This is the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who sent reviews, particularly the guest reviewers who I couldn't thank personally. I hope you have enjoyed this seafaring tale and that you will continue to follow future stories.

The Cruel Sea

Chapter Twelve

Aramis was the first to waken. Although he still felt a chill in his feet the rest of his body was blissfully warm. He burrowed deeper into the blankets, luxuriating in the feeling of heat. His time in the ocean was receding into a blurred memory of frigid water and an alarming fear that he was going to die. The specifics were hazy. He had no idea how long they had been in the water. He only vaguely remembered Porthos hauling him up onto the wrecked section of the hull. What he did know with absolute clarity was that Porthos had saved his life despite his own fear of the water. Aramis marveled at the courage it must have taken for Porthos to jump off the ship, trusting that neither he nor d'Artagnan would let him drown. It had been a leap of faith in every possible sense.

He turned his head to look at Athos. There were lines of pain marring the swordsman's forehead and bracketing his mouth. That was enough to drive him from his comfortable nest. He sorted through the clothes d'Artagnan had found, selecting a shirt and loose white trousers. His boots had still not dried out completely so he left his feet bare. Before leaving the cabin, he threw another log on the fire in the brazier to ward off the dampness in the air.

When he arrived on deck he found that the sky had cleared, the sun was shining and that they were in port. He stood for a moment in the midst of the controlled chaos as the crew scrambled to unload their cargo. He listened to their cheerful voices intermingled with the raucous cries of the seagulls. The Captain was still on the bridge. He was a cheerful man, who had brushed off their protestations of gratitude with a humble good humour.

Aramis made his way up the short ladder. "Captain Vermeulen. My friend is in a lot of pain from his broken arm. Would it be possible to send to an apothecary for medicine to relieve him?"

"That isn't a problem. Tell me what you need."

"I will write a list." Aramis looked at the Captain with something close to embarrassment. "We don't have any money but, if you will provide me with an address, I will see that you are reimbursed for your kindness."

"No need to worry about that."

"Nevertheless, I will see it done. How long will you be in port?"

"We leave on the morning tide tomorrow. What are your plans?"

"We need to get back to Le Havre and I am reluctant to ride given Athos' injury."

"I will make enquiries. I'm sure we will be able to find a vessel to take you."

"Thank you."

"What do you want me to do with the prisoners?"

"Hand them over to the authorities. They can be kept in custody here until we can send a troop of Musketeers to escort them back to Paris."

"Leave everything to me."

It was impossible to put his gratitude into words so he shook the Captain's hand and left him to hand out the orders to his men. When he arrived back in the cabin he pulled pen and paper towards him and quickly wrote out a list of the herbs he would need. He handed the paper to a passing seaman with instructions to take it to the Captain. By that time his brothers were stirring. Athos let out an involuntary moan when he changed position. Aramis immediately went to his side.

"Rest. I have sent for medicine that will help alleviate the pain."

Athos attempted to sit up. "There is much to do."

"And it is all in hand. The Captain will deliver the remaining pirates to the local jail and is making enquiries to find a ship to take us to Le Havre. Until he does, there is nothing for you to do but stay warm. How does your head feel?"

"The pain is less."

"Good. That would suggest it wasn't a severe concussion which is fortunate."

Porthos had got out of bed and was checking the state of his uniform. "It's almost dry."

"Have we reached land?" d'Artagnan asked. He pulled on one of their borrowed shirts.

"Yes."

"Good because I've had enough of water to last me a lifetime," Porthos grumbled. "Wonder if they've got any ale. I've a mighty thirst." He began to dress in his own clothes, only shivering slightly when his skin came into contact with the lingering dampness. Once he was clothed he left the cabin in search of something to quench his thirst.

Athos, obedient for once, stayed where he was. Aramis could tell by the pursed line of his mouth that he was in a lot of pain. "I would suggest that you stay in Le Havre until the break starts to mend but I suspect it would be a waste of breath."

"I have ridden with broken bones before," Athos said.

Aramis conceded the truth of that statement although it didn't make him any less concerned. "You risk the bones coming out of alignment."

"I will take that chance. It is only a three day journey."

"There is no urgency now, surely," d'Artagnan said. "After all, the ship is destroyed, most of the privateers are dead and those that did survive are all under arrest."

"Treville is expecting our report," Athos responded with his innate stubbornness.

"We can send him a message. A few day's rest will do none of us any harm," Aramis said decisively.

"Two days. No more. We have been away from our posts for long enough."

"You, my friend, will be off duty until your injury heals."

"We'll see about that,' Athos muttered. "It's not as if it's my sword arm."

Aramis sighed, sensing a battle ahead of him. "We can debate that when we get home."

A very cheerful Porthos returned carrying four tankards and two flasks of ale. He poured it while d'Artagnan helped Athos to sit up. After distributing the tankards Porthos held his up.

"To survival and a job well done."

The sentiment was echoes by the others. Their ordeal was over. It was time to wrap up their investigation and go home.

TMTMTM

Two days later the four Musketeers stood outside La Belle Helene in Le Havre. Thanks to a loan of money from Captain Vermeulen they were all armed with swords and main gauche. Porthos once again wore his pauldron. Athos, his arm in a sling, was stoically ignoring his injury.

"I think Porthos deserves the honour of arresting our duplicitous innkeeper," Athos said.

"It'll be my pleasure," Porthos growled. "Aramis, you want to come along?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

They entered the tavern which, as usual, was doing good business. Porthos, his face set in a fearsome scowl pushed his way through without any consideration for the welfare of the patrons. Benoit was behind the bar, engaged in conversation with two customers. Porthos slammed his hand down on the wood.

The innkeeper looked over, his mouth open to deliver a rebuke. When he saw Porthos and Aramis and noted their uniforms his face paled.

"You weren't expecting us, were you?" Porthos said.

"You…you're a Musketeer?" Benoit stuttered.

"That's right, and you're under arrest for piracy and murder."

All conversation around them was dying as the patrons looked curiously at the scene before them.

"You've got no proof," Benoit blustered. His eyes were darting from side to side as he tried to see a way out of his predicament.

"You're wrong about that," Aramis said pleasantly. "You see, the false information I gave you about the next shipment found its way to the Captain of the privateers. Also, you alerted them to the fact that my friend here was looking for a berth. Your guilt is undeniable."

With a turn of speed born of sheer desperation Benoit sprinted towards the back door of the inn.

"Don't you just hate when they do that," Porthos said, not in the least disturbed.

"He'll find out soon enough that it was a wasted effort." Aramis walked around the end of the bar and followed Benoit at a leisurely pace.

The innkeeper hadn't made it more than ten feet before he ran into d'Artagnan. The young man now held his arm in a bruising grip while Athos stood to one side and watched.

"Predictable," Athos said.

"Stop squirming." D'Artagnan shook the innkeeper hard and the man subsided.

"Do you want to know what happened to your pirate friends?" Aramis asked. "Their ship exploded. There weren't many of them who made it out alive."

"I had nothing to do with the attacks," Benoit protested. "You can't pin any murders on me."

"Save your pleas of innocence for the judge," Athos said. "Well, gentlemen, our horses await. It's time to return to Paris." The mission hadn't gone entirely as planned and Treville was bound to have his own views of their recklessness. Despite the dressing down that awaited them Athos felt a sense of satisfaction. They had disposed of the problem in their own inimitable way and all were going home to tell the tale.

"I think it's time you learned to swim," Aramis said as they walked down the street towards the stables.

"You're not gettin' me in water again anytime soon. And, I'd be happy never to set foot on a ship again."

"Oh, I don't know. I think you made a splendid pirate." Aramis grinned. "If you ever tire of soldiering you could make another career for yourself."

"Are you completely out of your mind?" Porthos asked.

"After dealing with you all these years that's a distinct possibility."

Athos shook his head as the two men continued to bicker. Yet he would have it no other way. He exchanged a brief smile with d'Artagnan. Once again the young man had proved his courage and his worth as a Musketeer. Fortune had smiled on him when bringing these three into his life. There might be demons lurking in his past but his future looked bright. He led the way, his heart light. Their sea-borne adventure was over and it was time to go home.

The End.