Sally had interrupted their still room conversation, bursting through the door just after Jack's comment about Davy Jones ostensibly to see what they wished to eat but in reality to find out just what it was that Captain Sparrow was up to in the dark with another woman. Though she had found them sitting on separate barrels, and on opposite sides of the still, the envy in the girl's eyes was clear enough; and it remained a constant of her expression whenever she looked at Elanor, even when they returned to the house. If Jack saw it he was too preoccupied with other things to pay much attention, though he smiled prettily enough when the girl set herself next to him at the table and he flirted in a wary way that earned a grateful look from both Gibbs and Polly and half hearted shrug of sympathy from Ben.

Elanor suppressed a sigh and stoically accepted the envy and the resentment that went with it. She had never been lovelorn, nor dazzled, even when she was Sally's age, and she had little understanding of, or patience for, such conduct. However she had some sympathy for the girls plight and so she pretended not to notice, for she knew enough about the life that Sally faced to understand how someone so apparently romantic as Jack would be a welcome diversion from the tedium. Her forbearance won a look of relieved gratitude from the girl's mother and a look of wary approval from her brother.

Gibbs reason for watching them were no doubt of a different order, just as Ben's now were; having been in the fight with them she had taken on a different perspective in their minds. But while her participation made her a comrade worthy of respect the tasar had made her both an object of curiosity, and something close to superstitious dread, and Gibbs had been in awe enough of her before. But now an element of pragmatic acceptance had been added into the mix, that eased things a little and on more than one occasion he had referred to her as captain rather than ma'am. Ben seemed to be struggling to resolve the conflicts between her female desirability, her other worldly looks and her strength, but in the end seemed to decide to follow Gibbs lead.

Of them all Polly looks were the hardest to cope with, for there seemed to be an assumption of a connection between Elanor and Jack that made it all the more difficult. As did her obvious approval of whatever it was she was imagining lay at the heart of their relationship, and an apparent willingness to foster it. As the night wore on and the tale of recent events was told, that intention seemed to have strengthened and on several occasions Elanor wondered what she would say if Polly came out and offered the pair of them her bed, which she hinted she was wishful to do and which took all of Elanor's diplomatic skill to avoid. She suspected that some buried spark of romance still existed in Polly's pragmatic soul and that it was stirred to wakefulness by Jack's easy smile and gentle words; but perhaps it was no more than a desire to steer him away from her own, obviously star struck, daughter.

Jack himself was no help at all of course, and it seemed to Elanor he was well aware of Polly's speculation. His reaction to Polly's glances was a secret smile and the half amused, half speculative looks he sent in her own direction. As it got later he seemed to become mischievously intent on fostering the impression, his eyes taking on a soulful and caressing look whenever he spoke to her, his fingers straying to touch hers more often and longer than necessary when he passed her food or a glass. As they sat and talked he would smile at her whenever she spoke and lean towards her when he replied. What he would say were the offer of the bed and some privacy to be made she didn't want to think about.

When he left the room to relieve himself he passed close to her and stooped down to speak into her ear so quietly that no one else would have heard the words, his lips almost touching her skin, so close that his moustache tickled her neck and his hair fell across her shoulder to lie against her own.
"No mention of the Spanish eh? Steer Gibbs away if it seems he's like to say anything,"
Innocuous words in the circumstances, but his hand came to rest on her shoulder as he spoke, his fingers splaying out across her collar bone, his index finger stroking small circles against her borrowed shirt. Elanor was about to shrug his hand away with a dismissive remark when she caught sight of Ben's eyes fixed on his sister as she watched Jack's performance, and it occurred to Elanor that Sally's attention might make things a little difficult for Gibbs, and that Jack might know it. With that in mind she gave him the benefit of the doubt and just tilted her head and smiled at him, replying in the same low tones,
"I agree, but I don't know him well so don't get side tracked out there."
"We're in accord then," Jack's answering smile would have seemed to an observer to be pure delight, and he spoke slightly louder this time, the words just audible to those around, "as always."

As he straightened up and removed his hand from her shoulder the backs of his fingers trailed briefly across her neck. Polly watched the performance with a satisfied look while Gibbs seemed uncertain what to make of it. Sally on the other hand glowered at her. Elanor smiled a small and meaningless smile,
"Hmmm." was all she said, but she resolved that he would pay for this playacting at some time in the future. Irrespective of possible his concern for Gibbs comfort. Particularly if Polly offered them her bed.

But whether Gibbs said something, or if her uncertainty about this female captain who wasn't a pirate made Polly hesitate, the offer was not made, at least not in any manner explicit enough to require rebuff. If this disappointed Jack he gave no sign of it. Instead he and she left Polly and her family to their usual arrangements, of which Gibbs formed a part, and headed for the comfort of the straw bales in the small barn. The little play Jack had enacted was not mentioned between them and the flirtatiousness of the fireside was abandoned as soon as they stepped out into the night.
"We've a few hours yet before the tide turns, might as well wait until then to return to the ship." Jack said as he stared out from the barn and across the cliffs towards the shadow of the The Dawn Chaser, still waiting at anchor. The clouds were showing some signs of breaking now and the moon was peering through the occasional tear,
"But not too long. Not many fishermen here to see us, but there are one or two who fish in the shallow water. Best be gone from the bay by the time they come down to check on the damage." He looked towards her, "you left your boat in the same place as I left mine?"
"Yes, they should be fine, provided they haven't been found. Yours was still there when I arrived, so let's hope our luck has held."
He nodded,
"Best to make sure though. If they are gone then we will need to find a boat from somewhere else," His teeth flashed white and gold in the dim light of the single smoky candle Polly had been able to provide for them, "and that's best done in the dark while others sleep."
With that he blew out the candle and headed back towards the barn door, his sweeping gesture as he reached it showing that he had no doubt that she was coming too.

***

The Black Pearl had vanished over the horizon as the Intrepid got underway and once again Groves stood and watched as a captain cursed at her turn of speed. As he watched the black sails disappear, casually wondering how it was that she was so fast, he attended to his own duties. After this encounter Hathaway would want to know more about the pirate ship and Groves set about recalling everything any one had ever told him about it, in particular what little James Norrington had told him. But most of what Norrington had told him Groves knew could never be repeated, not to Hathaway at least, that much had already been made very clear to him.

Norrington and he had had little enough to say to each other when the then Commodore had returned, even less after his elevation to Admiral; the chasm between their ranks keeping them about different duties and at separate locations for much of the time. Their first, and only official, meeting had been short and formal; the admiral had been assessing his new role and wanted to know of Beckett and his actions in the months before he had returned. It had taken place at the fort and Groves had been as open as he dared, but he had seen the wooden look come over his superiors face, a look he knew well from the past, and deduced that James Norrington did not like what he heard. From then on the Admiral had avoided anyone who had known him as Commodore.

Their second and last meeting had been less formal, and the man had been a stranger for more reasons than his rank.

It had been unexpected; Groves had been one of the officers in a roundup party, rousting recalcitrant sailors out of the taverns and bawdy houses on the night before they set sail from Port Royale. In a one particularly grubby grog hole he had caught sight of Norrington's profile in the shadows, and, after a moment of shock, he had steered the other officers away from that particular corner and hustled them back into the street as soon as he could. He'd made an excuse two hostelries on and gone back to find Norrington still seated in the shadows with a pot of grog in front of him and a bleak expression in his eyes.
"I wondered if you had seen me?" Was all he said as Groves had sat down beside him.
"Yes Sir. Not the place I would expect to have found you I confess, but no doubt you have your reasons. However I must advise you that it might be unwise to remain here any longer. Beckett will no doubt send his own roundup parties out and I do not think it would politic for them to find you here."

Norrington's response had been to take a deep swig from his pot, and as he ran the liquor around his mouth his expression became pensive,
"Reasons Mr Groves?" he said eventually raising his drink in mocking salute, "other than being a rumpot deck hand that takes orders from pirates you mean?"
Groves had been shocked into silence as Norrington had looked around him with despair,
"I thought I had found my way back to being more than that, but it seems that Jack Sparrow was as good a judge of a man as he was a pirate."
"Sparrow?" Groves remembered how taken aback by Norrington's mention of the name he had been.
"Yes Mr Groves," the pensive tone became tinged with bitter irony, "I have recently had the honour of sailing under the command of Captain Jack Sparrow no less." He stared down into the mug, "and a salutatory experience it proved to be."
Norrington closed his eyes briefly and shook his head,
"The Black Pearl is a remarkable ship, Mr Groves, take that from one who knows her better than he ever thought to. Fast and effective, and better armed than many pirates; a fine ship it must be said. I'd be sad to see her go to the bottom."
He took another swallow of grog.
" As for her Captain it seems that he truly is the best pirate I've ever seen, and maybe a wiser man than either you or I. Worrying though that thought might be."
He looked up, his eyes fixed on some horizon other than the smoke stained wall,
"He was a better sailor and a better captain than I expected him to be too. In other circumstances he might have made a better Admiral than I."
Groves had looked down at the pot of grog and wondered just how many his admiral had drunk that evening.

Norrington caught the look and smiled wryly,
"I'm not near as drunk as I wish to be Mr Groves." He looked back to the wall again, "I never will be."
Groves had said nothing to that. What could there be to say? But he wondered, not for the first time, how much of the alteration in Norrington was the result of his loss of Elizabeth Swann. Yet his next comment seemed to belie that and every other possibility Groves might ever have considered.
"Have you ever wondered how you would behave if the mainstays of your life were to be removed from you?" Norrington mused, "If fortune were no longer to smile on you and you were to lose all that you held important, all that you held dear? Have you ever wondered what you might do? Would you still remain a good man? What might you become if you were to find yourself deprived of your planned course in life?"

Groves had stared at him for a moment then shaken his head,
"No sir I can't truthfully say that I have. Good men are rewarded by God, if one does what if right and lawful, then a man can always hold his head up."
Norrington sighed,
"Well said Mr Groves, and once I would have thought the same and nothing more. But then I had never thought much about it either. Yet I have learned very quickly that those mainstays are all too easily removed, and that sometimes we discover that without those props we are not what we thought ourselves to be: that sometimes we are nothing at all."
His lack of comprehension must have shown in is face for Norrington smiled at him, that rare 'sweeping all before him' smile that few had seen even in his commodore days,
"I am not mad I assure you Mr Groves, it is merely that I have discovered that, for many of us, what we are is defined by the trappings and nothing more; and the discovery of it has been painful."

Groves recalled shaking his head at that,
"Sir, I know what you are and it has nothing to do with the trappings. You are fine man and a good officer."
He had struggled with the next words but Norrington's obvious grief for something lost had somehow made the words possible,
"Losing the Dauntless would have been a blow, I know that. Particularly after losing the Interceptor too. The loss of so many souls with her, so many good men, must have been hard. But you were only doing your duty and all fighting men know the risks. You have nothing to blame yourself for. Resigning your commission was never necessary and the men were glad to see you back safe. I don't know how you came to be sailing under Sparrow's command but you are an honourable man you can have nothing to be ashamed of."
"Do I not?" Norrington had sounded wearier than Groves had ever heard a man.
"No sir. You do not. You treat yourself too harshly, you are a fine officer."
Norrington snorted his disgust at that,
" Then why is it that twice I left it that pirate to save Miss Swann, Mr Groves, tell me that?"

Groves had floundered at the unexpected challenge, struggling for the right words. Norrington took the time to drink more grog, then, seeing Groves's continuing confusion, he smiled bitterly,
"He took the Interceptor from under my nose and he out sailed me more than once. I thought it was all Sparrow's fault but I was wrong, the fault lay in me, it was just that fortune had never shown it to me before."
" Sir!" Groves protest had been more instinctive than thought through and he had hesitated again, struggling to know what to say.
But this conversation was already so odd, so far from any thing he had ever expected to exchange with James Norrington that a little more impertinence had seemed unimportant at the time, so he had drawn a deep breath and ploughed on into the storm he feared might be waiting,
"Even the loss of Miss Swann's hand in marriage will eventually be a source of comfort for you sir, for you did the honest and generous thing. A lesser man would have held her to her word and not worried for her happiness."

Norrington had laughed at that, a laugh with a racking note that had puzzled Groves until he saw the tears on his admiral's face and known that it was half crying, then he stared unable to believe the evidence of his own eyes. Norrington ignored his look of shock even if he had seen it,
"Let her go. Oh I did that! You can never know just how far I let her go. Pray God that her father never finds out. Pray that no one ever does. I wanted my life back and so I let her go to her death. I betrayed her to her death. Hardly noble was it? Judas betrayed for eight pieces of silver, would you say the gold braid on my uniform was worth as much Mr Groves? God knows it weighs far more than eight bags of silver, weighs more than all of the pirate gold on the Spanish main and I can't give it back, I can never give it back. Each day I put it on it weighs the heavier and will go on doing so, if I fell overboard it would pull me down so far that even Jones would never find me."
His head fell forward into his hands, desperation written in the bowed shoulders and the fingers that writhed in the unpowdered hair.
"As for that bloody sword, if I were the man I thought I was, I'd push it into Beckett's heart. If I were Turner I would. But I'm not, it seems I'm just a rumpot deck hand that takes orders from pirates."
He looked up at Groves and the haunted expression and stricken eyes,
"I just have to hope that Sparrow will even the score, for it's beyond me to do so. And that realisation Mr Groves is more bitter than poison."

"But Sir." Groves had protested, "Beckett is about the King's business. Clearing piracy from the seas once and for all. Surely that is an objective you are proud to be a part of, after all, sir, you dedicated your career to it. It's true that he's chosen a strange way to do it, and the hangings without trial make the men uneasy, and I'm as surprised as you that Davy Jones really exists, but the ends must justify the means. Why else would the Admiralty have agreed to it?"
Norrington straightened in his chair suddenly looking all naval officer again,
"Why indeed Mr Groves, why indeed. Though why the King would send Beckett about this business, when he could have sent the letters of marque to the governor, is less clear."
Groves remembered how confused he had been both by Norrington's words and by the sudden change in him,
"But the Governor let Sparrow escape sir, and his daughter is under sentence of death for abetting that escape; and what do you mean by letters of Marque?"
"Beckett had letters of marque, intended for Sparrow in return for finding the chest. Don't you think that odd?"
"Sir?"
" Letters of marque Mr Groves. A pardon." Norrington drawled, more himself than he had been for a while, "I have yet to hear it explained why the Governor and his daughter, or I for that matter, would be found guilty of a crime against the crown for letting Sparrow go free while at the same time the king is issuing letters of marque, pardoning him for his crimes."

Groves remembered the sick dread those words had engendered in him even though he had not understood what Norrington was trying to say.

The Admiral had got to his feet then with barely a stagger, and his eyes had narrowed in calculation, no sign of drunkenness in them,
"Something is not what it should be Mr Groves. But I'm not yet sure what it is that is wrong. Beckett keeps me at arms length but he may be less wary of you."
He straightened his plain dark coat and brushed a speck from his breeches,
"I will name you his navy attaché. Stay close to him Mr Groves; gain his acceptance if not his trust, for the Governor's sake and for mine. For I fear this business may yet take us to depths we do not expect to plumb."
H e had nodded just the once, almost a salute when Groves looked back on it, then he had strode out into the night.

They had set sail the next day and Groves had never spoken to Admiral Norrington again.

"She's fast." The words came from behind him pulling Groves back to the present.
"Aye sir she is. Admiral Norrington warned me of it before the flotilla set sail but he couldn't tell me how or why. He did say that Sparrow was a fine sailor and a good captain who got the best out of his ship., but the secrets of why she is so fast we didn't discover."
"Not even Beckett?"
"No sir, we didn't hold onto the Black Pearl long enough to sail her. Turner and Sparrow saw to that." He watched the horizon, where there was no sign of a black sail, "it's almost as if she were built for some special purpose by something other than men."
He caught Hathaway's strange look and recollected himself,
"Sorry sir."
Hathaway just smiled,
"No need Mr Groves, that ship has done enough strange things for it to be a not unreasonable supposition." His voice took on a mocking note, "After the experiences with Davy Jones I don't think the navy would court martial a man for being a little fanciful."
"No sir."
From the look on his face it seemed as if Hathaway would say more, but the cry from the lookout ended the conversation.

***

"About the heart of Davy Jones?" Elanor said quietly, "You mentioned that before, when you had the fever. But I got the impression from your raving that it had been destroyed, replaced by someone else's, so why then would a navy, any navy, be interested."
They were sitting on the cliff top looking out towards the Dawn Chaser, below them in the hidden channel the long boats rocked and bobbed in safety.

Jack sighed and sprawled out on the springy turf, staring up at the thinning cloud.
"It was destroyed, killed, stabbed, whatever you want to name it. But the navy don't know that. They know that the Dutchman survived the maelstrom, leastways it seems that they do. Know too that the Dutchman aided the Pearl in destroying the Endeavour."
Jack raised an explanatory finger,
"So they know that the captain of the Dutchman threw his lot in with the pirates in the end from which they will deduce ......what?"
Elanor considered that,
"Beckett only commanded Jones by controlling the heart, soooo...... they will assume that the pirates now have control of the heart?" she hazarded.
"A pot of rum for the captain over there," Jack laughed and propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes unreadable in the dim light, "Aye that's what they must think. But only the Pearl engaged the Dutchman around the maelstrom, the others stood off like Beckett's fleet and waited the outcome. So....?" he waved a finger at her encouraging her to finish the sentence,
She took up the challenge with a shrug,
"So it must be someone who was on the Black Pearl who took it, or had it, or knows where it is, and they threatened Jones just as Beckett had done. Jones then changed side because of those threats."
"Aye. That's how they will reason." He sat up, "Now they know that there were two people of note on the Pearl at the time, myself being one of them. Both of whom already knew of the heart and its hold on Jones. There was a third person they may suspect was there but they can't know for certain, the only ones who do know are the two they are seeking and two dead men.
"The dead men being Beckett and ....?" she prompted.

Jack shot her a sideways look, and hesitated. Then suddenly he sat straighter, and looked at her very directly, all humour dying from his voice and face,
"Why did you come looking for me?" the words were hard and his body suddenly taut.
"What?" she was taken aback by the switch of topic.
"Why did you follow me to Tortuga."
She blinked at him,
"I don't really know. Because you didn't make the rendezvous? Because Polly was afraid that you and Gibbs were in trouble? Because I didn't know what the hell was going on, stuck here or out there on the ocean with no word or other fall back plan? Take your pick."
"Not because you thought I might sell you and your fine ship?" His voice was liquid steel.
"No." She responded easily.
"Not because you wanted these back?" he pulled a rope of pearls and a small bag of coin from inside his coat and dropped then to the ground with a thud that seemed to echo across the cliff top.
Elanor stared at them for a moment before looking back to him, surprised by his grim expression.
"No. Why would I? Plenty more where those came from if I wanted them, some of them already in my strong room."
She thought his eyes narrowed a little but she couldn't be sure, then he reached into his coat again pulling out the chart and tossing it down beside the pearls,
"For this then, the chance of immortality." His voice was harsh, and yet there was another note she couldn't quite read, but which felt close to fear.
She shrugged,
"Assuming that's what it is. Me, I'm not convinced; as you know very well, " she said evenly. Then she smiled, "Why would I come for that Jack?" She locked gaze with him, "Think I'm a fool do you, that I'd take the risk of you losing it overboard, or spilling rum on it? I did what you would have done in my place, I made a copy before I gave it back to you."

She saw his chest rise in a deep intake of breath, and a faint smile hovered for a moment on his lips.
"Then why did you come after me?"
Elanor was worried by the sudden intensity she felt in him and she turned her eyes away to the darkness of the sea so that she wouldn't have to watch his reaction,
"You said you could trust Gibbs because he saw you as his own. Maybe I do too. Maybe I felt responsible for you, maybe I didn't like the idea of the pair of you dying in some back alley for a small fortune I put into your hands. Then again perhaps I was lonely Jack, just me against the world. Maybe I didn't like that idea, who can say? I can't. Wish I could, but I can't." She gave a small weary laugh, "Who knows, maybe I just missed you."
She tossed her head, the wind ruffling the fall of her hair as she did so,
"Unlikely I'll grant you, but then so is the heart of Davy Jones so who knows."

Later she would date the change in his attitude towards her to that conversation.

At that moment she was just aware that suddenly he relaxed.
"I disagree luv, it's highly likely," he sat forward resting his hands on his knees, the smile reappearing on his mouth and in his eyes, "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow after all."
"So you are." She was grateful for the sudden easing of tension between them. "As I said, unlikely, but who knows, strange things happen at sea."
She looked towards him again,
"So the navy don't know that Jones is dead. They want the control over the heart, and hence Jones, just as Beckett had, and they think you know where it is." She frowned in sudden thought, "bit odd them trusting it to Beckett wasn't it? I mean he was in it for the profit, what's to stop him demanding a cut from all trade if he got control of the seas? Or even more than that?"
Jack grinned his approval,
"Nothing. Nothing at all. Very likely outcome in fact, knowin' Beckett; even not knowin him." The grin became sly, "he revelled in becoming Lord Beckett so 'Lizabeth said, fair turned her fathers stomach given that he'd known our Cutler when he was little more than a clerk of a superior kind in some merchant line. Ambition was his middle name though, always was."
He gave her a speculative sideways look,
"That being the case well nothing to stop him demanding the crown itself in the end, now was there?" he said softly.

Elanor considered that for a moment,
"No. From which we deduce that either they didn't believe he could do what he claimed, or they didnt know how he was going to do it, other than it involved you," she said slowly, "or they didn't know anything about it at all. Which do you think it was?"
"Don't know and it doesn't matter, not now that he is dead. But I'd plump for a combination of two and three. The navy not being what you might say, open minded in their approach to a thing. Mass hangings without benefit of judge or clergy to get the song sung, effective maybe but it don't sound much like their stiff backed lordships," his expression became far away and bleak, "but it has very much the ring of Cutler bloody Beckett. People were always just things to be traded to him."
"But why do they think you know where the heart is now?"
"Because it was me Beckett came looking for and because it was the Pearl beside the Dutchman in the maelstrom." He looked away, "those on the Endevaor would have seen me leave her too. Had to do it in a rather sudden and public manner, wish it hadn't been that way, but it was."

She nodded,
"So you were on board during the fighting and you were seen to leave alive. So they deduce you did a deal with Jones in some way. Makes sense." She shot him a quick look, "and you were the only one seen to leave alive? No one else?"
He was silent for a moment,
"No, there was someone else with me, they can't know who it was but there are those might suspect." He sighed and played with a blade of grass, "one of whom was in Tortuga just before your good self arrived, and he was looking for me."
"So they might be looking for that person too? Who was it? Mr Gibbs?"
Jack drew another deep breath, his eyes still fixed on the dark grass,
"No, Gibbs stayed on the Pearl."
She saw his hesitation and shrugged,
"No need to tell me if you don't want to, there is no need for me to know."
She was about to go on and talk of avoiding the navy when he spoke again,
"Elizabeth. It was Elizabeth Swann."

There was something about the way he said it that caught at her curiosity. She went and sat down beside him watching in silence as he pulled at the grass.
"You mentioned her before. She married this William Turner didn't she, so where was he?" she said after a moment more of silent grass abuse.
Jack just nodded. Elanor stared at him her mind working through what he had been just been telling her,
"So where was he when all this was happening? When you told me your story you said that he was in that battle with Davy Jones too? So where did you leave him?"
Jack drew another deep breath and looked up at her his eyes sombre and shadowed,
"On the Dutchman. Jones was killed, but he got William first. Dutchman must have a captain it seems, so we had to leave young William behind."
His words were easy enough but the ghost of something terrible was visible in his face, even in the dim light. Elanor drew a deep breath of her own and stared up at the sky,
"Oh, I see. At least I think I do. And to think I considered my world strange!"
There was silence between them for a moment, then finally she turned to him again,
"We've an hour yet before we need to wake Gibbs and get under way. So tell me about Elizabeth Swann."

Jack watched her for a moment something uncertain in his face, then he smiled again looking down at the grass before he spoke softly and with a trace of sadness,
"Elizabeth Swann is dead."