of a new day. Scowling at the memory of his thoughtless misstep with Ana Maria, Sparrow’s eyes strayed again to the small figure at the helm. He would be mending those sails for some time to come unless he could find a way back into her good graces. That he knew from past experiences could take some doing.

The ships were soon clear of Beggar’s Cove and retracing the route they had sailed only hours before. The eastern sky foretold the coming dawn as the first tentacles of morning fog curled gracefully around the ships and pushed relentlessly against the remaining darkness.

They reached the Palisadoes and carefully navigated past them, spilling more wind from their sails as they approached the cliffs and headwaters of Port Royal’s bay.

“Jack! Listen!” Will Turner cried the first warning, but Sparrow had already heard. Above the slapping of the waves against the hull of the swift-running galley came the unmistakable boom of small cannon fire and the high-pitched crack of the singles. Unlike earlier, the firing was sporadic, almost desperate in the clustering of shots. The men exchanged puzzled looks.

“Did you expect the battle to wage into the morning once Pease and Reyes pulled out?”

“No,” Sparrow replied after a quiet instant. “Helmsman, bear to the shoreline!”

“Aye, Captain!” Immediately the Pearl slowed and in her wake, the Spot followed her lead.

Amid the whistle of cannon fire, there came the unmistakably guttural boom of heavier armament than any they’d heard before, followed quickly by another barrage of the frantic firing of lesser cannon.

“Long-nines!” Both men exchanged disbelieving looks.

“What–? How–?” Will stammered, looking again toward Port Royal. Above the port town, the skies were heavy with smoke from burning fires and gunpowder, great billows of it drifting with the wind from the battle that raged in the bay. “That could only be….”

“…The Dauntless,” Sparrow finished for him.

“But…it can’t be,” Will denied. “There wasn’t time for her to get to the colonies and back.”

Seeming to sense the seriousness of the situation, Elizabeth Swann peered at the swiftly approaching headwaters of Port Royal. Even after luffing the sails, unless stopped, the Pearl would soon drift into sight of the bay. Sailing between the growing light in the east and the battling ships in the bay, the pirate galley would stand out boldly with the coming dawn, her dark sails and darker hull no longer the advantage they’d held in the night.

“Jack wait–! There’s something I…may have failed to mention…” Elizabeth said urgently while the Pearl rapidly closed on the bay. There was little time before…. “You have to stop – now!”

“Missy, is that or is that not the Dauntless?” Sparrow demanded.

“It…likely is,” she admitted reluctantly, cringing away from the dark look Sparrow shot her way. Fearing his anger, she pulled Will’s arms closer around her. “Please, you have to stop…now!”

“Helmsman, bear windward!”

Straining forward on the freshening wind only to have her sails turned against it, the Pearl reluctantly hove to.

“Quickly, Miss Swann, let’s have it.” There was no quarter given in the hard gaze that locked onto hers.

“The Dauntless did not go all the way to James Island for – for the new ship,” she admitted hesitantly.

“Explain!”

“It was agreed that the Morning Star…the new ship…would leave James Island with a British man-o-war escort upon the same day the Dauntless set sail for the northern colonies.” She swallowed hard as she felt the arms around her loosen in surprise. “Commodore Norrington – and the Dauntless – were to meet the man-o-war somewhere near St. Augustine, depending on weather conditions, where the commodore and my father would take official possession of the Star.”

The men exchanged startled glances. Will slowly shook his head in answer to Sparrow’s unvoiced question. “I didn’t know.”

“Miss Swann, is there more that you might care to divulge before we sail unawares into the reach of Norrington’s long-nines?”

“There will be another ship, ” she reminded him. “The Morning Star. The new one.”

“A pirate killer,” Will offered tensely. “Jack, her specifications are the best for her commissioned purpose – to rid the Caribbean of all pirate sloops and their crews. She’s a small schooner, shallow in the draft, fast, with twelve guns and manned by a small crew.”

Jack Sparrow absorbed the information with little change of expression as he mulled over the unwelcome news. He glanced again toward the east, then in the direction of Port Royal. The smoke from the fires would mask the dawn. For a short while they still had the darkness. “Norrington will close the bay…”

“…Trapping the pirate fleet…” Will continued.

“…In a cross-fire between the Dauntless and the fort’s guns,” Sparrow concluded grimly.

“With her speed, the new ship will be the one closing the bay, ” Will surmised, stepping away from Elizabeth as he joined Sparrow to mull over the logistics of their dilemma.

“Aye,” Sparrow agreed. “If she’s all that you say, she’ll be there to stop any of the fleet from escaping Norrington’s net.” He whirled on his heel, shouting an urgent order that immediately sent a crewman with a glass into the rigging and to the fighting top of the foremast.

“What are you doing? Will! Jack! Surely, you’re not going to help them!” Elizabeth exclaimed in disbelief. “They sailed into the bay intent on plundering and killing the people of Port Royal! While I have no wish to see any of them hanged at Gallows Point, they knew the dangers when they fired their first volleys against her.”

Sparrow raised an indignant eyebrow. “The first shots fired, missy, were not by the Brethren.”

“Jack’s right, Elizabeth,” Will added softly. “The fort opened the fight. Port Royal was not caught unawares.”

“Does that tell you nothing?” she persisted. “The commodore’s troops are well trained. It is obvious they were alert to the possibility of an attack during James’s absence. If you think to surprise them with the arrival of yet another pirate ship, you are likely to find the Pearl ensnared in the same net!”

A look of mischief touched the kohl-rimed eyes. “You forget, luv, I’m Captain Jack Sparrow.” He flashed her a quick devilish grin. “Commodore Norrington is a predictable man, Miss Swann, and any predictable man can be surprised in very unpredictable ways.”

“And I’m supposed to understand that?” Elizabeth fenced. “I’ve read your exploits, Captain, most of them I would call luck.”

“A man makes his own luck, Miss Swann.”

“That the pirate fleet was betrayed by their own is not excuse enough to rush to their rescue,” she pressed in defense of her position. “If you sail the Pearl into that bay against the Dauntless and are caught, every member of your crew will face the same sentence as the others.”

“A short drop and a sudden stop,” Sparrow teased. He sobered at her anguish. “Then, luv, it would be to our advantage not to get caught.”

“Will, talk to him!” she implored.

“Jack?” The neutral tone of the question declined a part in the argument.

“Mister Turner has heard this, missy, now it’s your turn. There’s what a man can do and what a man can’t do,” Sparrow stated coolly, holding her gaze with his own. “Now I can accept that members of the Brethren are pirates and each makes his – or her–” he shot a quick glance in the direction of his helmsman, “own decisions. But I cannot stand by and watch them trapped and shot like the proverbial fish in a barrel.” He held up a hand to stop her next argument, frustrated in his attempt to explain his actions to someone too young to understand that between black and white, there were many shades of gray. “I have no intentions of rushing headlong into Norrington’s trap to rescue those foolish enough to have signed Articles with Ben Pease and Diego Reyes.” He flashed a quick smile. “But that’s not to say given the opportune moment I wouldn’t open the door a crack and give them a fighting chance to escape the commodore’s rope.”

“With no excuse for what they’ve done this night?”

Sparrow shrugged then replied evenly, “They do what they do.”

The young woman’s chin lifted in haughty anger. “Like you.”

“Like me,” Sparrow agreed without apology. A shout from the fighting top stilled the argument as a crewman who had been stationed below the mast hurried towards him. “The top-man reports the Dauntless lies offshore of the fort, Cap’n. The fleet hugs the western shore, a couple listing near to scuppers. Another ship, flying the Union Jack, sits beyond the bay, keeping them from open waters.”

Sparrow turned to Ana Maria. “Helmsman, come about seaward, I want the northern edge of Lime Cay at our backs. Hurry – the darkness fades!”

“Aye, Captain!”

To the crewman, he waved seaward. “Signal the Spot to stay close and await orders!”

“Aye, Cap’n!

Under the helmsman’s experienced hand, the Pearl filled her sails and swung her bowsprit to the open sea. In moments they had gained both distance and the cover of what remained of the darkness. Off their port bow the fog lifted enough to show the sharp outline of Lime Cay…and the silhouette of a lone ship. Sparrow ordered the Pearl, still shrouded in the dregs of night and swirling fog, to hold position while he pulled his glass from a pocket in the greatcoat, put it to his eye and carefully studied the ship and the sea around her with a cautious eye. As he made another sweep across the ship, his expression changed from grim to thoughtful. The Spot sat close at the Pearl’s stern.

Taking the glass from his eye, Sparrow slapped its expandable sections together, and addressed the helm. “Ana Maria, lash the wheel and come rail side.”

“Aye, Captain.” The young pirate dropped a loop of rope over the wheel and hurried to join Sparrow at the Pearl’s starboard rail.

Sparrow handed the glass to his quartermaster and motioned toward Port Royal. Behind him, Will and Elizabeth watched expectant, but puzzled. Putting the glass to her eye, Ana Maria advanced it slowly from left to right, back then paused at center. An amused smile pulled at Sparrow’s lips, but his eyes remained hooded and serious. He waited until she lowered the glass. “Well?”

“Captain?”

“What see you?”

At a loss to his meaning, Ana Maria shrugged. “The bay is bottled tight. No ship of the Brethren will leave Port Royal this morn.” There was a hint of tough sadness in her voice.

“The ship, woman! The ship!” Sparrow pressed with exasperation. “What say you of the ship – the schooner – blocking their way?”

“She’s…beautiful,” Ana Marie commented, shooting Sparrow a suspicious glare. “Small, trim, shallow on the draft. She’ll be easy to handle with a small crew…and fast.”

“Aye,” Sparrow purred, speculation sliding into his manner. “Would she be worth the debt of two years under another’s colors…and twenty-five per cent of her spoils?”

Dawning comprehension flickered into shrewdness. “One year and ten per cent. Aye!”

“Eighteen months and twenty per cent,” he haggled.

“One year and ten per cent,” she gave in quick return.

“One year and fifteen.”

“Done!” She reached for his hand and they shook in quick settlement of the agreement. Elizabeth and Will exchanged puzzled glances.

“Jack – what?” Will started.

“And now, Quartermaster, to the helm. We have a bargain to consummate.” Sparrow motioned to another crewman who came on the run. “Signal the Spot, Mister St. Jon, and make her fast to the Pearl. I want Mister Gibbs as soon as he comes aboard. Step lively, man, we’ve much to do and we’re losing the darkness!”

The young blacksmith and the governor’s daughter stared in amazed confusion while crewmen dispensed hastily to tasks in wake of Jack Sparrow’s stride down to the main deck.

“What’s he doing now?” Elizabeth asked. Will shrugged his own evident uncertainty.

The young couple watched in mystified silence as a boarding ramp was pushed into place and the Pearl’s first mate and the crew he’d taken with him stepped back aboard the Pearl. After a hasty meeting amidships between captain and first mate, several crewmen disappeared below deck only to reappear moments later with small casks, which they hurried aboard the brig. Another quick conference and Gibbs turned back to the Spot, motioned to a pair of crewmen and together they returned to the slaver. As soon as the ramp was stowed and the lines cast off, the Spot drifted free, unfurled her sails and set a course for the harbor. In her wake, with a last shouted order, the distance between the two ships widened.

Striding purposefully toward the young couple, his expression closed and serious, Sparrow swept the deck with what looked to be a careless gesture, but one by one all the lanterns that had been left alight during the exchange with the Spot were quickly doused and the Black Pearl again fell dark.

“Jack?” Clearly sensing the tense demeanor of ship and crew, Will took an apprehensive step toward the approaching pirate.

With little time for explanations and none for argument, Sparrow’s ink black eyes swept past the governor’s daughter and locked on Bootstrap’s son. “Mister Turner, you have honored your part of our accord by sailing under my colors and aiding in the taking of the Jackal, her captain, and crew.” His expression eased and a flicker of mischief pulled briefly at the corner of his mouth before being quickly stifled. “In return, I promised to see you back to your forge with no one in Port Royal the wiser to your participation in our actions this night. The only stipulation you made to our accord was that I not ask of you anything that might run counter to your conscience.”

“I remember.” Will met Sparrow’s gaze with unwavering trust, but with more than a little uncertainty.

“The arrival of the Dauntless has, as you might have guessed, put a major hitch in both our plans and our accord. As you also may have gathered by now, Ana Maria has refused the Spot as a fit replacement for the boat I…uh, borrowed, therefore leaving me with the task of finding yet another replacement.”

Elizabeth and Will exchanged worried glances, but it was the governor’s daughter who eyed the pirate captain with open suspicion.

“After a quick exchange and–” Sparrow grimaced before continuing, “–tough negotiating, Ana Maria has agreed to accept a ship in the Spot’s stead.” He waved casually in the direction of the Morning Star. “That ship.”

“That ship!” Will and Elizabeth chorused, their gaze shifting to the schooner poised at the mouth of the bay, the Union Jack proudly flying at her stern.

“That ship.” Sparrow’s humor vanished as he faced Will, his demeanor unmistakably serious. “To take it without bloodshed and staying true to our accord, mate, we will have to be quick and use the last of the darkness. Will your conscience allow you to follow me in this endeavor?”

Elizabeth looked from first one man to the other, plainly not liking what she saw in the unspoken exchange between the two. “You’re not seriously considering this? You can’t!” She grabbed Turner’s sleeve in urgent appeal. “Will, my father’s on one of those ships – James, his crew – all will know you on sight! And if they’re hurt…?” She wheeled on the man in the battered tricorn and greatcoat. “You can’t do this!”

“Here’s the facts, Miss Swann–” Anticipating another argument rising and with no wish to fence further with her innocence, Sparrow pinned governor’s daughter with a remorseless gaze. “If you haven’t noticed, that bloody ship has moved a bit further out of the bay since we put glass to her last and now blocks our way past Lime Cay, which is needed to safely return you and Will to your shore and us on our way to Tortuga without being seen.” He leaned closer still, his fathomless eyes hard. “Nor can we engage or defend against both her and the bloody Dauntless. Not with my crew split between the Pearl and the Spot without enough on either to man the guns.”

“The trapped ships?” Will reminded him.

“I haven’t forgotten them, mate, but first I must see to the safety of me and mine…”

“Your plan?”

Elizabeth flinched at Will’s ready acceptance and obvious willingness to listen and follow the pirate captain. A slow smile pulled at the corners of the pirate’s mouth as he spread his arms at the limited options before them. “Inescapably, we can not sail around her nor can we engage or defend against her – we must take her.”

Will Turner’s eyebrow rose. “How?”

“The same way we did the Jackal, mate, with a diversion and a boarding at her stern.”

“This is not good…” Elizabeth argued in teeth-clenching dismay. At her side, Will shifted uneasily. Visibly torn between strong wills, opposing forces and the rightness of both, he remained wisely silent.

Both index fingers raised commanding attention, Sparrow forestalled her. “If you have a better plan, missy, out with it quickly.” Recognizing the subtle hints of her frustration, the straightening of her stance, the pursed lips, the lifting of her elegant chin, Sparrow waited. Elizabeth Swann remained silent. He smiled. “I thought not.” The ink-black eyes settled on the young blacksmith. “What say you, Will Turner? You’ve heard both sides of this argument. Can your conscience allow you to help relieve Commodore Norrington of yet another of his pretty boats at the possible, if unlikely, cost of your future in Port Royal should we fail?”

“Will, no…” Elizabeth pleaded.

Turner reached for her, his eyes asking for understanding. “Elizabeth, we have little choice…” She turned away. Saddened by her rejection, but his expression one of determination, the son of Bootstrap Bill Turner made his decision. “Aye.”

Seeing the tide turning against her, Elizabeth focused her anger on the pirate captain. “Jack Sparrow, we, too, have an accord and I will hold you to it, ” she warned grimly.

Sparrow’s eyes softened at the naked fear in her eyes. “Mister Turner will be in no danger of being seen or recognized, luv, if he does as he’s told,” Sparrow promised. “I ask only that he man one of the boats needed to carry me and members of my crew to the schooner. With men on the Spot and others manning the Pearl, I have the boats, but not enough crew for this venture.”

Elizabeth slowly shook her head. “You’re mad. Both of you,” she breathed. Sadness reflected in her dark eyes and her shoulders slumped as if she sensed the future changing and the fates moving it beyond her control. “Without bloodshed,” she insisted. “I’ll have that promise from you, Jack Sparrow – without bloodshed.”

“Aye, luv, I promise, on–”

“–I know, I know,” she interrupted wearily. “On pain of death…”