There was a touch of bitterness about the wind above deck, almost like the winds that I recalled from back home in Ireland. Whilst it was no longer dark, the sun had yet to rise and there were only a few deck hands at work and a quartermaster at the wheel. There were no officers or mid-ship-men about which I've always found odd. Aboard The Grace, Mick alternated which hours the crew were on deck for and day and night there was an equal amount of bodies above deck. I suppose it's slightly different as Mick wasn't always sailing in the safest of waters and there was always the chance that we might have come across someone like Kat Devlin. I still thought there might have been an officer or two awake to ensure the smooth sailing of the ship though. After all, the ship did not weigh anchor once the officers and James had retired for the evening.
The new found respect I had meant that I could wander anywhere I liked and faced no questioning or fruitive looks. The quartermaster acknowledged me with a curt nod as I passed him on my way up to the poop deck where I leaned over the railings and watched the whitewater forming in the ship's wake. Knowing that my decision was made I was keen to impart my information and get it all over with, but it appeared I would have to wait until James had risen. I certainly wasn't going to knock on his cabin door at that time of the morning because I wasn't sure what mood took him at such a time of day. I recalled with fondness how some of Mick's crew were unapproachable until around midday when they'd eaten and had a drink of small ale or rum.
I really was a long way from home I realised as I glanced up from the whitewater and stared out at the ocean which flowed on until it met the horizon. There was no land in sight, and yet again I wondered if James planned to make port soon, because they must surely be low on supplies. Mick made port every few months, and I think the longest we spent at sea was three months in total. Mick always had something he could sell, whether it be cloths or jewellery or information. That was how he'd built up such a name for himself. No one ever had a bad word to say about him though. He never crossed anyone and if a negotiation ever got ugly he backed out or gave in. He was clever though, because when such a respect was earned it was hard to dispel it. People were prepared to pay more for Mick's goods or services because he was well trusted and liked.
That was something I missed about Ireland. Where I grew up, everyone knew everyone and there was on odd sense of trust about the community. No one liked newcomers but there was a reluctant respect for the English soldiers garrisoned nearby. They'd been there for so long and were often helpful in their own way towards the local people. It wasn't uncommon to see them laughing jovially as young children badgered them with questions before being hastily shuffled along by nervous mothers. I missed the friendliness of home more than I'd ever thought I would. Even when sailing with Mick and his Irish crew, we missed things so unique to Ireland even though most of us had no intentions of ever returning home again.
Perhaps I might explain it better; in that if you are ever far from home and you hear a voice with an accent so like your own you automatically have an affinity with that person. You feel connected by your place of birth even though you've never met. It's more than likely true for everyone, but I always felt it if I met someone from Ireland. There was always some form of camaraderie because the Irish are a people who have been mistreated the world over. Naturally we all band together in times of need. I really was a long way from Ireland, sailing on a Royal Navy ship captained by an entitled Englishman. I don't think my father would have been very pleased. He was very patriotic, and his distaste for England was only increased when my uncle was adopted and sent to London. I don't think for a second that he'd have been at all happy, but I'd kept myself alive somehow and was still poised for a fight should it ever come to that. Both he and my mother would be proud to see me overcome such trials, but they were not here to see it at all. Strangely I was alight with that. My mother had a nervous disposition, usually amplified when English soldiers would march past my father's offices back home. My father though would have enjoyed sitting by the fire whilst I told him about all of my escapades. It had been him after all,who had taught me to read at a young age and had told me such wondrous stories before he sent me to bed each night.
My knee twinged rather painfully as if to remind me that in a real physical fight I'd already be at a disadvantage. Not that it had ever happened, but I knew if someone where to aim a swift kick to my injured knee, that would be enough to floor me. It wasn't so much the pain because I was well used to it but rather the queerest feeling I sometimes got when I bent my leg. It was almost as if my leg bones were straining to pull free of their sockets. One strong kick might just unlock them. I turned and leaned back against the railings, placing my elbows on the polished wood as a brace to take some weight off my knee. The waters were still and calm as they had been for days now, but I knew not to let that fool me. Usually waters that were too calm would encourage a sense of foreboding aboard a ship. It usually meant a storm of some form was on it's way. I shook myself slightly to rid my mind of such thoughts. I'd seen enough storms for a while.
I stayed in my spot overlooking the decks of the ship for quite some time as the sun came up, feeling the warmth of it on the back of my neck when I pulled my hair away from my face and tied it all up with a torn piece of cloth. Yet again I was reminded of the sheer heavy weight of my hair as it hung suspended at the back of my head. I'd considered cutting it a few years before, when we'd made port and I'd been offered decent coin for it. It was no street pedaller either but a wig-maker with his own shop. That's why I really considered it, because I knew I'd get what was owed. I'd stood in the street and stared at his shop front for a long time, running my fingers through my mass of curls and wondering how I'd feel if I went through with it. I knew well enough that I'd still have a good length of hair that would more than likely still reach my collarbone and it would of course grow back, but Mick had managed to persuade me not to enter the shop. He said if I was so torn about my decision, I couldn't really want to rid myself of my hair so badly. He must have been right because afterwards I'd not really had any regrets. I had never wanted to do it for the money really, but it had occurred to me that it would be a waste to sheer it off and not get something for it if I could.
The ship gradually came to life as I stood watching, and at long length the quartermaster was relieved and another man took his place. I wondered how the deck hands who had been up all night would get any sleep with the racket that went on all day. I'd always struggled with it aboard The Grace, but sleep did not seem to be an issue for my aboard The Surgence. I'd had some sleepless nights of course when Mick swam to the forefront of my thoughts as I lay down or when I thought too much of my parents, but I'm inclined to think that tiredness won out. I was more tired aboard The Surgence than I think I'd ever been in my life. I wouldn't have admitted it back then but I think the stress and anxiousness did that to me.
As the first officers emerged from below decks I felt the first pangs of nervousness. I'd no idea if James would really listen to what I had to say, or if he'd pick holes in what I told him. He was an intelligent man if nothing else so I was more than aware of how silly my made up story sounded. I'd planned not to tell him about the dreams and for the most part I knew I'd stick to that plan but I began to think as I waited for him that it would make more sense to remain as close to the truth as possible. I could tell him I had a dream about maps and charts and that it jogged my memory. He didn't need to know that the jogged memory had also been a dream. I lifted my hand in a small wave to Lieutenant Thompson who stood on the forecastle deck and I'm sure he only knew it was me because of my hair. He nodded and turned back to the men he was speaking with, but our greeting had made another aware of my presence.
I felt James's eyes on me for a full minute before I turned my head his way, raising my eyes to his as if in a challenge. He seemed a little taken aback by such an expression but I held his gaze. His eyes reminded me so much of a colour I saw so often at home. Ireland was such a green country, populated by so much farmland and field and I'd not seen an abundance of that colour since I'd left. Then suddenly I was seeing it almost every day in his eyes. I narrowed my own olive green eyes as I pondered that thought. I shouldn't really have given any thought to his eyes at all for he was nothing to me but I told myself it was only that the colour intrigued me. It's too early in this story of mine for such romantic notions, but I'll say it because then you might understand the gravity of my thoughts. His eyes looked like home. I know it's sickening and not in place with how we both felt in regards to each other back then. It was a thought I pushed from my mind before I let myself dwell upon it too much. It was just a thought. I don't think there were any feelings attached to it at all but let's leave it in your minds as an established appraisal I made of him early on.
Whether he had accepted my challenge or not he began to move towards me but as he passed the quarterdeck, Lieutenant Gillette called him back. I sighed heavily as I watched the two men in conversation and came to the realisation that I might have to wait even longer before imparting what I knew. I turned again to stare out behind the ship at the expanse of ocean we were leaving behind. I had no idea where we were, I realised. I'd not paid any attention to that simple fact in all the time I'd been aboard. I was angry with myself for such a lack of attention. Mick would have been annoyed at me too. Now that I was feeling more like myself, more like I had a handle on my emotions I needed to develop a better level of concentration. If I wanted to get off the ship and go in search of Patrick I'd have to fight to get my old self back. Wallowing wasn't going to help me.
A body appeared at my side, but it was not the man I wanted to speak to. Mr. Hawkins seemed content to approach me when I least felt like talking to him. "Mr. Hawkins," I stated stiffly.
"Miss O'Connell," he replied in a much more jovial tone. "I do believe you've been up here since before dawn. Are you not cold?"
I snorted. "Cold Mr. Hawkins? You really have never been to Ireland have you? Back home this weather is considered a summer's day. Most of the time it's raining and overcast."
"You are not from the southernmost part of Ireland then?" he probed and I felt him move closer, as if trying to test my resilience.
I didn't move even though I wanted to. "I'm not telling you where I'm from Mr. Hawkins for I think you'd be the kind of man to exploit such information," I murmured in a clipped tone. I hoped he would walk away and leave me to my own devices.
"You've something to hide then, otherwise you'd be open with me. I knew it the first day I met you."
I threw him a scathing look. "A woman is always hiding something Mr. Hawkins. You should keep that in mind. It will fare you well to remember it. Haven't you teased me and cajoled me enough to know that I keep to myself practically all of the time. All you've got from me these last months is my name. I've my own reasons for keeping secrets Mr. Hawkins and if we are friends as you like to say that we are, you'd not question me so."
He moved closer again, and this time I did move a few inches backwards. "I'm just curious is all. You're not like other girls I've met."
"You can't have met many then!" I let out a forced bark of harsh laughter that felt foreign even to my own ears. "Most women like to remain coy and secretive Mr. Hawkins because we don't live in a world were we are free. We are poked and pushed and prodded by men all the live long day and if you haven't noticed, I'm an Irish Catholic woman aboard an English Navy ship with men that are all likely protestant and if that weren't enough; I'm here because I was caught on a pirate ship and have only escaped a sentence of execution by the skin of my teeth. Don't tell me I'm secretive! I'm just trying to keep myself alive! I think the only kind of woman who finds herself in my position and actually decides to let her mouth run away with her would be a foolish one!"
He took a decisive step away from me then. Maybe he thought I'd hit him. God knows I'd wanted to so many times. When he'd teased me before, it was almost as if he knew that I was not of a right mind. Now that he was beginning to see me break through the barrier of my grief he thought he could irk and patronise me into letting something slip in my anger. I quickly resolved to say nothing more that would intrigue him and fell into silence.
"Just remember who your friends are here Miss, for one day you might need one." With those parting words he was gone, and I was left staring out at the ocean again trying my hardest not to roll my eyes. I'd been right to believe that Mr. Hawkins might be a danger to me and I didn't like the fact that he could rile me so. I forced my anger back down again and tried to concentrate on my real purpose for being above deck so early. After a few moments I felt calmed enough to turn back towards the ship deck and my eyes found James and Lieutenant Gillette still deep in conversation, but James's eyes were following Mr. Hawkins as he made his way along the deck.
His eyes snapped to gaze into mine suddenly, as if he'd only just realised I was watching him. He nodded at something Gillette had said, but it seemed like he was no longer listening. I think he knew I'd something to tell; something I needed to speak with him about. He turned back to Gillette briefly and their conversation carried on. Then both men turned and began to walk towards me. My nerves increased tenfold as they climbed the steps from the quarterdeck and stopped before me. I think for anyone it would be an intimidating sight, to be so alone aboard such a ship and to be approached so early in the morning by two men in full uniform. Gillette's expression was a little disbelieving, but I couldn't read anything in James's face.
"Miss O'Connell," James greeted me cordially. I gave no reply and instead swallowed thickly. He says that he sensed my nerves but I'm not sure how true that is. He's a man after all. They aren't so good at deciphering the intricate workings of a woman's emotions. If he could do that, perhaps he wouldn't have spent so long pining after a woman who did not love him as he did her. He did anticipate that I wanted to talk though, that I'm sure of. "I wondered if perhaps you might have discovered any new information from our pirate brethren in the brig?"
I shook my head. "No, well that is I might have thought of something but it didn't come from the pirates."
"Go on," Gillette encouraged.
I struggled for how to phrase my words for a few minutes as they both watched me intently. It was like being some form of insect being dissected under a microscope. "What if I told you I might have thought of somewhere you might look for this crown of yours?" Neither of them said a word, still staring at me and I shrugged. I turned and addressed James, "Have you got any charts or maps? I could show you?"
"Has he got maps?" Gillette replied sarcastically.
~
I hadn't expected to have an audience when I told James what I knew. The six officers that he trusted were present, as was Mr. Hawkins. Gillette produced charts and maps and laid them out across the dining table in the captain's cabin but I didn't move towards them as they all might have expected me to do. After seeing Mick's maps in my dreams so many times, I was reluctant to look upon one that would likely be different. It almost felt like I'd be betraying him. What he'd told me in my dream swiftly came to mind though. He'd wanted me to tell James what I knew. James was watching me intently and it was as if I could feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my head.
"The map I'm thinking of was older than this I think," I mumbled hesitantly. "This has longitude and latitude so..." I took a few steps closer to the table and was well aware of every pair of eyes in the room watching me in that moment. I pointed to a place in the Indian ocean, still hesitant to touch the chart. "There should be islands here, on the map I remember there were islands out past Madagascar in the Indian ocean. I don't know why they aren't on your charts Commodore."
"Perhaps the map you are thinking of is not as old as this," he replied smoothly from the other side of the room. "These islands may have been discovered after this chart was drawn up."
I raised my gaze to look at him then and shook my head. "No, didn't I just say it was older? It was even cracked in places. I reached forward into the middle of the chart then and placed my hand over where I thought the islands should be. "It was also torn here, as if someone had pierced it with a knife."
"It was marked then?" James nodded slowly to show that he understood what I said, but I could see confusion marring his features. "Perhaps it may be some form of explanation as to why your late Captain's charts were taken from The Grace? Tell me Miss O'Connell, have you been sitting on this information for all of this time?"
I stared at him incredulously. I ignored his comment about the charts from The Grace, because in all honesty I don't recall Mick's charts or maps ever showing the islands I'd seen in my dreams. "Do you think I want to be here?" I questioned him a little too abruptly. "I want nothing more than to get off this ship, so if I'd had this information to hand I'd have given it to you! It was just a dream I had about maps and charts, and it must have jogged my memory because I remembered these islands. I don't know why it seemed important, but there are caves there. Captain O'Malley's chart was in Latin."
"You can read Latin?" Gillette asked incredulously.
I rolled my eyes in a show of annoyance as I chastised myself for my slip of the tongue. "It said 'Caverna' and from that I obviously took caves. If deciphering that one word means I can speak Latin Lieutenant, then I can speak Latin."
"You've seen these islands Miss O'Connell?" James asked as he too approached the table and gazed down at the area of the map I'd pointed out.
"No," I replied stiffly. "I've not sailed those waters. I don't even think Mick ever did."
"Then we only have your word that they are there?" Gillette voiced the concern I knew they all had.
It was Mr. Hawkins who replied before I could. "I've seen them. Sailed past them a few years ago. You're in the right area Miss O'Connell, but the islands are to the north of Madagascar, not the east."
I felt my eyes flare a little at his criticism and I turned towards him sharply. "No they're not! On the map they were to the east-"
"But you've not seen them Miss! I have!" Mr. Hawkins replied. "Albeit only in passing and we didn't sail too closely but they were certainly farther north."
I turned away from him then as I realised it was only my word against his and he'd surely have the upper hand. "Do you think you could chart a course and sail us there Mr. Hawkins?" James asked in a more pleasant manner than I'd expected. I was so accustomed to him speaking in a derogatory manner towards his guide. It was a mark of how badly he wanted his quest to succeed that he was prepared to treat Mr. Hawkins with more respect.
Hawkins smiled grimly. "I'm no sailor Commodore as you've so often pointed out. Those waters are dangerous even for an experienced sailor. I should be the last person that you'd ask."
I saw a vein pulse in James's neck. He was antagonised by Mr. Hawkins even if he did not outwardly show it. "Perhaps Mr. Hawkins you might fetch some of the charts that are stored on the middle deck?"
Hawkins nodded and left the cabin. James moved as soon as the door had closed. He turned the lock in the door and placed the key in the pocket of his coat. "I'm sure I do not need to reiterate that what is discussed in this cabin goes no further. Whilst I believe that Mr. Hawkins' description of these islands is correct for the most part, I do not trust the man. We will chart a course and sail in search of these islands but Mr. Hawkins will be remaining aboard if and when we do come across them. We will not tell the remaining crew members of our destination as I have noticed that Mr. Hawkins tends to let his mouth run away with him. Fielding, Alden and Holmes, I'm tasking you with scouring any other Naval charts you might find aboard this ship in search of these islands. Thompson and Norris, take the old ship log books from the shelves behind you and birth yourselves in the surgeon's cabin as it's unoccupied. Mr. Hawkins should have no cause to bother you there. I want record taken of any unnamed islands in the Indian ocean and report your findings to myself or lieutenant Gillette."
The instructions were given in a rushed sort of determination and I quietly wondered why on earth James hadn't been checking the log books before I'd brought my discovery to him. I realised he'd been somewhat of a fool in a way. He'd been relying upon Mr. Hawkins who he did not trust to find him his fictitious crown until I'd come aboard with the pirates. He'd made little to no effort beforehand it appeared. It gave me cause to wonder then if he really wanted to find the crown.
James presented the key to Lieutenant Holmes as Norris and Thompson each took a stack of log books and together they left the cabin to follow their Commodore's instructions. I was still gazing down at the chart on the table, wondering how Mr. Hawkins could have gotten the location of the islands so wrong. I wasn't overly worried as we'd likely pass the islands on our way to where Mr. Hawkins said they were. Then I'd be proved right. I felt James's eyes upon me again.
I glanced up as he took a seat at the other side of the table and appeared to be processing his thoughts. At long length he glanced down towards the chart and then back up at myself. "Miss O'Connell, I appreciate that you've never sailed the Indian ocean before, but you are more skilled than Mr. Hawkins by a clear league. Would it be presumptuous of myself to ask you if you might chart us a course and sail us there?"
I gripped the back of one of the chairs as I stared at him. I was shocked to say the least that he would ask me such a thing. I knew he trusted me, but I hadn't thought it was by that much. Then I recalled that he'd asked Mr. Hawkins the same thing.
"Commodore I've never sailed there and Mr. Hawkins is right, those waters are perilous. I don't think even Mick ever sailed there. Besides, sailing a ship like this is a whole different kettle of fish to a small merchant ship. You're barking up the wrong tree."
Gillette approached the table then, and I was reminded that he was still in the cabin. "Sir if these waters are really so bad, then perhaps we ought to consider this journey carefully."
Even I heard the trepidation in his voice. The Lieutenant didn't want to sail into another hurricane, and I didn't think James did either. James was nodding his agreement. "We must find a way to sail there. Perhaps we might have cause to return to port and seek the help of a privateer who has experience in such waters."
My mind jarred as the worry of entering a port town again after so long settled over me. James wouldn't sail to just any old port, he'd likely head for Port Royal or even Port Elizabeth and there was the potential risk that some Englishman there might know me. An idea had been forming in my mind during James's deliberation but I'd been reluctant to voice it for fear of his reaction. Now it seemed I had no choice if the only other option was returning to one of the larger ports.
"Commodore aren't you ignoring what's right under your nose?" I asked gently as I leaned forward a little over the back of the chair.
Those eyes latched onto mine curiously, as if he was daring me to say what I so badly wanted to. "As you have pointed us in the right direction Miss O'Connell, I will endeavour to hear your suggestion but I cannot under any circumstance attempt to like what you are about to say."
He knew. I shrugged and blurted it out. "Jack Sparrow could sail us there."
Gillette gave an odd sort of laugh as he came to stand at my side. "Miss you do realise what you are saying? Of course you cannot! You have not enough experience of the pirate to know how dangerous the man is! What you suggest is impossible!"
"But why is Sparrow so dangerous?" I returned conversationally. I knew if I let myself get too agitated or raised my voice I'd loose all momentum. "He's sailed through so many storms and upon perilous seas. Hell, he even sailed through that hurricane that you lost the Dauntless in!"
I saw a shadow flit over James's eyes and I wanted to regret bringing his loss up, but I didn't. "How do you propose that I trust such a man Miss O'Connell?" James asked smoothly and I knew he was carefully controling his temper.
"Many a time a man's mouth broke his nose," I mumbled. "I know how aggravating the man can be! We all know he's a nightmare, especially when he won't shut his damn mouth and of course he's an untrustworthy pirate but he is a good sailor. He's the best pirate in the Spanish main. If the wind hadn't turned against us that day then the likelihood is that you'd not have caught us at all. Maybe if I'd had a few more seconds to fix that sail then Jack would have found a way to navigate us out of that mess!"
"It is impossible," James said as his eyes left mine and I felt a coldness rise in them.
"He's the only one I know that could sail such waters," I shrugged. "I can't help you any more."
"As I said it is impossible, Miss. I do not negotiate with pirates. Do you really think that Sparrow could be persuaded to do my bidding with as little talk as possible and not wish for something in return. He would barter for his own freedom. That is something I cannot and will not sanction."
I nodded my understanding. "You think he's the devil incarnate as you do all pirates. He's still a good man somewhere deep down inside. I think if you offered to release the two women in the brig he might comply. He cares about his crew. He'd likely still see that as a victory. Besides, the Chinese girl is innocent anyway, she's only here because I dragged her along with me!"
James threw me a scathing look as Gillette shook his head. "The Royal Navy does not negotiate with pirates Miss o'Connell!"
I snorted then and didn't care that it was unladylike. I felt my hands curling into fists as my anger rose to the surface. That had been my chance to help Anamaria and Mai, and James would still have had Sparrow in his grasp but he'd thrown it back in my face.
"You negotiated with Mick O'Malley! I hate to bring you this news Commodore but Mick was no better than a pirate. Just because he traded fairly didn't mean he came by his goods or his information in the right way. He had his fingers in all the wrong pies! He did deals with whoever had the money to pay him and he didn't discriminate. He was no saint by any means. If Sparrow can sail you to those islands and you're going to pass by such a chance you might as well all go home!"
I turned on my heel and stormed out of the cabin and down into the bowels of the ship towards the brig. I kicked out at parts of the ship as I went, causing shooting pains in bad knee. I wanted to feel the pain though, and the anger. I wanted to feel the rage and let it fuel me because it was all I had left. It looked like my stay aboard The Surgence was going to be much longer than I'd anticipated. I had thought my willingness to provide information might have fared me well, but how on earth was I to attempt to negotiate with a man as stubborn and pig headed and arrogant as James Norrington.
~
"Sir I do believe our Irish friend has grown a little ferocious and hot headed during her stay," Supplied Gillette after I'd stormed from the cabin.
"No Gillette, I do believe that is her natural state," James returned as he folded the chart up. "We are simply seeing her return to her former self. In the weeks after her Captain's death, she would not have been so bold as she was just now because her grief had overwhelmed her. She intends now to fight for her own freedom. That is important. She will be more of a help to us now than ever."
He likes to think he knows me so well, doesn't he? I'll admit that when he told me he'd said that I did agree with him. I'd been far too taciturn in my months of grief aboard The Surgence and in doing so, I'd let him get the better of me. He'd been taught the value of observation at Naval college, but I'd not considered that he'd been observing me. I thought I'd brought about some connection between us as we both grieved for our losses, but he'd turned that on it's head by recognising what I could be when I was entirely myself.