Early August, 1717

Despite her lack of sleep, Christian could hardly contain her enthusiasm. Watching as the Dauntless docked in the port of Ribeira Grande on Santo Antão Island within Cape Verde, she sighed in relief.

Land at last! she beamed. Blinking against the early morning sun, she impatiently paced the deck. Happily jangling the gold coins in her pocket that Henry surprisingly saw fit to pay her for her service so far, she was bursting with impatience for landfall. After about a half-hour or so, the men were finally queued up and ready to disembark. Nimbly climbing down the rope ladder after what seemed an age, she jumped into a waiting longboat. Henry made his way behind her, along with a few other midshipmen. Among the many longboats ahead of them, they were the first group allowed onshore.

Cape Verde was the first stop after the open seas of the Atlantic. From there, they would patrol the shores of western and northern Africa in pursuit of Sparrow. Since re-supply would take quite some time for a ship as large as the Dauntless, they were forced to stay in port for two nights and three days. As a result, Norrington split the crew into two groups. One group would have the first day's leave, returning to the ship by the 7th hour of the day two. The second group would take their day's leave once the first group returned, reporting back to the ship by sundown on the third day. Then, they would set sail on the dawn of the fourth day. As Henry and Christian were for all intentions considered part of the officers' group, they were assigned to the first day's leave.

"Visit the bathhouse, bed a whore, buy supplies, and refill your personal liquor rations. All in that order!" Henry whooped earlier as he and Christian gathered a few necessary belongings from their quarters. Upon hearing the announcement of landfall, his mood went from generally pleasant to utterly ecstatic. His disposition infectious, Christian couldn't help it as her face positively lit up with a carefree smile. Even as she blushed at his second order of business,

"Dear God, I haven't had a real bath since I've been aboard!" she sighed with contentment.

Fear of being caught caused her to significantly reduce bathing down to every few days. She grew especially rank during her monthly cycles, which were difficult enough to conceal. Not to mention, most of the non-officers aboard weren't afforded facilities for constant bathing either. So when she could, she was forced to wash using a sponge and seawater from the pitcher and basin their quarters. Usually from behind the screen dividing her cot from the rest of the room. And always when Henry dined with the other officers. Hence, a real, private bath on shore would be downright luxurious.

"Come!" Henry all but ordered as they docked the longboat. Dragging her from up the dock by her wrist, he nodded in the direction of the crowded quay. The bustling streets were not so different from the docks of Port Royal. The crowd comprised of the usual mish-mash of sailors, merchants, prostitutes, beggar children and the servants out shopping for their masters, they moved along at a languid pace. Mostly due to the numerous people wandering about. The stifling humidity significantly slowed things down as well.

"Whorehouse!" Henry crowed, still pulling Christian with him. Despite her shock at his declaration, she had little choice but the follow him. She certainly didn't want to get separated in unfamiliar territory.

They wandered for a mere ten minutes or so until they made they made their way a few blocks from the docks. Finally, they stopped at a two story building. It appeared well-aged, its brick walls covered with ivy. But it still looked in good repair. The black roof tiles were laid out in an orderly fashion, the heavy, wooden door on the front painted a vibrant red. Its handle and knocker appeared to be of solid gold, signaling its apparent finery. The white steps leading up the front were swept clean and tidy. Framed by white paladin columns that were rounded with well-manicured vines of red and white roses, it could have been mistaken for a rather fine townhome. However, the various women draped across its black, wrought-iron balconies along the second floor destroyed that illusion. Half-dressed and seeming to hail from all ports of the world, they called out with lewd promises to any passersby.

Thoroughly scandalized, Christian vainly tried to hide her discomfort. Looking around the street, she took note that they'd wandered into the district meant for such diversions. This house wasn't even the largest on the block, though it was sizable. Still stunned, she allowed Henry to pull her up the steps and into the front parlor. The air within was filled with the smell of heavy perfume, which made her nose itch. To their left was a tall, dark wood desk. Behind it was an older woman, in her mid 40s. Diminutive in stature, her outrageously ornate wig decorated with multicolored, silken bows made up for her lack of height. White and tightly curled about her ears, it was heavily powdered, as was her face. Lips and cheeks red with rouge, she'd pasted a small beauty mark the shape of a heart just to the right of her thin lips. It did well in distracting from her hooked nose. Yet her eyes were mesmerizing, green with flecks of gold scattered throughout the irises.

As soon as Henry strolled up, her verdant gaze came alight with the possibility of a new customer. Leaning forward and running a confident finger along his cheek, she cooed in a heavy accent, "And how may I best assist you, good sir?" Her golden gown shot through with navy threads, it was cut so low that it threatened to expose her nipples with every heave of her chest.

"Signora di Meazzo," Henry took off his black feathered tricorne and gave her a low, surprisingly respectful bow, "Word of your girls' talents have come to me. And so, here I am."

"Ah, the gentleman knows of my reputation it seems?" the Italian smirked. "So you come with a recommendation?"

"Aye, from Ensign Whitley, of majesty's finest ship of the line, the Dauntless,"he breezily declared. Christian vaguely remembered the young man. He looked to have no more than 16 years to him, barely a year younger than her. Slim, his sun-bleached hair constantly in disarray from his nervous habit of fumbling with his tricorne. His dark brown eyes also always seemed half-lidded with sleep. Most of the time, he loitered about the poop deck with the signal officers, learning their duties.

The Signora's smile broadened even more at Henry's words. Scanning the black, leather bound book she perused, she nodded and pointed at a few names. "Some of your comrades have arrived ahead of you."

"Well, one always wants to make the best impression," Henry chuckled, running a hand down his freshly pressed, light blue silk overcoat. "Not to mention, my friend here," he threw an arm around Christian's shoulders.

She nervously swallowed, struggling to get out of Henry's embrace. "I…we don't have to-"

"Oh yes we do!" he gave her a lewd wink. It caused her cheeks to turn red as she stammered in further protest.

Gaze flicking over Christian, Signora di Meazzo looked thoroughly unphased, save a brief smile that came to her lips. "Oh, poor dear!" she purred, coming out from behind the desk. Apparently, she'd been standing on a platform of some sort, as she was even smaller. She barely reached up to Christian's shoulder. Lifting up her skirts with both hands and revealing her bright yellow stockings, she smirked and stretched out a leg, "Perhaps the little virgin would like a peek?"

Christian would've laughed at the sight, what with her actually being a girl and all. But the onslaught of the fact that she was currently standing an actual whorehouse set her nerves on edge. In her old life, such a thing would've doomed her reputation beyond utter repair. "I um," she continued to stammer, "Would it be possible…to just get a…bit to eat…and a…bath?"

"No girl for you then, signore?" the Signora guffawed, arching a knowing brow. Looking her up and down again, she cocked her head to the side. "Perhaps our little officer prefers the company a comely boy?" Christian literally did a spit take, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as the Signora let out another braying laugh. "There, there, young one," she licentiously grinned, "Nothin' to be ashamed of here; men have all sortsof cravings, eh? A boy will set you back a bit more though…"

"Not…not my cup tea," Christian strangled. "I just want a bath…if you would be so kind."

Shooting her a look of disbelief, Henry let out a snort and threw up his hands in surrender. "What, you worried you can't afford it?" he declared. "If that's the case, I can always lend you the funds."

"I assure you that is not the issue," Christian adamantly shook her head. Out to corner of her eye, she could see a woman with dark skin the color of sweetened coffee and hazel eyes sidle up next her. Dressed in silk lilac colored gown, while her face was not powdered, she wore rouge and her lips were painted red. Black, deeply curly hair loose about her shoulders, her angular features were sharp and beautiful.

"Awww, he's as innocent as a babe!" she drawled, lightly scratching her nails down Christian's arm. Her accent had tinges of Spanish around its edges. But Christian was distracted as she dropped her head to her chest. Thankfully, she'd tightly wrapped down her breasts before she departed the Dauntless. Still, she hoped the other woman didn't pay too close attention. "Let me take care of 'im, Signora," she flashed the Madame a bright smile.

"I really don't think-"

"Lady Omarra wouldn't hurt a fly piccolo," the Madame slyly retorted to Christian's denial. Taking Christian's hand and dropping it in Lady Omarra's, she pushed them towards the winding stairway further into the parlor.

Christian felt herself beginning to panic. This whole endeavor was quickly turning disastrous, and she had no desire to be trapped on this island should her true sex be found out. No doubt, Norrington would leave her behind to fend for herself for her deception. Assuming the other sailors didn't kill her first. Not to mention how hurt Henry would be at her betrayal. Yet, before she realized what was happening, she was at the top of the stairs. Within seconds, Omarra shoved her into one of the bedrooms. While it could only fit a small bed, a desk and a chair, the window was large, nearly floor to ceiling. Filled with real glass and covered with gauzy, white curtains, it admittedly cast pretty waves of sunlight along the black and white stripped wallpaper of the walls. But the grunts and groans of sex going on in other parts of the house echoed off the walls.

She was utterly mortified.

"So," Omarra purred, hands on her hips and dipping her head to the side in appraisal, "The Signora said some mentionin' that you are a virgin, love?"

"Y-yes," Christian replied. Well, it was one thing she wasn't lying about.

Omarra lightly laughed, "Well you're in luck, sweetness." Sashaying over to Christian, she grabbed her by the hands. Pressing a kiss along her fingertips only to suck her thumb into her mouth, Omarra rolled her tongue about it with sinful delight. Coyly looking up through her eyelashes to see the supposed boy blinking rapidly as his cheeks colored, she seductively hummed, "Your kind are my favorites. Such innocence and such," she lightly ran a hand along Christian's jaw, "Fervor. You've nothing to fear from me, dear heart."

"I don't…fear you," Christian replied, even as she yanked her hand away. "In fact," she backed up, "I respect you in most every way." Feeling the bed suddenly at the back of her knees, she muttered a curse. Great, now she was officially cornered.

The dark-skinned woman laughed again, though it didn't stop her advance. Christian's eyes widened as she began slowly unlacing the front of her dress. "You look to me that you need a bit of loosening up some," Omarra drawled. "Here," she pulled down the top half of her gown, revealing her light pink boned stays and matching chemise, "I don't mind if you touch."

Christian had run out of other ideas to stop the onslaught. Hopefully, stating the obvious would help.

"I NEED A BATH!" she immediately yelled.

Pausing in her ministrations at the outburst, Omarra quickly recovered and shrugged. "Oh, well why didn't you say so, love?" Thankfully, she didn't seem offended, flashing her a smile. Christian whispered a prayer for deliverance as Omarra continued "The bathhouse is downstairs, all the way in the back."

"Thank you," Christian muttered making for the door.

But Omarra was quicker, yanking her back by the hand. "I can join ya if you like, you handsome little thing," she mischievously smiled, beginning to pull off her dress again, "Though that'll cost you extra." Christian let out a huff of irritation. Is there no way out of this? Her mind raced.

Suddenly, and idea dawned on her. It would be expensive, but worth it for her secret not to be found out. Reaching into her coat pocket for the coin Henry gave her, she counted some out. As shameful as she felt for asking, it had to be done.

"How much?"

"How long?" Omarra replied without hesitation, leaning against the wall, "And do you wanna include the bath?"

"No," Christian speedily retorted, "Just for the night?" she asked. She was due back to the Dauntlessthe next afternoon anyway.

"Two guineas and a crown," the other woman brokered.

"I'll give you an extra crown for leaving me to the room alone," Christian retorted. She hoped her voice sounded assured. While she knew she was getting ripped off, she had little other choice.

Arching a brow, Omarra fixed her with a look of consternation. "You really don't want me do ya?" she snorted, lip curling.

"Please don't take offense," Christian swiftly replied, voice dropping. "I…" She searched for something to put any doubts at rest. "Well, I…I can't do anything with…that," she gestured at her crotch. "I was born…malformed," she whispered in supposed embarrassment. Glancing down to Christian's hand, Omarra looked up again to shoot her an expression of doubt. "I have to keep it from the others on the ship, or else I'd never hear the end of it," she continued, playing up her supposed shortcoming.

"You'd got be fecking joking-!"

"Lady Omarra," Christian swept off her tricorne and nearly went to one knee in a deep bow. It was ridiculous, but she hoped that last bit of flattery would sell her case. "You are truly a star among the heavens, and any man would be privileged to have you within his bed, mademoiselle. But alas, I fear I cannot give you the satisfaction you so very deserve," she frowned. "I am afraid your beauty would be wasted on my talent-less efforts."

Still bowed, Christian heard Omarra's footsteps approach. It was followed by a loud bark of laughter. But the hand upon her shoulder that pulled her back upwards was gentle. "You have the tongue of a poet rather than a sailor," Omarra chuckled. "Such words are rarely gifted to my sorts, sir." As Christian straightened, the other woman dropped her hands to her shoulders, straightening out the lines of her overcoat. "I appreciate your offer, lad, and I shall take it" she smirked, snatching the money out of Christian's hand, "But it's a goddamned shame that your nether regions are so ruined; you would've made a fine husband one day with those verses of yours."

Without further ado, she yanked her to her by the collar and pressed her mouth to Christian's. It proved a surprisingly thorough kiss. Christian's shock allowing her to deepen it, Omarra let her tongue lazily explore the other woman's mouth as her hands slid down to rest along her chest. Heat unexpectedly tingling along her skin, Christian let out an involuntary moan. Gracing her with a low chuckle in reply and giving her mouth a light nip with her teeth, Omarra finally withdrew, leaving the other woman reeling.

"Well…then," Christian whispered, hardly able to get it out. Opening her eyes wide in shock, she stumbled forward a bit. She certainly hadn't expected that reaction.

Omarra let out another laugh, nimbly lacing up her bodice. "You be a strange one, boy," she drawled, giving her a satisfied grin, like a cat to the cream, "But I know a good deal when I see it." Tossing a coin into the air, she deftly caught it. "These quarters is yours until sunrise. I shan't bother you further, I swear it." With that, she flounced out of the room. Though not before sliding the key to it from between her breasts and leaving it on the desk.

Slumping back against the door, Christian let out a loud sigh of relief. Disaster averted. Now, to get down to the bath.

Glad to be clean again, Christian spent the night in the room without incident. It was like heaven on earth to be sleeping in a bed with a real mattress and real pillows again. It certainly beat a worn-out cot in cramped quarters. Admittedly, she missed how the rocking of the ship helped lull her to sleep. But she had a satisfying rest, none the less.

The next morning, she awoke before sunrise. Knowing that they would be at sea for at least the next month, she decided to bathe again. It was a mistake that would come haunt her.

Not hearing anyone else about, Christian took her time in the bathhouse. As each stall was protected by tall wooden boards on each side and a thin door in front, privacy wasn't an issue. Dozing, she let her anxiety slip away. Which was why it was too late by the time she heard the door swing open, the foreign footsteps echoing on the creaking floorboards. Half-asleep in the bathtub and adrift in the steaming, spicy aroma of sandalwood, she'd slid down so that her chin was at water level. Eyes closed and mind elsewhere, she was lost to the world. And completely exposed.

Henry all but screamed at the sight of her.

Eyes snapping open at the sound of shocked horror, she literally screamed in reply.

Springing to her feet in terrified panic, she slipped on the slick bottom of the metal tub. Sliding haphazardly to left, she almost knocked the tub right over. However, the bathing area was minuscule, so she instead went careening into the wall. Regaining her balance and letting out a string of curses as she rubbed her bruised shoulder that'd taken most of the impact, she froze. For not even the mass of bubbles clinging to her skin were enough to hide the evidence of her true sex. As slim as she was, her small breasts were still apparently rather hard to hide when not bound down and covered with several layers of clothes. Neither was the slight curve of her hips. When viewed together, despite her short hair, it was unmistakable.

"BLOODY HELL ON THE HORIZON…DEAR LORD!" Henry bellowed, face ashen and twisted with shock. "G-g-good God almighty!" he hissed, quickly averting his eyes and turning around, "You're…a WOMAN?!"

"I-I…oh, heaven and earth-!"

"Put a towel on, boy…GIRL?!" he strangled, waving around frantically, his back to still to her. Speedily doing as she was told, Christian came to stand stock still. Henry refused to turn around, hands still waving in the air. Suddenly, he went still. "H-how long?!" he growled, back still to her, "How long have you been-"

"A woman?" she stammered, "Well, ehrm…all of my life, I should think."

"Obviously," he scathingly retorted, "Unless you are a witch of some sort, I'd assume such, you bloody wench!" She flinched at his last words, though she certainly understood his livid dismay. "Did you…you…how could you POSSIBLY?!...did you really think you could continue hiding…that...it?!" She didn't answer, causing him to finally turn around. However, his eyes remained firmly locked with hers and he avoided looking anywhere below her chin. "By all that is holy!" he sputtered, "Y-you did, didn't you?!" Giving a silent nod, she flinched again as he let out a string of curses, beginning to pace back forth.

"Sir," she whispered, breaking the suffocating silence, "Henry…I-"

"I assume," he swallowed, avoiding her gaze, "That 'Christian' is not your real name?"

"Um…no."

"I think that may be first truthful you've said this entire time!" he bellowed.

"Ahem…not quite."

"How in God's name can you be so bloody cavalier about…about…THIS?!" Henry snapped, hazel eyes blazing with ire as he faced her again. His face red, the veins in his neck bulged. For a swift second, she was worried he'd have a stroke right there on the spot. "You know what sort of danger you're in, boy…lass?! What the hell am I supposed to do now?! How the hell can you go back aboard the Dauntless?! Why are you so bloody calm about this…this…INSANITY?!" he frantically waved his arms about.

It was then that she realized he was half dressed, in nothing but his braises and with a fresh towel thrown over his shoulder. As if this situation could get any worse. She blanched at the sight of his pale skin over lean muscle. Light brown hair sprinkled across his chest, it trailed down his stomach. It was bizarre, as though looking at one's brother half-naked for the first time. Remaining silent in an effort to control her embarrassment, her eyes went wide as he continued to raise various questions. What was her real name? Where the hell was she really from? How in the bloody hell did she expect to keep up this charade on a ship full of men? Had she lost her goddamned mind?!

Her continuing muteness just set him off again. This time, it was cold, harsh rage that seemed to reverberate in the air about them. Nodding in disgust and running his shaking hands along his pants, he stuttered, "I-I…just put some damn clothes on…NOW." With that, Henry spun his heel and exited the bath.

Struggling to stay her hands from their own shaking, Christian did as ordered, quickly drying off and dressing. Not bothering to run a quick brush through her hair (as she'd paid Omarra another fee to cut it last night, so it was short and barely grazed her neck and ears now. No matter that the illusion of masculinity was thoroughly shattered now), she quickly sped out of the bath house.

Trudging upstairs and finding Henry sitting on her bed in her quarters, she stammered, only to be cut off as he held up a hand up a hand of warning. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling created by damp clothes against her wet skin, the heavy humidity in the air left her nearly soaked again. Taking a tentative seat on the chair in the corner of the room, she cast her eyes downwards as he rose from the bed. Sneering, he walked back and forth in front of her before letting out a deep breath. She tensed, inwardly preparing for the tirade. It didn't help when he finally came to a standstill, mere inches from where she sat.

"I refuse to believe that…you deceived me!" Henry bellowed.

Flinching, she remained seated. "If you really think about it-"

"WHAT?!"

"Ehrm-"

"For bloody god's sake, stop staying that!" he ordered, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"Well," she shivered, "I said, if you really think about," she nervously breathed, "You really don't know me."

"YOU DON'T SAY?!"

Smothering silence settled between them again. Without warning, Henry dropped onto the bed and held his head in his hands. Christian remained in her seat, stock still and afraid to make a single sound. The ache that'd been slowly forming in her stomach ever since the horrible discovery threatened to cause her throw up. Her throat dry, a crushing headache made it feel as though her head was being squeezed between two boulders.

"This is how it is going to be." Henry's voice snapped her out her walking nightmare, images of her left abandoned and trapped on this island pushed to the back of her mind. At least for now. "One," Henry whispered, "You will not tell anyone of…this," he briefly waved his hand around her. "Not any of the officers, the cabin boys, not anyone. And especially not James! Understand?"

Christian silently nodded.

"Two. When we reach our next destination, I will put you off the ship-"

"But I-" she strangled.

"I will put you off the ship," he flatly repeated, "Then, I will pay you enough to board another ship back to England."

"Why would you-"

"No matter what you have done," he grit his teeth, "I will not have your death or disappearance on my conscience. So I will do what I may so that you are able to return to England. Where you bloody belong!"

Dropping his hands, his fists balled into the sheets and he still refused to look at her. She didn't bother to wipe away the hot tears beginning to spill down her face. Her vision blurring, she tried to stop her shoulders from heaving, to no avail. Ears buzzing with the sound of her own roaring heartbeat, she barely heard him continue.

"Three," he slowly began, "I want nothing to do with whatever devilry you're cooking up. I am done with you, Christian, or whatever your name is."

"You cannot possibly-!" she shrieked, jumping from her seat only to be shoved back down into by Henry's sharp grip on her shoulders. She was astounded at how swiftly he moved from the bed.

"YOU HAVE NO ROOM FOR BROKERING A THING!" Henry shouted, breath hot upon her face. "You are lying, deceitful woman! And not only endangered your own life, but you have also broken the rules and questioned legitimacy of his majesty's royal navy with your actions! How dare you ask me anything else of me!"

"How dare I?!" she howled, leaping to her feet again, fast enough to shove past him this time. "What, you think I purposely wish to get myself killed by hiding myself as a man? Aboard a boat?! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN WITH NO ESCAPE, SHOULD I BE DISCOVERED?! You think I have a choice in all of this?!"

"Yes!"

"What?!" she spun on her heel, face twisted with fury "What else am I supposed to do keep my bloody birthright, Henry?! Because it's been six months," she waved a frustrated hand. "I've been at this for six god-damned months! And I have gotten this far. Nothing has to change, don't you see?!" she pleaded, grabbing him by the wrist. "I swear on my life that you are the only one who knows of this-"

"I cannot condone any of it!" he insisted.

"All I am asking is that you say nothing!

"I cannot lie to my friends!" he angrily spat, yanking out of her grasp, "Least of all, to James!"

"Your silence results in none of that!" She hated the whining sound of her voice. Of how it reeked of desperation. How obvious it was that she was backed into a proverbial corner. "The ship was supposed to sail to the colonies, to the coast of North America!" her words spilled into one another as she vainly tried to explain everything further. "I wasn't supposed to be on board for more than a few weeks, at most. My travels were never supposed to take me this far, Henry!"

"Well then, you are in luck, woman!" he sneered, shoving past her, marching to the door and flinging it open, "For this is where your precious journey with me ends, Miss Granner." With that, he slammed the door behind himself, leaving her utterly alone.

Her goose was cooked. And it tasted ever so bitter.

She was down to two options. She could either abandon ship and start fresh, trying to smuggle herself on board another one headed in the right direction. Or, she could continue with her bird in the hand, on the Dauntless.It at least allowed her a fixed way to make it to a more civilized port. Henry was a lot of things, but she doubted he would abandon her. Especially when he made a promise, no matter their heated row.

So Christian found herself boarding the Dauntless later that afternoon.

Surprisingly, while she was paranoid that everyone else would suddenly take notice of a woman in their midst, she and Henry embarked without incident. Well, Henry didn't say one word to her the entire time. Not after they retreated back to their quarters. Not when they cast off. And not for the next few days. Finding herself in tears more often than not, the second night after the left port, she snatched up her blanket and pillow and went to go sleep in the infirmary.

She despised herself for her show of weakness.

"And what are you doing down here?" Norrington ordered one morning, gaze narrowed as Christian started from her position on the moldy cot in the infirmary. Quickly rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she jumped to her feet. It was the third night she'd down in there.

"What time is it, sir?"

"About half past the 8th hour," he sniffed, "In the morning, mind you."

"Great," she sarcastically yawned. As it was deep within in the bowels of the ship, she had no sunlight from a port window or the sound of the bells upon the deck to wake her. And now, she was running late. "I stayed up last night…organizing," she steadily continued, thankful she'd become so accustomed to lying over the last few months. Glancing around, she was glad to see the shelves as organized as ever, for once.

"As you did the three nights before that?" he doubtfully retorted, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing his arms. "You've been sleeping down here nearly since we left Cape Verde, Mr. Granner."

She only shook her head in adamant reply, remaining silent and holding her hands behind her back. Gaze sharp and pitiless, she almost dared him to question her. Taking an almost questioning step back, he muttered, "I see," though he didn't look convinced in the slightest. Rocking back on his heels and staring at her down his nose, he held her gaze a bit longer before she looked away and began worrying her lip. He gave a wave of dismissal as she turned back to the shelves.

"Willow bark?" she declared, breaking the silence as she speedily pulled out a labeled jar full of the stuff from the shelf just above her head, "You look as though you need it-"

"Come again?" he sharply retorted, causing her expression to fly back to impassive.

"Sea sickness," she replied with a shrug, taking the empty teacup from his hand. "You're sweating and look positively green. Not to mention your teacup. Obviously need something to brew to settle your discomfort" she continued, almost to herself.

It's no lie, he mused. However, his symptoms were the result of yet another hangover. But it's not as though the boy needs to know that.

"I assume you need something for your stomach?" she waved, turning her back to him and already beginning to grind bit of the bark on the mortar stone. Sprinkling it into his cup, she added a sliver of intact bark. "Brew this as you would tea. You may want to add a bit of lemon or lime for taste," she began, the instructions flowing from her without trouble. After all, she'd been doling out drugs and remedies like this for the better part of three months. "When you're done with the tea, just chew on the bark until it looses all flavor. You should feel the effects within the half hour. See me around mid-day if you need more."

"Well then," he replied, taking the cup from her and heading up the stairs, "I should get on."

"Aye, sir," she almost yawned, glancing down at her makeshift bed. The cot certainly wasn't as comfortable as her own in Henry's quarters. But it wasn't as though she could to show her face around there any time soon.

Without turning around and continuing up the steps, Norrington suddenly said, "I suggest you work out whatever's gone wrong with Doctor McCarnelly. Sleeping down here certainly won't do you any good." With that, he was gone.

Frowning and gritting her teeth in frustration, Christian fell back onto the cot. While she knew she should be up an about, she allowed herself to descend into a fitful sleep. As she drifted off, she made a silent oath to never show her face upstairs in her quarters. If the doctor needed her, he knew where to find her.

Damn him to hell.

Author's Note: So, it's been a long, long time since I've updated. Mostly because I bought a new computer and stumbled across this story when I was transferring files from my old now. Admittedly, other fandoms have distracted me, but Norrington is my first love. So hopefully, I'll be committed to finishing this. Thanks to anyone who's still stuck around after four years!

Cape Verde – was colonized by the Portuguese, who imported slaves from the West Africa to develop the island. Since the island was a main stop on trade routes between Africa, Europe, and the New World, it became extremely prosperous. As a result Cape Verde, especially its capital of Ribeira Grande, was routinely sacked by pirates and warring European countries. After the French attacked Ribeira Grande in 1712 (five years before Norrington lands in this fic), the city declined as Praia rose. Praia eventually became the capital in 1770.

Piccolo – Italian for "Sweetheart"