Chosen Path

Elizabeth was bent over her charts when Barbossa found her. “We can’t go back the way we came, can we? The winds are too strong.”



“Aye. We’ll go east, along the Clipper route. Ever sail the Horn before, Captain Swann?”



“Cape Horn? No. The last time I traveled from Singapore to the Atlantic, we went via World’s End. I suppose that route is closed to us now.”



“Without the charts it is.”



“I wouldn’t particularly want to travel those waters again anyway. I’ll stick the safety of the natural world, thank you very much.”



“Wait until you’ve passed through the Horn before you make such a judgment. Nothing safe about it. Chart a course to the bathhouse.”



Elizabeth frowned at the charts. “That will cost us days, possibly weeks, to backtrack that far. I realize it’s a long journey over open ocean, but can’t we stop elsewhere to stock the hold?”



“’Tis only September. Takes three months to reach the Horn; better if we’re there in January anyway. And the bathhouse be the safest place to leave the Empress.”



Elizabeth nodded, then blinked suddenly. “I beg your pardon? Leave the Empress?”



“Aye. We’ll dock her in Singapore and take the Pearl back to the Caribbean.”



Barbossa turned towards the door of her cabin, and Elizabeth pounced on him. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re not through here.”



Barbossa slumped against the door. “Elizabeth, don’t do this. Not in the mood.”



“Well, that’s really not my problem. I’m not leaving my ship!”



“Yes, y’are. Don’t argue. Yeh won’t win.”



Elizabeth’s shove was irritatingly ineffective. “No! We can take both ships! We’ve been sailing together for three months, why can’t we sail together to the Caribbean?”



He grabbed her arms, whirled her around and kissed her deeply, holding her suspended between his body and the cabin wall. She felt her anger subside some as she melted into the kiss. “Hector. You never did show me how it works this way, did you?”



“We’ll have to rectify that.”



“You’re changing the subject.”



He rolled his eyes and led her back to the table, sitting her in front of the charts she had just been studying. He leaned over her shoulder and ran his fingers along the route they had taken from the Caribbean to Singapore.



“Yeh recall the last journey, the strong winds that bore us here?”



“The roaring forties, you called them, right?”



“Aye. And yeh recall the Cape of Good Hope?”



Elizabeth remembered both trips around the southern tip of Africa. They had been challenging, but after several months as a Captain, she was eager to test herself against more difficult waters. “I do. I think people make it out to be worse than it is though.”



Barbossa shook his head. “We got lucky. Now. What latitude is Good Hope?”



“We stayed at about forty for most of it.”



“Aye. Now look at Cape Horn.”



Elizabeth examined the chart, Barbossa’s fingers highlighting the difference in latitude. “The roaring forties, yeh recall the winds?” She nodded. They had flown faster than she’d ever sailed, riding the strong winds of the Clipper Route on the Pearl at full canvas. “Now imagine the furious fifties. The screamin’ sixties.”



Elizabeth felt her eyes widen slightly. “Cape Horn is at fifty-six degrees south.”



“Aye. And you can barely handle a ship in a minor storm. Ye’ll not beat the Horn.”



Elizabeth bristled. Her strength grew daily, but she was still no match for Barbossa, especially against strong winds. Still, it wasn’t a good enough reason. “At the helm, perhaps. But Captain need not mean helmsman. Someone on my crew can steer.”



“Who? Yer crew’s all women.”



“Mullroy?”



Barbossa shook his head. “We’re both working with skeleton crews. T’was fine for raiding, floating on the tide. To fight the Horn, we need more than six or eight on a ship. Combine the crews, we’ve got a chance.



“Or we can pick up a few new crew members.”



“Not a bad idea, but the only men I’d trust alone on a ship with ye are already on my crew, and I’m not sailing the Horn with an entirely fresh crop.”



Elizabeth felt her eyes narrow. It was frustrating, being constantly reminded that a woman at sea needed to consider her own safety and honor in every decision. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t fight. But half her crew were women, and she’d already learned that, among pirates, men as honorable as Barbossa and Jack were rare. The women might be able to fight them off, but it wouldn’t do to sail treacherous waters with a crew you didn’t dare trust.



Still, there had to be a way. He was as smart as she was, if they put their heads together, they could find a way to make this journey. “Well I’m not leaving my ship.”



“Yes you are. Yer first time crossing the Horn won’t be as Captain.”



“Why shouldn’t it be?”



“What do you do if a storm hits? What orders, Captain Swann?” Elizabeth opened her mouth, but Barbossa pressed on. “And the williwaws? Eh? What orders then?”



“The willywhats?”



“Exactly. And Billy? Who watches him when the waves are crashing o’er the rigging?”



“The rigging?”



“Aye, could be. And in the high winds, the Empress won’t keep up with the Pearl. Can’t, even at half canvas, not there. Only one ship could, and if yeh keep up this foolishness, ye’ll be on it.”



Elizabeth frowned. “The Dutchman’s the only ship that could match the Pearl.” Realization blinked into her mind.



“Unless that’s yer plan? Join yer husband for eternity?”



“You think I’d die to be with Will?”



In one swift move, Barbossa drew his pistol, pressed it to her neck, and held her against him. “Would yeh? If that’s yer idea, tell me now, and I’ll deliver ye.” His voice was velvet in her ear. “But don’t be takin’ us all down with yeh.”



She struggled against him, but he held her close. Twisting her neck, she found his eyes. Her fear dissipated. His stormy depths held nothing but pain and tenderness. He would kill her, if she asked, but it would be a kindness, so she could be with Will. Forever. Together, in death. It was almost tempting.



No. She loved Will, and always would, but he wasn’t worth dying for. He was worth living for. She would live for him, to break the curse, so they could live a natural life together.



“Hector. That’s not my intention. Please put the gun away.” He stuck the pistol back in his belt and she twisted in his arms, running a finger lightly over his stomach where his wound still blazed. “If we delay, what happens to you?”



He covered her hand with his own. “I’ll be fine. But I’ll be better with you on my ship.”



“You’re not fine, and I’m worried about you.”



“Then quit yer arguing and chart a course for Singapore.”



Elizabeth wound her arms around his waist and touched his nose with hers. “Why can’t we take the Empress? Leave the Pearl behind?”



“Because we need something Jack Sparrow has. Yeh think he’ll just give it to us?”



Elizabeth’s mouth twitched. “He’ll need to be persuaded.”



“Aye. Now, we could kill him.”



“I’d rather not.”



“I thought not. That leaves bargaining. And the Empress won’t provide nearly the leverage the Pearl will.”



“We’re not giving the Pearl to Jack.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I suppose we could let him think we’re giving him the Pearl, until the opportune moment.”



“Have I told yeh I love the way yer mind works?”



Elizabeth smiled as he nibbled her earlobe. “I’m still really disinclined to leave my ship. I’m a Captain, Captain.”



“Captain Swann. I’ll ne’er see ye as less than a Captain. But yeh need me at the helm, and frankly, I need you at the charts and compass. There’s the false cape, the williwaws – the winds off the mountains, sudden and unpredictable, blow yeh right into the rocks. Yer a damn fine navigator, Swann, but I’ll not let yeh Captain the Cape yer first time through.”



“You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not King yet, Barbossa.”



He stepped back, hands on her arms. “Then we’re not going.”



“What?”



“We take the Pearl, all of us, or we’re not going.”



“But we have to go! We have to find Jack, and the charts! What happens to you if we don’t? Cursed again? Unable to feel?”



Barbossa didn’t meet her eye. “What’s it to ye?”



“Hector!” She took his face in her hands, turned it towards her own. “I need you. And I care about you. I won’t see you cursed again, not if I have the power to save you.”



The corners of his eyes crinkled as he pressed his lips to her forehead. “My cariño. Leave the Empress. After we find the Agua de Vida, I’ll take yeh back here. If yeh feel the need to sail Cape Horn again, as a Captain, I’ll help yeh do it.”



“Really?”



“Wait until yer through the Horn before yeh take me up on it. Might change yer mind.”



“We’ll see about that.”



“Aye, we will. Now, about that heading?”



Elizabeth sighed. “I’ll lead us to Singapore.”



It turned out that half of Elizabeth’s crew wished to stay in Singapore, but a few of Huang’s men who had stayed behind at the bathhouse agreed to sail under Barbossa. After two days in Singapore, Elizabeth left the bathhouse and the Empress under the temporary control of Ming and her husband, then moved her trunk, chest, and Billy onto the Pearl.



As she started towards the stairs leading to their prior quarters, Barbossa intercepted her. “Where do ye think ye be going?”



“My bunk?”



“Now, there’s no need to maintain the illusion of propriety. Besides, yer a Captain, and as such, yeh should stay in the Captain’s cabin.”



Elizabeth faltered. “Permanently? As in, move in with you?”



“Why not? Ye’ll like as not spend most nights in there anyway. May as well have yer clothes there for yeh in the morning.”



Elizabeth shrugged her agreement. He had a point. “What about Billy?”



“He can share Jack’s bed, until he’s big enough to have a hammock of his own.”



Elizabeth nodded. “Very well.” She thrust her trunk into his arms. “Then you can help me find a place for this.”



When she had settled into the cabin, she joined Hector at the charts. She moved his finger aside to see the name of the port town it had covered. “Botany Bay?”



“Aye. Might find a few souls there mad enough to make this journey with us. And give the crew a few days shore leave before spending three months in open ocean.”



Elizabeth gaped at him. “You want to pick up new crew? In Australia?”



“Not an entirely new crew. Just a few more hands, keep us afloat day and night.”



“But Australia? They’re naught but a lot of criminals!”



Much to her annoyance, Barbossa burst out laughing. “And what is it ye think we are? Pirates, Elizabeth! Criminals, all. Reckon they’ll fit right in.”



Elizabeth glared. Of course he was right. He needn’t look so smug about it.



They added a dozen sailors to the roster at Botany Bay. After signing on the last, Elizabeth, Barbossa, and Billy settled into a table at an inn where a band played and drinks flowed freely. “I still don’t see why we couldn’t have done this to fill both ships.”



Barbossa sighed and wound a possessive arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders as a passing drunk’s eye wandered over her figure. “Because I couldn’t be on the Empress to protect yeh.”



“How many times to I have to tell you I don’t need your protection?”



“Billy does. Ye’ve not heard tales of what sailors do to small boys on ships?”



Elizabeth felt her breath hitch and she squeezed Billy tightly against her. “They would…?”



Barbossa gave a small shrug. “That ain’t the worst of it. Food runs out, no ports for miles? Ever hear of a pirate stew?”



Horrified, she let her gaze dart between Billy and Hector, then glanced suspiciously at the other sailors in the tavern. They ate cabin boys? Dreadful!



“Nobody would dare touch my son, though.” Hector glared at the men at the next table as his lips danced along the side of Elizabeth’s head. “Nor my girl.”



She leaned into his touch. His possessiveness sometimes irked her, but for Billy's sake, she would accept his protection.



* * *





Back on the Pearl, Barbossa addressed the crew.



“Listen here, gents! Ye’ve signed on to sail under Captain Hector Barbossa, and this here be my ship.” He nodded to Elizabeth to join him at his side. “This here’s the First Mate, but ye’ll be calling her Captain Swann. Now she may look like a woman, but I assure yeh, she’s a sailor to her core, and a Captain in her own right.” Elizabeth lifted her chin and kept her face firm, hoping she looked authoritative and piratey. “She gives an order, yeh step to, that goes for every one of yeh.”



His arm snaked around her waist as he leaned towards the crew. “Now any one of you scurvy bilge rats gets any ideas about her, ye’ll have me to answer to.” Elizabeth glared. It wasn’t that she minded his protection, but this crew wouldn’t respect her if they only listened for fear of Barbossa’s wrath. “Of course, that assumes she don’t run yeh through first, and she will, make no mistake.” Elizabeth offered a vicious smile. Much better.



Some of the new crew seemed less than impressed, so he pressed on. “And then, whether it’s by my hand or hers, ye’ll have Davy Jones to answer to. And he won’t be pleased.”



One of the new recruits spoke up. “I heard he’s dead!”



“Aye,” Barbossa agreed. “And the man who killed him took his place. Captain Swann here is his wife.”



Another brave soul protested again. “She ain’t the only woman on this ship. What about them?”



Barbossa sighed towards the few remaining members of Elizabeth’s crew. “Every woman on board be crew. Now, I’ll turn a blind eye to any fraternization, so long as all parties be amenable. But the minute I get wind of any forcing, or even strong persuasion, yeh best believe yeh won’t survive the journey. Do I make meself clear?”



The new men shrugged in general acceptance, and Elizabeth’s girls nodded sharply in agreement. Like Elizabeth, they could defend themselves well enough, but it was better to forestall trouble before it began.



Satisfied, Barbossa released Elizabeth and headed for the helm. “Now get to work, yeh slimy curs! Weigh anchor! Hoist canvas! Heave to!”



As they set out to sea, Elizabeth fell less-than-easily back into her role as first mate and navigator. Barbossa had given the crew explicit instructions to take orders from her, but whenever she shouted them, he was quick on her heels to repeat her words.

Their struggle for dominance on deck carried into their cabin, though Elizabeth had to admit she found far more pleasure in submitting to him in bed than at the helm. In the past, she had only ever shared a bed with him when they sought pleasure in each other’s arms and there had been plenty of nights when she couldn’t or simply didn’t wish to. Now that she had no other place to sleep, she wondered what would happen the first night she turned him down.



As it happened, she never had to wonder. Their fourth night out from Australia, he ducked into the cabin while she took their position against the stars. By the time she joined him in bed, he was already asleep.



Even when he was awake, he was glad to accept whatever she was willing to give any night, even if it was no more than a goodnight kiss. And there was always a goodnight kiss, and a good morning kiss, and sometimes the kiss led to more kissing, and sometimes that led to even more. But it just as often didn’t, and Elizabeth enjoyed the nights when they simply talked, holding each other, as much as she enjoyed their more passionate encounters.



And it wasn’t that he never pressed her for more when she turned him down. Sometimes he even convinced her. But he was not, as she’d imagined, completely insatiable, and there were many nights when he didn’t look for anything from her at all.



As they pressed onward into open sea, tensions grew higher among the crew. Those that had sailed the Horn before were in no hurry to return, and those who hadn’t had heard enough terrible stories about the passage to be more than a little apprehensive.



Barbossa grew increasingly irritable, coinciding, Elizabeth noticed, with his increasingly pronounced limp. Asking him how he was feeling tended to produce only a snappish response, so she took to surreptitiously inspecting his wound during their more intimate moments.



It was not improving. She ran fingers over scales that had begun to develop around the line the blade had left. “What’re yeh doing?”



“Does it hurt?”



He shook his head slowly. “Don’t feel it at all.”



Their eyes met. This wasn’t the curse of the Aztec gold, but if it left him somehow unfeeling… She had never seen such fear in his eyes before.



“Hector…”



“Can’t do this again. Elizabeth, I can’t, I won’t.”



“No, you won’t. It’ll be okay, I promise. We’ll find Jack, we’ll get the charts.” She moved her hands up to his chest. “You feel this, don’t you?”



“For now. It’s getting worse every day.”



“Shh, don’t talk like that.”



“No, Elizabeth. Listen to me.” He clasped her hands in his. “If we can’t find Jack, if we can’t find the charts –”



“We will”



“If we can’t. Take me pistol.”



Her eyes widened. “No.”



“Elizabeth, I can’t live like that. Not again.”



“I am not killing you. Jack died because of me. So did Will. I’ll not add you to the tally.”



“Elizabeth, I don’t want to hurt yeh! Yeh don’t know, the curse, the beginning…don’t want to hurt yeh.”



Elizabeth stroked his cheek. “All the pleasurable company in the world…”



“Ne’er forced. I swear I ne’er forced. But I might have hurt…it weren’t pretty, and I won’t do it to ye.”



She pressed her lips to his. “I trust you. You can still feel that, can’t you?”



“The kiss or the trust?”



“Both.”



He nodded slowly. “If I ever hurt you, Elizabeth – ”



“You won’t.”



“If I do -”



“I’ll kill you.”



“Good.” His hand meandered up her back. “Now. While I can still feel…”



* * *





The days grew longer as the calendar crept towards the winter solstice. Days passed into weeks, and if Elizabeth hadn’t had to keep the log herself, she would have easily lost track of the dates.



Billy’s third birthday came in December, and though there was no cake, and no gifts to give, Elizabeth allowed him to stay up past his bedtime and sing and dance with the crew, and watch the sun as it dipped below the horizon. He fell asleep in Barbossa’s arms, and together they carried him to bed.



Elizabeth started to head back to the deck, where there was still wine to be drunk and songs to be sung, but as she passed the bookshelf, she paused.



“Hector? We haven’t read in some time. Would you mind?”



He shrugged. “If ye like.”



She perused the shelf, passing over an Indian religious text, an assortment of Shakespeare, and the Cervantes they had recently finished. Her hand hovered over Homer. “The Odyssey? It might be appropriate, considering our own quest.”



He offered a half smile. “Some familiar names in there.”



“Oh?”



“C’mere.” He led her to the bed, stripping to his breeches and shirt. She followed suit and curled against him, drawing the blankets to her waist as she flipped to the first page. He shifted, adjusting his position and wrapped his arms around her.



“Ready?” She turned to him and gave a start. “Where did you find spectacles?”



Hector seemed to think the answer was somewhere on the ceiling. “Last ship we raided. Good for reading.” He adjusted the spectacles on his nose. “Just…don’t mention them to the crew.”



Elizabeth smiled and kissed his cheek. “You’re secret is safe with me. Besides, I rather like them. They make you look distinguished and intellectual.”



He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Look like an old man. You read first.”



She got as far as the first page before seeing the familiar name he’d promised. “Calypso. Our Calypso?”



He chuckled. “She’s a force unto herself, but aye, there be only one. Thankfully.”



She turned back to the book. “She kidnapped Odysseus and kept him as her concubine?”



“Essentially.”



“For how long?”



“Seven years, ye’ll find out later.”



“Seven years, away from his wife and son.” Hector mumbled an agreement. “Well. Isn’t that just typical.” Hector didn’t speak, and she looked back to the book. Concubine... “You don’t suppose Will…and Calypso?”



She both heard and felt his deep intake of breath. “Could be. Calypso gets it in her head to take a man as lover, it would take quite a strong man to resist. Speaking from experience here.”



Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. She had known that Tia Dalma and Barbossa were lovers, but she didn’t particularly appreciate the reminder. Nor the idea that the witch-goddess was currently seducing her husband. Not that she was in a position to judge.



“What’s that?”



Had she spoken out loud? “Oh. I suppose I couldn’t really blame Will if he did…succumb…to her charms. Considering…” She ran her fingers over the back of his hand and rested her head on his chest.



“A wise attitude.”



She bit her lip. “What if he falls in love with her? What if…he skips our day?”



Hector’s hand stilled on her arm. “Then that be his choice.”



“What about me?”



“Then yer free to make yer own choices. Stay with me if yeh like.”



“Stay with you?”



He shrugged. “Let’s read.”



Elizabeth couldn’t suppress her grin. “You still want to marry me, don’t you, Captain Spectacles?” She poked at the glasses that had slipped down his nose.



“Elizabeth.” His voice was laced with a low threat. “Just read the book.”



“Well, do you?” She grinned up at him. “Tell me.”



He removed the spectacles and touched her chin with his thumb. “Is this a proposal?”



“What?” There was something glimmering in his eyes, and she frowned, trying to decipher it. “No.”



His face hardened. “Then stop with yer games.”



Elizabeth drew back. “I’m not playing! I just wondered, that’s all.”



“Why? So yeh can dangle me heart before me, play with it like a mouse to yer cat? Bask in the glory of one more man fallen at the feet of Elizabeth Swann? Yeh want to play that game, leave me out of it.”



“Why won’t you just admit it? You would have married me before, twice, you said so. Why not now?”



“Elizabeth.” He threw off the covers and stormed out of bed. “I am not having this conversation again.”



“Where are you going?”



“Need a drink. Yeh give me a headache.”



Elizabeth fell back against the pillows, watching him pour a glass of wine and massage his temples. She hadn’t wanted to fight with him. “If I’m so terrible, why are you still here?”



He glanced in her direction. “My ship.”



“Then why am I still here?”



He threw his hands up. “Yeh want to go? There’s the door! Nobody’s forcing you to stay.”



“Is that what you want?”



Barbossa glared. “What do yeh care what I want? It’s never been about what I want with you, has it? Everything’s got to be all about you.”



Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath. His words cut deeply. She slipped out of bed and joined him at the table, curling her legs beneath her in her chair. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”



“Yeh never ask.”



“I’m asking now.”



He took a long swallow of wine. “Yeh know what I think? I think yeh regret yer situation.”



Elizabeth frowned. “What situation?”



“Yer supposed marriage.”



“I do not.”



“No? Didn’t have much time to mull it over, did yeh? Proposal and marriage within the space of minutes, on a day when none of us expected to live through the night. Easy to pledge yer life to someone when you don’t expect to survive very long.”



Elizabeth folded her arms. “I’m not sorry I married Will.”



“Yeh don’t resent it? I think yeh do. I think you’ve got yer heart locked up in that box as much as Turner does, and you resent spending the best years of yer life without it.”



“That’s not true.”



He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “And you know what else?” She wasn’t sure she could hear anything else. “I think yeh want me to say I’d marry yeh, because somewhere in that poor, confused heart of yers, you like the idea. How many years did yeh spend wondering what would have happened had yer blood worked?”



She had surely never wondered that. Well, maybe a few times. Just a little.



Hector cupped her cheek in his hand, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Tell me, Elizabeth.” His voice softened. “If there were no such person as Will Turner, if he had died properly, or fallen in love with Calypso…if you were free, would you marry me?”



She wrinkled her nose and threw his words back at him. “Is this a proposal?”



His hand on her cheek stiffened, and his eyes held hers, speaking volumes in their silence.



“Hector…” He kissed her, deeply. “I can’t…”



“If yeh could.” He kissed her again.



“I –” Another kiss. Then another. Every time she thought he would draw away, he took more from her, coaxing the words to her lips. He had never kissed her quite like this before, and she was melting into him, pouring so much of herself into the kiss, drinking in all of him.



“Say it.”



Her head spun, drunk from his kiss, his touch. His lips moved against hers and she was utterly helpless in his arms, powerless to resist him. She tried to press her answer down deep, where it had lain buried for so long, but every kiss opened her further, and before she even knew what had happened, she was speaking.



“Yes.”



She was crushed in his arms, and suddenly lifted from her chair and carried back to bed. All thoughts of reading forgotten, she melted against him as she had so many nights, but already she could tell this night would be different.



“Hector, you wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t mean it. If you didn’t…”



He covered her lips with his thumb. “Shh. No need for that.”



“But -”



Another kiss, slow and tender. “No need.”



“Hector…” His lips moved, but no sound came out. “Please. Tell me.”



There was some pain that flashed through his eyes as he waged some brief internal battle. His voice was barely a whisper, but she caught every syllable. “Te amo.”



She released a breath, certain her joy showed on her face. “Latin.”



He frowned. “Nay, Spanish.”



“It’s the same, in Latin.” Her Latin studies had never progressed very far, be she recognized “te amo.” Amo, from the root amor. To love. He loved her.



Hector Barbossa loved her.



And, strangely enough, she was glad, so very, very glad, of it.



He sighed. “Didn’t expect yeh to understand.”



“I didn’t have to understand to know what you meant.”



She pulled the blankets up around them, shutting out all rest of the world. And here, in this moment, when there was only him and only her, it almost seemed safe to let herself fall. To feel what she swore she would never feel for him. For Hector.



Could she allow herself to love him? She tested the new emotion like a toe in the ocean, but she was nearly overwhelmed by the riptide that lurked below the surface. It wasn’t fair. She couldn’t love him, couldn’t stay, not when Will came back. If she loved Hector, what reason would she have to return to Will?



She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in his neck. His hand came around to tangle in her hair. “Didn’t mean this to happen.”



“I know. A year ago you told me to let Will keep my heart. You said you didn’t want it.”



It wasn’t possible for him to hold her any closer. “It would appear I’ve changed me mind. Wouldn’t mind having yer heart. Seeing as ye’ve stolen mine.”



Tears sprang to her eyes. She had never expected so much from him. But then, she had never expected to feel what she did for him. There was Will to think of, always Will, and the curse, so she could never, ever say it. She could never tell Hector she loved him.



But she could show him.



She kissed him, touched him, held him, as she never had before. It had never been like this before, had always been about needs, pleasure, and satisfaction. But this, tonight, every caress was an endearment, every kiss a promise. And when she opened herself to him, it wasn’t simply out of desire for release.



She needed to be with him, to be one with him. Their bodies fused and she tried to guard her heart, but now he had her soul, and they were one. In a few moments, they would part, physically, but never again would their souls be parted. A moment of ecstasy, and he gave her all of himself, breathing the words against her lips, “love you.”



There was some magic at work, the seas were fierce, and she could feel Calypso’s presence. She wondered if the sea-goddess would be pleased or angered, or if it was by her hand that this night came to pass. For Elizabeth held a piece of Hector’s soul within her now, as surely as he had a bit of hers as well. And she could not, dared not say so, but she needed him to know. Perhaps he did, already, but after all he’d given her, she had to tell him something.



“Hector?”



His hands traced lazy patterns along her back. “Hmm?”



“You’ll always be a King to me.”



They weren’t the right words, perhaps, but Hector had long since stopped needing words to understand her, and when his face broke into a broad smile, she knew she needed to say no more.



* * *





The following day, when Elizabeth’s shift ended, she turned the helm over to an Australian named MacIntyre and ducked into the galley to boil water for tea. She found Hector in their cabin, with both Billy and a book on his lap.



They looked up when she entered, but she smiled and waved them on. “Don’t let me interrupt.”



Hector smiled and turned back to Billy. “Where were we? Ah, ‘So when all masses were done all the lords went to behold the stone and the sword…’”



Elizabeth moved to the table and filled the teapot, watching and listening while the tea steeped. Billy was entranced as Hector regaled him with the tale he lifted from the pages of the book. When Hector first started watching Billy while Elizabeth stood her shift, he hadn’t known what to do with the boy.



Soon, though, he found ways to entertain the child. Elizabeth first noticed them passing the hours leaning over the rail, watching the waves and looking for fish. She later heard Hector quizzing her son on the various parts of a ship, and crew positions, and was surprised by how much the boy already knew.



She had been nervous to see them chasing each other across the deck, until she realized what their game was. Billy had found a stick in Botany Bay that he declared to be his sword, and though at first, Hector had been mystified by it, he soon made a great show of being “slain” by the great swordsman Billy Turner.



And now they sat calmly reading, so engrossed in the story and each other that Elizabeth felt nearly unnoticed. For once, she didn’t mind at all.



When the tea was ready, she brought two cups to the sofa and settled down beside them. “What are we reading?”



Hector accepted a cup and Billy spoke up. “Morty Arthur! There was a sword and it was stuck, but Arthur pulled it out, even though he was just a little boy like me!”



Elizabeth grinned. “I don’t think he was that young!”



“No, he really was. And now he’s going to be king! Keep reading, Daddy.”



Elizabeth laughed and brought her cup to her lips. The ship pitched suddenly, splashing tea onto her lap. Billy wavered on his not-quite-father’s knee, but Hector steadied him before he fell.



“Only going to get worse when we turn south.”



Elizabeth brushed the tea from her breeches and took a proper sip. “No tea in Cape Horn?” Evidently, falling from Hector’s lap was a fine game, and Billy took another dive, only to be plucked back into a sitting position.



Barbossa barked a laugh. “Pack up the tea set, else it won’t survive the passage. Tie down anything that might break.” Billy began to lean again and earned himself a swat. “Yeh do that again, I’ll let yeh fall.”



The boy was going to be a challenge in Cape Horn. He was quite breakable. “What about Billy?”



“Could tie him up too.”



Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Hector, he’s not cargo, he’s our son! We’re not tying him up.”



“I’m not joking, Elizabeth. It be common practice to tie up the landlubbers in the worst of it. And children too young to be crew.”



Elizabeth finished her tea. “That’s dreadful. I can’t just leave him tied to a chair like a dog.”



“Then we may have a problem. Yeh need to keep him below, or in the cabin. He goes overboard, we can’t turn around and he’ll be meetin’ his other father. But I’ll be needin’ yeh to do yer duties on deck.”



Elizabeth bit her lip. “It’s not going to be easy, is it?”



Hector offered a grim smile. Billy suddenly landed on the floor with a great thud, and burst into tears.



“Hector, why didn’t you catch him?”



Hector tugged Billy up by his arm. “I warned him. Quit yer cryin’, lad, t’was no great fall.” Billy wiped tears from his eyes and scowled and Hector turned back to Elizabeth. “No. Won’t be easy at all.”



* * *





When the time came to press south, Elizabeth was forced to admit, if only to herself, that she was grateful she didn’t have to lead her own ship. Where she once would spend a full four-hour shift at the helm, she found herself exhausted after just one hour. Barbossa’s smug grin when he relieved her fueled her displeasure, but his consistent reliance on her heading eased her sense of purpose.



The strong winds and increasingly high waves kept them all working every waking moment and Elizabeth found herself grudgingly grateful for Barbossa’s expertise. Had this crew been split amongst two ships, they would have all been forced to work day and night just to keep the ship on course, rather than work the shifts Barbossa had arranged.



Elizabeth had little time to rest, between looking after her son, and keeping up the log. Barbossa was constantly after her for their position, their latitude every bit as important as the more difficult to obtain longitude.



It wasn’t long after turning south that Elizabeth took a reading and lowered her sextant slowly. “Captain!”



“Aye, Swann, what be our position?”



“We’re at fifty.”



The crew on deck all stopped what they were doing as she pronounced their location. MacIntyre, standing near her, spoke up. “It’s said that below forty, there’s no law. Below fifty, there’s no God.”



“No, that ain’t true,” Pintel corrected. “There’s a god alright. Goddess, but she ain’t no friendly type. Not when she don’t want to be.”



Elizabeth managed a whisper. “Calypso.”



The men exchanged nervous glances, but Barbossa cackled wildly from the helm. “Here be the place to test yer mettle, gents! No turning back now, we’re in the Horn!”



As the weather grew colder, the waves grew like rollicking cliffs from the depths. The ship had never seemed so small as it ducked between the valleys created by the waves and flew over the crests. When the wind hit forty knots, Barbossa shouted orders to haul up canvas.



The crew scrambled up the rigging, and Elizabeth raced for her sextant and compass, keeping her son close at her side.



“Liz’beth! Get him below!”



Elizabeth tossed back her soaked braid as she shouted back to the Captain. “He’s fine, I’ve got him!” Turning to Billy, she issued her own orders. “Hold tight to my coat, darling. Don’t let go.”



She never saw the wave as it swept across the deck and knocked her off her feet. The ship pitched precariously, and she slipped and slid across the slick boards, scrambling for a hand or foothold, desperately maintaining her death-grip on the sextant.



“Billy!” Her scream was lost in the wind, and her flailing arms couldn’t reach her son as they were both sent hurtling across the deck. Something snagged Elizabeth’s coattails – Pintel, grabbing for her as she passed – and she could only watch as her son tumbled towards the rail.



Time slowed, and she saw the inevitable in her mind’s eye. Her son, swept from the ship into the angry ocean, swallowed by the sea, a sacrifice to appease Calypso’s wrath. Her only comfort was that at least Will would take care of him now. Better care than she had.



Suddenly a rope snapped taut, twisted around Billy’s ankles, and he dangled suspended just shy of the side. Pintel’s voice was all reverence in her ear as he whispered, “Bootstrap,” and Elizabeth scrambled free of his grip. The ship slowly righted itself, and Elizabeth gathered her son into her arms, pulling the ropes from his feet.



“’Lizbeth!” Hector’s voice from the helm was thin, but managed to reach her ears over the crashing waves and howling winds. “What’d I tell yeh ‘bout lettin’ him on deck?”



It was just like Hector to add insult to injury. She ignored him as she stuffed Billy into bed, and recorded their position. Fifty-two degrees, and already she was soaked and chilled to the bone, and Billy no better off. She wrapped them both in blankets and did her best to read Le Morte D’Arthur to him.



Normally, after putting Billy to bed, Elizabeth stayed up for several hours, passing the time on deck with the crew, or in bed with Hector, reading or not reading. This night, she not only dragged a screaming Billy into the cabin nearly an hour early, but she collapsed exhausted into bed with him. She didn’t even realize she’d fallen asleep until she felt her coat getting pulled off her.



“Hector? Not tonight, I’m so tired.”



She felt lips on her forehead as the sodden coat peeled off her body. “Get under the blankets. Billy too. And take yer boots off.”



She couldn’t stop shaking as she kicked off her boots and fumbled at the sheets. “How much longer?”



Jack scrambled under the covers next to Billy and Hector slid in beside him. It was a tight fit, but it was far too cold for anyone to sleep alone. “A week, maybe two.”



“A week! Hasn’t it been a week already? I think I shall never be dry again.”



“Still want to Captain the Horn?”



“I’m not sure I ever want to sail these waters again.”



“Now yer talking sense.”



“Is that why you didn’t want to go to Singapore in the first place?”



Hector reached across monkey and boy to take her hand. “It’s not the getting there that’s the problem. It’s getting back.”



“Are you cold?”



“What kind of question be that? Not a soul on this ship isn’t cold.”



“Then you can still feel it.”



“Aye. Almost wish I couldn’t.”



She swatted his hand. “Be careful what you wish for.”



“Said almost.”



“I’d rather not tempt fate. How do you feel?”



Hector heaved a deep sigh. “Exhausted. You?”



“Cold. Wet. Slightly nauseated.”



“Welcome to Cape Horn.”



Elizabeth had never been seasick before, but a night sleeping on the rollicking waves of the Horn set her retching over the side like a half-drunk landlubber. The fact that she wasn’t the only one to greet the morning thusly did little to ease her humiliation, and she dodged Hector’s amused glances.



Tea would have been lovely to settle her stomach, but the tea set was long packed away. She settled for soggy, salty biscuits, which Billy spit out after tasting. There was no better fare, though, and eventually hunger won out and he picked at the food Elizabeth continued to offer.



Elizabeth spent the morning holed up in the cabin with Billy. When her watch came, Song and Mullroy took over caring for the boy.



“Practice,” Song whispered. At Elizabeth’s unspoken question, Song shook her head. “Not yet. But we hope, someday.”



It was well into the night before Hector came to bed, Elizabeth waking just long enough to register his presence as his soft kiss. Sometime later, Elizabeth found herself jolted into full wakefulness. “What’re yeh doing, Swann?”



“What?” Elizabeth wiped sleep from her eyes. “Sleeping.”



“And what should yeh be doing?”



“It’s the middle of the night. I thought sleep was the traditional activity –”



“Yer on watch tonight, yeh forget? Stars don’t stay out long, and we need our position, close as you can get. Go, that’s an order!”



Elizabeth stumbled out of bed. “Aye, Captain.”



“’Lizbeth.” His voice softened and she turned. “Strap yerself to something or someone. Rope around yer waist if yeh need. Don’t want to lose yeh.”



She was far too tired to argue, and strapped herself to the rigging to find their position.



In the morning, Elizabeth once again offered the contents of her stomach as a sacrifice to the angry sea. She was rinsing her mouth out with fresh water when the call came from below.



“Water in the bilge, Cap’n! Two feet and holding!”



“Get on the pumps, boys! Mullroy, MacIntyre! Wang, Powers…and Swann.”



Elizabeth whirled. “What?”



“Yeh heard me!”



Elizabeth had never once complained about the rigors of shipboard life. But then, she had never been asked to work a bilge pump before. She lasted barely an hour, but an hour of sloshing through vile knee-high muck, pumping until she thought her arms would fall from their sockets, was perhaps the worst shipboard experience she had ever had.



When Murtogg arrived to relieve her, she staggered onto the deck and was immediately pelted by a blast of wet, icy wind.



“How’s the bilge, Swann?”



Elizabeth fought her way to the helm. “I hate you.”



Barbossa’s eyes grew wild. “I ask a question about me ship, I want an answer! The bilge?”



Elizabeth clenched her teeth. “A foot and a half and holding. Sir.”



She spun away from him, but he caught her arm. “Elizabeth. Don’t ever miss yer watch again.”



They turned west after three days, but the weather did not improve, nor did Elizabeth mood. She couldn’t stop shivering, her hair was perpetually plastered on her forehead and cheeks, and Billy kept trying to sneak onto the main deck.



Five days after crossing the fifty, the seas calmed some, and the crew gathered on deck to salute the shrouded land in the distance, and toast the souls lost to the Horn.



“It’s said she’s claimed more than ten thousand.”



“Aye, many a fine sailor was beat by the Horn. More shipwrecks here than anywhere else in the world.”



Elizabeth wasn’t sure who started the song, but she soon sang along, as Hector’s hand clasped her shoulder and his low baritone joined in for the chorus.



“Brightly beams, our Father’s mercy from his lighthouse evermore…”



There was no lighthouse here at the end of the world, but the song lifted spirits, and soon the crew picked up with “Around Cape Horn” and “South Australia.”



Calypso didn’t give them a long respite, though, and they were soon back to hauling canvas up and down, pumping, tying off lines, and fighting to stay on deck.



After the hardest week and a half of Elizabeth’s life, she finally looked to the sky and announced the good news. “Captain Barbossa! Fifty degrees!”



His warm smile made her pride surge. “Well done, gents! Captain Swann.” He dropped his voice as he walked past her and spoke for her alone. “That’s me girl.”